#and even things that used to be good and fun are tied to evil

[bigfatbimbo]

vees' collective dom but the one who just wants to live a peaceful life or something else that leads them to bonk (sometimes physically) vees off doing their villainous things. no, vox, you're NOT dealing with that deer tonight, we've agreed to watch a movie. no, val, you don't overwork your staff, it's fucking noisy. vel, don't you dare ever talk to other overlords like that again, it's risky

tbh, I had an image in my head about such reader complaining about vees' manipulations while some (another) punishment. like that vox could not use his hypnosis to make people buy his new product if he just made it actually useful, so why not he put that stupid head of his to better use on your chest and nothing more. vel should've thinked better on how love potion could be used, so overstimulation to show her it is. and val? wouldn't need that manipulative nice persona if he'd make actually good films and not some animalistic boring shit, so why he won't keep all of his hands to himself and try to be more romantic, sitting behind you, tied so well so he's only able to talk and he better do that

- 🦊

Basically a reader almost (definitely) manipulating the Vees into being less evil. ALSO NOT PROOFREAD!!!

So i’ve had very similar thoughts to this for a while and i’m going to tell you exactly why this would work. Quick lore drop about me but I used to be such a lowkey shady businessman (not explaining anymore than this, i’m healed) and let me just say, people like them are actually very easy to manipulate.

AKA greedy, power hungry, egotistical maniacs. What they do is terrible, thats no denying that, but they think very highly of themselves and their skills. So ‘stop abusing your employees’ not from a moral standpoint, but from a competence standpoint. That sells.

Like the whole “vox could not use his hypnosis to make people buy his new product if he just made it actually useful” thing would absolutely work. It’s a hit against his ego and self competence, and because of the fragility in his facade, it would absolutely cause insecurity.

And reinforcing it with very rough, degrading, dumbifaction style sex would absolutely still have him thinking the next day. He’s sucking your tits or dick or something and you’re making comments like “Aw, look. A job you’re almost good at. Too bad that little head of yours can’t even think of anything useful to society.” Make him cry, you definitely can when it’s a knock at his intelligence and power.

“vel should've thinked better on how love potion could be used, so overstimulation to show her it is.” Oh boy, I know this would get to her. Velvette thinks she’s hot shit, no, she knows she is. So now you’re overstimulating her and making fun of her because really? You had to use, even better, actually put time in to create a whole ass love potion, because not enough people wanted to fuck you?

She’d whine and tell you that’s not why, but come on. I mean, why be that hell bent on something so futile, we both know she’s not selfless enough to just give that away to virgin creeps all over pride. Oh Velvette, who’s came countless times and who’s pussy aches and has makeup running down her face, now has to her your call out on her confidence, and how it’s only boosted by her useless, forceful grab for others attention.

And Val, there’s so much ground to cover. “wouldn't need that manipulative nice persona if he'd make actually good films and not some animalistic boring shit.” Personal callout to his craft, which is clearly just as self indulgent as it is tiring. Your actors look so battered, Val. That’s not a good look, and isn’t that the point? Sex won’t sell if the people aren’t sexy, and that stars cracked lip is positively hideous.

There’s no intimacy, and you doubt someone as talentless as him can even achieve romance. So now he’s tied up on the bed, barely able to move as you sit across from him, not just bored, but reading a book or scrolling on your phone. He’s practically crying out cliche, used lines to romance you, and failing miserably when the whine creeps in.

So basically, the angle with Vox is his fragile power, Velvettes her unimpressive beauty, and Valentino is the implication of him not having a grasp on sex. Oh also fucking them to drill it in their head. Because what, people? Something that impacts the control over their work-life and sex-life will stick. Sex and power go hand and hand when the greedy are lustful.

Now are the results?

Well, Vox would make a show of making more useful products, and still use hypnosis, obviously he’s a shitbag, but there’d be a new level of self-hatred that comes with it, meaning it’d happen less.

Well, Velvettes is a little harder to just… take back as the product is already out there. However, the product promotion goes down ever so slightly because yes, money and power is great, but you’ve done something no one can do. Embarrassed our confident queen.

Valentino actually thinks before hitting an employee to hard, and actually lets actors have conversations because apparently people should have… chemistry? He doesn’t know, he just doesn’t want his porn to be boring or not sexy. His other issue (assault, i’m talking about assault) is not resolved he just leaves less marks.

You’ve successfully watered down a problem for a long-term (but not permanent) period of time. This could be even longer if also plant the idea of falling from power in their head.

Simply “What were you before an overlord? A sinner. What are your employees? Sinners. If you treat these employees to harshly, what will they do? Rebel. To successfully keep and manipulate your power you need your workers to feel more than obligation, but loyalty to you. Not your company or their job. You. Otherwise, keep in mind how other overlords have fallen.”

If you ever try this from a morality standpoint, it won’t work. The angle is power, people, because they will never stop being abusive for the right reasons. However, your domineering behavior in bed has earned you an amount of respect.

I fear I sounded evil in this um… never have this mindset for people who aren’t corrupt evil rapists. Also, I don’t think I talked about the smut aspect enough sorry, I just love character analysis. OH ALSO I haven’t been a sinister salesman since I was 16, everybody, calm down. Everyone has an angle though!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #dom reader #hazbin hotel smut #vox x reader #velvette x reader #valentino x reader #the vees x reader #sub vox #sub velvette #sub valentino #sub vees

[hyunjining]

anyone else battling overwhelming anxiety every single day because of The Horrors

#i just get derailed from my day for hours doomscrolling #giving myself anxiety headaches and stomach aches #it’s all just genocide and pandemic and cost of living crisis #and even things that used to be good and fun are tied to evil #and it doesn’t matter how much we kick and scream nothing ever changes #and i can hardly tell my family that all of this is destroying my brain because they all think i need to worry about myself first #which like honestly i don’t know how i’m gonna have a good future anyway the way the world is going #like… what the fuck are we gonna do #sorry had to let that out #i feel like i can be honest here

[orkbutch]

Rambling about Astarion bc im bored at work. I like Astarion because I think he is a genius take on The Evil RPG Companion, and is an especially great take on The Fixable Bad Guy. I don't think hes evil, but I do think Astarion is a genuinely bad person at the beginning, and I think Astarion is only drawn away from being a bad person - and experiences a great redemption arc - via active intervention from others. Astarion would not redeem himself without guidance; he is absolutely bent toward self destruction and evil at the beginning of the story.

I think comparing him with Shadowheart is what drew me to that conclusion. If you are nice to Shadowheart, as in you talk to her and respect her boundaries and do stuff she generally agrees with, she will choose to free Nightsong all on her own. You don't need to roll to convince her at all, or romance her or even push back on her Shar worship that much. You just leave it up to her, and she chooses that path. (Side note, what brilliant writing.)

Astarion is not like that at all. Even if you were tight as fuck he would not choose the good option, with no input, in Act 2. Astarion, like all the companions, needs help and connection to reach healthy actualization, but I think its great, resonant writing that Astarion needs the most active intervention of all. Because he's had his autonomy so completely taken away from him, he simply doesn't know how to use it anymore. He doesn't know how to connect with other people anymore. He's someone that's learned to enjoy cruelty, to resent the pleasure of others, and to be entirely selfish for survival. It makes sense that he must be dragged back into being capable of trust. He needs to be forced to be part of a community again; caring about things; allowing for vulnerability and optimism.

And like. How fucking smart is it to have THIS guy in THIS game. Because of the tadpole and the existential threat they're up against, he is actually forced to work with you. This kind of character is so hard to do in most RPGs because its like... why wouldn't he just betray you all and leave? Why would he stick with you? The tadpole clears all of that up. Astarion must stick with you or hes lost and dead. Astarion knows that you and the other companions are collectively stronger than him, so he can't betray you. He is forced to rely on you by default.

This is also what makes him SUCH a good version of the "you can fix him" romance; you are almost never the direct target of Astarion's bastardry because he can't fuck with you. The problem with Fix Him's is that usually they are a threat to the romantic lead, and fixing him requires enduring, soothing and forgiving the worst of his badness as some kind of test of loyalty, hopefully proving to him that being bad isn't necessary (toxic shit). But Astarion... can't do that. He is afraid to actually fuck you over because you are directly tied to his survival, and because you quickly show yourself to be more capable than him. He cannot have real power over you. (Until he's ascended, then he becomes the absolute worst version of the fix-it.)

I do think the trade off is that Astarion not directing his bastardry at you makes it easier to Ignore that Astarion is A Bad Guy, but I think that'd happen even if he was more of an asshole to you, so who cares. I think he's got the best written Redeemable Evil RPG Companion arch I've seen honestly. I love that he's so fun while being so tragic, whether redeemed or not.

#Astarion #bg3

[digitalagepulao]

Prodigal son terror

Li Jing in a fury grabbed his halberd, leapt on his horse and galloped out of the headquarters. He was astonished to see Nezha with his Wind-Fire Wheels and Fire-Tipped Spear. He swore loudly, "You damned beast! You caused us endless suffering before your death, and now that you've been reborn, you're troubling us again!"

"Li Jing! I've returned my flesh and bones to you, and there's no longer any relation between us. Why did you smash my golden idol with your whip and burn down my temple? Today I must take my revenge!"

since I'm on a Nezha streak, might as well do my design for him on the Expedition AU! given that i've chosen to give characters a closer likeness to their region, it's only fitting i do the same with import deities like Guanyin, Subodhi and Nezha.

he's a complicated figure to place in the timeline because he gained popularity as a deity much after, only really arriving in China by the time the Journey would have been set. FSYY was written closer to when JTTW was written down, and he was retroactively inserted on the Zhou Dynasty period.

so deciding what to even do with him is dicey. but then i said fuck it, mythological rules apply here, he was around for the events of FSYY, and it and JTTW are set in the same universe. and for the sake of having some fun, i decided to get funky with his concept.

Nezha had the likeness of his family when he was alive, as described in FSYY, but once he was reborn with a lotus body he gained Indian traits instead. this is to be a nod to his status as an import deity and his origin as Nalakubara, and as the centuries roll by he may present himself to mortals closer to the locals' appearance wise.

as for his looks, i drew inspiration from multiple sources. read more for my rambles <3

his armor is closer to reconstructions of Zhou dynasty-period armor, skipping over extra parts simply because his lotus body is so indestructible, there's no need for a full set;

there are two red Chinese knots with jade beads dangling from the armor ties. they are said to ward off evil spirits, which felt like a good fit for a guy known to banish demons. i picked a six-petal flower pattern, which represents reunion, unity and a bright future;

i included lotus petals and leaves on his outfit as they are common in Beijing Opera outfits for him, and his makeup is a call to it as well;

The pink from the cheeks and eyeshadow seeps into his ear shell, as to convey the way sometimes, you get so angry even your ears blush;

Another thing i referenced from Opera is the two red ribbons on his sidelocks, though I changed them to two bulbs of lotus roots;

Four petals drawn close to his urna as both to make it look like a lotus but also form five petals, which is an auspicious number;

His hair crown is a fancy princely [knot] with a lotus motif and a pearl in the center, as he was the Pearl Spirit before becoming Nezha;

I was going to go with elf-like ears but I thought I could do better, so I went for stretched earlobes instead. you can't see it that well but hopefully the very large golden earrings imply it well enough xvx;

His cheek dimples are common sight on religious images of him and it was a cute touch imo;

Younger Nezha wears a golden robe because of his title as General of the Central Altar in Daoist belief, and the center direction is connected to yellow or gold, and yellow robes are usually meant for emperors and their sons, which is a minor nod to his self-assureness and boldness;

The Cosmic Ring has spiralling grooves on it both to catch blades on it for defense but also as a callback to Opera props;

On his waist is the embroidered ball weapon he was attributed with in earlier myths, he was also meant to have the leopard skin bag Taiyi Zhenren gave him, bjt it was going to be obscured by the text so i omitted it;

A few depictions of him gave him a halo of fire, which was real cool so i added it as well.

#fengshen yanyi #investiture of the gods #fsyy #iotg #li nezha #nezha #third lotus prince #third prince nezha #expedition to the west au #bell dragon art

[asksythe]

MXTX Interview with Risa Wataya for Subaru Magazine P.5

Character's Allure

Risa: Among the cast, my favorites are the Nie brothers. Nie Huaissang and Nie Mingjue. As I read, I constantly prayed that Nie Shi (House Nie) would not fall. 

Mo Xiang: Shocking! I have yet to see this kind of attitude toward the Nie brothers. In the place of Nie brothers, I deeply thank Risa! Nie Mingjue was created as a foil and reversed mirror image of the 'extremely socially adept' Jin Guangyao. Nie Mingjue is someone who would rather break but never bend. Jin Guangyao is someone who would rather bend but never break. One embodies unbendable justice. One is a cunning smooth operator. I thought about these two contrasting and contradicting kinds of characters and then created them (Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao). A cunning faker (*) like Jin Guangyao, once he meets a 'violent god' (**) Nie Mingjue would become absolutely powerless and can only flee. Their situation would be quite interesting should I continue to write it. Although for them, it definitely would not be a fun time. 

(*: 狡猾 jiaohua: someone who is pretty/righteous on the outside but rotten inside, a faker, a pretty snake masquerading as a saint) 

(**: 凶神恶煞 xioengshen esha: a powerful, brutal, violent god that is consumed by the slaying of evil so much he starts to do evil himself. Someone who should be good but is consumed by rage and violence and becomes no better than the evil he seeks to destroy)

Risa: Nie Huaissang is extremely smart. Nie Mingjue still acts even though his body has been split into multiple pieces. I absolutely love these brothers' opposing approaches to life. 

Moxiang: The more the character personalities contrast with each other, the clearer their conflict and transformation is portrayed. It also makes the story even more compelling and exciting. Nie Huaissang was built on the foundation of Nie Mingjue as a character. They both use sabers as their weapons. Nie Mingjue is more or less straightforward inside and out. Nie Huaissang, on the other hand, looks weak and cowardly on the outside but is actually immensely insightful, patient, and crafty on the inside. The characters of Qinghe Nie Shi were actually complete quite early into the writing. 

Risa: The characters of "Mo Dao Zu Shi" mature into different kinds of people depending on their relationship with their parents. In terms of lineage and family ties, what were your thoughts while writing? 

Moxiang: I think the environment a person grows up in is a very important factor. The parent generation's joy and sorrow will create an increasingly greater impact on their children. Furthermore, children will inherit specific things from their parents. Only when you look at the profound yet incidental similarities between parents and children, you will see that family ties are something very real. 

Risa: Some characters in the book had a very difficult childhood. Jin Guangyao, Xue Yang, and Wei Wuxian. One type of character experiences misfortune in their childhood and then grow to become bad people. One character, on the other hand, steadfastly holds onto his good heart no matter what. Both types exist in the same book. 

Moxiang: To be honest, the character's childhood was the last thing I considered. My creative method starts with imagining the zenith of a character's life when they are shining brightly at the summit. Then I think about narrative developments leading to and from that moment, and then the character's childhood as the finishing touch. After that, I fill out details on their parent generation. The parents mostly act as supporting characters. Their designs are based on the main cast, to contrast or to complete. 

For example, first, I think of what kind of person Wei Wuxian is. Then, I think of what kind of parents could have such a child. I base his parent's characters on his character. 

Looking at it from within the story, it's that parents will inevitably influence their children. But from a structural writing standpoint, it's the children that influence the parents.        

To be continued (We are about... half-way through the interview transcript)

Translator: Sythe / NPD Khanh

#mxtx #mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #jin guangyao #xue yang #wei wuxian #Interview #Translation

[akoyaxs]

Tunutu pt 2

Okay so i'm FINALLY getting somewhere with my writing!!! Enjoy this little snippet of what I've written so far, and I swear the rest WILL be better it'll just take a few days 💗

The next time you saw Aonung after that day in your room, you didn't know what you were expecting. Maybe, like he usually did with other girls, he'd pretend nothing ever happened. Maybe he'd taunt you and say it was all a joke, despite everything you said. 

If you're being honest- you didn't have high hopes. It's not like all your other experiences with Metkayina men had ended with them ackegknowledging you afterward, after half-breaking your back and saying you were the tightest thing they've ever felt. 

But you certainly weren't expecting him to stick to his words.

Days had passed since you slept with Aonung, days in which you didn't see him around the village or anywhere around Awa'atlu. Of course, your mind had just come to terms with the fact he was like all the other guys, and you really had been stupid, listening to the meaningless pillow-talk riff raff he'd cooed at you afterwards. 

No one would say where he was, and Tsireya, Rotxo and the Sully's all acted infuriatingly knowing and smug when you sneakily asked them. Very casual. Definitely off-hand. Nonchalant for sure.

And you were. It wasn't that deep that Aonung, like you predicted and prepared yourself for, did not stick to his words about sticking around and everything. You were stupid and hopeful, and you didn't really blame him either.

So you were trying your best to put him behind you when a whole week had passed without you seeing him, and you were starting to fall back into your old patterns.

Which is why, on the eighth day, you could be found in the Tsahìk's marui. 

There had been an incident at training where Zei'ke had gotten a little bruised and battered. He was very good looking, so you tolerated his chatter. God- he really was even stupider than Aonung. Why did you always just go for big stupid hunks?

But at the end of the day, he was a big hunk, so you were happy to patch him up, applying ointment to his cuts and bruises, bandaging the worse injuries and massaging his sore muscles.

The trouble was, Tsireya had begged you to come swimming that afternoon, and this was your first time wearing swimmers out in the village. So maybe your bikini was a little smaller than it could of been, but who was it hurting, really, to be showing off the best assets you had to offer in a strictly na'vi village.

It certainly wasn't hurting Zei'ke, given the way his eyes stared not so conspicuously down your top when you bent over, or how the ties of your bikini bottoms peeked over your shorts.

What's the harm in having some fun, you thought.

It wasn't like Aonung was going to do anything, his absence had made it pretty clear that he was a liar, that it really was just about sex, maybe even just experimentation.

But when you moved closer, leaning up to massage Zei'ke's shoulders, you were surprised by the way he flinched back.

"What, am I hurting you?" you ask, frowning slightly. You had been careful, using your hands gently and besides, na'vi were literally impossible for you to injure.

"No," Zei'ke says slowly, blinking owlishly at you. His gaze flicks down to your breasts, then he clears his throat and looks away. You frown.

"Is there a problem with my clothing?"

"No- I just... I should go," he says hastily.

"Why?" you ask, weary and suspicious. You wonder vaguely if suddenly, everyone's starting to wonder if you're turning into the evil sort of tawtute. "I haven't finished massaging your muscles-"

"You shouldn't," Zei'ke says shortly. "He wouldn't like it."

That was new. Your eyes narrow as you try to guess what this skxawng is going on about, but you have a sinking sort of feeling you know exactly what's happening.

"And who are you talking about?"

Zei'ke blinks guiltily. Obviously he wasn't supposed to say anything, but if he was careless and clumsy enough to let the first words slip, you could pull the rest out of him.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain future Olo'eyktan, would it?" you ask casually, shifting on your feet to look more careless. "You know, tall, stupid, very good looking. Name's Aonung?"

"No!" Zei'ke practically bursts out, before scrunching his face up guiltily. Even someone that thick would realise he wasn't convincing anyone. Your eyes narrow further.

"What does him not liking it have to do with anything?" you ask.

"He is my commander," Zei'ke says owlishly.

"No," you huff, growing tired of his incompetence. "Why would he not like it?"

"Because... well... you fucked him..."

"Charming," you mutter under you breath, rolling your eyes at his very limited vocabulary. "What does us sleeping together have to do with anything? I've been with other na'vi men, and that didn't change anything, especially about others?"

Zei'ke frowns, processing your words, and you want to take him by the shoulders and rattle him. It would be hard though, given he's double the size of you.

"You are his," Zei'ke says simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"No other man goes near you," Zei'ke explains. "Sometimes we can argue with the claim, but he is to be Olo'eyktan, and we do not dare-"

"What is he playing at?" you snap. "We just fucked, I've fucked others and nothing ever happened with that? Just because he's the little prince he thinks he can control what I do?"

"Uh... I don't know?" he says weakly, and your scowl deepens.

"How did you even know about that anyway?"

"We can all smell his scent on you," Zei'ke says, face flushed with embarrasment. "You did not realise, tawtute?"

"Obviously fucking not," you growl. 

"Besides," Zei'ke says, obviously eager to take some of the heat off himself, "Aonung got upset with us asking about you. That's why I'm so battered."

At this, you freeze. Zei'ke can obviously tell he said something important, because he winces and scrunches his face up.

"I mean- no- I tripped-"

"Shut up," you say carelessly. "You saw Aonung?"

"Yes? I mean... he's been at training for day-"

With a furious growl, you push past Zei'ke, storm out of the marui, and stalk along the village. You can feel his eyes blinking owlishly at you, clearly torn between confusion and worry for what Aonung might do to him.

Rage is boiling in your veins. First, Aonung ignores you after promising a million things. Then he "claims" you or whatever the fuck that means. And now it turns out, he was here. In Awa'atlu. And he just didn't come and see you.

You storm across the sand to the warrior grounds, hands balled into little fists. All the sparring and beatings and fights don't faze you, you storm straight through all the tussles towards the familiar broad figure of Aonung on the very opposite side.

Fights pause and everyone stares as you stride past, all tiny and furious in your bikini and shorts, less clothing than they'd ever seen you in.

Finally, you reach Aonung. He hasn't noticed all his warriors have stopped fighting, he hasn't even noticed you storming towards him. He's busy sharpening a spear, discussing something with Neteyam seated beside him.

Neteyam is the first to spot you, and his eyes go wide. Before he can say anything, Aonung notices his friend's surprise, and turns with a small, puzzled frown on his stupidly handsome face to see you right in front of him.

Thank Eywa he's seated, because it makes your next action a lot easier. You slap him. Hard.

Several people gasp, everyone mutters, and all eyes are now on you as you glare up at him. Aonung's eyes are dark, but he doesn't say anything. He looks a little confused, and that makes you even more furious.

You shove him hard. Mortifyingly, yet predictably if you're looking at it logically, Aonung doesn't move a single inch, and suddenly you're right against his warm, muscular body. Stupid skxawng, his hotness making it hard for you to be mad at him.

"You dick," you growl. "You fucking idiot-"

Aonung clears his throat, clearly aware of everyone watching with varying degrees of surprise, interest and amusement as this little angry tawtute snarls curses at their commander. Neteyam, too, looks slightly entertained.

"Dismissed," he calls to his warriors. 

They all wander off, taking their sweet time to cast glances back at you, muttering excitedly between themselves. Neteyam stands awkwardly, trying to hide a smile.

"I'm going to go," he says decidedly. "I'll see you later bro. Good luck."

Aonung nods tightly, before his gaze flicks back down to you, glaring up at him with all your might. This fucking skxawng is going to be the death of you. He obviously wasn't going to be the first one to speak, so you took a deep breath.

#avatar fanfiction #aonung fanfiction #aonung fic #aonung x reader #avatar smut #aonung x female reader #avatar fandom #avatar the way of water #avatar #aonung

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean

Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam is haunted by a vision of a woman trapped in his childhood house

Warning: cannon violence, tension/ minor flirting, slight angst and comfort, mentions of death, mentions of a dead parent, the use of witchcraft that isn't exactly apart of Supernatural lore but does have ties to many folklore's interpretations of a witches capability from European Folklore to Appalachian Folk Magic and many more (i used a mix of different lore to create my own interpretation) this took so long to research, l also was testing things out in my apartment so i'd be able to write it properly- literally rearranging furniture for it

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld ,

@okayiamkassandra, @fablerose , @ada--44

Word Count: 12,947

Home

(Master list, Previous Ch., Next Ch.)

I stumble into the boys motel room, stifling a yawn from passing through my lips. Did I wake up two hours ago and refuse to get out of the stiff motel bed instead of coming to meet my lovely friends in their room?

Yes!

“Good morning my little stabby hunters” I greet cheerfully, closing and locking the door behind me. Sam mumbles some incoherent version of a greeting from where he sat on his bed while Dean looks up from Sam’s laptop, “Mornin’ sweetheart”

I walk up to each boy individually giving their hair a nice ruffle before shuffling my way to sit criss-cross applesauce on the unoccupied bed. “You had perfect timing ‘cause I think I found a few candidates for our next gig.”

“Oooh how fun” I half sarcastically say, “read ‘em out!”

“Alright we got a fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali” I nod pretending to know what a ‘trawler’ is, “ –-its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” Dean lists out looking up every now and then for a reaction, “Hey. Sammy.” He calls out to his brother who’s sat drawing something on a little notepad.

Sam looks up, giving Dean an annoyed look waiting for what he has to say. Dean leans back in his chair, “Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

“No. I’m listening. Keep going.” Sam declares, going right back to his drawing. He was in fact not paying attention.

“And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.” He stops speaking again, waving his hand in the air intended to get his brother's attention, “Any of these things blowin�� up your skirt, pal?”

Sam suddenly sits up fully, “Wait. I’ve seen this.”

“Seen what?” I ask, Dean and I sharing a confused look. But Sam doesn't answer, he just crosses the room towards his duffel bag, searching for something. “What are you doing?” Dean asks. Again Sam doesn't answer, finally finding whatever he was looking for he pauses studying the two things in his hands, he swiftly turns around “I know where we have to go next.”

“Where?” Dean muses, asking the question were both thinking.

“Back home –- back to Kansas” Sam breathes, a hint of panic in his eyes.

“Okay, random. Where’d that come from?”

Sam shows the thing he took out of his bag, a photo, to his brother, I get up to view it too. “All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?” Sam asks, looking between the sort of family photo taken in front of their house and his brother.

“Yeah.” Dean answers plainly.

“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?” Sam asks further.

“Yeah it took ‘em a while to, I think it was mostly out of respect because no one ever moved in after you either, as far as I know.” I answer only knowing because I lived in town even after they moved away.

“Okay, well, someone lives there now…and, I, uh, look, this is gonna sound crazy but….the people who live in our old house –- I think they might be in danger.” Sam stammers

“Why would you think that?” Dean asks the obvious question. “Uh…it’s just, um….look, just trust me on this, okay?” He starts to walk away to the other side of the room, Dean following suit, “Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?”

The fighting begins, I think to myself as I chew on the inside of my cheek. I knew Dean would probably act harsher then he meant to, his mom—his old house being a very rough topic for him.

Now it’s Sam’s turn to answer simply, “Yeah.”

“Come on, man, that’s weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that.” Dean raises his voice slightly.

“I can’t really explain it is all” Sam says looking around the room instead of making eye contact.

“Well, tough. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do” Dean crosses his arms waiting expectantly.

Sam sighs, “I have these nightmares.”

“I’ve noticed” Dean says while nodding and I want to step in and lecture him for coming off so mean, but I bite my tongue.

“And sometimes…” Sam pauses for a while before continuing, “…they come true.” This time I don’t bite my tongue, the word slipping out of my lips out of pure shock, “Sam” I gasp. “Come again?” Dean says almost at the same time as my gasp.

“Look….I dreamt about Jessica’s death –- for days before it happened.” Sam tries to explain further, nearly getting cut off by his brother, “Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” I know Dean doesn't want to believe it, I know he’s scared of what this could mean. But I can’t help but feel this is like the argument Dean had started on my twelfth birthday, all those years ago. It felt especially silly to feel this way now, not when I never held a grudge against him because of it. Maybe I should have but I could never find it within myself to do so.

Dean sits down on one of the beds and it’s clear he doesn't know what to do with himself. Sam begins to explain himself more, which I hate the fact he has to, “No, I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

“I don’t know.” Dean huffs out. It’s clear he’s overwhelmed, which is a significantly better reaction than what I got to his whole realization of what I really was—a witch—despite the fact he already knew that. I want to respect their relationship and not speak when it’s not my right to, and yet if it comes down to it I know I will. I won’t let their relationship fall apart because of this, I won’t let a hatred form between them. Let alone like how Dean had hated me for months and I had hated myself too.

“I-it can mean something. There's a lot of cultures that believe that dreams are capable of showing the future as a guidance or even as a warning. Egyptians, Romans, and Greeks, they all believed in this; it's,um, called oneiromancy.” I pipe in quietly as if scared that saying it too loud would shatter the delicate atmosphere. Sam was looking at me with big eyes like he was hanging on to each word I spoke, nodding along.

“All right, just slow down, would ya?” Dean stands abruptly beginning to pace the carpeted floor, “I mean, first you tell me that you’ve got the Shining? And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when….”

“When what?” Sam asks carefully.

Dean sounds on the verge of tears, probably the most vulnerable he’s been in a long time, “When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?” The air, the atmosphere itself, felt fragile then too as if something so palpable had to be careful of where it stood

Sam begins softly, his eyes scrunched in a mix of worry and sympathy, “Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure.”

“I know we do.” Dean nods, his head hung low.

The Impala pulls up in front of the old Winchester house, the cute little two story green house standing there simply. I can’t help but wonder if in a hundred years these people who lived in Lawrence would know what happened here? The family that was lost here? Maybe not physically but you can trace everything back to this simple house, where these boys lost a piece of themselves no matter how young they were. You can still feel it in the air now, in this car with Dean's head hung low as he peers up at his old house, the only and last house he’s ever had.

“You gonna be all right, man?” Sam asks, trying to catch his brother's eyes. Dean swallow’s thickly, “Let me get back to you on that.” We exit the safety of the car and with each step forward the weight of this settles on our shoulders, the realness of this all. I know this isn’t about me, but if I let my mind stop focusing on the task at hand I know that it will wisp away to my old house. Just on the other side of town, to every moment I spent wandering the streets with no where particular in mind-

A sharp knocking on the front door snaps me out of my mind. A pretty blonde opens the door, her eyebrows scrunched in what seems like stress, “Yes?” she answers.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal—“ Dean begins his lie getting cut off by his brother, “I’m Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Dean, and our friend Y/N. My brother and I, uh, we used to live here. You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”

“Winchester. Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.” She laughs lightly. Dean's face drops a little, a mix of curiosity and longing on his face that if I hadn’t seen it before, hadn’t known him so well I wouldn’t have recognized it. “You did?” he asks, and I'd have to think it was a look of longing for his life back then, before he lost his mom, to a life that was so simple and child-like because that might have been the only time he really was a child.

She nods and steps aside, “Come on in.” The inside of the house wasn’t so much different from what I’ve been told about it, she shuts and locks the door behind us and we wait for her to lead us further in before moving. “I’m Jenny by the way” she says moving past us. She leads us into the big kitchen, a young girl doing homework at the table while an adorable jumpy toddler bounces in his little playpen, I can’t help the smile that creeps up on my face at the sight.

“Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!” The toddler chants, bouncing as he speaks.

“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie.” She introduces going over to the fridge, taking out a sippy cup and handing it to the bouncy baby. “He has good taste” I laugh, the kid being just so freaking adorable.

Jenny walks over to her daughter, “Sari, this is Sam and Dean, they used to live here. And that’s their friend Y/n.” I smile at the girl who greets us with a small “Hi.” Dean for some reason waved awkwardly at the child, as if he doesn't know how to act around kids when that’s so far from the truth.

“Hey, Sari.” Sam smiles before allowing her to get back to her homework.

“So, you just moved in?” Dean asks, jumping right to it. “Yeah, from Wichita.” Jenny answers, referring to a different part of Kansas.

“You got family here, or….?” Dean continues to ask, and honestly it’s kind of a creepy question. She answers a little hesitantly, “No. I just, uh….needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job –- I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.”

“Do you like it here?” I ask genuinely. “Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home” She starts looking at the boys as she speaks, “…I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here…but this place has its issues.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks almost a little too quickly.

Jenny sighs, “Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.”

“I think that’s an easy fix” I try to remain hopeful, it’s not like we can just tell her ‘oh yeah that’s ‘cause your house is probably haunted by a demon or something.’ And under the assumption that it was just faulty wiring, I really wasn’t sure if it was an easy fix. I mean I am no electrician.

“Anything else?” Dean adds in.

“Um…sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement.” She lists off before pausing for a beat, looking between us nervously, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.” Dean looks a little taken back by this concern, because what was written on his face was far from offense, “No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”

“It’s just the scratching, actually.” She answers.

“Mom?” Sari calls out lightly, Jenny kneels down to her daughter waiting for her to continue, “Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

“What, Sari?” Sam asks, confused.

“The thing in my closet.” She answers weakly, and I swear my heart broke a little at the way in which she said it.

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny answers softly, reminding me of my mothers soft tone when she spoke to us. Jenny looks up at the boys, “Right?”

Sam stumbles over his words as he answers, “Right. No, no, of course not.”

“She had a nightmare the other night.” Jenny explains, a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

Sari shakes her head, “I wasn’t dreaming. It came into my bedroom –- and it was on fire.”

Uh oh.

~~~~~~~~

“You hear that? A figure on fire.” Sam whisper-shouts, mainly to his brother who was walking a little too quickly then necessary to his car. The man in question turns around swiftly, “And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?”

“Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.” Sam bites back.

“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true.” Dean snaps.

Sam’s eyes were wide with panic, “Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?”

“I don’t know!” Dean snaps.

Back and forth they fight like two dogs having a barking match from just over the fence. “Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?” Sam starts again.

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely, Sam, we don’t know yet.”

“Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get ‘em out of that house.”

“And we will.”

“No, I mean now.”

“And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she’s gonna believe?”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“Both of you, stop!” I nearly shout, both boys going quiet, “Look” I sigh. “I get this is scary and all but you two bickering isn’t going to get us anywhere! And if we want to help that nice family we have to think logically. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, maybe it’s something else or maybe we have to prepare ourselves for the fact that it is that monster.

Either way we can’t just run into this with assumptions or lead on feeling alone, okay? ‘Cause that’s how we mess up and wind up dead and I don’t know ‘bout you boys but i’m not quite craving the taste of death just yet.” I take a deep breath before continuing, “So, let’s pretend this is any ol’ case, any other hunt. What do we do first?”

“Research” Dean mumbles as if he was a kid who got caught doing something wrong, which arguably isn’t so far from the truth.

“Check our bases, dig into the history” Sam adds.

“Exactly” I smile, “Good job”

Dean opens the driver seat door, getting in as he speaks, “Except this time, we already know what happened.”

Sam and I followed suit, “Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?” he asks. Dean looks around a little uncomfortable, “About that night, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Not much. I remember the fire…the heat.” He pauses, “And then I carried you out the front door.”

“You did?” Sam asks surprised.

Dean scuffs, starting the car and pulling out of the spot, “Yeah, what, you never knew that?”

Sam shakes his head, “No.”

Dean continues, “And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mom was….was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?” Sam questions further, and up until now I didn’t realize how much he was kept in the dark about such a significant moment in his life.

Dean shrugs, “If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.” Sam starts again, “Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.”

Dean again looks around uncomfortably, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel, “Yeah. We’ll talk to Dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

Sam notices this obvious movement like I did and pauses for a moment, you could see the gears turning in his head, “Does this feel like just another job to you?” Dean clears his throat, suddenly jerking the car off to the left side of the road right up to the curb, the car poorly parked, “I’ll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom.” The second he finishes his sentence he’s out of the car and walking away into some local business that I couldn’t quite see the name of.

“I- I don’t understand him” Sam suddenly says as he watches his brother leave, turning in the passenger seat to talk to me properly, “It would be so much easier if he just…” He sighs, “talked to me.”

“I… don’t want to excuse his actions because you are right, but at the same time you know he was never taught how to be vulnerable.” I try to explain, carefully choosing my words knowing there were eggshells surrounding our feet. He then mumbles something incoherently about their childhood, he looks back up at me, “you know, you don’t really talk about your childhood either.”

“Maybe it’s just something about Kansas” I joke, he laughs lowly, “But I ,uh, I would like to tell you about it…someday…” I offer shyly, trying to offer him something in a moment where he has nothing

“I’d like that, at least I could get closer to one of you” Sam smiles, sadly.

“Hey and maybe it will open the door to encourage Dean to speak up” I say.

“Yeah you know that’s not gonna happen” He scuffs.

“Well, I was trying to be a little optimistic.”

When Dean came back to the car he was dead quiet, his eyes were glossy but he refused to talk. It wasn’t uncommon for him, not one bit.

Sitting in the back of the Impala, I watched the buildings and trees pass by. All blocks I was familiar with even if it was far from where I had actually lived, but when you're lonely you tend to find walking for an eternity isn’t so bad. Funnily enough, sitting in the back of this car felt eerily similar to when I was a child, my dad as quiet as an owl, a then changed man having lost his world. Only, he had forgotten my brother and I had lost her too, and that we were still around to begin with.

Dean stared at the road like my dad had all those years ago, so deeply as if they were to look away it would disappear right beneath them. Then Sam sat in the passenger seat looking between his brother and out the window not knowing what to say, like my brother always did. And I of course still played the same role because some things never change, some feelings never do fully leave.

Dean suddenly clears his throat, “Alright, up ahead is an old pal of dads.” Just as suddenly as he said it, he also hadn’t given us time to say anything before pulling over once more, this time in front of a mechanic's place. A sign reading “Guenther’s Auto Repair” in big red letters hung above a large garage unit. The smell of metal and grease breeze by my nose as I exit the car, following after the two taller men with what I thought was a forgotten sadness now back. I can’t imagine how they must feel, how Dean must feel.

They effortlessly found and began a discussion with the owner, easily lying about being cops which felt especially wrong today. It felt wrong to lie to anyone from the town I pretty much grew up in, even if I never knew any of them.

“So you and John Winchester, you used to own this garage together?” Dean asks the older man. I knew their father was a mechanic but hadn’t known he had his own garage and partner.

“Yeah, we used to, a long time ago. Matter of fact, it must be, uh…twenty years since John disappeared. So why the cops interested all of a sudden?” He says, whipping his dirty hands on a rag stained with car grease.

“Oh, we’re re-opening some of our unsolved cases, and the Winchester disappearance is one of ‘em.” Dean answers smoothly, and I guess it isn’t technically a lie either. He accepts the answer with no further, visible, speculation, “Oh, well, what do you wanna know about John?”

“Well, whatever you remember, you know, whatever sticks out in your mind.” Dean suggests.

“Well…he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that.” He laughs. “And, uh, whatever the game, he hated to lose, you know? It’s that whole Marine thing. But, oh, he sure loved Mary. And he doted on those kids.” To that I have to stop myself from reacting, for some reason I can’t picture John being anything less of what he is now, in terms of strictness and toughness.

“But that was before the fire?” Sam points out.

He nods, “That’s right.”

“He ever talk about that night?” Sam adds. He seems to think for a moment, “No, not at first. I think he was in shock.”

“Right. But eventually? What did he say about it?” Sam clarifies.

“Oh, he wasn’t thinkin’ straight. He said somethin’ caused that fire and killed Mary.”

“He ever say what did it?” Dean asks this time.

“Nothin’ did it. It was an accident –- an electrical short in the ceiling or walls or somethin’. I begged him to get some help, but….” He explains.

“But what?”

“Oh, he just got worse and worse.” He answered, sympathy written all over his face.

“How?” Dean asks carefully.

“He started readin’ these strange ol’ books. He started goin’ to see this palm reader in town.” He says, suddenly catching my attention, an air of familiarity surrounding it.

“Palm reader? Uh, do you have a name?” Dean questions. I scrunch my eyebrows together trying to remember why this was familiar.

He responds at the same time it suddenly hits me, “No” he scuffs.

The name leaves my mouth in quiet thought, “Missouri Moseley.”

All three of them look at me strangely, before Dean grabs hold of my upper arm, throwing the man a smile and a “Excuse us.” He begins pulling me away from the garage and back to the car, his brother following after us after he had thanked the man.

“Where’d you get that name from?” Dean asks me sternly, looking down at me with sharp curious eyes, his grip on my arm never faulting.

I look up at him, his green eyes piercing mine, expectantly, but I find myself at a loss for words. Each syllable ready to be spoken but dying on my tongue, all in the fault of once more feeling like my younger self. Sam reaches for his brother's shoulder, almost pulling him away from me, “Ease up, Dean.” He shakes his brother off, but listens, releasing my arm and swallowing thickly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay” I cut him off quickly. I wasn’t scared of him at that moment, but of the past and I knew he was too. We all were.

“I remember your dad came over and mentioned that name, along with her being the real deal. I just don’t remember what the conversation was about, I mean it had to be years ago…” I feel my eyebrows scrunch together again as I try to recall more, glimpses of the memory popping up. Our dads sitting on the long vintage couches my mom had bought for the house while me and my brother ran outside to play, “It was at the original house, m-maybe a year before we moved to Kansas.”

“So three years after mom died” Sam nods.

“Yeah that seems about right, but I’m not sure if that encounter was like right after your dad met this Missouri or some time after.” I add

“It sounds familiar. '' Dean breathed out before rounding the car to the trunk, digging through it before pulling out the journal. “In Dad’s journal…here, look at this.” He flips it open, handing it off to his brother, “First page, first sentence, read that.”

Sam takes the book, reading the sentence out loud, “I went to Missouri and I learned the truth.”

“I always thought he meant the state.” Deans shrugs.

Missouri’s house was a cute little two story place. I admire the light brown wood paneling and stained glass windows, something I knew my mom would have loved. Dean and Sam sat squished together on a small couch, all of us waiting for her to be finished with her client. I choose to stand, not only to see them both quietly fight to sit on the couch but also to slightly look around the place without wandering around.

A round faced, warm brown skinned lady with big curly hair tied back in a ponytail escorts a man out of her house, “All right, there. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.” She tells him, her voice a natural soft and sweet tone, accompanied with a southern accent.

She closes the front door behind him, turning to face us, “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.” Her sweet voice does nothing to soften her blunt statement, my eyes go wide with the comment.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean asks her,

“People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news.” She answers simply, causing the room to fall quiet for a beat, “Well? Y/n, Sam and Dean, come on already, I ain’t got all day.” She leaves the room, I follow after her only pausing when I realize the boys weren’t following. I turn back towards them waving them over, they share a look before getting up and following.

“Well, lemme look at ya.” She laughs, “Oh, you boys grew up handsome.” She points a finger at Dean, “And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.” A burst of laughter slips through my lips before I can control myself, his face falls and he glares at her.

Her gaze turns to me, my laughter dying out but a permanent smile left on my face, “Oh, you never lost your beauty” She smiles.

“You knew me when I was younger?” I ask, confused.

“Well of course, I knew your mother. Bless her soul” She answers, only leaving me more confused ‘cause my mom never mentioned her and I would sure remember such a sweet and funny woman.

“We helped each other out back then”, she explains, “She would always show me pictures of you and your brother. You were always a smiley girl, it’s good to see you didn’t lose that. Your mother would be glad too.” A warmth blossoms in my heart at that, my smile softens with me and it was like something I didn’t even know was within was fulfilled. It was hard to find new memories of my mom when I really didn’t know anyone who had known her, other than our family, to ask. Missouri hadn’t given me a full in depth memory and yet, it was enough. Enough to know someone else clearly adored my mom and had seen her in the same light I did. I don’t know why my mom never told us about her, but for some reason I didn’t feel the need to ask.

She gives me one last smile before giving her attention to Sam, she grabs his hand, her face falling, “Oh, honey…I’m sorry about your girlfriend.” A wave of shock clearly passes over the boys face, “And your father –- he’s missin’?” she continued.

“How’d you know all that?” Sam asks, clearly forgetting she is a psychic.

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.” She explains.

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean rapidly spews out.

She half shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?” He snaps back, far too hostile.

She gives him a weird look, “Boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air.” A laugh passes through my lips before I could stop myself, I nudge Dean's shoulder who glares sharply at me before turning that look to Missouri, only furthering my spits of giggles that I try to bite back.

Her demeanor changes back to gentle, “Sit, please.” We listen to her, I took a seat beside Sam so that I wasn’t squished between both boys. Missouri suddenly snaps at Dean, “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!”

“I didn’t do anything.” Dean argues, his voice seemingly an octave higher- like a child.

“But you were thinkin’ about it.” She answers.

“Oh, I like you” I say through my laughter, it was quite the breath of fresh air to see someone put gruff ‘macho man’ Dean in his place.

Sam gets back on topic, whipping the smile that formed on his face, “Okay. So, our dad –- when did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say…I drew back the curtains for him.” She responds.

“What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?” Dean asks.

“A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin’ I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing” She explains.

“And could you?” Sam asks

She shakes her head, “I…”

“What was it?”

She answers softly, “I don’t know. Oh, but it was evil.”, She pauses for a beat, “So…you think somethin’ is back in that house?”

“Definitely” Sam breathes.

She shakes her head again, “I don’t understand.”

“What?” Sam asks.

“I haven’t been back inside, but I’ve been keepin’ an eye on the place, and it’s been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin’ up now?” She explains.

“I don’t know. But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once –- it just feels like something’s starting.” Sam says, eyebrows scrunched in worry.

“That’s a comforting thought.” Dean mumbles.

~~~~~~~~~

The ride back to the Winchesters house was the light in this complex time. The entire ride Missouri lectured Dean on his driving saying he was just a little too reckless and was gonna get us all killed despite it being a generally short one. They bickered back and forth a while until Dean gave up grumbling something below his breath, causing another snap response from the woman herself.

When we finally arrived Dean quickly got out of the car before anyone else could even register being parked, I genuinely don’t think I've ever seen him happy to be out of Baby. He had very obviously, and purposefully, positioned himself so that he was standing next to me away from Missouri, in fact two people away as she stood on the other side of Sammy. I searched for Dean's hand, my fingers brushed against his larger rougher hand. I clasped it gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze to hopefully ease his tension, caused by the beef he had with the nice lady that was helping us to begin with, even though I most definitely found the whole thing hilarious. Just as Sam knocked on the door I released Dean's hand, bringing both my hands to clasp in front of me. A peak of nervousness rests in my gut as I feel his gaze on me, I ignore it, focusing my eyes forward while I rock on the balls of my feet.

Jenny answers the door, her blond hair messy and clear stress present in the crinkled corner of her eyes and worry etched into her pupils. She holds her baby, Ritchie, close to her chest, “Sam, Dean, Y/N. What are you doing here?”

Sam smiles at the blond, “Hey, Jenny. This is our friend, Missouri.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time’s sake” Dean chimes in.

She scrunches her nose, “You know, this isn’t a good time. I’m kind of busy.”

“Listen, Jenny, it’s important.” Dean tries to explain before Missouri smacks him hard on the back of the head, far harder than I ever do, “Ow!” He yelps, turning around swiftly towards the shorter woman, “How did you-!” He nearly yells holding the back of his head. He looks at her with big wild eyes, his yelling coming from the fact she was able to quietly get behind Sam and I to hit him.

Missouri cuts him off, “Give the poor girl a break, can’t you see she’s upset?” She then turns to Jenny, “Forgive this boy, he means well, he’s just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out.” Dean looks further stunned.

“About what?” Jenny asks, adjusting her hold on her kid.

“About this house.” Missouri answers.

“What are you talking about?” Jenny looks between us all, nervously.

“I think you know what I’m talking about. You think there’s something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?” Missouri says.

“Who are you?” Jenny asks just above a whisper.

“We’re people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you’re gonna have to trust us, just a little.” Missouri smiles comfortingly but even so Jenny looks unsure.

She seems to go over it in her head before finally sighing, “Alright.”

The four of us stand in Sari’s bedroom, Jenny having given us room to do what we need to while she waits downstairs with her kids. Sari’s room was a dark blue, a contrast to her pink and white furniture and toys.

“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it.” Missouri states, looking around the room carefully from where she stood.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.” She answers, looking around the room. Dean pulls out his DIY EMF from the inside of his coat pocket, “That an EMF?” Missouri asks.

“Yeah.” Dean smiles smugly.

“Amateur.” Missouri says lowly, I don’t know why she was targeting Dean specifically but his reaction to her was too amusing to really ponder it.

The EMF beeps frantically, “I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom.” Missouri announces.

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam asks frantically, getting a confident nod, “How do you know?”

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s somethin’ different.” She answers, pausing for a beat before adding, “Can you feel it Y/N?”

My eyes widened in shock, “I’m sorry what?”

“You still got a lot to learn ‘bout your abilities'' She responds waving me over, “c’mere, you might be able to sense the energy.”

I hesitantly place my bag down before slowly walking over to her, she either senses my nervousness or reads my mind because she explains what she means, “Witches tend to have the best intuition and connection to the natural world, you should be able to sense energies especially spiritual ones with a second sight.”

She situates me in front of her with my back towards her, her hands clasp my arms tightly as they rest at my side. “Close your eyes, and just like meditation let everythin’ else fall away.”

I follow her instructions, my eyes fluttering shut reluctantly. I feel incredibly silly as I take a deep breath, the sage-y perfume of the woman behind me filling my nose. I breathe out slowly, forcing my mind to shut out the real world, which isn’t as hard as it should be with the quiet room and my nearly regular meditating. Complete darkness surrounds me as if the room itself had fallen away with all the people in it too, just me floating in an abyss.

I focused more closely on the house itself, extending my awareness far out to the block and then as if a dark fog hugged it I zeroed in on the house. Using my conscious self I pictured what it was like to walk through the house this time with a deep focus and new eyes.

With each step I ventured further into the house cautiously, a buzzing feeling rang through the house like when two strong magnets fight for equilibrium with a clatter. But despite the buzzing a physical warm glow emitted from the home's edges and like a hand reaching out it tried to conquer more of the house, yet it couldn’t. A force I couldn't quite tell held it back. The hair on the back of my neck stood tall, a cold chill running down my spine, I shrugged it off as I walked back up the stairs and down the hall to my physical self.

My foot only breached the doorway when a dreadful feeling filled the halls as if rooted beneath the wallpaper, a twinge of fear made its home in my stomach. I had never done this before, never went into my mind to feel the very things I hunt. I have no experience here, this is not my domain. They must know that as hushed murmurs fluttered around me with voices I couldn’t detect but knew they didn’t belong to anyone in the room. They wouldn’t be able to talk to me here so normally, maybe Missouri but certainly not Sam or Dean.

The murmurs became louder, each whisper jumbled over the next, talking over each other to the point of no recognition. My back hits the hard archway of the door's entrance, the sheer loudness of combined voices knocking me off balance. I braced myself against the door, nails biting into wood, my eyes shut tightly in effort to focus even further.

An unfamiliar cold hand brushes my forearm dragging its fingers up to my elbow as if standing beside me, I swiftly turn around backing up a few feet to see nothing near me. Another brush touches me, this time the back of my neck accompanied by a hot breath fanning by my ear. I don’t move away. this is not my domain, but it will be, and I will not show fear now. Latin spews from its mouth flowing right into my ear, a simple teasing statement, “Another toy.”

My eyes shoot open, pupils blown wide as my eyes adjust to the lighting as well as my mind being back in focus of the physical realm. My heart beats harshly against my chest, my lungs heaving with adrenaline.

A large hand clasps around my upper arm tightly, I nearly stumble back a step before my mind finally catches up with the present. “What is it?” Dean spews out quickly, his green eyes nearly crazed with worry.

I open my mouth to answer only to have Missouri answer for me instead, “You saw them.”

“F-felt more like” I stammer the feeling of its touch still lingering.

“What are they doing here?” Dean asks, looking between Missouri and I for answers, his hand still on my arm. Thing is I don’t have an answer, all that creepy spirit touching and I still don’t know everything.

But of course Missouri does, “They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected.”

“This house buzzes with energy, literally you can feel it attracting paranormal energy. There’s two here right now…ones in the room. My head turns towards the closet, “A poltergeist. I’m not sure if it sees it as a game or what but I think it wants Jenny and her kids dead.” I know I’m right when Missouri nods her head.

“You both said there was more than one spirit.”

“There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one.” Missouri answers before adding, “You pick up anythin’”

“Only that it felt…good, if that makes sense. It was very different from the other. It was like this warmth trying to consume the house or really rid the house of its evil.” I answer by trying to make sense of everything that I have experienced.

“You’re sure of this?” Dean asks me, gaining my attention again by squeezing my arm before finally letting go.

“Yes.” I breathe simply, failing to explain that my only other hunch was the fact that it hadn’t been bothering me or I suppose terrorizing me like the poltergeist had with its touching.

A hard determined look sharpens on Dean's face, “Well, one thing’s for damn sure –- nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

“We’re gonna cleanse the house” Missouri answers simply, “Y/N, what you have in that bag of yours?”

A devilish smirk stretches itself on my face, “You wanna do purifying bags?” I ask back instead of answering. I walk back over to my discarded bag picking it up and swinging it over my shoulder, “Let’s do this downstairs, don’t want to make a mess in the kids room” Missouri says, answering my question without really answering it.

“Copy” I smile, taking the lead as we exit the room. With a sudden need for my specialty I found a new pep in my step as I quickly descended the stairs beelining for the nearest table. I carefully placed my bag down on the dining room table, pulling out my spell book marked and written in along with small corked glass bottles of different roots and herbs I carry. “When did you put all of this in your bag?” Sam asks, picking up a vial of crossroad dirt.

“Before I left with Dean to come get you, ‘cause you never know when you're gonna have to put together a spell or a potion of sorts” I answer, pulling out a couple empty small brown pouches.

“So you’ve been carrying this ‘round with you this whole time?” Dean asks this time.

“Mhm” I hum as I sit getting right to work.

With a little bag in front of me I put in each ‘ingredient’, for lack of a better word, not needing to look at my book for the right amount in each.

“Well don’t be lazy, help the girl!” Missouri lectures hitting Dean on the back of the head again. He grumbles no longer snapping back with something, he sits down next to me looking for direction.

With the feeling of his gaze on the side of my face I swirl my finger towards my spell book, a purple haze floating through the air turning the pages of my book to the right section for him to follow without me having to stop my work. He doesn't say anything as he takes off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, putting his forearms on display as he picks up bits of root, unfortunately catching my attention enough to pause my work and stare at him.

His eyes move from my book to the bag he was working on, his eyes sharp and focus as it passes across the words on the page. He moves his hand to the book using a finger to drag across the page underneath each word, the veins in his hand bulging as he does so. His eyebrows scrunch and his jaw ticks as he asks, “What is this stuff anyway?”

“That’s angelica root your holding” I mentioned first, referring to the fuzzy green plant in his hand. “And that’s van van oil, crossroad dirt, sage” I point to each bottle, naming off each ingredient we’re using.

He nods as I speak, his eyes still holding the same level of focus. From his listening to the gentle touch he used as he handled each bottle, all I could feel was pure endearment. The sudden quietness in the room made me painfully aware of the fact that we were the only ones left in said room and that Missouri along with Sam had left at some point, most likely to talk to Jenny.

“What are we supposed to do with it?” Dean questioned, knocking his knee into mine to get my attention once more. A bashful smile breaks its way onto my face at his touch, “We put them inside the walls of each corner of each floor of the house, north, south, east, west.”

“We’ll be punchin’ holes in the dry wall. Jenny’s gonna love that.” Dean points out.

My lips formed a tight line, cringing, “Yeah…this is just how this goes but to be fair some holes in the walls are better than evil spirits.”

He huffed a laugh, “And this will destroy the spirits?”

“It should, it's supposed to purify the house completely, we’ll probably each take a floor but we do have to work quickly because when they catch on to what we’re doing, they get seriously pissed.” I answered

“Won’t they catch on with us doing it here?”

“You would think that but spirits don’t always know until it’s actually happening like when we make the holes then it’s a big deal.” I inform, tying off another bag.

“Huh” He replies as he continues to work.

Soon silence falls upon us while we work, our arms brushing against each other every now and then.

“Are holes in drywall a hard fix?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence, worried that the spirits won’t be the only pissed ones.

A deep chuckle passes through his lips, “That depends, sweetheart, but it should be.” He went on to explain the logistics of it, and while it wasn’t something I really cared to know about I didn’t stop him from explaining.

By the time his explanation of spackles and walls was over our purifying bags were done too.

Missouri and Sam walk back into the room, the floor creaking slightly underneath them. “You guys almost done?” Sam asked

“Yup” I hummed, “The bags are all done just gotta finish cleaning up”

“Good. Jenny and her kids just left, they’ll be back in an hour or two” Sam explained, placing a bunch of heavy items on the table. “I brought these in from the car, take your pick.”

I look up at the heavy mass, a hammer, a small ax, and two crowbars lay on the table. Though it is an odd collection of weapons as long as it is capable of making a hole in the wall it doesn't really matter, Sam picks up the hammer testing the weight of it in his hand.

With every part of the plan settled I throw the rest of the vials and leftover bags in my bag worrying about organization later, gently tucking my thick spell book into my bag I turn swiftly around, “Let’s get it done.”

“I’ll take this floor” Dean says, picking up his four bags, “Sammy you take upstairs, and you two can take the basement.”

“And remember you need to put a bag in each corner, north, south, east, west.” I order as everyone has the right amount of bags and a weapon of choice.

A collective nod was all we needed to spring into action, with the cold heavy crowbar in my hand I took the lead down the basement Missouri following closely after me. Without any words needed, we split up her heading to the west side of the floor and me to the east.

A chill runs up my spine, an uncomfortable feeling floating in the air, I roll my shoulders trying to rid myself of the feeling. My knees hit the floor, the coldness seeping through my pants. I knock on the wall in an attempt to hear a hollow part, Dean having mentioned before that would be the easiest way to make a hole. My knuckles hit the wall in at least ten separate spots before it no longer sounds solid. I stand back up for better leverage before changing my hold on the crowbar to be horizontal, bashing the end of it into the wall repeatedly until it cracks.

A heavy sliding noise shuffles behind me, I snap my head to the sound of a large dark table moving across the floor right into Missouri. My mouth opens to scream her name in warning but just as the first syllable leaves my mouth a nail comes flying at my face. Out of reflex alone I send the nail flying to the left, the invisible force of my power altering its trajectory. My eyes follow where the nail came from, an open red tool box, more nails come flying my way and each time I knock them away. Knowing it wouldn’t stop I gripped the crowbar harder using only a glimpse back at the wall to know where I was aiming for. While I used one hand and half my focus on changing the direction of the nails I used my other to slam the crowbars end into the already cracked wall but only when it sounded like it broke through enough did I glimpse back again. With another look forward at the coming nails, only one more left, I waited until it got closer, the old nail zooming toward my eye. Just as it got but an inch away I dropped to the floor, turning my body as I went, throwing the purification bag in.

I got up quickly, dropping my crowbar, almost tripping over my other foot as I ran to Missouri, pushing the table away from her, throwing another bag into the hole she had already made before she got attacked. She breathes heavily, a hand on her chest. “You okay?” I ask, putting a hand on her shoulder and leading her away from the table. She nods her head, handing me her two bags, wordlessly telling me to finish the floor.

I grip the bags in one hand as I pick up my discarded crowbar, seeing the nails that flew at me sticking out of the walls. I head over to the undisturbed wall slamming the crowbar into the wall, not even attempting to do the knocking at this point. While I threw in the third bag, worry consumed me at the realization that the spirits must be attacking the boys too. Without wasting any more time I go to the last undisturbed wall, again slamming the crowbar into it. Call it paranoia or instinct that made me turn so that my shoulder was facing the wall instead of my face to see if another attack would be coming. Either way it was that alone that saved me from the poltergeist throwing a wooden chair at my head. I duck again just in time for the chair to smash into pieces above me, wood undoubtedly falling into my hair.

“Stop throwing stuff!” I yell at the air itself or really the incredibly annoying poltergeist. With a huff I throw in the last bag, all the activity silencing on this floor. I get up walking over to Missouri as I pick out chunks of wood from my hair, as soon as I get close enough she reaches up and takes a particularly large piece of chair out of my hair showing it to me with a laugh before tossing it somewhere on the floor.

“Y/N!” A voice yells with a strain, clearly coming from a distance away. Right away I recognize the voice, Deans, I go running climbing up the stairs two at a time. Forget about my hair, forget about leaving Missouri behind (no offense).

The ground floor is practically untouched other than the clear mess that is peeking out from the kitchen, I look around quickly and see no one, “Dean?!” I shout back evident fear in my voice, getting an immediate “Up here.” Slight relief hits me as I again sprint up the stairs, twirling around the banister the second I reach the second floor seeing the closest open door. Forgetting about precautions I immediately approach the door, my hand on the archway when I see Dean on the floor cradling a hurt-limp Sam.

“Wha-“ I begin saying only to lose my train of thought.

“Let’s get him up” Missouri suddenly says from behind me, very calmly. She nudges past me heading straight for the boys, but neither of them move. She leans down beside Sam pressing two fingers to the side of his neck, “He’s still alive, he’ll be just fine.”

He gives her a curt nod before leaning back on his feet and standing, dragging his brother up with him, just as he does so Sam comes to. His eyes fluttering open and close, “It’s okay Sammy, just gonna bring you downstairs” Dean tells him, putting his brother's arm around his shoulder.

Carefully he walks his brother downstairs, Sam grumbling something halfway through before going limp again. Finally they reach the living room, Dean carefully lays his brother on the couch then moves to sit on the coffee table right across from him.

“He’ll be alright” I say softly, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder.

“I know” he replies.

“Were you able to finish the floor?” I ask even though maybe it wasn’t the proper time to.

“No. I was hurled with knives the second I made the hole, then I heard something upstairs and ran to see if Sammy was okay…I don’t think he finished either” He explains, his eyebrows scrunched together.

“It’s okay, i’ll go finish it and you guys can stay here, watch over him” I say, giving his shoulder a little squeeze before moving my hand away.

“Are you crazy?! That’s dangerous. Did you not just see what happened to Sam?!” Dean shoots back, not quite yelling but his voice is definitely louder than needed.

I smiled at him sweetly knowing this was coming from a place of worry and not an incompetent sort of deal, “Don’t worry I can take care of myself just fine, I did so down stairs when we finished up. Got some nails thrown at me, a chair and a table, you know just the usual playing house with the ghost.”

“That’s not the point. I’m coming with you.” He stands up abruptly and I swear I saw his jaw tick.

“Okay. I’m not gonna argue with you” I respond with humor in my voice. “But. If you did want to stay behind to watch your brother I wouldn't fault you for it either.”

He looks at me strangely with those beautiful green eyes before diverting them just past me, “I’m coming with you.”

“Right.” I smile “‘You got the bags?”

He answers by shuffling through his jacket pockets and pulling out a bag from each, he holds them up in an almost teasing way. I take a half step forward, grabbing a bag right out of his hand, only then realizing how close my small step puts us, having to lean my head back far enough to look up at him comfortably. But I don’t move away as I ask him, “What about your axe?”

He tilts his head down slightly towards me, his breathe hot on my face, “Dropped it in the kitchen”

“Good.” I say, nearly and pathetically getting distracted by our closeness…and his eyes… and his lips. “ ‘Cause I have no idea where I left that crowbar”

He laughs and steps away, his shoulder brushing mine as he walks away to the kitchen. Before I can turn to follow him Missouri meets my eyes, giving me a pointed-knowing look about what just happened. ‘Shut up’ I playfully mouth.

Finally I turn around following after the man in question. He comes out of the kitchen holding the small axe but just behind him is a mess. The kitchen looks like a tornado went through it with draws and cabinets open, utensils on the floor, broken dishes scattered around, the table turned over with knives sticking out of it (a tornado could not do that but the point of the mess still stands.) I look back at Dean then behind him repeatedly, “Did you have fun?” I remark sarcastically.

“Oh, not as much fun as you had” He replies gruffly, reaching up to my hair, his fingers sinking in as he ruffles out small chips of wood. My cheeks feel warm at the small contact and even more so when he pulls away and gives me that smirk. Then he walks away towards the back of the house with a cocky look in his eye like he knew exactly what he had done. I take a short deep breath before following him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later every purifying bag is put in place and Sammy is conscious and now we stand in the disaster that is the kitchen, broken cabinets and chair bits on the floor as well as a collection of utensils, all just to see the bunt of the fight.

“‘You sure this is over?” Sam questions, his voice a little rough.

“I’m sure. Why? Why do you ask?” Missouri answers.

“Never mind.” He sighs, “It’s nothin’, I guess.”

The front door opens followed by footsteps, “Hello? We’re home.” Jenny calls out before finding us in the kitchen pure shock written on her face, “What happened?”

“Hi, sorry. Um, we’ll pay for all of this.” Sam word vomits, the words spilling out quickly and anxiously. Both Dean and I’s heads snap towards him, I seriously want to ask him ‘with what money???’ But before anyone can fathom a word Missouri beat us to it, “Don’t you worry. Dean’s gonna clean up this mess.” Again with her (maybe) uncalled targeting I have to bite back a smirk, meanwhile Dean stands unmoving his eyebrows scrunched looking at the shorter woman with a total bewildered expression.

“Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop.” She adds, and I don’t know how she has this much power but he listens and begins to walk away or really shuffle away, “And don’t cuss at me!” She lectures.

Laughter slips through my lips as he mutters under his breath, Sam joining in on the hilarious nature that is his brother being bossed around.

Wiping a tear out of the corner of my eye I touch Sam’s shoulder, “I’m gonna go get him and fix this up…” I twirl my finger slightly to signal I mean magically, “Bring Jenny inside somewhere.” He nods, “Okay but you should really let him suffer”

I laugh again, rolling my eyes as I move away.

I find Dean standing in front of a broom closet trying to balance several cleaning objects in his hands at once. I admire his effort but there’s just no way anyone could clean that kitchen when it’s quite literally just destroyed. I grabbed a broom from him that was seconds away from falling, “Not to ruin your fun but I figured it would be easier to use magic on the kitchen than a mop.”

“Thank god” He sighs, shoving everything back in the closet including the broom I held.

Back in the kitchen I try not to get stressed at just how bad it is. Taking a calming breath I walk over to the kitchen counters, closing my eyes, I feel my hair move around me slightly from a small drift in the room, my body stands completely still as I let my hands feel the cool counter below me and the steadiness of it all. As my body relaxes and my shoulders drop, relieving its tension I become a conduit for magic, a dance of ethereal threads weaving through me. The energy flowed from my core to my fingertips, the flow gracefully extending to every nook and cranny. As if tracing an intricate pattern, it embraced the room, coaxing broken shards and scattered pieces back into harmony. The air felt electric with the essence of restoration, and the kitchen hummed with the soothing melody of enchantment.

When I open my eyes again, I feel a gaze on me. I turn my whole body, so that I was standing sideways, to it and of course it’s Dean, he meets my eyes, his mouth just slightly agape and I can only imagine what the swirling of purple energy around the room fixing items must have looked like. His green eyes are slightly glossy with what is maybe curiousity or amazement, either way it was a weird look. Before I could question him I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a tall familiar figure. Sam stands by the kitchen archway waving his hand, signaling it was time to go.

Hours later darkness consumes the Impala. After dropping Missouri back home Sam insisted we came back to the house for a stakeout. It was hard to argue with someone who had a bad feeling over something that is quite literally life or death, so we stayed. We’d been in here so long in fact that I’d taken to lying down flat in the backseat, my legs propped up on the seats (shoes off so Dean wouldn’t complain but at least I got to showcase my cute dragonfly socks).

I stare up at the beige-ish interior roof, my hands laying across my chest. I breathe in and out evenly, but with the prospect of being bored, memories of my life here swarm my head and suddenly I miss my mom more than I've had in a long time. If I focus hard enough on the roof I can still hear the remnants of her laughter and I could see her smile, the one I inherited, on her soft face. That old longing, that old sadness that I thought I was over fills my heart, its hands creep up on it clasping it tightly. It’s been years. So many years since she’s been gone and yet still this feeling—this rawness in my chest, this endless longing is home in my body just as it was the first time around.

I miss my mom.

I want to cry and I want her back, tears threaten my eyes and that stupid tightness in my throat prevails almost like it’s choking me, a tightness that’s so painful I want to rip my throat out. I swallow forcefully, I hate this feeling and I hate death and I hate that I'm feeling this in the back of the car with my best friends just right up front. It’s too vulnerable, it’s too open, too close to home…I want to go home.

I want to go home.

I shut my eyes tightly trying to erase these feelings to move them back in the dusty box they had sat in. But it isn’t that easy and I know it isn’t so instead I breathe deeply and choose to listen to Dean and Sam talk, focusing on the up and down of their words and the softness of each syllable.

“All right, so, tell me again, what are we still doin’ here?” Dean asks, impatience clear on his tongue.

“I don’t know. I just…” Sam sighs, “…still have a bad feeling.”

“Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.” Dean explains.

“Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all.” Sam answers.

“Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.” Dean responds and I hear him slide down his seat, probably closing his eyes in the process, “Like Y/N back there” he adds, softer, and even with my eyes closed a smile produces itself on my face. The small warmth that spreads in my chest fends off the grief, at least enough for it not to be at the forefront of my mind.

The quiet peace that falls over the Impala is short lived, Sam suddenly yelling, “Guys. Look” My eyes shoot open, “Dean!” He hits his brother's shoulder.

I sit up quickly catching a glimpse of Jenny yelling by her window, with nothing more to be said- we jump out of the car. I shuffled to the car door, leaving my shoes behind, the second I’m out and the door is slammed shut I run after the boys who were only two paces ahead. “You two grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny.” Dean commands as Sam tries the door which of course is locked. Dean pushes him slightly to the side, he takes a step back lifting his leg and kicking in the door. Broken pieces of wood stick out from the side of it.

The dark wooden floors are cold beneath my sock-covered feet, each step up the staircase seems far too long even as we reach the top. At the top Dean stops at a door close to the stairs but I don’t use any more focus to take anything else as Sam and I run down the hall, “Get Sari! I’ll get the baby!” I yell after him. Stopping at the closest door I swing it open only to reveal a bathroom, I curse underneath my breath before spinning around to the door right across the hall. Once more I swing it open, this time revealing a baby room with a white crib in the middle of it. I rush over only slowing to not scare Richie as I approach, somehow he’s still asleep wrapped up in his little blanket.

Carefully I reach in the crib scooping him up from underneath his upper back, my other arm going for his legs. Once in my arms I rearrange him so my dominant hand rests on his lower back while the crook of my other arm cradles his little head, just like holding a baby doll except this one is way cuter and also very alive. Standing back at my full height I fix his blanket around him before exiting the room. I know Sam can handle himself so I head towards the stairs, the baby had to be the priority right now. I quickly descend the stairs, only half way down when I feel Sam close behind, a relief hitting me.

My feet only just hit the ground level when Sam calls my name, swiftly I turn towards him Sari in his arms.

“Y/N, you need to take the kids and go outside.” He orders, placing Sari on the floor.

“Okay, what about you aren’t you coming?” I rushed out, cradling Richie in one arm so I could take hold of Sari’s hand.

Panic is written all over his face and something else lies in his eyes, “Take them. Don’t look back” And before I can argue any further he’s nudging me forward, reluctantly I go only because I know I can’t help with two kids in my arms. I run towards the door at this point, pulling Sari along with me, just behind me I hear a slam to the floor and I know it’s Sam- relief gone. But even so I rush forward.

The chill breeze of the night hits me hard. Jenny and Dean stand on the edge of the grass line. Only a few paces from them Sari lets go of my hand and runs to her mom, Jenny leaning down to catch her and hold her tightly. “Sam’s inside you have to go now” I speak quickly, my words jumbling over itself. Dean's eyes widen and pure fear fills them, on top of being scared guilt fills me now too. He runs to the front door and I hear it slam loudly. I hand Richie back over to his mom who is very obviously relieved to have him again.

Dean runs back to the Impala pulling out a shotgun and an ax, going right back to the door. I know I could open the door for him, it would be easy and I wouldn’t even break a sweat. Yet, my feet remain planted to the grown, the chaos of it all—the guilt. My purifying bags didn’t work, it nearly got a whole family killed and Sam’s now in trouble too. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.

My feet won’t move, my body won’t react, I can't even redeem myself. I don’t want to lose anyone else, I don’t want to. I can’t.

Move.

Move. Please move, I beg myself— my very being to do something anything but be helpless. I hate being helpless and yet I’m here doing nothing, anxiety and fear encasing me to this spot. I hear Dean hacking away at the door, faint grunts leaving his mouth as he does so but still I can’t move. Sari begins to cry latching on to her moms legs only waking up Ritchie in the process who then begins to cry too. The loud crying rings in my ears, only making my heart beat faster.

Jenny, visibly overwhelmed, wrestles with the challenge of consoling both kids, her distress mirrored in her eyes. Without conscious thought, my arms extend, offering to hold Ritchie. To my surprise, she entrusts the baby to me, planting a tender kiss on his forehead before gathering Sari into her embrace. Sari's legs encircle her mother's waist, a protective hand cradling the back of her head.

Richie moving in my arms breaks me out of my panic, if only because someone in need was right there, someone who surely couldn’t help themselves. I begin to rock him, moving my weight from one foot to another but my stress and worry is still there and he must feel it too because it does barely anything to help. I look back up, Dean is still hacking away at the door, not enough progress has been made. I rearrange the baby, using my free arm I lift up a hand my palm facing towards the direction of the door, with barely any thought needed the door slams open. Dean looks back at me for only a second before running in.

Richie's cries persist as I rock him, murmuring reassurances, "It's okay, everything will be okay." I desperately rack my mind for any calming measures, when I suddenly recall my mother singing me lullabies. But still I struggle to remember any of them, the memory too distant to be anything more than a hymn, instead I decide to softly sing "A Lullaby" by Dear Nora – even though it came out way after my mothers passing it always reminded me of her. And I had always kept a small hope that one day if I were to have kids that I would sing it to them too.

As I move a strand of hair from Richie's face, he begins to settle. My voice trembles with fear, but it seems to have a soothing effect anyways. Richie stops crying, and I meet Jenny's gaze. She offers a sad smile while holding her daughter close.

Both boys came out of that house. Relief had hit me like a ton of bricks, my knees felt wobbly with it. At first they could barely speak, shocked at what they saw but then the police and firefighters came and it was all the usual.

It was hours later until everything was resolved, and it wasn’t until Missouri came over that they actually spilt what happened. Their mom was there, she was the good spirit that I had felt, the one that was fighting off the evil and she did exactly that when it had attacked Sam. Somehow, she was still at the house after all these years protecting it. She had used the last of her abilities to say…sorry.

It’s morning now, Missouri cleared the house for real this time no spirit was left in there. The kids were sleeping still, Jenny was giving the photos she found to Dean and Sam sat with Missouri on the steps talking.

I had nothing to say to anyone in particular so I sat in the Impala, my legs outside the car, digging through my bag, when I finally pulled out my spell book I turned to the purifying page, I looked it over again trying to see if we did something wrong and messed up the amounts. But no. We did it right, but for some reason it didn’t work—it didn’t work and people could have died. Holding the book on my lap I reach up to the top of it, my hand holding the single page ready to tear it out when it’s suddenly taken from my grasp “Hey, what are you doing?!” Dean yells, holding it out of reach.

“It didn’t work. It needs to go, please give it back.” I answered, my jaw clenched.

“This was your moms, you’d hate yourself if you ripped it up.” Dean lectures.

“No I wouldn't, give it back. I need to make sure this never happens again.” I shoot up from my seat reaching up to grab it back but his arm shoots down behind his back.

“Yeah, you would. Sorry to break it to you sweetheart but I know you pretty damn well.”

I don’t care if he’s right. I don’t. That page needs to go, I can’t make this mistake again. I won’t. I reach for it again behind his back but again he moves it, “Dean. I’m not joking around give it back.” I don’t often get angry, but I am.

He looks down at me, his eyes scrunched in confusion and concern, “What’s going on with you?”

I huff, frustrated, “What’s going on is I messed up. Badly. They could have died and don’t try to say I don’t know that for sure because I do. And I know you do too, so I don’t need any comforting lies”

"We screw up, sweetheart. It's part of the gig. But we fixed it. They're alive and kickin', okay?" His words carried that gruff reassurance he always had, even when he was being a bit of a hypocrite. Book at his side, guard lowered just a bit, it was my chance to snag it back. "Not this," I jabbed a finger at the book. "I'm good at this. I don't mess up on this."

"I don't care that you're all emotional right now. You're not trashing your spell book." Arms crossed in front of his chest, he held his ground.

My chest heaved, my eyes scrunched in frustration as I looked up at him, my free hand in a tight fist my nails digging into my palm. “But, it needs to—“ I say back, weakly, already my fight was crumbling, being replaced with something else. Suddenly his arms were around me and my face was buried in his chest. His arms held my upper back tightly, his hands going up to cup my head, his fingers entangled into my hair a little while his chin rested on top of my head. With each breath I took, inhaling his smell of something woody and some sort of spice mixed into one, any resolve I had left was gone.

I wanted to keep fighting, I wanted to tell him he was wrong but he held me so close and so gentle that I couldn’t. If that in itself had made me weak then so be it. I wrap my arms around his center, even with my book in my hand. It had to be seconds later when he must have felt the tension leaving my shoulders when he pulled away, his hands dropped down to the crook of my arm holding me a short distance away. His green eyes locked with mine in a silent agreement.

I pull away fully when Sam and Missouri approach, quickly whipping my eyes just in case and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. We each exchange hugs with her, even Dean who surprisingly gets no comment this time.

Missouri smiles, “Don’t you be strangers.”

“We won’t.” Dean nods as he rounds the car.

#fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #john winchester #slow burn #witch reader #witchcraft #romance #the hunter and the witch #banter #childhood home #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x f!reader #dean winchester x witch reader #dean winchester x you #lore #witch lore #light angst #dead parents #winchester x reader #supernatural season 1 #supernatural fanfiction #writing

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

One thing I love about the Hatchetfield Cycle is that, even though they are fun and camp and deeply moving, they do not have happy endings. In TGWDLM and NPMD it's a classic bait-and-switch, we think we're getting a sweet ending and then someone bursts into a song that makes you go "oh. They're evil now." And BF presumably ends in nuclear winter but we do see a moment when everyone is reunited and preparing to escape the mall.

There's also levels of self-awareness and breaking the third wall. TGWDLM is obvious, but BF has General McNamara chastising the audience for being obsessed with their phones in "Monsters and Men" as well as Tom and Lex moving boxes for a scene change. NPMD has the least instances of this, and less obvious, but in "Hatchet Town" the crowd sings about how singing is simply creating opportunities for their children to get attacked, but they keep singing.

This is incredibly Brechtian and all three musicals are in the tradition of epic theatre (epic being the school of theatrical theory and not in reference to scale). A hallmark of epic theatre is denying the audience catharsis. The end of the play is not supposed to be tied up into a neatly packaged message, and you're not supposed to get lost in the story of the play. You are supposed to remember yourself so that the commentary that is happening on stage (and there is always commentary, epic theatre is deeply political) and see how it pertains to your life, the world around you. I'd argue all of Starkid's major musicals have a political point and rarely is it as subtle as it is in NPMD. I can think of three songs right now that are explicitly about being American and American cultural hypocrisy.

They also look at government, and how government fails us (very Brechtian).

Utilizing the audience and the entire theatre is often funny, but it keeps the audience from getting complacent. One of the actors hands you his half-eaten apple, that's jarring. The world of the play isn't separate from your world as an audience.

It's easy to be taken with the lore of the universe (I have theories about the Black and White, let's talk) and how great the songs are, and it's easy to say that they're good. But like. They're not just good. They're absolutely incredible modern examples of epic theatre or the next stage of epic theatre (because they do give us moments of catharsis, they just don't close with it). I don't understand how colleges are not frothing for rights to perform these plays. I have a lot more thoughts but I just wanted to get that out. It makes sense since they're all theatre kids--even if they aren't thinking "Brecht Brech Brecht" the entire time, that cathartic denial and incorporation of the audience are absolutely purposeful and not just because it's fun. These shows are amazing.

#nerdy prudes must die #tgwdlm #the guy who didn't like musicals #black friday musical #starkid #idk if theyve ever talked about this maybe im behind the times #these could and should be studied in theatre lit classes is all im saying #also im calling it the hatchetfield cycle because thats the term used for big epic stories #maybe also operas #saga is accurate but to me that implies an adventure or a journey that is grand and --well- epic

[crossdressingdeath]

I get the sense that a lot of those Durge players who basically treat Durge like edgy Tav and get mad whenever anyone brings up that Durge—yes, even their Durge—has committed just so many atrocities aren't super familiar with like. RPGs. Or if they've played RPGs it's RPGs where your character has no in-game background and no relevant connection to the plot beyond one thing. Y'know, games where the protagonist is just the equivalent of Tav. They don't seem to grasp that a character being customizable and a character having no canonical history... aren't the same thing. Let's use Dragon Age as an example; Tav is a lot like the Inquisitor in DAI, in that they have no relevant background with all extra dialogue they've got tied to their race and class (BG3 also adds backgrounds to it, but I don't know how much dialogue you get from those and the point still stands). There's no mention of their past, no interaction with anyone they knew beyond one war table mission or series of war table missions which involve one character they knew before. Who they are doesn't matter and you can do whatever you like because the story does not care and is not impacted by it. And there's nothing inherently wrong with that approach, personally I find the story tends to get a bit dull when there's no story hooks for the player character beyond "Uh... bad shit'll happen if you don't Do Something" but it's not bad. It's just not how Durge operates. They're more like the Warden in DAO (although a bit more defined than them). The details of their backstory are still up to you! But quite a few things are already set. We know the broad strokes of every potential Warden's life because it's all set up in the origins; it'd be stupid to insist that your Surana wasn't a Circle mage or your Cousland wasn't raised in a castle as the second child of the Couslands or your Brosca wasn't a Carta thug and complain whenever people talked about how all those things are in fact the case in canon, because that's all stated outright in the game. The exact details of what they did growing up, how they felt about it, what friends or enemies they might have made, all that is left up to the player but the broad outline of what they did is set. The game relies on that, because that set background is what gives the Warden a stake in the story that the writers can then use to make the quests hit harder.

Similarly, the fact that Durge did in fact do all those awful things is vital to the plot of BG3, because... well, let's be real here, there wouldn't be a plot at all if Durge hadn't willingly allied with Gortash and worked alongside him. We know they were a necrophile, Sceleritas says that outright. We know they genuinely cared for Gortash (whatever form that care took) enough to beg forgiveness from their father for getting too close but also fully expected to kill him in the process of burning down the whole world for Bhaal, the Prayer for Forgiveness makes that plain. We know they find roasted dwarf delicious, whether you pick the options to say that or not they have ambient dialogue in the goblin camp commenting on how good it smells. How they felt about those things is up to the player (if you don't want to play someone who used to be pure evil there's a lot of really fun mileage in exploring how they got to the point where they'd do those things and how they dealt with the things they did), but they did do them. Just like it would be stupid to throw a tantrum over people talking about Mahariel being raised by Ashalle after their parents died because Your Mahariel Definitely Wasn't when the game definitively says that yes they were, it's stupid to whine about how your Durge would never do those bad things when the game tells us outright that they definitely for sure did. If you can't handle that... just don't play Durge. That is why Tav exists, so people who don't want to play a character who's done legitimately awful things don't have to. Either play Tav or get over yourself, because being able to change Durge's name, race and class doesn't mean they stop being an origin character with a backstory of their own.

#bg3 #durge

[eleanorfenyx]

I have finished Mysterious Lotus Casebook, and here are some of my thoughts! (Obviously not spoiler free)

The cases are absolutely batshit insane and I loved it every single time they were like 'we totally collected this evidence that incriminates a secret suspect, just believe us and also don't question when the fuck we had the time to do this or when we figured out that we needed to look for it'. 10/10 no notes, that's a hilarious way to have a genius detective. Show us nothing, tell us everything, YES king.

That being said, I could have done with a lot less standing around having the supporting cast repeat whatever Li Lianhua and Fang Duobing announce, maybe in an attempt to make sure their genius is clear for the audience? I get it, but at the same time it felt a little too hand-holdy for me, especially in scenes where LLH and FDB had already discussed their findings between themselves before presenting them to the concerned bystanders. I can read between the lines (or else understand what has just been explicitly stated) without having every conclusion filtered through a slightly different sentence structure to make sure I got it.

Di Feisheng amnesia arc my fuckin beloved

Di Feisheng destroying his 'father' and freeing everyone in Di manor in a vicious act of catharsis that tied nicely into the main Nanyin bug-mind-control-thing narrative my beloved

Di Feisheng my beloved

The amount of times I was like...genuinely surprised he and Li Lianhua didn't kiss is both embarrassing (because I do in fact understand censorship and what I sign up for with these dramas and yet and yet) and numerous enough that I could...possibly...theoretically..write a 5+1 fic of every time I want them to kiss about it. No one hold me to that but it's something I think I'd like to do.

Re: the above point: because what the FUCK was that ending?!!! EXCUSE ME?! I gotta FIX THAT SHIT.

There will come a day when the strength of my hope for an unambiguously happy ending in a queer(-coded? is the source originally bl or is this its own thing?) wuxia drama is rewarded....but it is not this day. I must fix this myself.

Jiao Liqiao's laugh is one of the most annoying things I've ever heard. I was reaaaaally hoping someone would just up and stab her during one of her little evil laughing fits. At one point I was shouting "KILL HER, KILL HER" at my screen because I could NOT take anymore of her (unfortunately, I did in fact have to take more of her).

I still think her insistence on being obsessed with DFS is hysterical when he is so VISIBLY only interested in LLH. Explicitly STATES that his only life purpose is to fuck fight LLH again. Babygirl (derogatory) he is so fucking gay let's get you a nice knife to the gut instead, okay?

I thought the whole Shan Gudao plot was interesting, going from looking desperately for his body -> putting him to rest -> hunting for his murderer -> finding out he's alive/the mastermind behind everything going wrong (which I was proud of myself for realizing before the reveal, I'm normally bad at that) -> thwarting him with sass and superior martial arts at every possible turn -> killing him stone fuckin dead with beginner level skills because he's so up his own hole he can't see that's what's happening - was really fun!

He also has a SUPER annoying laugh he can fuck off

OH OH OH MARTIAL ARTS SKILL OF TRANS YOUR GENDER?! I MARRIED HER SO HER AFFAIRS ARE MY BUSINESS NOT YOURS??? ASKING YOUR WIFE FOR HER FORGIVENESS AND UNDERSTANDING AS YOU LAY DYING AND SHE GIVES IT TO YOU?????? OKAYYYYYYY

The twist at the end that LLH is the one with royal blood was so funny to me. Like it's a good twist and I love that Shan Gudao was just quite literally always a fuckin try-hard loser in ways he didn't even know, but also it was SO funny. Granny coming in clutch at the last fuckin minute with secret knowledge she just literally never shared.

LLH is such a smooth motherfucker. Shame about his insistence on dying when quite literally everyone (bar the people who suck) is begging this man to just live. Just LIVE DAMN IT!!!!! I really liked it when FDB begs him to just consider his own life as important for ONCE and remember that people care about him because YES his self-sacrificing and committment to Chilling Out Farmer Style was not the mercy he thought it was!

LIVE AND GROW OLD WITH DI FEISHENG YOU DAMN IDIOT (the likelihood of me resisting the urge to write at least the one fic for them is zero to none)

Unironically love spitting up blood as a plot device and this show is no different. The Drama. The Panache. The desperation of everyone around you because you have BLOOD coming out of your MOUTH and you are FAINTING. Poison acting up? Spit blood. Someone bitch slap you with their magical palm ability? Spit blood. Get stressed? Spit blood. Get stabbed? Spit blood. It's always good!

Okay I think that might be all I've got for now, if I think of anything else I'll add them in a reblog. I thoroughly enjoyed it, would definitely recommend!

#mysterious lotus casebook #my thoughts #for whatever they're worth #it was nice too because unlike say Word of Honor I didn't mind the overarching plot about the jianghu #and the magical cures/objects that everyone is racing/fighting each other to get to first #WOH was just plain boring outside of the interpersonal relationships in my opinion #but in this there were only a few times I really just did not care about the latest fetch quest and wanted to get back to the relationships

[tsum00]

loid forger x villain(?)!reader

a/n: ok i lied i need to get this out of my system, the brainrot is STRONG. hope y'all enjoy:)

warnings: bondage, dubcon??, oral(m receiving, allusions to f recieving), degradation, riding, cheating(sorry yor </3), corruption kink

MINORS DNI

when loid opened his eyes, the only thing he saw was black.

he tried to remove the blindfold but realized he was stuck, his wrists tied together and ankles tied to chair legs.

"look who's finally awake. miss me, twilight?" a voice called out.

loid froze. he knew that voice. your voice.

he heard the sound of heels clacking on the floor draw ever closer, until they stopped. then he felt a weight on his lap.

straddling his lap, you took off his blindfold and smirked at him.

"y/n. what do you want?" loid spat out, still thrashing against his restraints.

leaning in you whispered in his ear, "you know exactly what i want, twilight. or should i say, loid?" you chuckled.

loid's eyes grew wide. how did you find out about operation strix?

"i have my ways, twilight. you know that."

you and twilight had an... interesting past. you had both worked for wise, rising up the ranks together and becoming the top agents. but you always had a unique way of doing things, a darker way. you had "gone too far" according to the higher ups, so you had left, taking your skills with you to do what the majority would call "evil". you didn't mind though. in fact, you took it in stride. being bad was more fun anyway. loid was almost about to follow you, but stayed in fear of his reputation at wise.

"to think i'd have the top spy in my lair, all tied up and at my mercy... if this is a dream, i don't wanna wake up," you said as you sank to your knees.

your nose brushed against his crotch, nuzzling what was inside. you could feel him getting harder, you realized excitedly.

"y-y/n, we can't- i can't, you've gotta let me go. plea- oh fuck," loid gasped out.

you had undone his zipper and freed his cock from his boxers. it was painfully hard, an angry red with a tip weeping of precum. drool-worthy for sure, you thought.

"still want me to let you go?" you asked, playing with his balls.

the only response you got was a moan.

"that's what i thought," you smiled, taking him in your mouth.

try as he might, loid couldn't help but buck deeper into your throat. you took it in stride, feeling every vein of his shaft and giving extra attention to the tip.

it felt so wrong, knowing that his "wife" and "daughter" were out there, unaware that he was falling victim to your poison. but in an even more sick way, it felt good. he was sick of having to put up a face all the time, with you, he could be honest. if he tried to conceal anything, you would see through it anyway, he figured.

so he let himself fall.

it was a lovely sight to watch, an agent of "good" be brought down.

"i-i can't, y/n! 'm gonna cum! i-" he cried out.

you gave him a look, one that he took as a sign of permission. his warm cum filled your mouth, sweet and a little salty. you took care to swallow it all. removing yourself from him, he started to whine out in protest.

putting a finger to his lips, you said, "i'll make use of your mouth another time. be sure of it."

by this point, you were dripping. all the excitement and lust went straight to your core and you knew just what to do to fix it.

straddling his lap again, you took his hand and guided him to your wetness.

"feel that, mr. forger? you did this. looks like i'll have to take matter into my own hands and fix my problem. what do you think?" you questioned, looking down at him.

his eyes were clouded over, gazing into your eyes and traveling down to your pussy. you yanked his hair, forcing him to look at you once more.

"sorry? i didn't hear that. i said ‘do you feel it?’” you growled.

“agh! yes, yes, i feel it. feels so nice and warm, wanna be inside you s’bad,” he slurred.

you helped collect enough of your slick on his hand and brought it to his lips.

“say ‘ah’,” you cooed, watching him eagerly clean his fingers of your essence. “just a taste of what’ll happen next time,” you wink.

you grab his cock and line it up with your entrance, teasing him by running the head up and down your slit. a choked plea escapes his lips.

that’s when you sink down hard.

of all the many sexual encounters he’d had(for his missions of course), loid had never felt anything like this. your gummy walls held him so perfectly tight, warm and wet inside. the lewd noises coming from the act made you both shiver in delight.

you began a brutal pace, watching loid’s face contort again.

“you feel divine, twilight. i want you to fill me up with your cum. can you do that for me?” you asked, voice a bit shaky from pleasure.

“yes! f-fuck, yes. i’ll fill you up so good, you can have all my cum,” he moaned out.

he thought it wasn’t possible for you to go faster, but you did. always a surprise from you, he thought. with each passing squelch and thrust, the closer he got to filling your hole with his seed. moments later, he did exactly that.

with a drawn out groan, you felt long, warm hot ropes of cum fill your insides. a white ring had formed around his base, trickling onto his balls. you had also reached your peak, your juices mixing with his. sighing, you carded your fingers through his hair.

“i’ve gotta say, i love this look on you. all fucked out and dirty. it’s a nice change from ‘mr. put together’, wouldn’t you agree?” you smile.

he nods, smiling wistfully up at you. his hearts pangs knowing he has to leave, for his mission, he reminds himself. no matter how far gone w.i.s.e considers you to be, loid knows you’re not a monster. you’ll let him go, for now at least.

unbinding him, you give a him a once over and move over to stand behind him, whispering in his ear.

“don’t worry, darling. when i want you again, i’ll have you. you’re my little plaything, remember?” you say, drawing his hips towards yours and splaying your hands on his chest possessively.

he shudders at the action, eagerly awaiting your next encounter.

#tsum00 #dom reader #spy x family #loid forger smut #loid smut #spy x family smut #i’m so sorry yor #and anya LMAO #sub!loid forger #sub!loid #when loid blushes>> #enjoy the food y’all

[supremechancellorrex]

I hear a lot of anti-Jedi and pro-Jedi going back and forth on this platform, but I wonder if we're only dealing in absolutes. That's it, everyone on tumblr is a Sith. Confirmed.

But, seriously (I was serious), are the Jedi good? Are they evil? Are they somewhere inbetween? And what is the system they support? Are they being their 'best selves' by the twilight years of the Republic? Am I a jerk? Are they jerks? Are you a jerk? Well... let's look at both sides and canon as it is, and see where it goes.

Should we ignore the problems and implications?

Dogma: "No! We have orders! We have to go through with this!"

First things first, let's start with negativity, because that's life possibly. There are a number of criticisms which are levelled against the Jedi in the canon. The Star Wars writers didn't always just put scenes and lines in for fun.

Slick: "It's the Jedi who keep my brothers enslaved. We serve at your whim. We do your bidding. I just wanted something more."

The Jedi are accused of slavery in Star Wars: The Clone Wars, which was created by George Lucas as Executive Producer, along with Dave Filoni and a whole host of writers working in collaboration. When Slick accuses the Jedi of being his and other clones' slave masters, it is never refuted by any of the characters, even Obi-Wan and Anakin who he is speaking to. It's never refused by the narrative at all.

Canonically, the Jedi as citizens and being military generals act as the clones superiors and also masters by proxy in the command chain. Slick's accusation is that the Jedi "keep [his] brothers" enslaved, not that they even necessarily enslaved them in the first place. He is indicating that the Jedi have power and agency, which they do as natborn citizens, but they don't direct it for justice and meaningful change in regards to clone rights.

Satine Kryze: "I remember a time when Jedi were not Generals, but peacekeepers."

Now, people have argued that the Jedi do help the clones and they are "in charge of [the clones] care", as Master Shaak Ti says during a continuing arguement where her and Nala Se debated on who Tup, Fives and clones in general belonged to as "property". The Jedi could think themselves better caretakers of the clones troopers than natborn officers like Tarkin, although this verges on character speculation. Canonically, we do see evidence of care, such as Shaak Ti advocating for Domino Squad and calling them "living beings" that didn't deserve to be "cast aside", Mace and Plo Koon and other Jedi do show concern for their men's lives.

But, arguably it doesn't account for much when the Jedi are still working in the framework and structures of slavery instead of protesting it. Being kind to clones doesn't mean much when you prop up the meat-grinder of a system that uses them as cannon fodder.

This is exemplified in the show itself.

Ahsoka: "It's every citizen's duty to challenge their leaders, to keep them honest, and hold them accountable if they're not.”

Unjust actors and systems are to be challenged. The Jedi being nice isn't an absolution for their participation in this system, just as a slave master or a deputy slave master being nice in any context doesn't change the fact that they are still in command of slaves getting thrown into the meat grinder every day. If you support an unjust system, you bear responsibility.

And, moreover, despite moments of compassion from Jedi, for people who value life, the Jedi as an organisation still show a concerning ease with clone death as the war progresses. The Citadel Arc is a great example of this. As Clone Trooper Charger falls to his death and collides with a shock mine, Obi-Wan sasses "Well, they know we're here now" as the other clones still are reaching out in horror. Every time a clone dies on that mission, they leave them behind, even Echo (who turns out to still be alive and is captured by the enemy and tortured). However, despite the urgency of the mission, when Jedi Master Even Piell dies, the Jedi pause the mission to give him a funeral and burial even though the enemy is closing in. If there was ever a message that the Jedi value their slave soldiers' lives less, this is it.

Further evidence includes the fact that Jedi Master Pong Krell's casualty numbers were well-known in the military, to point Torrent Company were openly debating them, and yet no other Jedi General had felt the need to propose a military investigation. Additionally, when the Jedi were fed the cover story the inhibitor chips in their men's brain were just designed to make them less aggressive and more docile, there is no evidence they protested this mental violation. Another neglect in a series of many. Taking this into regard, I think the unfortunate implications are clear.

Perhaps the Jedi should find better use for their mind tricks and lightsabers than cutting up droids and planetary militias all while propping up an unjust regime?

Master enablers

Jedi Master Dooku: "The Jedi blindly serve a corrupt Senate that fails the Republic it represents."

Canonically, the Jedi are deeply flawed as an organisation. They are politically centrist in a way that does not benefit either themselves or the Republic in end, shown to be enablers that uphold the system and law as it is, regardless of how unjust.

How can the Jedi have the high ground when they appease a Senate that supports slavery regardless of how the writers try to downplay it? How can they be morally righteous when they bow down, without much resistance if at all, to such system that uses slave soldiers? Clones die under Jedi command, they work in the Jedi Temple as both soldiers and technicians. The Jedi claim they just can't get involved in changing the system because it's beyond their mandate when what's on their doorstep, what's in their temple, is slavery, slavery that they even benefit from arguably to even maintain their transports and technical systems.

For any person or group in any system, there's a breaking point where things have gone too far, but how much one tolerates up until that point says a lot about their moral character. The Jedi were drafted by the Chancellor (Oh you) and perhaps they thought being 'kind' to the clones when they interacted with them was enough, but it wasn't. And while the Jedi continue to believe in the Republic far beyond acceptable, victims mount.

During the Wrong Jedi Arc, the Jedi Order also show themselves in bad light. It would have been one thing to believe Ahsoka was guilty and leave it at that, yet they practically threw Ahsoka under the bus for politics in reality. Mace kept talking about the politics, essentially showing Jedi PR was a more important factor than Ahsoka's life.

Mace Windu: "I understand your sentiment, Obi-Wan. But, if the council does as you suggest. It could be seen as an act of opposition to the Senate. I'm afraid we have little choice."

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan advocated for Ahsoka briefly, expressing doubts at her guilt, but at best casts a vote in her favour when he knows it won't be enough. Give it to Anakin in this instance, at least he did an actual private investigate to prevent a wrongful conviction instead of sitting back. Like Asajj Ventress said when confronted by Anakin, the Order abandoned Ahsoka and appease a Senate that supports authoritarian policies, kangaroo court trials and a slave army. What a state to die for.

Ahsoka: “This is why the people have lost faith in the Jedi. I had, too, until I was reminded of what the Order means to people who truly need us.”

How can the Jedi believe in the Republic to the point they were surprised when they got inevitably screwed over? Again, the narrative supports the idea the Jedi have lost their way and become enforcers for the Senate, however fascist and dangerous it has clearly become. You kind of have to have in order to become key leaders of a slave army when you were peacekeepers beforehand. The Republic is failing, but so are the Jedi. They fight the war with the tools they are given, from their lightsabers to their slave soldiers, with no solution or appropriate concern for the legislative catastrophe happening at the heart of the Republic until they realise Palpatine's been in a little long with his executive powers. They enforce laws, unjust systems and follow orders.

Fives: "I'm sorry. I cannot just follow orders when I know they're wrong. Especially when lives are at stake."

Captain Rex: "You will if you support the system we fight for."

Fives: "I do support it. I do! But I am not just another number! None of us are!"

TCW shows us that following rules and regulations when they're immoral is the wrong course of action, yet no matter the signs and warning, the Jedi continue to play into Palpatine's hands with their misguided patriotism as the Republic becomes increasing draconian and despotic. The most problematic factor about the Jedi is that they don't acknowledge the problems and the fact the clones' situation is unacceptable on every ground. They don't acknowledge the clones' situation, they don't acknowledge the Republic is bad or try to think of solutions to that even if they don't work. The situation is complicated, but the Jedi went along with bad options when they should have known what the Republic was by this point. How can the Jedi enforce justice when they enforce the corruption of it?

The Jedi continue to believe in the Republic and their part in he hierarchy when it seems more akin to a hostage situation with slaves in the balance. If they're blind, they're fools. If they knew, they're knowing enablers.

A tight spot

Obi-Wan Kenobi: "For over a thousand generations, the Jedi knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the old Republic... before the dark times... before the empire."

Now, the flaws in the Jedi are clear, but it's all well and good to critique them. What could the Jedi have done effectively instead? If the Jedi were more keyed in on the Republic's unsalvageable system and decided to be proactive in regards to it, what could they do realistically? Aside from the emotional weight of getting people to abandon their home and a multi-generation relationship the stretches back centuries and centuries, the logistics of getting 10,000 people to desert and transporting them without the Republic and GAR noticing and stepping in feels unrealistic. Not only this, but they'd be ditching the clones to slavery yet again, as it's not like the Jedi can all desert and take the clones with them like they're plushie toys. Each clone is a different individual and deprogramming child soldiers is difficult.

People like Dogma, Neyo and Bacara wouldn't canonically desert without the right circumstances, Captain Rex wouldn't just desert with Anakin, nor could Obi-Wan sashay Commander Cody and his troops away like some of the fandom thinks. A lot of clones were indoctrinated to be loyal to the Republic from a young age. If the Jedi had just flat out tried desert, Order 66 would have likely happened earlier and Palpatine would have easily painted the Jedi as traitors.

Of course, there are the inhibitor chips as also a factor, but we can only judge the moral character of the Jedi based on the knowledge they did have and what they chose to do with it.

Barriss Offee: "An army fighting for the dark side. Fallen from the light we hold so dear. This Republic is failing. It's only a matter of time."

However, this is no excuse for the Jedi Order choosing the worst option out of a bad bunch. The Jedi crossed the moral precipice. They crossed it ever since AOTC when they decided that indoctrinated, slave soldier of dubious origin were just what they needed to throw into the desert meatgrinder that is Geonosis as the war started. There reasons make sense in their way, there's millions of units of droid army marching their way and the Republic and Senate have only a ten-thousand strong Jedi and the Judicial Forces. At the same time, the reasons for that humanitarian crisis aren't justifications. 'Cool motive. Still slavery' applies here.

Ethically, Yoda and Mace shouldn't have just gone along with the draft without any counter-strategy, especially if they cared about the clones as human beings and a people. They could have pretended cooperation and done discreet resistance at least. Of course, the Jedi even if they resisted weren't probably gonna have a happy ending, as generations under Republic thumb had neutered them and taken their passion and power, but they would have taken the moral and right action.

Instead, the Jedi remain the face of the war effort, using a Trojan Horse slave army just given to them with no real protest. If the Star Wars had truly wanted the Jedi to be wholly good, they'd have had them be more begrudging, cynical and weary at being pressured and coerced by the state. There'd be growing Anti-Republic sentiment, which would have been a start. Rebellion, dissent and mutiny would have been even more valuable and expected. Instead, the Jedi Order are loyal to the regime until the very last moments of the war.

In Conclusion

In the twilight years of the Republic, Palpatine really used every weakness of the Jedi against them. As an organisation, the Jedi really can't save themselves. Individuals can, as shown by Ahsoka leaving, but the Republic destroyed the Jedi, it took their soul, it bureaucratised and militarised their culture, and the Jedi just slid down that slope. That's part of why the people felt abandoned by the Jedi, as the Jedi were too melded to the system both functionally and idealistically, trapped in the snake, them and what they stood for slowly digested as they safeguarded and enforced unjust status quos. Even when Dooku was young, as The Tales of the Jedi said, they were already damned. Ahsoka left, every Jedi should have at that point. The Republic definitely would fight an en masse desertion, but it'd have been the right thing to do.

Some Jedi realised and left, others were too committed the belief of a Jedi Order that had become a shadow of what it was. The Jedi are a warning of what happens when governments, hierarchies and religion connect and influence each other for centuries. At the same time, adult Jedi were responsible for their actions, and each could have done more for the clones than they did.

Fives: "We must be trusted to make the right decision, especially when the orders we are given are wrong!"

#star wars #the jedi order #jedi #anti jedi #pro jedi #i try ok #individuals are lovely #the clones #clone troopers #clone rights #the clones deserve better #star wars tcw #the clone wars #arc trooper fives #ahsoka tano #barriss offee

[lyrabythelake]

Have a very unfinished fic I began for fun starring Four and Warriors

Four started it. 

Enemy defeated, worlds saved, the heroes were wandering Hyrule with weighted footsteps in unspoken suspense for that last portal that would send them their separate ways. 

Except time drew thin, the portal never came. By the time they reached the inn, they counted an entire month treading a land unfamiliar to all of them but Legend without clear purpose or direction. It was driving them all a bit insane.

So when Four slipped the innkeeper a small, rectangle piece of parchment from the top of a stack tied carefully in twine, Warriors latched onto it as a single, tiny mystery to be solved in a whirlwind of boredom.

“Can I see that?” he asked, eyeing the papers Four was hastily shoving back into his bag. The innkeeper slid his own under the bar after studying it with vague interest.

Four’s face grew red but he handed them over without further persuasion.

A neat border of repeating patterned inked swords framed the words:

Heroes for Hire Evil warlord got you down? Monsters driving you mad? We’re here to help. (Additional services include smithing, cooking, sailing, pot clearance and more)

“I just thought we could all do with a project or two. I think everyone’s been feeling a bit… lost these days.” Four rushed to explain.

The night before, Wild had used his fusion ability to attach a block of butter to one of his shields then slid around the camp on it for two hours. ‘Lost’ was probably an understatement. 

“You know what?” Warriors said cheerfully, handing the card back, “I think it’s a really good idea.”

Warriors had slipped over three times while getting ready that morning; Wild had turned their entire camp into an oily booby trap.

Fours face grew even redder.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! I think what we’re lacking is a sense of purpose, you know? We all miss our homes and this could give us a good distraction.”

They didn’t really talk about why they were still here all that much. None of them were the type to air the worries and concerns out in the open, but they all knew they were thinking the same thing. It was as if the Goddess had abandoned them here now they had fulfilled their usefulness. She couldn’t even be bothered to get them all back to where they belonged.

“How many people have you given these to?”

“Just that innkeeper,” Four said. “And one of the farmers we passed on the outskirts of the village.”

No sooner had he spoken those words than a young boy ran into the inn, eyes huge beneath windswept hair.

“Are you the heroes for hire?” he asked, his breath catching between words.

With an impressive swish of his scarf and a blinding smile, Warriors stood before him.

“Why yes, as a matter of fact, we are.”

“At your service,” Four added, if only to prevent Warriors from taking complete control over the idea that was Four’s in the first place.

“You gave my father your card earlier,” the boy said. “The Zora have flipped our sheep again. Dad said he’ll give you two blue Rupees if you give us a hand putting them right before it gets dark.”

“Did you say the sheep were flipped?” Four asked. Warriors elbowed him hard.

“We’re happy to help.”

“This isn’t really what I had in mind,” Four told Warriors as they strained to heave the third sheep onto its feet. “Why do Zora even do this, it seems very petty.”

“Legend said there’s been civil war between the Zora and Hylians for hundreds of years around here. It’s mostly died down now, but Hylians still fish in Zora territory so the Zora do things like turning sheep upside down to show their defiance.”

“Still, it’s not exactly the ‘evil warlords’ I was expecting”

“Patience, my small friend!” Warriors declared just as they managed to push the sheep onto its feet, “everyone must start somewhere and our business is only a few hours old after all. Small beginnings make for the best hero agencies, as they say.”

“You just made that up,” Four muttered dispassionately.

#lyra writes #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu four #lu warriors #this is very very silly #I hope you enjoy #I found it in my drafts and will probably never finish it #imagine the others join in and they do sidequests for the rest of their lives proffessionally

[rgbyshipper101]

Hello friends! Welcome to my Phic Phight Phic!

This one is for Chord @berry-berry-blu Enjoy friend!

This can be read as pitch pearl (heroic amusement) or pitch pals, whichever you prefer.

Super Is Not Having Fun

“Time’s up!”

Fun screamed as he was hauled off his bed and onto the floor. He groaned as he impacted the rug, dizzy from the unexpected fall.

“I let you have it all night and now it’s officially my turn.” Fun heard ruffling from above but was too tired to look up. “Come on, get up. You actually get to go to school on time, my other half.” Super paused his speech before huffing, “Don’t just lay there!”

“My face hurts.” Why does he do this? Waking up peacefully for once would be nice. “You got a thing seeing me like this?”

“Oh hush you, you and I both know you would have slept through your alarm.” Fun felt hands glide under his armpits and braced himself as he was lifted onto his butt. “No need to be dramatic.”

“That’s your job,” Fun said, annoyed, “and stop stealing my bedsheet when I’m sleeping on it.”

“Tch, no can do I’m afraid. You would not have woken up otherwise.” He hugged the sheet tighter to himself. “Besides, this is also mine and we must share it accordingly every twelve hours per our agreement.”

Fun grimaced at the reminder. The blanket was too hot to use in this heatwave so Fun had to rely on his ceiling fan, his standing fan, and his sheet. Well, their sheet, which Super didn’t even need.

He grumbled as he stood up before Super. “Why are you so adamant about this stupid sheet?” Fun grabbed it with two fingers. “You don’t sleep. You’re not cold since you radiate frost like a freezer. It gets caught when you’re out there fighting the ‘evil-doers.’ I don’t understand your problem, dude.”

Super snatched it back, tying the ends around his neck. “There’s no problem. My cape is part of my persona. It lets the public know how I’m their full-time superhero!” He slapped his hands to his hips, puffed up his chest, and grinned at Fun.

“They think you’re weird,” Fun snorted. “As do I. You don’t need to wear it. It doesn’t define your superheroness.”

“It is a requirement!” Super looked frantic, eyes wide and mouth askew. “It is a necessary component to my identity! The fact that I have to give it to you for half the time doesn’t show the citizens my true intentions.”

Fun rubbed his cheek and gave a big yawn. “Ugh, it’s too early for this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, you irritating individual? What kind of ludicrous statement is that?”

“Chill dude,” Fun glared, annoyed, “I told you you don’t need it. Now who’s the one being dramatic?”

“The horrendous heat must be clogging your brain since you could just, I don’t know, turn off your fan?”

“I need both and the sheet!” Fun jabbed his finger into Super’s chest. “You and I both know we can’t fall asleep without it, breeze or no breeze.”

“You humans and your sleep rituals. Can’t you use another sheet from the linen closet?”

“Why should I if this one is perfectly good?”

“Are you that lazy?” Super yelled, exasperated.

“I like mine. And what’s your excuse then?”

“I prefer the one that I’ve used all my life.”

“You gotta be kidding me. This is bogus, man. Why can’t you just let it be?”

“Why should I?”

“Cause you don’t need this, like, cotton material tied around your neck to showcase your status to the world.”

“Yes I do!”

“Why then?” Fun was in Super’s face at his point. “Why is it so important to you?”

“It just is!”

“Why, Super?” Fun grabbed his shoulders. “Why is it so important to wear it outside and worrying if it gets stained or ruined or, or whatever!” He grabbed the ends and untied it. “Gimme this-”

“No!” Super twirled around and Fun lost his balance, falling on the floor again.

“Ugh, what the hell? I don’t need to go through this twice in one day!”

“It’s mine now!” Super growled, shaking. “It’s my turn! I need it! I-” He shook his head and gritted his teeth.

“This is getting silly now, dude. Stop being ridiculous and gimme the stupid-”

“It’s not stupid!” Super flew up into the air. “That’s it! I don’t want to hear this anymore! I-I’m leaving!” He curled his cape tighter around himself. “Don’t bother me anymore, human!”

“Wait!” But it was too late. Super already turned intangible and left. Fun sighed. “Great.”

xxx

“Whoa!” Fun nearly missed getting knocked six ways to Sunday from Technus’ staff. He finally got the mad scientist’s ghost powers immobilized but he didn’t account for brute strength.

“Nice try, child, but I still got power over you. I, Technus, shall defeat you and Boy Wonder without any extra abilities!”

“Not on your afterlife!” Fun snatched him with the Jack-o-Nine Tails and threw him to the side, the staff twirling in the air before landing a few feet away. Fun sucked it up in the thermos.

“No! You are not winning again! This is impossible. You are still weak from before.”

“Tell me about it,” Fun grumbled. Skulker got him good earlier. It took him two hours to defeat him. Tucker and Sam are still in school and he didn’t want to drag them down with him. He was used to skipping.

He thought he wouldn’t have to keep doing this anymore or at least during the day. But he had no choice.

Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed Super’s buttons. He’s been missing for days. Fun didn’t think any of it, thinking he just had to cool down. Video games, super slushies, and movie binges occupied his time besides stupid homework. He even grabbed the spare sheet on the second night. But three days?

Fun dodged another ectoblast, jumping in an alley to regroup. Too many ghosts caught wind of Super’s disappearance and are using it to their advantage. Fun’s not half-ghost anymore. He can’t keep up with it without super healing and sleep deprivation. His parents try to help but he has to make sure they don’t get captured or wasted. It’s starting to take a toll. And he was worried…

The air next to him started to condense and Fun quickly aimed the thermos towards it and powered it on. Technus screamed in surprise and disbelief as he was sucked in, his scream echoing until Fun placed the cap on.

Fun collapsed against the wall in exhaustion, breathing heavy. Finally. He thinks that was the last one. Hopefully.

His watch beeped and he winced, peeking over to it. 3:00pm. He skipped half a day today. Damn, he’s in big trouble. Oh well, not like his teachers weren’t used to it already. Fun clicked it off before standing up. Too late to go back now, and there is one ghost he still needs to catch.

Now where to look…

xxx

In hindsight, this should’ve been the first place to look. But Fun thought he’d be somewhere else like practicing in the Far Frozen or checking up on Dora. He didn’t expect him to be in his lair the whole time. But no other ghost had seen him.

Super’s lair had a purple door like everyone else except unlike everyone else he kept the inside simple since he hardly used it. It housed a generic room for rest with a queen-sized bed, TV, small kitchenette for ectoplasm and bathroom with first aid kits and medicine. The bathroom was mostly for Fun’s benefit since he usually stayed with Super during their visits.

Usually.

Fun parked the Specter Speeder next to the entrance and knocked Shave and a Haircut on the door. Silence. He fidgeted, getting uncomfortable when Super didn’t answer. He knows he’s there since he can see the lock in place.

Maybe he doesn’t know it’s not a threat? “Super dude,” Fun called, “it’s me. Open up.”

Nothing happened although Fun thought he heard some rustling. “Please?”

Fun waited outside for five minutes, getting more anxious as time went on before he heard a click. He scrambled out of his seat before grabbing the door handle, missing it a few times. He slowly opened it to a dim room lit by Super’s glow and the TV.

Super himself was laid down, facing away from him and surrounded by plushies. The room was immaculate as always with everything put away neatly and cleaned to a nth degree.

Fun swallowed as he jumped inside and locked the door. Did he not move from the bed, or did he just clean up really well? Usually Fun would give a quip to make Super laugh, but he didn’t think it would go over well. This wasn’t like him.

The ghost’s back was tense and hair messed up. His arms were around himself, as if trying to hide himself from the outside world. Super didn’t move even when Fun came in, choosing to remain motionless. It was starting to unnerve Fun, not used to the serious atmosphere.

Fun didn’t know whether to walk towards him or not, but Super decided that for him. He slowly sat up, still facing away. He rubbed his head and slid it down to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I kept it too long, I know,” Super said, picking up the white sheet covering him and folded it. “Here.” He held it out.

Fun watched him for a minute before walking forward. Reaching a hand out, he closed Super’s fist over the sheet instead of taking it. Super was startled enough to look over at him and Fun saw green-rimmed green eyes filled with sadness. Fun held his breath, he never saw him like this. This couldn’t just be about the sheet, could it?

“Dude-Super-I don’t care about who’s turn it is with the sheet. Have you been here the last few days? It’s not like you to just leave. Even if we argue you’re still beating ghosts to a pulp, exercising your alliteration.” He was glad he was able to stay in class enough to learn about figurative language. Now he can tell what Super’s witticisms are. “Did I do something?” Fun mumbled, quietly. The last thing he wanted was to actually hurt Super.

The ghost shook his head. “Just thinking. And watching Ghost News.” He grimaced. “Honestly these fellows are much more uncivilized than the scoundrels I fight everyday.”

“Well dude,” Fun said, sitting himself next to Super, “that’s why you’re in the Human World since it is more civilized. But since you haven’t, and I know you loathe staying here for long periods of time, what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. Just replenishing the reserves.”

“Yeah sure, I can believe that. But only if it were for one day, and based on the last time I saw you, there might be another reason.” Fun’s eyes softened, holding Super’s guarded ones. “I was worried.”

Super broke, blinking rapidly and biting his lip. He slapped a hand to his face, the smack resonating between them. “I just,” he sighed, “needed time alone.

“I’m sorry for acting dramatic but…I guess I got a little too defensive. My cape,” he pulled it close to him, “It not only helps my purpose, but I use it as a base for who I once was before we split and as a connection between me and you.

“I know it’s silly and I can use anything else but I chose this. And it makes me feel like I can do my job and be a part of my family-” he winced, “well, past-family. I guess I just liked pretending a little too much. No need to worry your little raven head over it. I’ll just try harder to forget.”

“No,” Fun grabbed Super’s arms, turning him around gently to face him, “I’m the one that should be apologizing. I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. I should’ve expected something since we have a whole system established. And you have a family. It just shifted a few degrees. Sam, Tucker, Jazz, and me are still here for you, dude.” Fun pulled Super close and wrapped his arms around him, fingers threaded through white hair and one hand clenching his suit. “Why do you think I told you to have us go by ‘Super’ and ‘Fun’ and not ‘Danny’ and ‘Phantom?’ Cause we’re both named Danny!”

Super didn’t reply but Fun felt him encircle his waist, burying his face in Fun’s shoulder. Fun rubbed circles in his back and kissed his temple, berating himself mentally on not coming sooner. He hated when someone he loved was hurting. He never wanted Super to feel alone. One of the reasons they split was so they could have and confide in each other.

“You can keep your cape. I can pass out and sleep like the dead with a sweater as a covering.” Fun pulled back to grin at Super, “as long as I can keep my personal alarm clock.” He winked.

That pulled a watery chuckle from the superhero. “I better not hear any lip from you from now on.”

“No promises, Super-dude,” he grinned, happy to finally see life in those eyes again.

xxx

“BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!”

Fun screeched, flopping around on the bed before tumbling down, a few plushies falling on top of him. The extra pound on him blocked his view of the beaming ghost above him. He decided to spend the night with Super to hang out. Chatting and playing took up their time but Fun missed just having a night to relax and enjoy something fun. It had only been a week or so but he wasn’t used to fighting as much anymore so the break was nice.

This? Not so much.

“Rise and shine, human,” Super grinned, kicking his feet from his position on the bed. “Bright and early on this fantastic day.”

“Ugh, this is not what I meant by alarm clock,” Fun groaned, getting up. He stretched languidly before yawning wide. “Better fly me back home and to school quickly, dude. I don’t need another detention.”

Fun got dressed and brushed his teeth as Super watched TV, already up and at em like the morning ghost he was (didn’t matter if he rarely slept, he was still an early bird). Eggs and bacon were already made for him and he greedily scarfed it down with orange juice. He fluffed up his hair a bit and sighed. “Alright, done.”

“Hmm?”

“Let’s go, Soup! I don’t need Lancer to call Mom and Dad again. And I know you’re just dying to go back to work.”

“Fun, Fun, Fun,” Super tsked, wagging his finger at him. He side-eyed Fun as his mouth morphed into a sly smile. “Today is Saturday, you silly specimen.”

Silence.

Super screamed as Fun ran towards him at lightning speed and tackled him, joy in his voice for the first time in days.

#danny phantom #Phic Phight #2024 #heroic amusement #pitch pals #pitch pearl #fanfic #link

[aanoia]

your taylor swift song imagines give me life so I HAD to request one. Can you do something to Timeless from Speak Now TV with either james, sirius, or remus? whichever one you see fit!

I'm so happy I give you life ;) I chose James bc deep down I'm a James girl and it just fit best with him imo. I hope you like it!

Timeless

James Potter x reader words; 2230 song; Timeless by T Swizzle (TV, duh) alright y'all, this one might get a little confusing. Let me break it down for you. italics is lyrics (and two other super small things, you'll know it when you see it), italics and bold is memories, there's two memories split into three parts total, when the story starts saying would that means thats what would happen if it did, yk. You and James do die, I just wanna make that clear. if you love a song, the marauders, and my writing, request a song fic and your wish shall be my command. now, i have two things. one, you can give me requests anyone in the marauders era btw, not js the actual marauders (i'll even accept Peter because i like to think he never became evil and was always just shy little Peter). Second, GIVE ME PREFERANCES PLS they'll be good fillers for in between longer fics so please pls pls i rly want sushi rn anywho HAVE FUN

Down the block there's an antique shop

And something in my head said "stop", so I walked in

Y/n quietly walked into the small antique shop and the woman at the counter smiled kindly at her. She smiled back and gave her a small nod before looking around the shop. It was much bigger than it looked on the outside, so she assumed an enlargement spell was used on the inside. There were loads of trinkets across the many shelves, big and small.

On the counter was a cardboard box

And the sign said photos 25 cents each

Y/n’s eyes caught a bright white sign with bold red letters, “Photos 5 knuts per” she walked over to the table, curious. She thumbed through the pictures, all of them were old, as they were dusty and black and white.

Black and white saw a 30s bride and

Two lovers laughing on the porch of their first house

I smiled as I pulled out a picture of a man and woman. The man was in a nice suit, a bright happy smile on his face as he held the hand of a woman with a beautiful wedding dress on, her smile matching his. They seemed to be laughing in the picture, radiating pure joy. I turned the picture around and read the pen, “Just married! 7/24/36”

The kind of love that you only find once in a lifetime

The kind you don't put down

As Y/n flipped through more pictures, her mind wandered to James. She saw them in these pictures, together no matter the circumstance, with bright smiles on their faces and laughs leaving their lips. They’d be hopelessly in love in any universe, and she knew it.

And that's when I called you, and it's so hard to explain

But in those photos, I saw us instead

“Oh, did you stop by the antique shop?” Y/n’s mom asked as she walked in through the door, a small bag in my hand. 

Y/n nodded with a smile, “I did, it’s pretty cool in there. I’d love to talk more but I need to write James a letter.”

Her mom laughed, “All right, you go, don’t take too long though. Supper will be done soon.”

And somehow I know that you and I would've found each other

In another life you still would've turned my head

James looked up from his desk as a loud pecking noise was made on his window. He smiled as he saw his girlfriend's owl, banging his beak against the glass of his window with a letter tied to his leg and his claws clutching onto a brown package. James opened his window and let the owl in, petting him gently and placing a few pellets on the window cill for him to munch on. 

James opened the letter quickly, pausing as two black and white photos fell out. He furrowed his brows at the photos and his eyes flitted to the package. He grabbed it and untied the string, opening it quickly to find an old book, a few specks of dust on the front. He laughed to himself at the randomness and began actually reading the letter.

Even if we'd met on a crowded street in 1944

And you were headed off to fight in the war

“Off to war?” Y/n would’ve said, a laughing tone in her voice.

James would’ve nodded with a smile, “Yes. But we could write to each other, we could court and then once the war is over we’ll get married!” He‘d say excitedly.

Y/n  would have laughed, “Of course we will.”\

You still would've been mine

We would've been timeless

James would’ve been hanging halfway out of the train, the only thing keeping him in being his friends as he waved to the love of his life.

“I love you!” She’d shout and he’d blush.

“I’ll see you later, love! Don’t miss me too much!” He’d yell back, blowing her a kiss before he was forced back on the train.

I would've read your love letters every single night

And prayed to God you'd be coming home all right

“Oh, Y/n, don’t be ridiculous. James will be fine, I’m sure.” Lily would tease, smoothing down her skirt as she sat on the bed next to her best friend. 

“That’s easy for you to say, Lils, he’s not the love of your life. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” She’d say, setting his latest letter into a box that held all the other ones.

“Y/n, have faith in the man. He’s strong, he’ll make it.” Lily would persist and Y/n would nod with a sigh.

And you would've been fine, we would've been timeless

She’d run to James at the train station and he’d drop his bag and hold his arms out, catching her in an embrace and spinning her around. She’d laugh joyfully, thankful the love of her life was finally home. 

“Oh, I’m so thankful you’re okay.” She’d whisper and he’d kiss her cheek. 

“I’m thankful to be back with you, beautiful.”

'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this

So even in a different life

You still would've been mine

We would've been timeless

James smiled at her idea, quite liking it himself. He loved listening, or in this case reading, about all her ideas. He knew how much her mind ran wild, thinking of every possibility for every little thing, and he loved it. He loved being a part of it. 

I had to smile when it caught my eye

There was one of a teenage couple in a driveway

Holding hands on the way to a dance

And the date on the back said 1958

James picked up one of the pictures and smiled at the couple, still in their wedding attire, holding hands tightly on a porch. He set the photo down, it not being the one he was looking for, and picked up the other one. He gazed at the two teenagers, almost imagining them as himself and Y/n. He could see it, and he remembered what it was like taking her to the Yule Ball. How beautiful she looked in her dress.

Which brought me back to the first time I saw you

Time stood still like something in this old shop

I thought about it as I started looking 'round

At these precious things that time forgot

Y/n and Lily walked into the train station together, hand in hand, happy to have made a friend before they even arrived at Hogwarts for their first year. Y/n giggled as Lily told her a story about one of her friends, Severus, and promised to introduce the two to each other. Y/n suddenly paused and Lily looked over, concerned.

“What is it?” Lily asked and Y/n pointed to a boy who was messing around with two other boys.

“He’s-” She paused, trying to find the right word. “Beautiful.” Lily laughed loudly and Y/n snapped her head to the side, “What?”

Lily shrugged, shaking off her laughter. “Nothing, nothing.”

That's when I came upon a book covered in cobwebs

Story of a romance torn apart by fate

Hundreds of years ago, they fell in love like we did

And I'd die for you in the same way

If I first saw your face

James looked at the book he had unwrapped and silently read the title. He hummed thoughtfully and opened the cover, leaning back slightly at the dust that filled the air. He smiled at the dedication the author gave. 

“To the love of my life. We, my dear, are timeless.” He read out loud softly. 

In the 1500s up in a foreign land

And I was forced to marry another man

You still would've been mine

We would've been timeless

“James.” Y/n would’ve said, running to him and hugging him after they were finally alone. “I don’t know what to do.” She’d cry softly as he rubbed her back gently.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” He’d say quietly, being equally as lost as her.

I would've read your love letters every single night

And run away and left it all behind

You still would've been mine

We would've been timeless

“Do you have everything?” He’d whisper outside the castle and Y/n would nod, handing James one of the bags.

“I do. Let’s go.” She’d say and throw the bag over the back of her horse, making sure it was secure as James would do the same. They’d share one last kiss before mounting their steeds and riding away as quickly as possible. By the time the castle woke up and realized the princess was gone, it’d be too late.

'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this

So even in a different life

You still would've been mine

We would've been timeless

James laughed at her story, setting down the letter and glancing at her owl who hooted softly, waiting for something to return back to his owner. James pet the owl again before pulling out a piece of parchment, his quill, and an ink well, and immediately started writing back.

Time breaks down your mind and body

Don't you let it touch your soul

It was like an age old classic

Y/n smiled as the familiar pecking of her owl reached her ears. She rushed to her window and opened it, petting her owl gratefully and pulling the letter off his leg. Y/n sat down on her bed and practically ripped open the letter.

The first time that you saw me

The story started when you said hello

In a crowded room a few short years ago

It was third year, in the Great Hall. Y/n had spent the last two years of her life pining after the one and only James Potter, who barely even glanced at her. At least, that’s what she thought. But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. 

“Just go talk to her already, Prongs.” Remus said quietly, patting his friend on the shoulder. 

James shook his head, “No way. I couldn't.”

“Why not?” Peter asked.

“Because Peter, she’s perfect. She’s beautiful, has perfect grades, I mean, she’s probably the smartest witch I’ve ever known, minus my mom. She’d never like someone like me.” He explained and Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Dude, you’re hot. That’s all you need, now go.”

And sometimes there's no proof, you just know

You're always gonna be mine

We're gonna be

“Hi, Y/n.” James said, standing awkwardly as the girl turned around awkwardly.

“Oh, hi, James!” She said, a small blush painting her cheeks.

“Okay, bye, Y/n.” He said, walking off and cursing to himself for messing it all up like that.

“Uh, bye, James?”

I'm gonna love you when our hair is turning gray

We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we made

And you'll say "Oh my"

“Aha, look what I found.” James would have said to his wife, pulling out the pictures she had sent him many, many years ago.

“Where did you find those? Did you find the book too?” She would’ve asked, a smile on her face as she would look at them. 

James would’ve shook his head, “Nope, no book. I’m not sure where that went. I found the letter though.” He’d say and pull it out as well. Y/n would smile as she reread her words.

“Oh wow, I’m such a sweetheart.” She’d say with a laugh.

“Not much anymore.” James would tease and Y/n would’ve hit his arm. “See what I mean.”

We really were timeless

We're gonna be timeless, timeless

You still would've been mine, we would've been

“Come on, Harry. I saw this shop when I was going on errands with mum.” Ginny said, pulling her boyfriend into a cute little antique shop. Harry looked around in awe at the shop.

“Why, hello there, young ones.” The lady at the front said, a warm smile on her face.

“Hello, ma’am.” Harry greeted and Ginny smiled at the old woman. 

Even if we met

On a crowded street in 1944

Still would've been mine

You would've been

“Look, pictures.” Ginny said, pulling Harry over to look through them. They sifted through them silently before Ginny pulled one out. “Harry, these look a lot like your parents.”

Harry grabbed the photo and inspected it closely, “They… they are my parents.” His eyes widened as he looked at the cost of the photo. The sign had bright red ink on it, “photo’s 5 knuts per”.

The lady at the front smiled when Harry placed the picture on the counter. She gazed at the photo and shook her head with a laugh.

“I remember when she first walked in here. Ah, it was such a long time ago. She bought a few of these and an old book, and two weeks later she brought him in. They were such a sweet couple. I wonder how they’re doing now.” The woman reminisced as she took the knuts from Harry.

Harry smiled at the woman, holding back tears, “Yeah, I wonder too.”

Down the block there's an antique shop

And something in my head said "stop", so I walked in

my masterlist

taglist (if u wanna be added js comment :));

@loving-and-dreaming @1lellykins @poetrypirate

#aanoia #romance #marauders era #remus lupin #the marauders #sirius black #james & peter & remus & sirius #james potter x reader #harry potter #marauders #james potter #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #marauders fanfiction #hp marauders #marauders map #peter pettigrew

[themagicbrew]

what was the thought process behind your kraang oc's?

My thought process was filling in the gaps in rises already pre-existing lore. (this is my general thought process for most of my Rise!OC'S) I feel as though there are a lot of concepts untapped by the community as a whole- The kraang being one of them. Never before I have seen characters be used so much yet so underutilized. A lot of times, The kraang are even straight-up mischaracterised which frustrates me deeply. This iteration has such heavy ties with the series' world-building and history, that one can't simply overlook. Furthermore, The Kraang siblings are such fun characters with lots of story potential.

When developing Utrom alot of factors came to mind. Rise is known for taking things and spinning on its head,it is by far the most unique take of TMNT. (old art)

For those who aren't familiar with the previous iterations of The Kraang. In most versions, Their species name is "Utrom" and "kraang" or "the kraang" is an evil faction/individual that broke off before doing dubious shit. Some Version doesn't have "kraang" and just Utrom (I.e: Tmnt 2003) I simply took that and did a reversal of said thing. I made The Rise!Kraang an inherently evil warmongering race and Utrom is a krang that broke off and started a rebellion.

From there, I can tie his character further into other aspects of the show while having legroom to create lore/world-building of my own.

Creating both "Utrom" and the "Kraang Rebellion" allowed me to create more Kraang characters on Earth without having to come up with an explanation for each and every one. (outside of doing it for a twist) Them stemming from an "evil" species was another intentional narrative decision. Aside from Utrom, they are not an innate force of "good" and many who joined the rebellion did so to escape the authoritative environment they lived in... Thus, The remaining rebels who remained after the conflict are morally grey or straight-up evil

This is where Cameo came In (old art)

He came a long way from his first concept. Originally Cameo was going to take on a less villainous role, have more ties with The E.P.F and be married to a Catgirl.

But this all changed as I developed him further i scrapped some of his writing in favour of a more sinister yet fruity character

Cameo is meant to fill in some of the holes in Utrom's plot-line, further the world-building of TMNT and create scenarios for other characters. He was a fun character to write but- even MORE fun to design. I really pushed the boundaries and created a femboy kraang basically. ANYWAY! yeah, hope that gives some insight for my thought process when writing my kraang oc's.

#Brew talks #Rottmnt ocs #art development