#maybe the most important caps of supernatural as a whole

[whenyourlipstouchedmine]

Somewhere after the movie

There were many things Lydia got from her little trip back to Beacon Hills, but the most important of them all was a lesson. 

A lesson in holding on to the things and the people we love because it might be too late if we don’t. 

It was hard to be back, especially after the past year. To go back on those streets, the same places and with the same people she grew up with… well, almost. 

The most important person wasn’t there. 

She knew that she was to blame for that, that maybe he didn’t want to go knowing that she’ll be there. She also knew how hard he worked, so maybe he just got caught up with a case and couldn’t find the time to drive down.

Either way, Stiles wasn’t there. And it felt wrong. 

It felt wrong to be detectives without him, to tie a red string on a board and not have him fussing over it, tying it around his fingers anxiously as he tried to figure it out. 

But that was her fault, too. It was she who left, her who put a stop to what they had because she was scared. Scared of a nightmare that felt too real not to pay it any mind. And, after her record, she didn’t want to risk it. Not when it came to Stiles. She lost him so many times already. 

“Are you okay, Lyd?” Jackson asks. It’s been nice to have him around. The whole bringing-Allison-back thing was hard enough, she needed a support system if her usual one was gone. 

She’s glad at least that worked out, and maybe it was seeing Scott and her best friend get back together as if no time had passed, or maybe it was the fact that she had to catch Allison up with everything she missed the past fifteen years, and the memory lane wasn’t a fun ride to go down. 

“You don’t look surprised,” Lydia asked her best friend after she finished the re-cap of her story. 

“About Stiles? How could I?” Allison laughed. “Lyds, you kept denying it but I could see it from a mile away. Besides, I do remember that kiss. Even with everything that was going on, you two… you were meant to be.” 

The words still play in her head now as Jackson waves his hand in front of her. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Lydia asks, turning to face him. He just rolls his eyes in annoyance. He really became a totally different person after he left Beacon Hills, but Lydia thinks he likes it better like this, funnily enough. 

“You need to talk to him,” Jackson blurts out.

“Talk to who?” She frowns. 

“Oh, come on, you’re the smartest woman in the world, I’m pretty sure you can figure that one out.” 

“I—I can’t, Jackson. I can’t go back. I don’t even know if he still—“ 

“This is Stiles we’re talking about. The guy’s been in love since… what, eighth grade?”

“Third, actually—“ 

“Even better! Trust me, he’s not… he’s still in love with you. It would be stupid of him not to.” 

“I just don’t think it’s fair. After all, it was me who left without a warning,” she sighs. 

“Fine, then wait until the next supernatural crisis hits and we can all come back here and make it awkward like Malia and Scott! What the fuck happened between those two, anyway?” 

“Beats me…” Lydia says. 

“I’m just saying, I think you should call him. Or show up at his doorstep and tell him what happened. He’d do that for you.” 

And Jackson is right about that, Stiles would do that for her. He’d do anything for her. Once, after they moved to San Francisco, her bosses were being dicks and not giving her enough credit and he actually conducted an investigation that got them in trouble for neglecting their workers. 

“I’ll see what I do, but thanks for coming and… for everything else,” she hugs him. It’s time for him to catch his plane back to London. 

“Of course, but remember—“ 

“No word of this to Ethan. Got it,” she chuckles. “Have a safe flight!” 

“Call him!” Is the last thing he says before he closes the door and heads inside the airport. Lydia sighs and holds the steering wheel harder, thinking. 

When she closes her eyes, he sees the dream again, so clearly, so vividly, Stiles on the floor, glass shattered all around him, and the car on fire. He’s not breathing, and all Lydia can do is scream, but nobody hears her. 

She shakes her head and starts driving back to San Francisco. It’s gonna be a long ride, but she hopes that she’s made a decision by the end of it. 

(…) 

There are few things Lydia missed about using her powers again, but the random blackouts weren’t one of them. 

That’s the only possible reason she can think of as to why she’s parked her car in front of Stiles’ apartment. Or maybe it was just muscle memory. 

Or both. 

Call him. 

“Fuck it.” She says and she gets out of the car, trying to make herself look presentable as if Stiles hadn’t seen her at her worst. As if he hadn’t loved her even when she was locked up in an asylum, with her head drilled open. 

As she heads to the door, her heart starts to beat way too quickly for comfort. 

Maybe this is a horrible idea. Perhaps she should’ve called. What if he’s not home? What if he’s got someone over? She probably should’ve texted first to make sure he didn’t hate her. 

“Lydia?” 

She doesn’t even get to ring the doorbell. 

But, of course, he must’ve felt the red string of fate pulling as she got closer. 

“Hi,” her voice barely comes out, which is funny for a Banshee. “I—“ 

“Oh, my God,” he drops the bags he was carrying and walks to her to hug her so tightly she can barely breathe. “You’re okay, thank God.” 

She doesn’t know what to say, how to act. It takes her a few seconds to hug him back, too startled. But this is the place she belongs in: his arms. 

“Scott texted and… I didn’t know you’d be going back, too. Beacon Hills was—“ 

“It was Allison, of course, I went back,” Lydia says. “It was… weird being there without you, you know? We all missed you, I missed you.” 

“Did you?” He asks, and Lydia knows that he has every right to be defensive, but she doesn’t want him to be. 

“Of course, I did. I—“ she sighs. “Listen, can we talk? Upstairs, maybe? Or if you don’t want to, I can come back another day or we can meet up somewhere else that doesn’t feel so personal, or you can tell me to get the fuck out and—“ 

“I would never do that,” he says, and it hurts that Lydia knows. Even when she’s hurt him so many times, he still wouldn’t. “Let me—I was on my way to take out the trash, so let me do that and then you can come up, sure.” 

“Cool, yeah, sure, do you need any help with that?” She asks, pointing at the bags, but he shakes his head, smiling slightly. 

“Wouldn’t want you to stain those boots. They’re your favorite, aren’t they? Or maybe you got a new favorite pair now.”

“I don’t,” she says, maybe a bit too quickly. The fact that he remembers makes something warm burn inside her. The same fire that’s been burning for over fifteen years and didn’t die even when they were apart. 

She watches him go down the stairs to the bins down the street and come back with his checkered pajama bottoms and a plain white t-shirt that Lydia knows he loves to sleep in. 

It feels like nothing has changed except it has. Many things have changed. Dead people aren’t dead anymore and people who weren’t dead before, are. 

“Alright, let’s go?” He asks once he gets back to her, and she just shyly nods before she follows him inside. 

She knows the way to his apartment by heart, and could probably get there with her eyes closed if she wanted to, but she enjoys the sight of him. His hair is a bit longer, much like it was when they were in high school. 

She feels like she just jumped on a time machine and they’re back to the days when discovering dead bodies around their town was the norm. Well, he still kind of does, but he always said it wasn’t as fun without the rest of the pack. 

“Welcome. I’m sorry about the mess, I wasn’t really… expecting anyone,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck as he moves to the side to allow Lydia to walk in. 

The fact that it still looks exactly the same as the last time she was here gives her a bit of whiplash. Only the pictures of them two are gone, but Lydia doesn’t blame him for that. 

At least the ones of the whole pack are still there. 

“It’s okay, I’m used to your mess,” she smiles a bit, hoping it wasn’t too much for her to say. 

“Yeah, after hanging out in my teenage bedroom, I’d say you’re good,” he chuckles as well and closes the door behind her. 

It’s a bit awkward as they sit on the couch in silence, and Lydia is starting to second-guess coming here in the first place. 

“What did you want to talk about?” He eventually asks, and Lydia is surprised that she founds herself at a loss for words. That’s never happened before. 

“I… These few days have been very intense. Going back there, seeing all the people from our past… Allison coming back and losing Derek was very hard. It showed me the importance of not holding anything back because it might be too late.” She looks down at her hands as she starts fidgeting with her fingers nervously. She always does that. 

“Hey, Lyd? It’s alright,” he reaches over and holds her hand the same way he always did. The same way he used to unwrap the colored strings they used for their detective maps, the same way he did when he put a ring on her finger. A ring she left behind when she left. 

“Is it, though? Don’t you hate me even a little bit?” She asks, now turning to look at him. “Because, trust me, I do. I hate myself. I hate myself for leaving you like that, but I didn’t have a choice,” she says. “I— I’m sorry that I left like that, so suddenly and without explaining. I couldn’t—“ 

“Do you want to explain it now?” He asks, as gentle as usual, just as patient.

“I had a nightmare one night… we were driving somewhere and suddenly, it all turned black, there was a crack on the window, and you… you were on the floor, surrounded by glass and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t reach you, but you weren’t breathing.” She gulps. “And I know that I’ve had nightmares before, we both have, but—It kept happening, every night I dreamed the same thing until the point where I didn’t know if it was a dream or if it was a premonition.” 

“Well, I’m not dead, am I?” He asks. 

“You’re not, because I left. I was there in the dream, so I thought that… if I left, then—“ 

“You have to be kidding me,” he says, standing up. “Lydia Martin, you—“ 

“I couldn’t lose you, okay? Not like that! I—I couldn’t face you dying, Stiles. I’m sorry, I know it was selfish, but I just—I couldn’t be the reason why you died.” 

“So losing me anyway was the best idea you had? Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

“Because I was scared! I was terrified of triggering it, so I just—“ she sighs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I had no business stirring up the past like that, you—you never deserved it.” She stands up and starts to head for the door. 

“Hey, hey, hold on, I never said that,” he reaches out to stop her, grabbing her arm. “I’m just saying… Lydia, I’ve been in love with you since the third grade. Even when you barely acknowledged my existence, I loved you. Did you really think that I stopped?”

“You should have,” Lydia says with a bitter laugh. 

“Yeah, well, I also should have stayed home that night that Scott got bitten, I should have studied more for my exams instead of going around the woods every night, and I should have made sure to keep my Jeep in top-tier condition so it wouldn’t keep breaking, I should have done many things, but we all know I never was too good at doing what I should, was I?” He says, a smile on his face. “So, tell me, Lydia, why did you actually come here? Just to tell me that? So that I could… find closure and move on?” 

“I came because I missed you. Because being back in Beacon Hills without you felt wrong and made me realize how much I wished that I’d stayed. How much I regretted letting that nightmare drive me away from the only thing that I’ve ever had. You—You’re the love of my life, Stiles. And every second I’ve spent without you has been torture.”

“I’d say we’ve both been tortured enough in the past, haven’t we?” And with a swift pull, Lydia finds herself colliding against his chest. “Let’s stop that,” he says before he presses their lips together. 

And even though she’s been back in Beacon Hills, this is her true Homecoming. She wraps her arms around Stiles’ neck and deepens the kiss, making up for all the time they lost. 

“I love you so much,” she whispers against his lips, feeling her own tears rolling down her face. 

“And I love you,” Stiles says back with a smile. “Next time you have a nightmare, tell me about it instead of taking off in the middle of the night, yeah?” 

“I’ll try. If I don’t, come find me.” 

“Alright, deal.” And he kisses her again, and again, and again, for all the times he couldn’t, for all the nights he wished she was still in her arms, for all the minutes of the day he’s spent thinking about her since he left. 

And, when they find their way back to bed, Stiles gets a box out of his bedside table and hands it to her. 

“You kept it?” Lydia’s eyes open wide when she sees the ring. 

“Always kept hoping you’d come back,” he admits, sliding the ring on her finger and kissing it after. “I’m glad I was right.” 

“I am, too.” 

And the world might still be a freaky place with werewolves, banshees, kitsunes, nogitsunes, dark druids, and people coming back from the dead, but in their little bubble, it’s just them. 

It’s always been just them. 

#stydia #stydia fic #stydia au #otp: you came back #otp: you held your breath #otp: remember i love you #stiles x lydia #stiles stilinski #lydia martin #teen wolf #tw #teen wolf fanfic #tw fanfic #teen wolf au #my fanfic #my fics #my children #WELL LOOK AT ME #LOOK WHOS BACK #honestly i never thought i'd come back to this acc #but i watched the movie and i just had lots of thoughts #i love them #canon compliant #SO YEAH #ENJOY I GUESS #teen wolf movie #martinski fanfic #fanfic #martinski

[stackedstiel]

9x01 “I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here” - October 8, 2013

#maybe the most important caps of supernatural as a whole #stackednatural #9x01 #castiel #castieledit #spn #season 9 #cap #october

[tiarnanabhfainni]

alright lads i have written spn fic about the family of deanna campbell, path dependency, kansas coal mining and generational misery. also dean mirrors because that’s what this whole industry runs on. it was heavily inspired by this insane post by tumblr-user @uhuraha. you can also find it under the cut

blood and bone is the price of coal

There’s a concept in social science known as path dependency. The gist is this: the decisions you will be faced with in the future are heavily dependent on the choices you make now. Human trajectories are resistant to change. Once a family enters the mines it becomes nearly impossible for them to dig their way out. 

The Winchester and Campbell names have long pedigrees. Two families whose history goes back as long as humans have records. In fact, their traditions are as old as angels can remember. The Winchesters. Men of Letters. Generations upon generations of knowledge of the arcane passed from mouth to pen to typewriter. The Campbells. Hunters. Parents, siblings, and cousins standing shoulder to shoulder in the endless bloody fight against the monsters under the bed.

Deanna Campbell née Foster had no such pedigree.

See, her family had a somewhat different history than that of the Campbells or the Winchesters. Deanna was the first of her family to be drawn into the shadowy world of the supernatural. Her death at the hands of a demon was not the result of centuries of angelic influence on her family line. That cooling body on the kitchen tiles was not preordained by fate. A fluke. A woman who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and as a result crossed paths with a demon. There really could have been any woman sitting at that kitchen table with Dean Winchester in 1973 and the apocalypse would have gone ahead.

Because the Foster family business was not hunting things or saving people. It was coal mining. Generations of men lining up to take their place in the cavernous tunnels. Hauling their shovels and pickaxes far below the surface to obtain the precious black stone hiding under Kansas soil.

-----------------

Jacob Foster was one such miner who toiled below the packed earth almost a century before an angel placed Dean Winchester in the perfect place to witness the damnation of his family to a life of misery and revenge.

It’s hard to determine the exact relationship between Jacob and Deanna. He was not a cosmically important man. As a result, there aren’t many records of his life that survived.  He could have been her grand-uncle or maybe some distant cousin. It doesn’t really matter in the end because either way he worked in the coal mines like everyone else in the family. Like his father before him.

Jacob’s life was a small one. His family had been poor as long as he’d known them. A family life that might have sounded familiar to hundreds around the country. An exploited, overworked drunk of a father and a mother wasting away at the kitchen counter, bent over with exhaustion.

The wages from his father’s long hours were barely enough to cover the food on the table and yet still most of it found its way into the pockets of the men who owned the local taverns and bars. His mother did her best with what she was given.

She put as much food on the table as she could with the means available to her. Not once did she confront Jacob’s father about the money he spent on drink nor did she ask for a larger cut of his paycheck for use on groceries.

Sometimes Jacob felt that her fear had more of a presence in the house than she did.

--------------------

Dean’s life shrank the night his mother burned alive on the ceiling. His childhood shaped itself to fit inside broken, dirty apartments and cheap motel rooms. The overpowering stench of a man blackout drunk on bourbon and beer became more familiar to him than that of home cooked meals.

He did his best with the scraps of approval he was given and never asked for more.

His father was grieving, overworked, and doing his best and what could Dean do but take what he could get.

--------------------

The lack of records makes it hard to be precise about what age Jacob was when he first went down under the shifting earth to search for precious black fuel in the pits. The family stories are confused on this point. Historians agree that the youngest boys in that particular mine were thirteen years old. But Deanna’s aunt always insisted that Jacob’s mother was fearful for her child’s safety and so she wheedled a year or two of reprieve from his father.

But regardless of his mother’s concern there was no other job open to her son and so - some time before his sixteenth birthday - Jacob’s father put a shovel in his hand and placed a cap on his head and walked him down the dirt tracks to the mine

In another life maybe Jacob could have been something else.

Maybe if his father was a butcher, he could have studied book-keeping and gone to work in an airy office rather than a dark airless hole in the ground. If the miner’s union was stronger in those days, maybe his father could have earned money enough to get his son into trade. But instead, the mine-owners underpaid their workers with little organised protest against them and Jacob worked where he was always destined to. Carefully extracting the bedrock of industrial expansion. Digging up coal that would keep other homes warm.

-------------------------

John Winchester first put a gun in his eldest son’s hand at six years old, brought him down to the woods and had him fire at cans. He looked his little boy in the eyes and handed him the tools to the trade that his mother had sacrificed so much to keep him out of.

Before he turned 16, Dean wasn’t allowed on any other hunts other than salt ‘n burns. But it was fitting in a way. Dean Winchester, grandson to Deanna Campbell née Foster, digging his shovel into hard-packed earth. The bruises on his face warmed up by the crackling flames in the open grave, earned while protecting someone else’s home.

There’s a concept in social science known as path dependency. The gist is this: the decisions you will be faced with in the future are heavily dependent on the choices you make now. Human trajectories are resistant to change. Once a family enters the mines it becomes nearly impossible for them to dig their way out.

-------------------

In his early years down in the shafts of a Kansas coal mine, Jacob was careful to save as much from his paychecks as he could. He handed this money over to his mother as she wrung her hands over the kitchen counter.

But every year the hours got longer, the pit got deeper and his paychecks grew slimmer. The siren call of the bourbon behind the barman’s back grew ever stronger.

Can we grow beyond our parents? Every tool that Jacob had was handed to him by his father. His leather workman’s boots, his dusty cap, the shovel he used to break his own back. And his father’s oldest and deepest friend, the whiskey he drank to numb himself to the grinding misery and exploitation that defined his life.

Path dependency means that the past matters. Every option that lies before us was predetermined by choices made long before their consequences would be felt. Once a man enters the mines, can his sons ever dig their way out?

By his twentieth birthday Jacob was leaving all of his paycheck on the barman’s lowest shelf.

-----------------------

The hunting life is founded on revenge.

Supernatural forces cut a life short, and husbands, wives, mothers, brothers, and daughters dive headfirst into miserable, bitter, and transitory lives where their only options are dying young or dying alone.

In 1983, John Winchester’s marriage and home went up in smoke and the ground shifted beneath him. He packed his car with a hunter’s basics, - a shovel, some shotguns, whiskey - and dragged his family down into the mine.

Dean Winchester only ever got out of the life once. After his brother threw himself into the pit.

But it’s hard to live on the surface when you know what lurks underneath and every tool Dean had, he got from his father.

----------------------

The rules of Jacob’s mine stated that no more than five pounds of black powder explosive could be taken into the mines by a miner at one time. But inspections were rare, and miners rarely took time to remember the rules by hour six in the pits.

The explosion that killed Jacob and his father also took out three of his cousins, five 13-year-old runners and a group of newly arrived Italian immigrants to the town who barely spoke a word of English. The local undertaker was put to hard work in the following days. 43 closed pine coffins lowered slowly underground. Maybe in another life Jacob could have been a painter, a baker, a steel mill worker.

Instead, he died as he lived. Smothered by coal dust.

----------------------

Dean Winchester looked heaven, fate and God in the eyes and told them all to go fuck themselves. He taught an angel free will, cancelled the apocalypse and stripped the cosmic author of all of his power.

Dean Winchester died choking on blood in a barn in Kansas hunting a monster that his father failed to kill. He couldn’t dig his way out.

#spn #dean winchester #john winchester #fic tag #so yep #i have notes on research on the ao3 link but i am not bothered to transcribe #basically listen to springhill mining disaster by luke kelly #the reason i left mullingar #and navigator by the pogues to get a feel for the mood i was in while writing this lmao

[stusbunker]

A Gentlemen’s Agreement Epilogue

A Supernatural Denny AU Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/ Benny Lafitte

Other characters: Pamela, Jesse, Caesar, Crowley, Balthazar, Meg, Jo, Lee, Lisa, Sam (mentioned), Drea OFC, Robbie and SJ OMCs, Deanna OFC

Word count: 2340

A/N: Enjoy! xoxo Stu

Brunch

    The sun was bright, but the air was crisp. The remnants of the early snowstorm had left soggy lawns and damp sidewalks. Benny pulled up to the restaurant and parked on the curb, smiling over at Dean. He waited patiently. 

    “You sure this is a good idea?” Dean squinted in the midday light.

    “Been dying to meet ya. Figured it’s only fair, I met your folks, you can meet my people too,” Benny said simply. “But I’m not gonna force ya.”

    “I just, I’m not used to being out in public. In numbers,” Dean sputtered.

    Benny raised a single eyebrow at him. “Well, I guess this is your best shot to try it out, dontcha think?”

    “What if they don’t like me? I don’t want you to have to choose between me and your friends,” Dean explained the root of the problem.

    “I like you, they will too. Just relax, be your charming self and if you don’t know what to say, you can just keep eating.” Benny put his hand on Dean’s thigh, squeezing just so.

    Dean growled out a sigh. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

    Like that could make an uncomfortable situation worth it. Benny smirked at Dean’s logic, waiting for his face to soften from grouchy to amiable. Once Dean relaxed, Benny kissed him, just long enough to keep him flustered and climbed out of the truck.

     They approached a large round table midway along the heated patio, where four people were already seated.

A raven haired woman waved them over. “My good Benjamin, did you bring a straight boy to brunch, just for me?!”

“Pammy!” Benny leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Hate to disappoint ya darlin', but ain't nothing straight about this'n."

 “Hey, now! Can’t a guy speak for himself?!” Dean snipped defensively as he sat in the spot beside Benny.

Everyone laughed. Pamela raised her eyebrow in question.

Dean licked his lips and put on the smolder, “Sorry sweetheart, but I’m taken.”

“Wait, this--- THIS is your sassy mechanic?!” Crowley leaned forward, extending his hand, his English brogue gruff and pandering. “Nice to finally meet you, handsome.”

       Dean gave Benny the side eye and all Benny could do was shrug coyly. Dean shook the man’s hand, trying not to show his discomfort from his lingering glances. Benny made the rest of the introductions, Jesse and Cesar were also a couple, but had been married for a few years. They seemed to be waiting on someone before they ordered. The group sipped their cocktails with a fresh pitcher of Bloody Mary in the center of the kitsch tablecloth.

Benny poured Dean a generous portion of the red drink and slipped seamlessly into the conversation. Dean sucked the palmeto out of an olive and listened casually, not too sure where he fit in this part of Benny’s life.

Twenty minutes later a rail of a guy swaggered in, with oversized aviators and a black linen suit. 

“Oh, thank Christ for booze,” he huffed, grabbing Dean’s glass without even acknowledging Dean was there. The blonde chugged the entire drink, before breaking for air. “I just had the worst hook up of my life, no, well, the year at least. He took me to his mother’s house. She tried to make me breakfast. I was simply mortified. I just left. What could I even do at that point, honestly?!”

Now that his audience had his attention back, the man gawked at Dean. He even pulled down his sunglasses for a better look. “Now who the fuck is this? Is it show and tell?! Because I am not prepared in the least.” 

He casually patted at his hair and eyed Dean from top to toe. Benny chuckled, but Pamela was the one to make the introduction.

“Balthazar, our regular hangover diva. Meet Dean, Benny’s boy toy,” she deadpanned, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh you can’t be serious,” Balthazar lamented, looking from Pam to Benny to Crowley and finally at Dean. “Fuck you southerners and your goddamn accents--- always gets the hotter ones,” he muttered defensively as he threw himself against the armrest of the chair, crossing his legs.

“Well, now that we’re all here,” Cesar ended the dramatics concisely. “Maybe somebody should find our waitress?”

Dean looked at Benny confused. “We’re always here for a while, she doesn’t bother us until we’re actually ready to order. Tend to annoy her otherwise.”

Crowley volunteered as he needed to head to the men’s room anyhow. Five minutes later he arrived with an obviously surly waitress.

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Meg’s smokey voice broke through Balthazar's latest story. She centered herself between Cesar and Crowley’s seat and cocked her hip, tongue firmly in cheek as she waited for Dean to take her bait.

“Heya, Meg,” Dean sighed. The inevitable caught up with him after all, they just had to run into someone he knew.

“Oh, this has got to be good, now, pray tell, how do you two know each other?” Crowley probed.

“Oh me and this schmuck? We go way back.” Meg smiled without teeth.

“Is that so?” Benny tested the waters.

“Not like that,” Dean grumbled. “Meg, here, took my little brother Sammy out for a few spins, back in the day. Didn’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? It was high school.” Meg let her indifference coat her entire being until curiosity sparked to life in her eyes. “So what are you doing with this crowd, or did they bring you in just to add a new level of torture to my Sunday shifts?”

“Well---.” Dean swallowed, looked at Benny for clarification and got mild amusement instead. “I think you’re stuck with me now.”

“Joy,” Meg bristled before taking their orders, knowing most of the table’s usuals before they even opened their mouths.

News

    Benny rushed into the customer entrance of the shop, the wet October air had kept the service doors closed for the past week. He leaned against the counter, decorated in local business cards and charity fliers, anxiously waiting for someone to talk to. His chest was so tight he worried he’d pass out from excitement. He just needed to see him was all, once he saw Dean it would be easier.

    Lee sauntered in from the service bay, they both had drawn the short straw it seemed.

    “Hey, mind getting Dean for me? It’s important,” Benny asked, unable to keep the burning smile from his face.

    Lee eyed him curiously but nodded and headed back the way he came. He didn’t shout, not really. “Dean-o, your boyfriend’s looking for ya.”

    Dean unfurled himself from the engine he had been tinkering with all morning and glared at Lee.

    “Husband, whatever, seems urgent,” Lee acquiesced. Dean nodded and wiped his hands off on the closest rag. Dean pulled his wedding band out from his undershirt out of habit more than anything. He couldn’t wear it on his hands at work, but he didn’t want to lose it so Benny made him a braided leather necklace once they got back from their honeymoon.

    Dean ignored formality and walked straight into the waiting room. Once he saw the look on Benny’s face he knew what was happening.

    “It’s go time?” He asked, shock and exhilaration sparking his instinct to move.

    “It’s go time, cher. Lisa called me on the way to the hospital. Sam’s driving her from the office. Her water broke about 9:30,” Benny explained, the nervousness slipping into his cadence.

    “Alright, I’m gonna clean up, you want me to drive?” Dean asked, gauging the unsteadiness in his usually stalwart husband.

    “That’s probably best, yeah,” Benny agreed. 

Dean leaned in and kissed him firmly, resting his forehead against Benny’s temple before pulling away.“Hey, we got this, alright? That kid is gonna be so spoiled having you for a daddy, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking, gonna have you wrapped around their finger before they can even crawl,” Benny teased back, inhaling with contentment.

Dean headed back to warn his coworkers that he had a baby on the way and to clean up enough to be allowed into a hospital. Jo followed Dean out into the lobby. Quickly, she hugged Benny before demanding regular updates to the group chat.

“Alright, get out of here, we’ve got you covered for the rest of the week. Let me know and I will put in paternity leave as soon as everyone’s home, okay?” Jo got all professional about things as Dean left.

“Oh, right, shit. Well, I guess I’ll let you know when you can come over and---,” Dean started before Benny pulled him by his elbow.

“We should be goin’” Benny urged. Dean looked at Jo one last time and nodded.

This was it.

   Dean held Benny’s hand the whole way to the hospital, their grip tightening every so often, grounding them both. Because Lisa was a friend and the surrogacy was looser than most circumstances, both Benny and Dean were allowed in the delivery room. They were the best cheerleaders a birth mom could have ever asked for. Seven hours later, one chubby baby girl entered the world screaming to high heaven and splitting her fathers’ hearts open for an entirely new level of love and devotion.

    Mary Andrea Lafitte-Winchester, or Drea for short, was a happy and healthy little girl. And an overprotective big sister to her twin brothers, Samuel Joel and Robert Fergus, who came along four years later.

Sunset

    They’re old men now. Dean is five years retired, while Benny works the register for their sons on the weekends. Both of their hands aren’t what they used to be. But they keep busy. Drea is bringing the kids round tomorrow, it’s the start of summer break and Dean’s been dying to teach her kids to fish.  

    Dean went grey after he turned fifty, but it hasn’t changed since, in color at least. Benny’s beard is as white as Santa Claus and he hides what little hair he has left under a cap. They’re both a little rounder, a little lower to the ground, but they got that way together and neither of them notice it on one another anyhow.

       Every year they visit Jesse and Cesar in Arizona for New Year's. Though they fly more than make the drive these days.

        They still take turns cooking the meals and the movie nights from their early days resurfaced into movie afternoons when their kids moved out. Dean can’t hear for shit anymore and, naturally, Benny makes fun of him for it. But Dean’ll put in his hearing aids if company is over.

 It’s early evening in the beginning of June and the bugs are orchestrating quite the soundtrack to their time on the porch. Dean pours his whiskey. Benny’s already sipping his sweet tea, his medications don’t let him drink much anymore. Jo’ll come by on Sunday, along with SJ and his wife and Robbie. Sam and Jess usually make it to every other dinner or so.

    “Hey there, handsome. Mind if I join you?” Dean teases, once a flirt always a flirt.

    “Not at all, cher. It’s a helluva view,” Benny glances at his husband, watches Dean take in the peaches and pinks kissing the slopes of the fields. They sit like that for an hour, until the dark is too thick to see through. Groaning and creaking they stand in turn. Dean keeps his hand on the small of Benny’s back as they head inside for the night, steadying them both.

    They moved their bedroom to the ground floor after Dean’s heart attack, a lot less worry about making it upstairs that way. After being married forty years, Dean still makes jokes about it being Benny’s place. But it’s always been his home. He kisses Benny goodnight, makes it a little saucy because he can. He’s the first to close his eyes.

    In the morning Benny makes waffles and tofu bacon. Dean pretends he can’t taste the difference, fooling no one. They make out while the sink fills for the dishes, too few to run the machine. Benny gets handsy first and Dean tries to squirm into the upperhand. They’re interrupted by a car pulling in the drive.

    “Busted,” Benny whispers.

    “You’re the one who wanted kids,” Dean grumbles against Benny’s neck, an old, unfounded retort.

    “Yeah, but the grandkids---,” Benny starts.

    “Were made to be spoiled,” Dean finishes and kisses Benny once more. Drea’s yelling at her kids to slow down before her dads even make it outside to greet them. Her eyes, blue as her daddy’s are tired. They don’t envy her the school aged years. Dean bends down as baby Deanna, who’s nearly four, comes crashing into his arms. He pulls her up and holds her tight, reminds him of her mama and he can’t help but get a little weepy over the passing years. 

    “It’s so good to see you, baby girl.” Benny pulls his daughter into a hug before helping with their bags. The older kids don’t come inside until it’s time to eat, climbing through the barn and splashing in the creek until they’re soaked. But Deanna sticks with her Grandpa on a simple stroll, while Pappy and Mama catch up.

    Dean still has the jacket he bought from Benny, though the pants are long gone. He’ll leave it to Robbie when the time comes, when his son finds himself a stud that’s worth settling down for. If that’s what he chooses. 

    For now, Dean lets his granddaughter pick up every rock and stick she finds and examines it to the nth degree. He explains what he can about each one. She’s very curious. He even lets her wipe her chubby little hands on his pants’ leg when she needs to. They get back to the house just in time to start dinner, but before they go inside Dean takes a mental picture of his husband on the porch, their daughter beside him and his granddaughter running past him.

   It is a helluva view after all. 

Tell me what you think?

Series Masterlist

SPN Masterlist

Tagging: @flamencodiva​​​ @dolphincliffs​​​ @dontshootmespence​​​​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​​​​ @fangirlxwritesx67​​ @dawnie1988​​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​​​ @foxyjwls007​​ @tumbler-tidbits​​ @wingedcatninja​​​​ @defenderrosetyler​​​​ @ericaprice2008​  @crashdevlin​​​  @mylovelydame21 @cajunquandary​​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @tatted-trina6 @lyarr24​

#supernatural #supernatural au #spn fanfic #spn au #dean/benny #dean winchester x benny lafitte #bi!dean #aga: epilogue #A Gentlemen's Agreement #childbirth #meeting the friends #found family #aging #mortality #love of a lifetime #grandpa and pappy #health issues #Joel is for Jo and Ellen

[stanfordsweater]

i was tagged by @aftershocked for this getting to know you game! thanks for the tag 🤗 there’s a clean copy at the end for people who want to do this

1. why did you choose your url?

i wanted to be stanfordhoodie but someone’s hoarding it, and i’m glad because i like the alliteration of this more anyway :) i have a headcanon that sam had a red stanford hoodie that jess used to wear around their apartment and he loved seeing her in his clothes but it burned up when she did. he flinched at that particular shade of red for a long time.

2. any sideblogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

i have a whole ‘nother blog that i’m not outing here with pictures of my face and whatnot, but i will list all the urls i have hoarded! tradwifedean, samhoodie, stanfordedu, henleysam, fratboyjared, and patricided. i saved all of them when people were making safe sammy blogs because i am a petty bitch, but if anyone wants one hit me up (not giving up patricided or stanfordedu, though)

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

2011-ish but i only came on maybe once a year between 2016 and 2019. the pandemic ruined me.

4. do you have a queue tag?

.q

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

i was on sam stan gen spn tumblr after the finale, mostly for memes, and when i eventually started my rewatch a few months ago and i was like ... oh... i actually still like this show a lot. the negativity in that corner bums me out! supernatural is fun and there’s a lot of deeper threads to the storylines. if i see one more post about supernatural accidentally saying something about, idk, family trauma or whatever, i’m going to throw eggs at the op.

legit criticism of spn is important (for example, the blatant racism in gordon’s storyline, kevin’s entire character being a stereotype, the episode focused on linda tran referencing “tiger mommy,” the colourism even amongst the black characters, how dirty they did jake talley... i could keep going 😐) and i’ve seen people using the memes about supernatural doing everything accidentally to push back against people talking about the very real racism in the show. pretending that these things weren’t deliberate as a way to get notes is insulting from a writing perspective (y’all really don’t know how tv shows work, huh?) but more importantly it offers a handy excuse for legit criticism to be swept under the rug because ‘nobody thought about it that hard 🙄’

that got a bit ranty, lol i’m definitely not saying that every non-bibro in the fandom is annoying, but i wanted a place to gush over how much i fucking love sam and dean’s relationship + what parts of the show i adore, so i made this blog and came out of the s/d closet.

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

sam is cute.

7. why did you choose your header?

sam is pretty.

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

hmmm [opens up tumblr note counter] the first cap post i made for supernatural has the most notes, but that’s because it breached containment. i posted that before i blocked half the fandom 😬

9. how many mutuals do you have?

hahaha i’m not gonna count them but i’m very protective of my dashboard so almost everyone i follow is a mutual!

10. how many followers do you have?

one of my favourite parts of tumblr is that they don’t publicly show followers, so i’m gonna skip this one

11. how many people do you follow?

~150, and this is after i went on a following spree when i was sad about my dash being dead. turns out that everyone just happened to be busy on the same weekend, and now i can’t scroll my dash anymore, lol

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

yes

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

i check in about once every hour and scroll through a page or two. if i have time i’ll sit down for an hour and actually go through my dash, but that usually only happens if i’ve been too busy to check in during the day. (diagnosed with terminally online disease)

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

yeah, a dean stan anti came on one of my finale posts and told me i was personally responsible for society not taking real life suicidal people seriously. blocked and deleted my response, but there were ~five people who came to my defense, so thanks to all of them!

15. how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

they’re really annoying! originally i liked them, because i’ve been around long enough that i saw them back when they were earnest. these days i tend to avoid the post out of reflex. i reblog a fair amount to my main (especially when there’s a protest/disaster going on and it has links to resources, etc)

16. do you like tag games?

yes :) it feels like we’re having a slumber party and we’re all holding hands

17. do you like ask games?

every once in a while, yeah! i reblog them when i’m in the mood.

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

jaredfuckerkripke, but more like tumblr notorious for that url <3

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

there’s people where i get a little blushy when they reblog my posts, but that’s just when i admire them because it feels like validation that i’m liking supernatural the right way...

20. tags?

hmmm... anyone who wants to do this, but i’m singling out @balefully @moonlightdistractions @prince-of-elsinore @nebulairis

clean copy:

1. why did you choose your url?

2. any sideblogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

4. do you have a queue tag?

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

7. why did you choose your header?

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

9. how many mutuals do you have?

10. how many followers do you have?

11. how many people do you follow?

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

15. how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

16. do you like tag games?

17. do you like ask games?

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

20. tags?

#no pressure to those i tagged buuut i'd love to see your responses #about #.txt

[grayintogreen]

I was not technically tagged, but at least two people on my dash were like DO WHAT YOU WANT NO ONE IS YOUR GOD, and you know what? They’re right and valid. 

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

96! And 90% of them are from just this year. Can’t wait to find out what the big 100 is gonna be. Any one of my WIPS could be Disney’s next 100th fic.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

455,024 (also mostly from this year...)

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

In my entire life??? Since I was twelve??? I don’t even know, man. I wrote a lot of ooc crackfic and fic for cartoons when I was on FF.net, and then I was on LJ and wrote for a TON of different fandoms, but on AO3, I have written for Critical Role (so much CR), Yashahime/Inuyasha, Guardians of the Galaxy, His Dark Materials (TV), Steven Universe, Bleach, Alias, Supernatural, Dollhouse, Pushing Daisies (the last four were all transferred here from LJ, though)

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

- turning wine back into water (Critical Role, de-aging fic with plot, 30457 words)

I STILL CANNOT BELIEVE HOW POPULAR THIS FIC IS. It beat out two of my super popular GotG fics that have been up since 2017 BY A LOT. Apparently, there was a market for the Mighty Nein being adorable cocktail brats and saving the world. Thanks, Liam’s Quest!

It is probably one of the most wholesome fics I will ever write too. I love it.

- Sunshine Came Softly (Guardians of the Galaxy, Rocket and Mantis friendship, 3188 words)

THIS FIC STILL GETS HITS EVEN TODAY. It was written right after I saw the movie so it hit hard and fast on the hype train. 

- Mine Is Just a Slower Sacrifice (Guardians of the Galaxy, Rocket-centric, 2248 words)

BOY YOU CAN TELL THESE FICS ARE ANCIENT BECAUSE I HADN’T DEVELOPED MY TITLE NICHE YET. where are the lower caps and Seanan McGuire lyrics!!

Anyway, this was written probably IMMEDIATELY after I saw the movie and had to process Rocket’s emotions during the last moments, because of who I am as a person. For what’s mostly a character study, it got some mileage on it.

- they drink dreamers up like brandy (Critical Role, 1625 words)

Back to Critical Role! I wrote this one when I was in a fucking blind post-finale haze and producing massive amounts of Kingsley content and I wanted to write a silly fic about Caleb being tiefling catnip. 

- if adversity breeds character (we’ve character enough for two) (Critical Role, Beau and Molly-centric, 1824 words)

I feel like most of my most kudos-ed CR fics are Beau-related, which is funny because I never really wrote her EVER. I guess I need to write her more often. ANYWAY, this one got jossed immediately after 141, but I needed to write Beau and Molly bantering and I couldn’t get her flipping him off after revealing her card is Rumor out of my head.

(Incidentally my sixth most kudos-ed fic is my Fjorester next gen fic, WHICH I WAS NOT EXPECTING AT ALL. IT’S A FIC BASED ON MY OC FANCHILDREN!! I’M VERY EMOTIONAL ABOUT THAT!!)

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Usually!! There are times when I forget and then it’s been so long that I never go back, but I like responding to comments. They make me so happy and I want to make sure the people who take the time to comment know that I see them and appreciate them. Especially if they give me long comments. You long commenters know who you are and I value you and also flail incoherently in your direction.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

God, probably this church takes no conversions simply because, like, the whole ending scenes are MISERABLE AND FULL OF ANGST and then it has the hopeful ending that is actually a bullshit lie.

But second place probably goes to what couldn’t i offer, what couldn’t i give, which is just misery porn in disguise as a character study. Sorry, Cree.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Okay, so back in the day when I was a tineh fanbrat I wrote a lot of self-indulgent crossovers featuring my friends and I in true Mary Sue format being ~saviors of the world~ alongside our favorite fictional characters and after I grew out of that, I very rarely did it again, because as someone who can only write AUs if they’re high concept and can only write crossovers if the canon welding is pristine, it’s difficult.

I have ideas for some! I just haven’t written them yet. Or they’re sitting in Google Docs partially written.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not to my recollection, which is insane, because I’ve written some things in my youth that deserved it, but also I was a kid, so maybe I definitely did not deserve it. Don’t send hate to kids!!

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

The first smut I ever posted on AO3 involved some fucking American Gods flesh horror shit, so that answers your second question.

Basically, yes, but I write smut to facilitate character development in a way that regular story beats can’t, mainly with characters who are in some way deeply fucked up and have unbalanced dynamics. 

So basically chances of me writing smut that isn’t Creecien or Lucigast? Very low. (I haven’t written Lucigast smut yet but I will. Inevitably.)

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that anyone’s told me, but one time when I was a teenager someone ripped off an entire group messageboard RP I was in and tried to pass it off as a fic they wrote.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that anyone’s told me!

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I tried and it did not work out, because of (non-wanky) reasons, but it’s just not something I’d be very good at. I was the kid who wanted to work alone on group projects. I’m bad at group work.

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

That I’ve WRITTEN??? Because that at least narrows it down significantly. Sesshoumaru/Rin hands down. It’s a good dynamic and they’re fun and sad at the same time. 

My self-indulgent ass does also enjoy writing Creecien though. I’m putting it out there because I want it.

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

GOD POOR SUPERNOVAS OF ALL SOUND AND LIGHT. THAT FIC COULD’VE BEEN A CONTENDER, but I unfortunately posted it RIGHT BEFORE the White Diamond episodes aired and it became so jossed by canon so fast that I gave up on life with chapter two half finished. I need to delete it but I can’t bring myself to bury my shame.

15) What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and meta-narrative and character-specific stuff. I go into every story with CHARACTER FIRST mentality, which is how I end up writing so many damn character studies or why my word counts explode. I’m just out here naval gazing because I love character stuff SO MUCH.

I’ve been told I’m good at fight/action scenes too, which... Shocks me, but I think watching and playing a lot of D&D stuff has really improved how I write fighting and action sequences.

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

[whispers] too much naval gaze. dial it back, bitch. 

I get really caught up in character stuff and forget to do important things like ADVANCE THE SCENE OR DESCRIBE THE SCENE OR LITERALLY ANYTHING. I also don’t think my prose is all that great, but I’m pretty sure every writer feels that imposter syndrome bullshit, so /waves hands. All I’m saying is I have seen some writers on AO3 who are writing some fucking vivid imagery and stringing flawless sentences together and weaving introspection and description together like beautiful baskets and they are stronger than any US Marine and I salute them and wish to be them.

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Iiii try not to. There’s times where I want to throw in, like, a little Zemnian for Caleb flair, but I try to stick to things that are either untranslatable (like German compound words), common phrases (like please or come here), or insults/curses/ pet names. Things that I don’t think Google will fucking lie to me about.

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I think it was a Sailor Moon crackfic about Haruka being forced to enter a beauty pageant which was just a blatant rip-off of Ms Congeniality and oh my god was it awful. I don’t even wanna talk about it.

19) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

this church takes no conversions, probably BECAUSE it’s my little red-headed stepchild of a fic involving so many things that are just never going to make it popular (backstory fic, fic that is almost 85% headcanon, doesn’t involve popular characters, etc.), but godDAMMIT I love that fic so much. It was fun and I use every bit of that headcanon in almost everything like it’s my job.

shattered stage is a close second, because it was such a crazy concept for a fic that I PULLED OFF SOMEHOW and is this wonderful mix of crazy plot and character and lore and my three favorite tieflings having to work together. And also Jayne Merriweather as the main villain. 

A lot of love went into both of those fics and they are my babies. this time next year we’ll see if I add Creedemption and shoot at fate to this list- probably. All of my epic long fics resolve to be my babies because I spent so much time on them, and I have to love them and cherish them because I raised them into gigantic wordy attempts to write a doorstopper.

#writing meme #my writing #shattered stage #this church takes no conversions

[mrsbhandari]

Shutter - pt 4

a/n: bonjour!! im here officially with pt 4 to this fic so i hope you like it!! <3

warnings: some language and its kinda suggestive in parts but nothing explicit teehee

words: 3.8k (damn)

tags: @lxdy-starfury, @huntress1024, @anotherbeingsworld, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @chaotic-ramsay-queen, @brycemaloliver

#

Tyril stood alone in his large apartment, eyeing each piece of clothing in his perfectly organized closet with varying levels of hatred. He didn’t want to go too formal and wear a suit, because this was most likely not a fancy date at a fancy restaurant. 

Wait.

Is this really a date?

She hadn’t responded to his final text, making him sweat more than he ever had in his life. He stepped over to the other side of his closet and landed a slender finger on a gray turtleneck sweater. 

“...Acceptable,” he murmured, breaking the silence of the air in his apartment. Quietly opening a drawer, he picked a pair of simple black slacks, crisp and pristine. 

In her own apartment, Naexi called the local pizza joint and placed her order before grabbing a baggy college sweatshirt that slipped off her shoulder and some jeans, keeping her shoes off but her cozy socks on. She definitely considered this a date, but she didn’t want him to know that. After putting on music, she danced a little in her kitchen while checking her phone, eager for any updates from Tyril.

Radio silence. 

A knock sounded, barely audible over the music, so she turned it down and walked to open the door. 

Tyril could barely handle it. She was standing there, collarbone slightly exposed under her sweatshirt, dark hair in a messy braid that draped over her shoulder, and slivers of her thighs were revealed from the rips in her skinny jeans. She was as alluring as she was in the first moment he saw her. 

“C’mon in. I have a coat rack on your left.” There was something interesting about the information, but he couldn’t place his finger on it until he securely hooked his jacket and scarf on the small hooks protruding from the wooden structure. For years, he had been waited on hand and foot in other people’s homes because of his wealth and status, but the simple act of being allowed to take his own shoes off and hang his own coat up was...refreshing. “Do you...like my rack?” 

“I beg your pardon?” He whirled on her with wide eyes, well aware of the double entendre.

“You’re like...smiling at it. It was my brother’s, but he broke it and gave it to me.” 

“Why would he not throw it out?” Tyril’s elegant features twisted into confusion, and he frowned when she seemed to laugh at the memory, believing the sound to be directed at him. 

“He’s awful at fixing things, so he knew that if he gave it to me, I would find a way to fix it.” Still smiling, she ran her eyes down his outfit before stopping on his feet. “Of course you have those fancy socks.” 

His eyes found her mismatched socks, her left foot covered with stripes and the right with polka dots. Face returning to its neutral, he raised a single eyebrow and allowed the left corner of his mouth to turn up into a half smile. “I think yours are much better than mine.” 

She stuck her tongue out and waved her hand, beckoning him to fully enter her cozy apartment. It was vibrant, with dozens of pictures hung on the wall with no real pattern. The walls were an odd crimson, but a combination of the decor and the numerous candles spread throughout the living room and kitchen made the space feel like home. Small piles of books and knick knacks were scattered on every surface he could find, a distinct contrast to his own museum-like home where everything had a place and stayed in it. Smiling to himself, he noticed the three vases of flowers he sent to her positioned on varying tables and bookshelves spread throughout her home. Upon closer inspection of the pictures, he spotted a few of her and Nia; during a party, in front of a castle in what looked like Germany, in graduation caps and gowns as they held up their degrees for the camera. 

She silently watched him from her spot on one of the barstools around the kitchen island, slightly amused at how out of place he looked in the light of her apartment. Everything around her was warm and inviting, but he stood tall and aloof, clothes dreary against the bright backdrop of her prized possessions. He was poised like a man who had never been denied a thing in his life; for some reason, she found herself both wanting to give in to that and to challenge him as much as possible. 

“Are all these pictures ones you’ve taken?” 

“Yup! There’s a few that aren’t mine, but most I’ve chosen from my own portfolio.” 

“They’re beautiful.” Once she didn’t respond for a few moments, he looked up to find her gazing at him, a slight blush on her cheeks and her head cocked. She wore a look similar to the one she had on when they first met, studying and searching for something he had yet to offer. Or maybe he had been offering it the entire time he was here without knowing she had found it. It was both unsettling and pleasant, to be the main focus of her intense and calculating stare. She finally seemed to realize that she hadn’t answered, so she broke her eyes from him and nodded. 

“Thanks.” 

“I like your apartment, as well.”

“I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

There. Something flashed in her eyes as they met his, ten feet away with something connecting them. He had given her a challenge, but unlike in the bookshop, this wasn’t one born from anger; it was something entirely new. Time seemed to slow around them, making the candles flicker almost supernaturally and their heartbeats decelerate. His mouth was dry and although he held her eye contact, he couldn’t help but notice the rest of her body in front of him, enticingly revealed with taunting slits and stretches of the fabric. 

He didn’t know it, but her observant photographer’s eye was watching him as well, taking in the impossibly long stretch of his neck under his turtleneck and how, even in socks, he still carried with him an aura of being the most important person in the room. Here, standing in her apartment, admiring her photos, and staring at her like he wanted to pin her against a wall, Naexi finally realized just how pretty he was. The more she took in the dark hair framing a pale unblemished complexion, complemented by the high arch of his eyebrows and his perfectly positioned nose, the more it hit her that from the moment they met, she had been suppressing the urge to kiss him until she forgot her own name.  Full lips parted as if to speak, but he was cut off by a swift knocking on the door. As if broken from a trance, they both seemed to tense and look towards the sound at the same time, but Tyril beat her to answering. 

“Wait--!” she called, but the door was already open and Tyril was once again proving just how much space he took up as he bent to avoid hitting his head on the frame. 

“Who are you?!” The delivery guy, a short and stout man with a tendency to eat everything in sight as well as be painfully loud about any and everything having to do with everybody else’s business but his own, was staring up at the billionaire with a mix of curiosity and hostility. Tyril seemed taken aback by the shouted question and took a step back, allowing Naexi to push his large form out of the way and offer the man the cash as well as an explanation.

“He’s my date, Threep.” Tyril looked down at her with a smug smile. So this is a date. “Meet Tyril.”

Threep offered the pizza to her before giving him a small wave and a tip of his hat. “Sorry about that. She rarely has dates over, so I wanted to make--”

“Keep the change, bye!” She slammed the door and deadbolted it. “That’s enough of that.” 

“So this is a date, then?” An already high eyebrow raised as he crossed his arms, tight sweater showing off the sculpt of his arms as they flexed. If Naexi tried hard enough, she could pretend that she was only drooling over the pizza that was beginning to burn the skin of her palms. She also pretended that the reason she was gripping the pizza box hard enough to whiten her knuckles and bend the cardboard was because she didn’t want to drop it. It had nothing to do with the fact that she had accidentally shoved him to the area next to the door closest to the wall with very little space in an effort to pay, which was the reason she was standing with her shoulder pressed to his chest as his back rested against the wall, slightly jostling one of her pictures. She also had to pretend that the smell of his cologne wasn't so overpowering in the best way that she felt like passing out was the best way to succumb to it. 

She was doing a whole lot of pretending, but one glance towards the icy blue eyes boring into her soul told her that she wasn’t very convincing. Straightening up and ignoring the wave of heat that washed over her, she scoffed.

“Don’t give me that look, pretty boy. You knew.” It was his turn to blush as he took in the nickname, but his recovery was much quicker. 

“You think I’m pretty?” 

“Do you prefer Boy Billionaire?”

“That wasn’t my question.” He offered an infuriating smile, showing perfectly white teeth. His left incisor was sharper than his right, giving him the boyish look of a mischievous fairy tale creature, ready to swindle a boy with some fake beans for a cow. Judging by the sliver of vulnerability seeping through the flecks of dark blue in his eyes, he rarely showed this side of himself in public. She coughed, breaking the spell he had over her and finally noticing the rapidly cooling pizza box in her hands. 

“I hope you don’t mind pizza. I considered cooking but my landlord likes his buildings not burned to the ground.” She gave a small self-conscious laugh.

“I don’t mind.” His voice was soft and he seemed to be leaning down, face getting closer and closer to hers, lips barely parted and fresh breath brushing against her cheek. His eyes stayed on hers, drawing her in like a shimmering pool with secrets beneath the surface. A million thoughts ran through her head at once, fighting to be heard.

Oh my god, are we gonna kiss right now? Is that what I’m feeling? He’s leaning down, should I try and meet him in the middle? Which way should my head turn? What if it’s not good?! He’s probably kissed hundreds of girls, why the fuck should I be special? He’s so warm. Or is that me? Am I warm? He’s so close, and he’s so beautiful, I can just--

He stopped, his eyes half-lidded and meandering lazily between her lips and her own gaze, wide and worried. The thought of the famous Tyril Starfury doing anything lazily was foreign and suspicious, but she could smell the strawberry of his chapstick on his lips mixing with the smell of his cologne mixing with the smell of his deodorant and it was so mesmerizing that all she could think was kiss me. Then, she realized that he was straightening back up, stealing his head away from her personal space and taking the pizza box in his hands. It was a ruse. A taunt. A tease. 

“Excuse me!” Naexi said, hand on her hip as she followed him into the kitchen, fuming at the innocent look he sent over his shoulder before he opened the pizza box. 

“Yes?” Grabbing a plate from the counter, he paid her no attention while he helped himself to the drawers and cabinets. Despite his faux obliviousness, it was clear that there was a heavy, palpable tension in the air that could be cut with the knife Tyril seemed to be looking for. 

“What are you--” 

“Hm, found it.” He held up a blade and pulled out a fork, marveling at her mismatched cutlery. 

“Have you never had pizza before?” She grabbed her own two slices with her hands before placing two more on another plate for him. He scoffed, a haughty sound that surprisingly sent a shiver down her spine. 

“Of course I have. I just prefer not to make a mess.” He punctuated his statement by tapping the utensils together once before setting to work, cutting up his pizza and placing the cheesy pieces in his mouth. She watched him while she ate her own pizza, grease dripping onto her hands and onto the plate. After finishing her first piece, she looked down at his plate to see that he was only half done with his own. 

“I figured that you would have two people on either side of you while you ate, each with napkins to wipe your face if you ever got dirty.” She assumed a butler’s stance and held up her own napkin, delightfully out of season with “Fun in the Sun!” printed on it. She dropped her voice an octave and swiped her napkin over the empty space next to her as she spoke. “Yes, sir, Mr. Starfury. We can’t have you getting applesauce on your Versace!” Despite himself, Tyril let out a loud laugh, one that was nothing like how he sounded in the interview. This one felt whole and full of genuine emotion. It was an infectious sound, and Naexi found herself smiling like a buffoon at drawing it out of him with her stupid joke. 

“Why applesauce?” he asked, hand covering his mouth as he continued to chuckle. She reached across the island and pulled his wrist down, laying his hand palm up on the cold granite. Her nails slightly bit into his skin, making him flush.

“It's the first baby food I thought of.”

“Well that’s just rude,” he jabbed, a small smile still dancing on his lips to show no real malice toward her. They continued eating, Naexi replaying his laugh in her head as many times as she could. They polished off most of the pizza, leaving just a few slices that she began to wrap in aluminum foil. He rolled up his sleeves and started the water in the sink. A small black hair tie was pulled off his wrist as he positioned his hair into a messy bun with a few pieces falling out to frame his sharp bone structure. Naexi’s brain nearly short-circuited.

“You don’t--”

“I want to.” He nudged her with his elbow, now revealed along with a long forearm. She nearly had to wipe her mouth at the sight. “Contrary to your obvious belief, I do know how to do work.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” With a firm nod, he focused on the steaming water flowing and scrubbed the plates with a strength showcased in the flexing of his arms. He moved with a natural grace that seemed to seep into every move he made, whether he was simply walking down the street or working hard to clean her plates. She went back to her seat at the island and watched his back while he cleaned. The sound of the music was barely audible over the roar of the water, and the combination of sounds lulled her as her eyes roved from the top of his shoulders down to the perfect curve of his ass, delectably sculpted in his slacks. The gravity of just who he was seemed to finally be hitting her. 

She had one of the richest men in America in her kitchen cleaning her dishes. And damn, if he didn’t look good doing it. 

Tyril was acutely aware of her eyes on him, and he was extremely happy that the water was hiding the shaking of his hands from his nerves. He tensed up when he felt her walk behind him, her arm brushing over her backside in a barely innocent gesture as she walked to the fridge, grabbing a soda from the door. 

“You want anything?” Not trusting his voice, he shut the water off and shook his head, giving her a small smile. She took out a bottle of water for him anyway. Eager to continue any sort of conversation with her and extend the date, Tyril racked his brain for something to say. 

“Your brother,” he began, freezing up when her eyes fell on him. “What does he do?” 

“He’s a musician. Last I heard...I think he was on tour in France.” 

“Wow.” She smiled and grabbed a frame off a nearby table, the picture inside featuring a man with brown hair that fell over his forehead as his fingers strummed a black guitar on a stage backed with green lights. 

“His name’s Kade.” Their fingers brushed as she passed him the frame. 

“Is your entire family full of artists? Photographer, musician…”

“Oh, I was adopted.” Looking closer at the picture, Tyril admitted to himself that there were no similarities in how the siblings appeared. “Kade’s always been the wilder one, though.” His eyebrows raised.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You’d be surprised at some of the antics Kade has gotten up to throughout the years. You got any siblings?” She took a sip of her soda and Tyril was briefly distracted by the way her lips wrapped around the lip of the can. 

“Yes, just one. Adrina.”

“Fancy name.”

“Speak for yourself, Naexi.”

“Touche.” She took another sip and Tyril decided to look away lest the night end far differently than he originally thought it would. Her own heart fluttered at the way his tongue molded her name. “You can sit, if you’d like. Or do you feel the need to tower over everyone else in the room?” Gesturing to the open stool next to her, she laughed at his frown. 

“I don’t tower,” he said, but he sat next to her anyway. His long legs bumped against hers, sending shocks to his spine at every contact. Is this how it’s supposed to feel? He studied the way her eyelashes fluttered, the way her lips naturally curved into a smirk, the way her eyes easily communicated an entire array of emotions that she seemed to pick and choose to display from like a catalogue. A strand of black hair fell against her cheekbone and he moved it behind her ear without thinking. They were close, getting closer, both gazes dropping to the lips nearly physically connected, already linked by the soft breaths shared. Time was moving slow, too slow, and Tyril ached for the clock to keep ticking, to keep bringing him closer and closer to feeling Naexi’s lips on his, to feeling the perpetual heat surrounding her to engulf him with it. After what seemed like an eternity, their lips were just a centimeter away from each other. His breath tickled her cheek as he whispered.

“May I kiss you?”

#tyril #tyril starfury #choices tyril #blades au #choices blades #blades #blades of light and shadow

[ask-the-chan-family]

It’s Time for Uncle Ancient Wisdom

Continuation from last wisdom Outside from the internal airport, Viper was standing by the corner of the street, waiting for someone that was meant to pick up. Usually she had no problem using her car, and drive to the museum, but she remember during her conversation with Carmen Pondiego that she was going to pick her up with one of her agent that work for her.. Viper look around the street to see if the car she was there, but so far all she see was people being pick up from the airport, and several cabbies waiting for escort. Viper was thinking about the heist she was about to do with Carmen, and she starting to have second thoughts about it. She know that Carmen only care about stealing the Dragon Ball that Jackie research team were able to find, and leave, but deep inside her heart that this is her boyfriend big break, and she doesn’t want anything bad happened to him. While her mind was thinking of what she going to do next, she heard a car horn a few times that caught her attention. At first she thought it was just one of the cabbie that was bothering her, but she notice a red limousine that park right next to her. Viper was shock to see a limousine was right next to her, but never saw it drove by before. She look at the limousine for a moment, until she saw a door opening from the driver seat. Viper see a guy with orange hair walk up to her, but this person was a bit out of the ordinary. She look at his face to see what he look like, but his face was cover with sunglasses and a cap. Viper wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but she notice that the guy was asking her name. Mysterious guy: are you the human woman that go by the name Viper? Viper: yes that me, who is asking? Mysterious guy: before I give you the answer, I need to ask you one thing. Do you believe in mystical creatures, and magic? Viper: Mister! I been through a lot of weird things helping out a pacific family that are huge magnet to magic, and demons all the time. So if you going to try to scare me, you best try harder. Mysterious guy: *he laugh* very well then, I guess you’re alright to see the real me. Viper wasn’t sure wasn’t sure what the mysterious guy said, until she saw him walk back a few step from her. He remove his glasses and able to see his green eyes, but the eyes themselves weren’t human. Next thing she know it, the guy body shape started to change, and alter into a bug like pony with a horn. Viper was lost in words, wasn’t sure what to say next. The bug like creature look at Viper and started to laugh, liking how every time he able to shock people like that. Before Viper able to find the words she need to say to him, another voice came out of nowhere, but this voice was familiar to her. She look at the end of the limousine and see a women with a red hat peeking out from the window. The bug like creature knew that his boss was about to lose her patient with him, so he had to quit playing with Viper, and have her in the car. Marehem: *he laugh* sorry about startle you like that miss, I tend to trick people like that all the time. The Marehem by the way. Viper: Viper, and you not need to worry, I’m very use to seeing things that out of the ordinary all the time. It just I never seen someone like you before. What are you exactly? Marehem: I’m a changeling Miss Viper, but that all I’m going to say. There are some thing you don’t want need to know very much. Now then Miss Viper, I best have you inside right now, before my boss lose her temper on me. Carmen Pondiego: a little too late Marehem, because I was getting tired waiting for you to finish your little game, M. Marehem: come on Red, can’t a guy have a little fun messing with human once awhile. I rarely go to the human world very often. Carmen Pondiego: there are many good reason why you can’t go to the human world anymore, M. But I’m going to save this talk another time, right now we have an important mission, and we are on the clock. Marehem: very well then, do you still want me to escort Miss Viper in the car? Carmen Pondiego: I do that myself, just get inside and be ready to go. Marehem: But Carmen Pondiego: two words M. Wood Chipper. Marehem didn’t said another word, and do what his boss said. Once he got in the car, Carmen sigh to herself wondering how she deal with him for so long, and yet still work for her. She look back to Viper, and did her best to apology about her assistant behavior. Carmen Pondiego: I do apology for M behavior Viper, he tend to have a little fun when messing with humans like that, but he is a nice guy once you get to know him. Viper: it no problem Carmen, I have a habit to mess with people head when they first me the first time. Have to admit, I never seen someone like him before. Carmen Pondiego: well you don’t really see changeling like him around the human world, especially most of us are from Equestria. Viper: Equestria! What is that? Carmen Pondiego: Equestria is a special place where ponies, and creature’s live in harmony, or something like that. There is more detail about it, but it would take a whole day to explain it to you. Viper: thanks, I would have been board halfway is you did, but if you are from that world, why bother coming to the human world all the time. Carmen Pondiego: simple really, it a lot more fun here. The human have better artifact to track down, less magic defenses to deal with, and the location of fancy restaurant I do like. Viper: well I can’t blame you for some of things you said, but I sense there something else that made you want to come to the human world very often. Carmen Pondiego: well there are two reason really. One is personal, and the other, you might know him already. Viper: know who already? Carmen Pondiego: you and Jackie may know him as Thomas the writer, well Thomas is actually an old friend of mine. Viper: …….. Hold on a second, you knew Thomas the writer, and you never mention this before? Carmen Pondiego: well you never bother to ask me Viper, and beside, this is the first time you seeing me, and learning a little bit where I came from. Viper: that true, it just felt a little weird the very person that been my rival in thievery, is actually a pony from another world. Carmen Pondiego: I would like to be known as a unicorn please. When a human said pony like that, it make me want to slap them on the face, and your too cute slap for me to do that. Viper: *she blush* um, thank you I guess. Carmen Pondiego: now then, if that all you needed to ask me Viper, can we get in the limousine and head for the museum. I want to get there as soon as possible, before they raises the security at the place. Viper: oh you won’t need to worry about that. I actually have a friend who did some favor for me from the past. My cellphone have a special function to cut off any security system in a ten mile radius, which give you, and your friend to get inside without a problem. Carmen Pondiego: Clever girl. There a reason why I want you to join me on this mission. Viper: well you made an offer I couldn’t refuse, but remember our deal though. Carmen Pondiego: I’m a mare of my word, Viper. There will be no harm on your boyfriend, M and I will be in the area to stop any kind of danger that will come on our way. Viper: you think there will be a great threat to deal with? Carmen Pondiego: Maybe, especially when the museum donor gave them a lot of money for that artifact, they might send someone to double check for any problem. But I could be wrong, and it nothing at all. Viper: well if you think things be alright, let do this then. Marehem: hey, if you two done talking, I would like to get there, before I lose my mind of boredom. Carmen Pondiego: what happen to the handheld game I lent you, before we got here? Marehem: the only game that came with it was Tetris, and already board after beating it a few dozen times. Carmen Pondiego: Sigh, then I guess we have to go, before you started nagging of being board. Marehem: first of all, I don’t always nag. I only nag when things get boring. Carmen Pondiego: whatever make you feel happy, M? Viper laugh to herself after seeing how funny Carmen and her friend Marehem bicker with each other. Viper was thinking about the time when bicker with her for being a thief, which she always tell him that she was a formal thief. Part of her already know that she going to break her promise to Jackie, and Jade that she wasn’t going to steal anymore, but Carmen told she only care about getting the Dragon Ball, and Viper be in the clear. While Viper was thinking to herself, she notice that Carmen was calling her name, letting her know that they were ready to go. Viper head inside the back of the limousine, and they were off to the museum. While at the Museum of National of history, inside one of the research room, Jackie was studying one of the Dragon Ball from his archeological dig site. During his examination, Jackie was impress of how the Dragon Ball still have it shine, while burring inside a sunken ship for many years. When he stop looking at the Dragon Ball, Jackie look at his notes for some of the information he had written from learning about the Dragon Balls from old scrolls. So far he learned that they were some kind of ancient artifact that someone grant people wishes, after they summon an old dragon from the Dragon Balls. He also learn that in order to gain a single wish, you must gather all seven in order for it to work. Jackie sigh to himself, knowing that he got himself into something weird again. Usually he never attract supernatural stuff, but it always bond to find him. Jackie step away from his desk for a moment, just to get stretches his legs. Before he walk away, he grab something from one of the desk draw, which he kept hidden from anyone else to know about it. Jackie grab what look like a small black box, he smile when he look at it, knowing that the person he going to give it to, will like it a lot. While looking at the black box for a few minutes, Jackie heard someone was knocking at his door. Normally someone knocking at his door wasn’t weird, but most of his people he work with went home early, and he was the only person at the museum. Jackie heard the knocking again, which force him to see who it was. Once he reach the door, Jackie turn the doorknob, and open the door. From there, Jackie saw a bovine women wearing an officer uniform, and an eye patch covering her right eye was standing in front of him. At first, Jackie would have been surprised to see her appearance, but after dealing with a friend who was a talking pony, it was a normal thing to him. The bovine women stare at, Jackie with her one good eye, then speak to him in a professional way. Elizabeth Redfield: greeting good sir, are you happen to be Jackie Chan? Jackie Chan: yes that me, and who might you be? Elizabeth Redfield: *she gently bow to him* my name is Elizabeth Redfield, I’m the mysterious donor personal secretary. Is it possible I can come in, and speak with you? Jackie Chan: oh of course you can *he open the door to let Elizabeth in* I wasn’t inspecting anyone to come here this late at this hour. Elizabeth Redfield: my apology. My client wanted me to come here to check up on the ancient artifact that you, and your research team had found. At first I told my client to see if come by in the morning, but they insisted to come here at once. Jackie Chan: well normally I don’t have anyone come here this late at night, but since your client was nice enough to donate a lot of money for the museum, I don’t see why not. Jackie escorted Elizabeth, and walk her over to his desk. From there, Jackie show her one of the Dragon Ball he was examine at. Elizabeth was amaze of how wonderful it look, which part of her wanted to pick it up to examine it closer. Jackie grab one of the pair of gloves he had on the side, and grab the Dragon Ball. He show the artifact to her. Jackie Chan: as you can see, my research team and I were able to find one of these Dragon Ball from an underwater abandon ship. I had to admit, I’m still surprised how good condition they are in. Elizabeth Redfield: they look marvelous, but were you able to find the rest of the Dragon Ball? Jackie Chan: not quite yet. We thought we had them all, but after reading a little more about these things, there are a least seven of them, and we going to need more time to find them all. Elizabeth Redfield: I see, and by chance, were you able to locate the others yet? Jackie Chan: almost, I just need more time to read the captain old journal, and see if it had any information about them, and that will take time. Elizabeth Redfield: …. Sigh, very well then. I was sort of hopping that you would have all the dragon balls, but at least my client would know that you retrieve one of them. I’ll let my client know to send the museum more funding to get them all, at once. Jackie Chan: actually, the funding your client send us is enough to last us for a little while. He didn’t need to *before he could finish his sentence, Elizabeth stood in front of him, with her one good eye* Elizabeth Redfield: listen here, Mr. Chan. My client is very keen on wanting these Dragon Balls to be find. I know you, and the rest of team have several other research, but the Dragon Ball must be your high priority. Do I make myself clear? Jackie Chan: …. Gulp, crystal clear. Elizabeth Redfield: excellent, and my apology for my reaction, Mr. Chan. I tend to take my job too seriously Jackie Chan: it’s no problem at all. You’re not the first women to yell in front of me. But any case, I make sure that my team, and I will put a lot of effort of finding the other *just before he could finish his sentence, Jackie check his pocket and notice that his cellphone went off* Elizabeth Redfield: is something a matter Mr. Chan? Jackie Chan: nothing big, it just someone is trying to text me *he look at his phone* oh! It look like I have to go for a second. Someone I personally know is here. Elizabeth Redfield: is it one of your coworker that work here? Jackie Chan: not really, I could say more, but I need to get going. You can stay here for a moment, until I get back. Elizabeth Redfield: fare enough Mr. Chan. I’ll wait here when you get back. Jackie nodded to her, and step out from the office for a second. Part of him know that he shouldn’t leave her like that, especially when he had the artifact on his desk. The text message he had was from Viper, and she was inside the museum. Jackie wanted to catch her quick, and ask her something very important. Somewhere at the other side of the museum, Viper was standing around by the exhibit of spies. Viper at some of the old artifact that famous spies use over the years, she even stood by a black leather suit that once wore by a famous female double, which her true identity haven’t been known yet. Viper look at the suit, and was impress how it would look on her. While her mind was occupied of looking at the suit, she gotten a call from Carmen, and joke around with her a bit. Carmen Pondiego: you know, Viper if you wanted that outfit, I can easily steal it for you later. Viper: hmm very tempting, but I’m going to pass on the offer. I still promise, Jackie that I’m going clean on stealing things. Carmen Pondiego: I understand that my dear. It not that easy to be in a relationship, especially when you to balance being a master thief who run an organization, and a mother of two at the same time. Viper: Oh! I didn’t know you’re a mother? Carmen Pondiego: I try my best to not talk about my personal life while I’m working. I have a tendency to talk about some embarrassing thing my children do. Viper: *she laugh* and I’m guessing both your kids are professional thief like you? Carmen Pondiego: not really. My daughter Adora is an archaeologist like your boyfriend, and my son does some minor work like his father. Sure part of me would be happy to have them continue my work, but the same time. Viper: you want them to have better life being normal, then fallowing a mother who a master thief. Carmen Pondiego: Exactly! Viper: I have the feeling you would say that. I felt the same way when, Jackie ask me out on a date. I thought it was going to be hard at first, but over time we seeing each other more, and feeling much closer. Carmen Pondiego: that the same sign with me, and my husband. I to do your best to keep that feeling with him, Viper. Viper: don’t need to tell me twice. I best get ready, I hear some foot step from a distance. Carmen Pondiego: fare enough, I continue walking down from where I am and. Before she could finish her sentence, Viper lost communication with Carmen, after the line went blank. Viper tried to call her back, but no sign from her at all. Viper was plan to see if she could search for her, but she stop when a familiar voice was calling her name. She look and saw, Jackie was running towards, after running through the hallway to get to her. Viper was happy to see him, which made her wanted to give him a hug. Instead, she made a sarcastic joke that made her chuckle a little. Viper: it look like someone been slacking off on their training. Someone like you should have easily run through those hallways without any problems. Jackie Chan: *breathing heavily* give me a break, Viper. Ever since they gave me this new position, I barely have time to train every day. Viper: *she laugh* I know that, Jackie, but you know that I can’t help myself to pull your leg all the time. Jackie Chan: *he laugh* yeah that is true, and I tend to pull your leg for doing something good for a change. Viper: the only reason why I’m doing “Good Things” is because I’m keeping a promise with someone I love with. Jackie Chan: *he laugh again* yeah that true, and I thank you for keeping that promise. Viper: of course, Jackie. Ever since you first ask me on a date, I want to do my best to be a great girlfriend for you. Jackie Chan: and you have, Viper. But the funny thing with that, you had the opportunity to say no, and continue with your life as a thief. Viper: I would have, but I guess I wanted something a little different in my life, then just stealing valuable items all the time. Jackie Chan: and I’m guessing I was that something to change your life. Viper: in the beginning not really, but after being together with you for a few years now, I feel like my life is almost complete. *she place her hand by her heart* but something else is missing, and I’m not sure what it was. Jackie was trying to figure what she meant, but part of him already know what it was. He check his pocket to make sure the gift he gotten for her was there, but had to wait for the right time. He look up to, Viper and speak with her some more. Jackie Chan: I may not be an expert on love like Jade, but I would understand how you feel. Viper: believe me, Jade may think she know what love is like, but she still have a lot to learn. Any case, tell me what you trying to say. Jackie Chan: you remember my friend, Thomas the writer, who use to live our world. Viper: yes, I still remember him. He had a daughter named Dashie, and they use to visit Uncle Shop all the time. What about him? Jackie Chan: I remember long time ago, Thomas use to tell me a lot about his ex-girlfriend Princess Celestia. Viper: oh my, he was into royalty. I give him credit for having god taste. Jackie Chan: the funny thing with that, Princess Celestia was already on him first, before he ever had a chance to tell her how he feel. Before I forget, Thomas use to tell me a lot of good story he had with her in the old days. He remember when he was the captain of the royal guards, he use to see Princess Celestia play some games on him to gain his attention. He gotten use it in the beginning, but over time Princess Celestia finally came to terms and ask him to be her boyfriend. Viper: she went up to ask him first, instead of him? Jackie Chan: their relationship tend to be weird, but he said that no matter how far they were, or how long they haven’t seen each other. Thomas and Princess Celestia still show their compassion for one another, which why Thomas finally ask her to married him. Viper: but don’t forget that he was a good father to his daughter. Jackie Chan: I never forget that, or Jade would be upset with me. But still, I do miss seeing Thomas, and Dashie. They been part of our family life for so long, it just not the same without them. Viper: I would understand. I know I met them a couple of time, but part of me felt like they been a family to us. Jackie Chan: Yeah, I figure by now he would be married to Princess Celestia, and have a family of his own to add with Dashie. At least for now I have the memories with our friends, but ready to start new ones. Viper: what do you mean by *before she had the chance to finish her sentence, Viper see Jackie was standing on one knee, and look straight at her* Jackie, what going on? Jackie Chan: Viper, I know you didn’t came here to chat about the past, but I know I wanted to show you something important. Viper: ……… Jackie Chan: when I first met you at the museum, during the time I have to get the snake talisman. All I thought about you as being nothing more than a thief. But Jade see you more than someone cool, and deep down … I think so too. Viper: Jackie, what are you trying to say? Jackie Chan: sorry, I’m not really good with these sort of things. *he grab the small box that he had in his pocket and reveal a ring inside* Sigh, Viper, would you married this over work archeologist? Viper was speechless of what going on. Not only she see a wedding ring, but hearing Jackie asking her hand in marriage. Viper wanted to say yes to him, but before she got a chance, she heard someone clapping from a distance. Both Jackie and Viper look and notice a female cow in proper uniform was standing from a distance, clapping for the entertainment she was watching. Jackie look at the female cow and knew it was, Elizabeth Redfield. Jackie Chan: Elizabeth, what are you doing here? I though you was staying at my office. Elizabeth Redfield: my apology Mr. Chan. I know I was meant to wait for you, but I sort of got bored and figure to search for you instead. Viper: Jackie, who is this women? Elizabeth Redfield: you don’t need to say anything, Mr. Chan, I’m capable to introducing myself. My name is Elizabeth Redfield. I’m the personal assistant to an important client that donated a lot of money to this museum. Ad you might be Viper, a formal international thief that have a very bad habit of stealing valuable items. Jackie Chan: hold on, how did you know about, Viper? Elizabeth Redfield: it my job to know everyone, Mr. Chan. Including my rival allies. Isn’t that right, Carmen? Viper and Jackie were confuse of what she said, until they saw two people walking from the other side of the museum. Viper, and Jackie saw Carmen Pondiego being held captive by a female Dalmatian, while holding some sort of magic idol. Jackie was a bit surprise to see, Carmen here, but part of him already figure out what going on. Jackie Chan: Carmen, you’re here too? Carmen Pondiego: yeah I’m here too, but it good to see you thought. Oh! Congrats on getting engage. Agent K-9: that enough talking from you thief, or you want me to use this idol to make you confuse even worst Carmen Pondiego: I dare you to try it again, but this time I won’t make it easy. Elizabeth Redfield: that is quite enough, Delilah. We still need to keep them around long enough, so we can gather the things we need. Agent K-9: yes, Auntie Elizabeth. Elizabeth Redfield: sorry for my niece, she can be a bit passive at time. Jackie Chan: why are you doing this Ms. Redfield? I though you was just a normal assistant with an important client, but I’m guessing you’re a thief as well. Elizabeth Redfield: True *she grab something out of her coat pocket, which was the dragon ball* but I prefer to think of myself a professional Thief, than some boring assistant. Viper: Jackie, you actually let her steal the Dragon Ball? Jackie Chan: no I didn’t, the only way she got it, is that I …. *face palm* I left it on my desk table without putting it away. Carmen Pondiego: don’t worried Mr. Chan, we all make mistake on things. Viper: you rarely make mistake. Carmen Pondiego: I know, which why I was able to swipe the idol from that little K-9 hand. Agent K-9: *she look at her hand, and notice the idol is gone* hey, hand over that idol or *before she could finish her sentence, she was knock out and fell on the floor, after being hit by the idol* Carmen Pondiego: lesson taught kid, never mess with someone with many years of experience. Now then, Elizabeth was it? How about hand over that dragon ball, before we make this a show. Elizabeth Redfield: humph, you think you can take me on, Carmen. I know everything about you, and there is no way you can take me down that easily. Carmen Redfield: you’re very confident of yourself. You remind me a lot of an old friend of mine. Elizabeth Redfield: you should, that friend of yours happen to be my uncle, Thomas the writer. Everyone stood quite for a moment of what she said. Jackie, and Viper knew that name from anywhere, but never would guess that he would have a niece already. Carmen wasn’t that much surprise since she know about Thomas family, but not that much of his sibling side other then, Nova. Viper look at Jackie, and ask him to see if what she said is true. Viper: Jackie, is she telling the truth. Is she really, Thomas niece. Jackie Chan: I don’t know, I know most of Thomas family members, but I don’t remember mention about having a niece. Elizabeth Redfield: of course my uncle won’t know about us, especially when our mother told us to never mention of how we are. Carmen Pondiego: if your mother told you to never mention of who you are, why you still telling us? Elizabeth Redfield: because none of you going to leave here alive *she search through her coat pocket, and grab a blaster. Then aim it at them* Carmen Pondiego: really now, I thought you plan to defeat me with your skills, but I guess I was wrong to think you’re a professional thief. Elizabeth Redfield: I don’t care what you think of me. I got what I came for, and that all I care about. Jackie Chan: come now, Elizabeth, you don’t need to do this. If what you said that your Thomas niece, do you think he be proud of what you’re doing? Elizabeth Redfield: …. No he wouldn’t. I never really met him in person, but my mother always talk about him, like he was the most important person in the world. For years, K-9 and I been wanting to meet him but no matter how much we tried, being the daughter that nearly cause trouble towards the family, isn’t the good reputation to have on your shoulder. Carmen Pondiego: no family isn’t perfect, Elizabeth. I have an older daughter who still upset that I still for a living, but still don’t understand why I do it for. I can see that you only doing this, is because you are trying to draw out your uncle to see you, so you can tell him that you actually exist. Elizabeth pause for a moment, after hearing those words from Carmen. She know what, Carmen said are true, all these things she doing was nothing more, but gaining the attention from an uncle that doesn’t know her yet. Elizabeth sister K-9 finally got up from the floor, trying to see what going. When she saw Carmen in front of her, which give her a chance to attack. K-9 stop in her track, when Elizabeth call her name out. Elizabeth Redfield: stand down k-9! We are done here. K-9: what! Don’t tell me we aren’t going to attack them? Elizabeth Redfield: sigh, I’m sorry K-9, even though it temping to attack them, but part of me would feel ashamed if I dare harm our uncle friends. K-9: true, but what about the Dragon Ball, aren’t we still plan to steal it for our mom. If we don’t take it with us, everything we did was for nothing. Elizabeth Redfield: your right, K-9, this very Dragon Ball is the key reason why our mother show any care for us. Raise us to be nothing more than her pawns to steal things. But not anymore. Elizabeth walk towards the direction where, Carmen Pondiego was standing. She stood in front of her, glaring at her rival. Carmen wasn’t sure what, Elizabeth was up to, until she saw her hand over the Dragon Ball. Everyone in the room were a bit confuse of what going on, but Carmen understood what, Elizabeth had done. Elizabeth took a deep breath, and then walk away from Carmen, not saying a single word. Once she reach K-9 side, she tell her to grab her bag from the table, and tell her that they were going to leave. K-9 did what she said, and grab the bag from Jackie desk, and hand it back to her. Before they left, Elizabeth look back to Jackie, and Viper, then apology to them for everything. Elizabeth Redfield: Mr. Chan, and Viper, I do apology for tricking you, in order to gain access for the Dragon Ball, and drawn in my rival. Jackie Chan: it no problem, but what about the fund, and the research that my team are doing. Elizabeth Redfield: the funds, and research are real. I may be a thief, but I do respect on persevering all ancient artifact, and place them in the museum. I do hope we can continue to work together in the future, Mr. Chan. I do like to know you, and your family better. As for you, Carmen Carmen Pondiego: I know what your going to say. You going to keep an eye on me, and hope we can be friends. Elizabeth Redfield: I was going to say thank you for the kind words, but now I just going to say tread carefuly K-9: yeah, because I’m keeping an eye on you for tricking me like that. Elizabeth Redfield: oh don’t worry sweety. I got a lot more tricks to show you. I might bring you some dog biscits if you like. K-9 nearly lose her cool, and want to go after her, but Elizabeth grab her by the collar, and pull her away. Once they were gone, Jackie and Viper were happy that was all over. Carmen on the hand was happy to gain one of the Dragon Ball she was looking for, and she didn’t need to do that much. She look at Viper, and wanted to thank her for the help, but she was caught off guard, when Jackie was asking to see what going on. Jackie Chan: alright you two. You guys best tell me the truth, and don’t try to lie about it. Carmen Pondiego: whatever do you mean, Jackie? Jackie: don’t play dumb with me, Carmen. I know you’re a thief, and the only reason of you being here, is to steal the Dragon Ball. So if you either hand it over, or I will call the authorities Viper: hold on a second, Jackie. Can you just let her go, and call it a day? Jackie Chan: what! But, Viper I can’t just let her go like that. She have one of the Dragon Ball, and it belong in the museum. Viper: true, and she also the one that saved our lives. Carmen Pondiego: she got a point there, Jackie. I did my best to save both your lives, so you kind of owe me. Jackie Chan: you got to be kidding me. Viper: please Jackie, do it for me It took, Jackie a moment to think about it, but then decided he was going to let her go. Jackie Chan: alright fine, you can go Carmen. But you had to promise not to steal anything else once you leave here. Carmen Pondiego: no problem, Jackie. I be leaving here with the Dragon Ball. But first, I had to look for my friend of mine. M normally never let his guard down, but he might be occupied looking at something that catch his eyes. Oh I nearly forgot one thing. Congratulation to you both. I knew you guys would be a great couple. Both of them blush a little, not sure what to say next. Viper already know what to do, and gave Jackie a kiss on the cheek. Happy to be with his future husband. Jackie smile back to her, knowing that his life is perfect with her by his side. As for Carmen, she leave the two love birds, and go on her way. That was Uncle Ancient Wisdom Special Guest Carme Pondiego: @ask-carmenpondiego

#ask uncle #ancient wisdom #fan fiction #fan fic writing #Fan Fiction Writing #askcarmenpondiego

[halefamilyfic]

2005 Laura 18, Stiles 9

Stiles was pretty sure he was going to die today. He held tight to Laura’s hand as she pulled him down the block along a small one way side street in the “historic” district towards a place he’d dreamed of but sworn to his Dad never ever to enter. But here he was not even getting to goggle up at the marquee that simply read Valhalla in bright teal and hot pink neon.

The door didn’t ring or jingle or anything normal, instead a tinny “EXCELSIOR!” announced their entry. Not that Stiles heard it; he was busy feeling his spirit leave his body and ascend to singing angel choirs as in all directions his gaze was full of comics, maquettes, action figures, and just about enough nerdery to make him feel faint. “Oh my god...” he whispered, awestruck.

Laura dragged his mostly limp form forward to the large glass counter that contained original art, trading cards, and countless other delights. Stiles pressed his whole face to the glass and ogled what was labeled with a post it as an Artist Sketchbook from Comic Con. “Holy god...”

“Face off the glass kid.” A voice snapped from above him as a hand slapped down on the countertop. Stiles recoiled quickly and was shocked to find himself alone and staring up into the narrow eyed gaze of the one person in all of Beacon Hills his Dad had forbade him of even making eye contact with on penalty of losing comics, Scott, and the Hales. Panic washed all the color from his face. “Greenberg!”

The older woman snorted and smirked as she stood up from her lean across the counter. “Geraldine, kid. And you are....?”

“Leaving!” Stiles squeaked as he tried to command his body that had turned to liquid in his joints around to flee.

“Even though Laura brought you to me for an important reason?” Geraldine tilted her head, blue streaked ponytail shifting from where it was stuck out of the PAX Peace Force ballcap to swing across her shoulder.

“What reason?” Stiles asked quietly, like if he didn’t speak loudly it wouldn’t count as breaking his promise to his Dad.

Geraldine stared at him silently from behind thick glasses before gesturing to a row of stools against the window of the shop, each had a seat with a different logo. “First, you must choose a seat.” She intoned ominously, “Choose wisely for you will be judged.”

Stiles swallowed roughly, trying not to grimace at the pain in his split lip that had only barely started to heal after three days. He was still jumpy because Laura had just ditched him here apparently but he trusted her. There was really no contest in the chair he’d choose though, he selected the one with a Batman logo beautifully embroidered on it and pulled it towards the counter.

“Ugh.. really?” Geraldine sighed.

Affronted, Stiles snapped. “There’s nobody better over there!”

“Excuse you!” Geraldine groused, coming around the counter to grab an all white stool with a crescent moon on it. “There’s MoonKnight right here!”

“You mean knock off Batman?” Stiles sassed uncontrollably.

“Knockoff...” Geraldine gasped. “MoonKnight is more epic.”

“Not more epic than Batman.” Stiles interrupted.

“Well there’s no way I can take you on then, anybody who thinks a Batman is better than MoonKnight...” Geraldine laughed disparagingly as she sat beside Stiles at the counter.

“Take me on?” He asked in a worried soft voice.

He watched as Geraldine took a deep breath, took off her cap, and look at him seriously, like he was an adult. It was in this serious air that he really noticed more than her hat and wow is that a homemade JAWS shirt that is some awesome airbrushing, but he looked at her broken arm in a cast with the names of all the Hales written on it and doodles of dogs and he wondered what was going on.

“So. Werewolves.” Geraldine stated sending a jolt through Stiles so strong he almost slipped off his stool with the urgency of checking that there wasn’t anybody else in the store. She was smiling at him when his attention returned to her. “Ok. I can see it.” Geraldine chuckled and continued. “Werewolves always need somebody. A human somebody, to deal with the human somebodies of other wolves to not like... have a big supernatural rumble over goofy crap their instincts start demanding.”

“Okayyyy.....?” Stiles prompted.

“That’s me. I do that for the Hales, for Talia. The technical term is emissary but none of us really, y’know, get that formal.”

“But why am I...?” Stiles started to ask.

“Laura wants you to do that for her. She brought you here because she wants you to be her emissary, her best friend, her confidant, her stalwart counsel, and the bearer of her will.” Geraldine impaired seriously then raised her eyebrows at him as he sat there gobsmacked.

“Me? She wants...me? But I’m not....” Stiles burbled anxiously.

“Anything but loyal. Clever. Smart. Stiles Stilinski, if you want to take this responsibility on.... I’m willing to mentor you. Despite your absolutely wrong opinions about MoonKnight.”

Stiles sat in silence long enough for Geraldine to go back around the counter to start pulling books for subscriber boxes and Laura to reappear and sit next to him, taking the MoonKnight stool.

“You ok Flibber?” Laura asked, her hand softly stroking over his buzzcut.

“This.... this emissary thing sounds really important... why me?” Stiles whispered, his hands knotted together as his knee bounced anxiously.

“Because you’re important to me. I probably wouldn’t‘vet sprung this on you so soon except for your absolutely bananas idea I only wanted to hang out because I was being paid.”

Stiles shrunk in place which only made it easier for Laura to scoop his gangly body up and plop him into her lap for a cuddle. “You’re the smartest guy I know. I love you stupid much, and I think you’d not just be good at it but you’ll love it.... Aaaaaand Auntie Ger and you will probably super get along. You just have to love me most.”

“I’ll always love you most.” Stiles said seriously and hugged her tight.

“GREAT!” Geraldine startled them out of their moment by slapping her hands down on the counter beside them. “Then step one: write down your pull list.” She slid a Superman pad and pen to him.

“I get comics!??!” Stiles gasped, grabbing the stationary and feeling giddy.

“Well yeah, it’s how you’re getting paid for working here while I mentor you.” Geraldine shrugged.

Stiles was starry-eyed at the idea he was working in a comic shop and missed completely Laura’s grimace as she felt maybe just a little bit bad for the arduous training she knew her Stiles would be facing in the years to come.

#hale family fic #hale family feels #teen wolf #hale family #laura hale #stiles stilinski #BEEN A WHILE RIGHT #PARDON MY COMIC NERDERY

[blackjack-15]

Hauntings, Messages, and the Mansion — Thoughts on: Message in a Haunted Mansion (MHM)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: MHM, TRN, SAW, non-spoiler quote from CAP, non-spoiler mention of GTH.

The Intro:

Message in a Haunted Mansion is the first “real” Nancy Drew game in that it a) isn’t hard to run on a new computer, unlike the first two, and b) it introduces things that would become staples of the Nancy Drew games: a historical plot/characters foiling and echoing the real life events (or at least giving context to them), a cast of characters who are there for more than just reciting their motives, important phone friends, hauntings both real and fake…the gang’s all here, folks.

We’re finally home.

Along with all of those wonderful things, MHM has a frankly incredible atmosphere that scared me back when I first played alongside my sister and scares me to this day, 18 years later when I play it with my friends.

It’s also the first game that establishes one Perennial Truth in the Nancy Drew world: there are supernatural forces at work, and they are real. Sure, most of the hauntings can be explained away easily — but not all of them can be, and this is reinforced by game after game (most pointedly in TRN and in GTH, but in other haunting games as well).

In the Nancy Drew Universe, ghosts are real. Sometimes people fake their specific ghosts, some use the rumors for their own benefit, and some ghosts “don’t have to be real to haunt to haunt you” — but there are ghosts, and they can haunt you.

MHM is an incredibly solid game, and is widely held as a fandom classic for good reason. Nostalgia might make this game a bit better for a lot of us, but that’s not what makes it good.

If you’re starting the series for the first time — or starting a friend or partner on it for the first time — MHM is the best starting point, bar none. It works on most computers, its sound card doesn’t have issues playing the audio, and it’s not SCKR. It’s the quintessential classic Nancy Drew game — maybe not intuitive, modern, or overly difficult, but it’s the one that all other games are based off of.

The Title:

It’s a very effective title…that unfortunately doesn’t describe the plot at all. The titular “message” is a note warning Nancy to “leave the mansion NOW”, but it doesn’t really affect Nancy, nor is it an important part of the game.

The central piece of the game is actually a poem hanging in Nancy’s room, but “Poem in a Haunted Mansion” just doesn’t have that alliterative appeal, nor does it sound like a very spooky game. Her Interactive wanted to sell this game as the spooky little masterpiece that it is, not evoke visions of Lord Byron plopping down next to Nancy and reading Don Juan aloud.

If I had been naming it back at the Turn of the Century, I probably would have gone with “Terror in a Haunted Mansion”…but the audience for Nancy Drew games was significantly younger back then, and “terror” might have spooked some parents into avoiding it.

Plus, the acronym would have been THM versus MHM, and MHM looks so much better that it’s hard to argue with it. Mythos in a Haunted Mansion? Meandering in a Haunted Mansion? Money in a Haunted Mansion?

Those are horrible, wow. “Message” it is. 

I guess if you really stretch, the poem could be a “message’….or the “message” from Valdez…or maybe “gum bo fu”? Lots of messages, one mansion, a few hauntings, here we go.

The Mystery:

Hannah’s friend Rose has sunk her entire life’s savings into an old Victorian mansion in San Francisco and is trying to renovate it into a Bed and Breakfast.

Unfortunately, strange incidents keep happening to delay progress and raise costs, so Hannah sends Nancy down to ostensibly help with renovations, but also to snoop around and figure out what’s going on.

Nancy does a bit of reno work, but mostly spends her time poking around and asking intrusive questions (not to mention sneaking into people’s rooms while they’re elsewhere and invading their privacy), and seeing the various “hauntings” that the house has to offer.

The secondary mystery (we’re now advanced and confident enough to handle two plot threads! Huzzah!) is discovering the secret of the house and its treasure, which requires Nancy to do a bit of historical digging into the original owner of the house, Elizabeth “Lizzie” Applegate, a famed actress, business owner — and the suspected lover of El Diablo, a notorious outlaw who pulled off a heist on Christmas Day of hundreds of gold coins.

As Nancy digs deeper into the mystery of who’s haunting the mansion, she finds out more and more about El Diablo (whose real name is Diego) and Lizzie’s romance and the treasure they hide together, leaving behind the vital clues to the treasure in a poem hanging in the Chinese room in the mansion.

In the end, in a bit of a “twist” for the Nancy Drew games (perhaps even a retroactive twist, since this is only the third game), it’s the B plot that solves the A plot, as Nancy loses total interest in the main mystery to focus on the historical treasure. Finding that treasure exposes the person behind the “accidents”, who has been causing the accidents in order to find the treasure.

Yes, this does confirm that the only person focused on the B&B is, in fact, Rose. Poor Rose.

The Suspects:

Rose Green is the first suspect you meet, as she’s Hannah’s old friend and the one in charge at the Golden Gardenia. She’s poured an obscene amount of money into the old mansion and likes to make comments that make it seem like she’s Super Guilty.

We’re at the stage in Nancy Drew games where subtlety isn’t a right, it’s a privilege.

Rose is one of our two main suspects, and keeps to herself and her spot in the dining room, ensuring that Nancy can never snoop through her stuff. She also has a mile-long to-do list and never does anything on it over the course of the 3+ days that Nancy’s there, so we have that to be skeptical about as well.

Ultimately, Rose isn’t evil — she’s actually the only one not doing anything suspicious — but I have to think that she’s not a very good businesswoman. As a character, Rose is barely 2D, a trait she shares with Louis. It’s no wonder they’re the two most suspicious characters — we’re not given any help in understanding them.

Abby Sideris is Rose’s second-in-command and helped her afford the mansion in the first place. She’s also the one who insists that it’s haunted by ghosts unable to Move On who cause the clattering and sobbing and moaning in the night. It is, of course, Abby who’s causing the more ghostly hauntings, but she insists the mansion is haunted anyway, and she’s simply helping it along.

She’s the only the only character with business sense, knowing that they have to drum up business for this bed and breakfast, not wait for people to come to then. No wonder Rose needed Abby’s money — she obviously comes by it with a heap of common sense.

Her sizing-up of Nancy shows she has talent as a cold reader, as does her distrust of Charlie, who really is being suspicious, albeit for different reasons than she thinks. She’s got the business smarts and the people smarts…wait, what does Rose bring to this partnership?

Speaking of Rose and Partnerships, there’s a fan theory — and it’s got some evidence in canon — that Abby and Rose are romantically involved.

Nancy asks Hannah about Rose and Louis, and Hannah laughs it off, which is a point in favor of this theory — how would Hannah know that Rose isn’t interested in this specific man who just came into Rose’s life? An easy explanation is that Hannah knows Rose isn’t interested in this man because she knows Rose isn’t interested in men.

Abby also invests her whole life into this bed and breakfast, moving out with Rose to California from Illinois at the drop of a hat. It’s a choice that would make sense if she was just as passionate about the bed and breakfast…but none of her dialogue nor her role in the game shows us that passion. Thus, the other thing that would make sense is that she moves with her partner to help support her.

As far as fan theories go, this is a fairly solid one — it’s not contradicted by canon, which is always a plus. It serves to deepen Abby’s character, giving us multiple motivations and heightens the stakes for the bed and breakfast to succeed…but it doesn’t do anything for Rose.

Charlie Murphy is Rose’s (or Abby’s? He says he works for Abby, she says he works for Rose) handyman, helping to fix up the mansion for rock-bottom pay.

He’s also secretly living in the mansion’s basement through a secret door and using the mansion to write his term paper, and thus doesn’t get much done handyman-ing-wise. 

There’s a point very early on in the game where he won’t talk to you if you haven’t talked to Louis. Louis can sometimes be difficult to make appear/catch, and is really easy to miss, so this is a frustrating facet for Charlie’s character.

Charlie’s a bit shifty for a character who’s literally doing one (1) thing wrong (slumming it in the basement without asking), but he’s also super rude to Nancy. Nancy doesn’t even deserve it this time, so it’s a bit odd that they chose him to be the “innocent but mean to Nancy” character when Abby the Spiritualist is the logical choice.

He’s also voiced by Scott Carty, the perennial voice of Ned Nickerson, so it’s a bit weird to hear him telling Nancy to piss off when Scott-as-Ned worships the ground she walks on and makes any problem between them his fault. 

The variety’s nice, but the variety’s weird as well.

Other than his shifty and sort of mean notes, Charlie has no character. He’s not a bad character, he’s not a good character — he just has no character at all. It’s like the developers had no interest in him other than “fourth suspect to make it an even number and harder to tell who the culprit is”. He’s 3D, but just barely.

Finally, Louis Chandleris a man specializing in antiques and history, who is helping Rose to sort through the hundreds of vintage items left behind in the mansion.

He’s actually mentioned as someone who showed up on the doorstep wanting to help and, well…I know 2000 was a different time, but I knew enough in 2000 to distrust someone like that, and I was a kid. Rose is a grown adult, and has no excuse for accepting this weird man.

Louis is a know-it-all, lying little son of a gun, and is there to run Rose et. al. off the premises so that he can search for the gold in peace and quiet. He, instead, stumbles upon Nancy with the gold coins, and decides to knock her out and steal them, not taking the basic precaution of tying her up or anything.

He’s easily foiled by a chandelier to the face — though, in his defense, I’m pretty sure that would foil anyone.

There isn’t a lot of meat to Louis’ character, but more than the rest of the cast because he has a slightly bigger role in the game. And even though Abby’s the one responsible for most of the spooky noises and the things that go bump in the night, it’s Louis who delivers one of the creepiest moments in the game.

It’s that moment where you’re on the phone asking Emily about gum bo fu, and the door opens for a bit, then shuts again behind you. It’s implied that Louis is checking in to see what you know, and it’s honestly terrifying the first (and second, and third…) time you play the game. It’s a rare moment where you may actually be in for bodily harm, and there’s nothing you can do about it — not even look around for the threat.

So kudos to Louis about that, but the rest of him doesn’t deserve much praise at all. Except maybe his line if you fail to stop him: “So long. Losers!”

How very turn-of-the-century of him. Heh.

The Favorites:

There’s quite a lot to love about MHM, as it’s obvious how much time and effort and heart was put into it to make it a really great game.

Even though there’s not a ton of the historical story, it’s very well done, and gives you just enough characterization of Lizzie and Diego to really care about them and to be…well, charmed by their love for each other. As a story, it feels really earnest, and while it’s not the Ultimate Best Historical Love Story that Her Interactive will ever do in its 30-odd Nancy Drew Games (that honor rests on a future game), it’s good enough to rank in at least the top 5.

Most of the puzzles are fun and engaging, whether it’s discovering hanzi that lines up with the Poem, chipping away old wallpaper to reveal a hidden attic, or solving a puzzle that took Abby and Rose two hour to place two pieces in under five minutes.

My favorite “puzzle” is definitely the hanzi, but figuring out the secret room in the library or the secret room in the basement or the secret attic (the Victorians loved their secret rooms) are definitely up there too.

One of the biggest pluses of MHM is the Haunting part. Abby’s responsible for a lot of them — the odd sounds, the projection of the woman in both the séance and in the mirror outside her room, and the incredibly creepy “I see you~” that can play while you’re in the hallway upstairs.

There are a few that you don’t discover as being her, but that could reasonably be chalked up to Abby’s attempt to market the mansion as haunted: the inflating/deflating cushion (which could be remote-controlled), the shadows at the doors/windows (projections or cardboard cutouts), and even the painting who blinks could theoretically be Abby (though that one’s a little harder to conceptualize).

However, the wooden phoenix/swan/winged creature in the parlor is wooden, and thus can’t move the way it does through human power. There’s also no evidence of Abby ever messing with it — no speakers, no motion sensors, no nothing — which makes it stand out even more.

Above, I mention the fact that in the Nancy Drew Universe, ghosts exist. This isn’t a debatable point; it is fact. The phoenix is just one of the many proofs that the series gives us. What makes Nancy special as a skeptic (which Abby calls her out for) isn’t that she’s a skeptic; it’s that she’s a skeptic in a world where ghosts exist.

As a character who has to be right for the game to end, this is a fascinating trait to have, and I love the relationship it gives Nancy with her world — an almost antagonistic relationship, versus what you expect: a Nancy who “bring[s] order to a scattered world”, to borrow a phrase from CAP.

My other favorite thing is the mansion itself; in quite a few Nancy Drew games, the location itself is almost a character, and MHM is one of the best examples of this. The mansion almost seems like it doesn’t want to divulge its secrets, like it wants to protect Lizzie and Diego, and will only let the worthy discover them and their treasure.

You’ll feel slightly unsettled throughout the whole game, picking one or two “safe spots” (usually your room) that you can run to when things get a bit too creepy, and that’s one of my favorite things as well. This unsettled feeling is independent of Abby’s hauntings, and really reinforces the house as a character unto itself.

The Un-Favorites:

There are a few things that do bug me in this game, though none are really game-breaking.

Once again, the culprit is obvious from the 1/3 point on, even though all of the characters say things that are supposed to incriminate them (Rose honestly says that the mansion might be worth more “burned to the ground”, which is a Bit Yikes and Very Incriminating).

You can write off Abby right away, as she’s obviously causing a lot of the hauntings, but she’s also the secondary investor and isn’t (per her and Rose’s conversation about the fire clause in the insurance claim) the beneficiary of the insurance agreement on the house. Once you know that — and it happens early in the game — she’s off the list.

Charlie’s the other suspect that’s cleared basically right away. It’s set up so that he has absolutely no reason for wanting the mansion destroyed or destitute — it’s providing him money and housing – and Abby mentions that, though she suspects him, it’s due to his straight-up incompetence, rather than any malicious intent.

So you’re left with Rose and Louis almost immediately — a character who never leaves her post, and a character whose stuff you can snoop around in and has a password-locked computer. 

Yeah, no prizes for figuring that out.

My least favorite puzzles are the slider puzzles (though that’s true in any game) and honestly the staircase “Diego” puzzle, as it bothers me enough to just pull up the walkthrough rather than trying my hand at it. I wouldn’t say these puzzles are bad puzzles, just that they’re the type that I hate (and that I suck at majorly, which doesn’t help).

The Fix:

MHM isn’t a game where a lot of fixes are needed, honestly. Updated graphics/other QoL improvements, widening the screen, etc. might be nice, but they’re not necessary at all to enjoy the game. The only thing I can think of interface-wise that would be nice is a journal/notepad that you carry around with you, rather than the one in your suitcase that is No Help At All if/when you get stuck.

Emily — a phone friend who Nancy apparently once solved a case for, as per the little booklet that comes with the game — is another spot that could be tightened up. While she gives you info that you desperately need in order to progress, her relationship to Nancy is never mentioned in the game, giving most players no clue who she is or what kind of information she can provide

Charlie is a character who just wasn’t done with any care, honestly. He’s a college student, putting him roughly at Nancy’s own age in a house full of people decades older than both of them, and yet no mention nor reference to this fact is ever made! She’s not the closest to Charlie; she doesn’t speak to him any differently — in short, even though he’s the one she should feel the strongest kinship to in a house of a suspicious antiques dealer, a psychic medium, and, well, Rose, Nancy has nothing unique to her dealings with Charlie.

This is especially egregious as you look at Nancy’s relationships with other suspects her age/who are the youngest in the game as the series goes on; she’s noticeably more playful and warmer towards them, or agrees to help them/let them help her in situations where she’d suspect an older person.  Charlie’s somewhere between about 18 and 25 (probably closer to 18 than 25), and not only does Nancy not treat him differently, but Charlie doesn’t seem to notice her age either.

Charlie’s age would have been a great way to tie him to Nancy, to give him an actual character (or at least an actual characteristic), and possibly to give a reason why he’s snappier with Nancy than anyone else — he’s worried this girl his age will see what those who are older overlook, or possibly that she’ll out-do him and Rose will find out that he’s not really a great handyman and has been spending him time researching rather than fixing things.

These fixes aren’t necessary to make a good game, or to make it ‘more playable’ — they’re just “fixes” to make the game a slightly different experience with a stronger focus on characters. 

Luckily, as time went on, Nancy Drew characters became deeper and more complex, and so MHM’s characters come across as full of potential and ripe for fandom headcanons, rather than seeming flat like SCK’s or STFD’s characters.

#nancy drew #nancy drew games #clue crew #message in a haunted mansion #MHM #video games #nancy drew meta #my meta

[acklest]

Jensen Ackles, AU!Michael!Dean, 14x10: Nihilism (and rambling about “range”)

Jensen was so fucking good, don’t even touch me right now, don’t even look at me. I mean, he’s always good, but with this episode, he kicked it in the ASS.

I don’t feel like I have enough WORDS for it. Behind a cut while I prattle on. (None of the gifs used as examples are mine.)

I watched the episode multiple times to see what Jensen was doing as Michael that so wasn’t Dean Winchester, because he was so fascinatingly NOT Dean. I know there are certain style choices that lend themselves to the differences, like his hair being parted on the other (wrong) side and the painstakingly dapper suits and the newsboy cap. Dean Smith (4x17: It’s a Terrible Life) had his hair parted on the wrong side, too. It’s some easy shorthand for “hey, something about this isn’t quite right.” (Like the French cuffs didn’t give it away.)

Demon!Dean was just Dean without the moral center. He was fun to watch, don’t get me wrong, for the brief time we got him. MoC!Dean was actually closer to what I thought Demon!Dean was going to be, so I enjoyed him more. Watching MoC!Dean massacre the Stynes was epic and so satisfying (and tragic I know because of the kid, I’m not like yay murder). As much as I love the real Sam and Dean, and I’m always happy when they get back to who they really are, these dark side digressions are so much fun because we get to see Jared and Jensen show off.

But there’s more to it than that. Jensen has said that his approach to each new script is instinctive (reads the script once or twice and decides what he’s going to do) and Jared is intellectual (reads it multiple times to feel like he’s really soaked it in). But here, I feel, Jensen has made some very deliberate choices. 

First, A Tangent: I watch different Dark Angel vids on Youtube and there’s usually a comment somewhere about how Alec and Dean are basically the same character, or Alec is Young!Dean. They don’t (always) come right out and say, “He can only convincingly play Dean-like characters”, but the implication is there. The two characters have some superficial traits in common, like sarcasm, physical comedy, Jensen’s face (can’t be helped). But even his face doesn’t really come into it once you hit the latter half of S1 because Jensen’s face changed a lot in the interim. His jaw got stronger, his face got broader. So I watched an episode of Dark Angel and immediately watched an episode of Supernatural (1x3: Dead in the Water). @deanscarlett​ helped me figure this out: Alec is out for out for himself, Dean was always out for anything but himself (except when it comes to pleasure-seeking, when he even allows it). Alec has his own psychological trauma (2x11: The Berrisford Agenda) which adds facets to his character’s mercenary pursuits, but once he locks down that perceived weakness (”I’m always alright”), you don’t really see him break down like that again. His programming is strong; he just buries it. But it serves a purpose: Max had written him off as a loss after she saved his life at the expense of not getting a cure to the virus (2x3: Proof of Purchase). It showed her that he wasn’t just a “happy-go-lucky sociopath”, that he had a story like everyone else, and that meant he deserved a shot at redemption. Alec was relatively unburdened (I mean... genetically enhanced master assassin... star torturer in HELL... Dean wins this round, I think) compared to Dean, who’s had ever-increasing weight on his shoulders since “Take your brother outside as fast as you can - don't look back. Now, Dean! GO!” Even young, Dean was never this carefree except maybe in his imagination or as a way to distance himself from others, or when he got really into the “I’m a badass I save people” part of it.

In this scene, Alec (if the character is Jensen’s age) is 23. He’s found a bunch of transgenics that fled from Manticore (the only home they’ve ever known) because of a fire. They’re all children, ranging in age from elementary school to early teens. He’s annoyed because they interrupted his sexy times in a motel. He’s very dismissive of them and spends most of those scenes throwing pieces of popcorn at one of the X7s, who are all small children. Creepy black-eyed hive-minded small children, but small children nonetheless. He makes smart remarks and rolls his eyes while Max tries to get through to the children to let them know that they should absolutely not go back to Manticore if they want to live. In just a few minutes, she takes apart their foundations: You don’t answer to me. You’re not a designation, you’re a person. You have a name now. You have to make your own choices.

“Why would Manticore try to get rid of us?” 

Alec answers:

Compare that to Dean as early as 1x3 Dead in the Water:

Dean doesn’t even talk the same way as Alec (except in the first few episode, while they were still getting used to their characters), and I don’t mean Jensen’s ever-more-gravelly voice, I mean the way he stubbornly pushes his jaw forward and talks out one side of his mouth or through his teeth. He has his mouth slightly open a lot. Sometimes he barely moves his mouth when he talks, speaking as if saying the words mostly to himself. Like 2x20 where Wishverse!Sam says “You slept with my prom date. On prom night.” Dean says, “Yeah that does kinda sound like me” while barely moving his mouth at all. Or in 4x01 where he holds up the empty liquor bottle and asks Bobby, “What, r’yer parents outta town or somethin?” That’s such a mushy line. He has a mush-mouth that’s only made mushier by hunter jargon and Dean’s... idiosyncratic way of speaking. If you weren’t in this fandom, would you know what I full-on Swayze’d that mother even meant? I always think of this (7x21):

(He can speak perfectly clearly when he wants to make a point, or when they’re pretending to be any kind of authority. I always think of the exchange in 5x14: My Bloody Valentine:

SAM: [mock sadness] That's when a dog doesn't eat-- That's when you know something's really wrong.

DEAN: [pokerface] Remarkably patronizing concern. Duly noted.

He can turn it off when he wants to. That Dean’s Master Adapter thing and it’s FUCKING HOT. Oh, I’m a production assistant now? Cool, aced it in a day. Oh, we’re in prison? This is fine, I’m gonna procure cigarettes. LARPing? Sign me the fuck up. Oh, we’re reporters? I can sound like a reporter. I’ve watched thousands of hours of television, I can mimic anyone. I can fake my way through almost anything. We’re in a different town two weeks from now, I can tell people whatever I want.

OH SHIT, DEAN TANGENT INSIDE OF A JENSEN RANGE TANGENT. Quick, make it look intentional!

Anyway, to me, Alec... Dean... not the same character. Going from one to the other was so jarring. For gifsets or edits where you want to show young Dean Winchester, it totally works for that. I mean, it’s Jensen’s face when he was that pre-Supernatural age... except that Jensen didn’t really look like Ridge Canipe or Dylan Everett when he was that age. (I love Dylan Everett. I don’t even care that his eyes are the wrong color.)

But something else Jensen does is put his own mark on roles that he’s given. Tom Hanniger wasn’t supposed to be as sympathetic as he turned out to be, and most people who watched it stated that they wanted someone else to be the bad guy (Axel was looking good for it) so that Tom would be okay. (Sorry if I just spoiled that for you.) Alec wasn’t supposed to be quite so likable, but that’s what Jensen brought to it. Even Kripke said early on that Dean was different on the page than when Jensen got ahold of him. He finds the heart of the character. Imagine if Dean Winchester had been the guy from the pilot this whole time, grossly leering at Jess to make Sam uncomfortable and defensive. 

Remember that Jess first says “Your brother Dean?” with a pleased smile on her face.

DEAN: [instantly leering] Oh, I love the Smurfs. [ogles cleavage] You know, I gotta tell you. [steps too close] You are completely out of my brother's league. [suggestive grin]

JESS: [smile fading, clearly uncomfortable] Just let me put something on.

[JESS turns to go. DEAN's voice stops her.]

DEAN: [isn’t discouraged by her discomfort] No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it. [another leer] Seriously.

When I first watched that, I thought: “Pussyhound with control issues? That’s your brother’s girl, don’t be skeevy.”

But before long, you realize what it was: Contempt. He wasn’t interested in Jess. “I’m going to make you feel very unwelcome because who the hell invited YOU?” It’s very possessive.

Think about that first scene with Dean after “Easy, tiger!” and then Dean a mere 9 episodes later, in “Home”, trying to get through to John because he’s scared, his voice breaking, his eyes filling up. During that first scene, would you have predicted something like that? "My heart’s gonna break for this bossy bad boy creep.” In fact, by the third episode of the series, it has. Sam tries to make a note of it and gets shut down by Dean right away. "I’ll show you a little, but that’s all. Don’t test me.”

DEAN: You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.

Later:

DEAN: Oh God, we're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?

It’s not until 2x20: What is and What Should Never Be where you see how Dean feels about Jess now that he understands how important she was to Sam: He hug-tackles her from out of frame, and if she never died... There were more layers of Dean revealed in that episode than Alec got his entire season. (Don’t even get me started on that episode, I’ll just start crying and I’m already so off course with this post.) 

Jensen took this role and made it as iconic as it is. He protects it.

I’m not saying another actor couldn’t have also “sold” that role and made it their own. What I am saying is, I don’t think that another actor would be playing the everloving fuck out of that role -- with all its twists and turns, advances and setbacks -- 14 years later with seemingly as much passion (if not more) than when they started.

But Jensen didn’t leave Dean in that swaggering, cocky, Han Solo place. He deepened the character, added layers, he shows us the cracks and the flaws. The show would NOT have lasted 14 seasons without these two actors. God, I only watch it to see what’s happening to them and see the ways they found to challenge themselves in otherwise unremarkable episodes. It’s like a troubled relationship where you’re like “No, I’m not watching it again ever” and then it texts you at 3am with “wyd” and suddenly you’re playing an episode and wondering about your life. 

I went into that long-ass, rambling, what-even-are-you-talking-about tangent to set you up for this:

Nihilism was NOT an unremarkable episode.

This is not like any other role that Jensen has played before.

There’s really no trace of Dean Winchester in Michael except the resemblance (and the daddy issues, I suppose). And even that’s played down with the neat hair, the suit, the artful "I know my best angles” way that he presents himself to people. There’s not even a trace of other characters that Jensen has played. It’s an entirely new role for him.

Michael carries himself elegantly. The perfect posture, the poise, the careful, graceful motions. Dean kind of slouches, looms, or does a parade rest sort of thing where he’s braced for whatever might happen. He’s got a big ambling swagger. He puts his feet up on tables or sits with his legs sprawled apart.

Michael eerily doesn’t blink as much as you would expect. As Dean, Jensen blinks a lot and closes his eyes, sometimes for a few seconds in the middle of a line, as if he’s processing his thoughts. I love it. It doesn’t start happening until S4 or so, where he wants to show the general weariness of the character. It happens the most when he’s angry or exasperated. But Michael is laser-focused.

Michael speaks very precisely and almost ceremoniously, like he’s selecting each word for the maximum impact. He has ALL the time in the world. Dean talks like... well, Dean. This is the big one for me. He just doesn’t SOUND like Dean, even though it’s the same damn voice. It’s in the cadence. He also holds his chin upright so his voice projects differently, and his jaw isn’t clenched like Dean’s usually is. His voice comes across as smooth and oozes condescension. 

Michael, in keeping with his wardrobe and (understandable) superiority complex is very fussy. While Sam, Cas, and Jack are talking, he’s speculatively opening and closing his hands in the background as if trying the cuffs, but he doesn’t even bother to struggle. While he’s talking to Cas during the big monologue, he absently picks a speck of something out from under a fingernail and neatly refolds his hands on his knee. He puts himself in those 3-piece suits. He has expanded to take up all of the possible Dean-ness and he’s very proud of his vessel. The human that used to be in control could not possibly matter less. As far as he’s concerned, Dean was his the moment he was even born.

Michael’s expressions are very different. Dean has a very expressive face. In one 5-second gif, you can identify a number of little micro-expressions he goes through. His face is almost never still unless something has gone very wrong. His eyebrows are all over the place. He’s squinty from having scowled for so long. He absently curls his lip when he talks. Because Michael doesn’t have all the trauma and worries that Dean has, he keeps his expression smooth. He looks completely dignified. Because he feels he has absolutely nothing to fear, his expressions are supercilious and disdainful.

Michael is very, very serene. He’s a BEING, and currently immortal. The things the “pig-filthy humans” are doing don’t really seem to concern him. “He's a gnat,” he says about Dean. He’s waiting them out because to him, they’re the blink of an eye. People keep trying to get a rise out of him, I think because he wears Dean’s face and they’re desperate to see a glimpse of him. Michael just doesn’t give a shit. Holy fire? Whatever. These cute handcuffs? That’s adorable. 

Look at the image below. There is no Dean at all, there is barely even a flicker of concern. His smile here is almost like, “You are naive and tedious. I’m just waiting for my army to get here. Might as well relax.”

I’m sorry, I’m just very, very excited and I’m so proud of Jensen. He was already brilliant, but this kicked it into a whole new level.

What killed me:

* Don’t interrupt me.

* Dean’s not home right now. Please leave a message.

* (”With these angel cuffs on, Michael’s under control.”) You keep telling yourself that.

* THAT CREEPY ASS SMILE after Sam says that the Impala’s trunk could hold Michael!Dean too. IT’S SO CREEPY WHAT IS IT

* I called them. [smiles, fake gasp of surprise] It’s a party.

* (”Sam, are we going to die here?”) ANOTHER CREEPY LITTLE SMILE like he could not be less intimidated if he tried.

* I can hear you. [they move about 5 steps further] Really?

* Remind me, Castiel, we’re west of Kansas City? (Dudes, he is an archangel, did you think walking into another room was going to keep him from hearing you?)

* Yeah, put a chair against the door. That’ll help.

* The last thing you’ll see is this pretty smile. AND HE DOES THE TONGUE THING THAT JENSEN DOES so in the small moment to me he was Evil!Jensen. I would read that fanfic. it made me SO uneasy.

* I’m in his head. LITERALLY.

* (”He’s lying.”) No, I’m not. And I can still hear you.

* God -- Chuck -- is a writer, and like all writers, He churns out draft after draft. (The way he sort of labors over every letter in the word “Chuck”, it’s so contemptuous, almost like he’s saying “Fuck”?)

* He never would’ve been so... anemic. [absently cleans a fingernail]

* [leans forward] Even God can die. Ugh, the chill that went down my spine.

* Cool science project. 

* When they put the electrodes(?) on him, he’s sort of glancing back and forth, HE’S SO AMUSED, he even laughs disparagingly. 

* Oh, Cas. I believe in you. LOL

* In there? You’re all mine. *audible swallow*

Ugh, if AU!Michael!Dean was a lotion, I would smear it all over my body.

Thank you for coming to my Jensen Talk.

#spoilers #spn spoilers #supernatural #jensen ackles #i haven't written analysis in a long time so this might just be stupid #dean winchester #spn cast

[luciisthebest]

Rooftop Dancing

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Request: @faith-in-dean​- Okay, another request: Tony Stark x Reader where Tony is hosting a party after a battle that did turn out good but hadn't been the best in his perspective. When the reader is looking for him at the party, he is nowhere to be found so she goes looking for him only to find him sitting alone on the rooftop, taking in the night sky. The reader joins him and comforts him, maybe even leading to her confessing his feelings to him. (Maybe some smut if it fits but that's up to you!)

Warnings: All the fluff, a little angst.

Word Count: 1,100

A/N: Yay, another request done. I know there’s no smut but I wasn’t feeling it for this piece. Hope you guys enjoy and please feel free to leave feedback.

A glittering array of people swirled around you. Women in their finest dresses and jewelry, men in dashing tuxedos, but none of them were the person you were looking for. You had spent the last thirty minutes looking for Tony and had yet to find him. You had to find him, even though the team had won the fight you knew Tony was in a bad headspace. There was one last place you hadn’t looked, and as you made your way through the dancing crowd your heart ached. You wanted to be there for Tony but he obviously didn’t want you around.

Finally, you made it over to the spiral staircase that led up to roof. As quickly as you could, you made your way up the stairs, cursing your long dress and heels. When you reach the top you exited through the glass doors onto the roof. There he was, silhouetted by the the city lights. You couldn’t help but admire Tony for a moment. He looked amazing in his tuxedo, handsome and strong. He was leaning against the rail, seeming lost in thought as he looked out into the night sky.

“Tony?”

“I wondered how long you where going to stand there.”

“Why aren’t you down celebrating with the rest of us?” You walked up beside him, looking out over the city.

“You know me, I don’t play well with others.”

“Come on Tony, we both know that’s bullshit. What’s really going on?” Silence fell between you, the only sound was the wind blowing across the rooftop. “I know there’s something going on Tony. You seem to forget, I actually know you.”

“Do you though?” He finally turned and looked at you.

“Yeah Tony, I do. I know you’re freaked out by how that battle went. I know that even though we won and everyone’s ok, you’ll go on blaming yourself for every little thing that went wrong. And I know that behind that sarcastic, smart ass persona you’re actually a really good man. But sure I don’t know you.” You turned to leave, having said what you needed to.

Right as you started to leave, Tony grabbed your arm. “I almost lost you.”

You spun around and faced him. “So? It comes with job.” You sighed. “Look I get it, it was scary, but we won. Come on,” you pulled him back over to the railing, “look at all this. We get to protect all these people. Yes it comes with risks and sometimes we lose people and yeah that hurts. But all these people are safe because of you, Cap, Thor, and everyone on the team and I wouldn't trade that for anything.” You both stood there looking over the city, the sound of music wafting up from the party. Listening to the music gave you an idea. “Dance with me.”

“What?”

“Dance with me.” You backed up and held your hand out to Tony waiting for him to take it. “Come on we’re at a party, all dressed up, we’re wasting a perfectly good opportunity.”

Tony gave you a smirk as he took your hand and swept you into his arms. He spun you around and around in sweeping turns until you started laughing. “I missed hearing you laugh.”  You stumbled at Tony’s words, they seemed so out of character for him. Tony stopped spinning and pulled you close to him. “Thank you for coming up here.”

You smiled as you rested your head on his shoulder gently swaying in his arms. There was no place you were happier than when you were in Tony’s arms, not that he knew that. He only saw you as a friend. “Tony?”

“Hmmm?”

“I… I want to tell you something,” you paused, “I… Oh nevermind.” You pulled away from him, terrified how close you can to actually telling him.

“Y/N you can tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, you looked him in the eye and decided to tell him the truth. “So today when I thought I was gonna, well you know. Well, I was thinking of you, how I never got to tell you that I care about you. That I care about you as more than a friend…” Tony stared at you completely stone faced. “Oh god, I’m making a whole mess of things! Just forget I said anything! Let's just pretend like I said nothing and everything can go back to normal.” You felt yourself panicking as Tony didn’t respond. “I’m sorry, I should go.” You spun around and walked as fast as you could away from him.

“Wait, I thought we were having a moment.” You could hear a pinch of Tony’s trademark sarcasm in his voice.

“Seriously? You’re really going to stand over there and make fun of me?” You stopped and turned back to him swiping a stray tear off your cheek. “Real classy Tony.”Yo waited a moment for him to respond, but when he didn’t you lost all hope. “Whatever, I’ll see you later.” You spun back around and basically started to run away.

“My heart nearly stopped when I saw you lying on the ground.”

You froze, your heart thundering as you processed his words.

“I almost lost it. Seeing you lay there unmoving, blood running down your face. I thought I’d lost you.” Tony’s voice cracked with emotion.

You slowly turned to face him, tears freely running down your face.

“And at that moment, I didn't give a damn about winning the battle, or stopping the bad guy, or even saving the world. All I could think of was getting to you.”

“Oh Tony.” You stared at him in shock. “I never thought…”

“What? That a rich, self-important, smart ass like me could care about you?”

“Don’t do that…”

“Do what?” He pulled you back into his arms. “Hold you in my arms?” He spun you around. “Dance with you? Or…” He stopped spinning and looked into your eyes. Then he leaned forward and gently kissed you. “Or don’t kiss you?”  

“Wow…” You floated in the afterglow of Tony kissing you.

“So you want me to stop?”

“No!” Tony smirked at your urgent response.

“Didn't think so.”

“Don’t be so smug.” You playfully smacked his chest.

“Why shouldn't I be smug? I have the most beautiful woman in the world in my arms.”

“Oh!” You giggled and then on an impulse you kissed him. Tony’s arms tightened around you as the kiss became more passionate. And that’s how you spent the rest of the night, in the arms of the man you loved kissing under the stars.

Tags:

@mogaruke @msimpala67 @percussiongirl2017 @meganwinchester1999 @ria132love @lucifer-in-leather @impala-dreamer @idreamofhazel @distinguishedqueenofbooks @faith-in-dean @docharleythegeekqueen @nanie5 @amotleyworld @abbessolute @mrsbatesmotel53 @chaosinacoffeecup @saoirsewhittle  @bobbysingerismybaby @capsofwinchesters @nyxveracity @x-waywardaf-x @hobby27 @ravenesque @andkatiethings @his-paradox @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @supernatural-strangerthings-1980 @shemehaza @roonyxx @straight-outta-charming

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark reader insert #tony stark fluff #tony stark fic

[lunoki]

BFU, Conspiracy Theories, Antisemitism, and You

I reblogged a post the other day criticizing the antisemitic shit that is largely the structure behind a lot of conspiracy theories, and threw in my own thoughts about how that shit sucks, and we’d probably be better served if more time was spent unpacking that. The OP referenced the latest Buzzfeed Unsolved Network video regarding this issue.

I stand by everything I said, but something about the whole thing has been bothering me, and I’m dissecting it largely for my own peace of mind, for lack of a better term. I guess you could call this my own Post Mortem. For anyone reading this, I’d like to point out that I am not Jewish, and anyone can feel free to correct my stupid goy ass if I’m off the mark somewhere. Three days ago the Buzzfeed Unsolved Network uploaded a video featuring self proclaimed conspiracy enthusiast Matt Real called We Explain The New World Order Conspiracy Theory, a 7 minute filler episode while we wait for the True Crime season. The preview image is a very click-baity image of the The Eye of Providence on the back of the US one dollar bill, and SECRET GOVERNMENT in scary font.

Which, like probably a lot of people, made my eyes roll out of their sockets. As I mentioned, a lot of conspiracy theories about secret governments, and the New World Order in particular, are built on the back of plain old antisemitism. So my initial reaction to it was awkward discomfort. But actually watching the vid left me with some questions.

The video’s explanation for the NWO was an extremely brief, “it’s a conspiracy about a secret group who want to control the world, usually blamed on the Freemasons, Illuminati, and aliens.” At the beginning of the discussion there’s a short disclaimer about how many of the theories regarding the NWO are in fact based in antisemitism.

It’s a one minute introduction into the basic idea of the NWO which boils down to “a lot of times one group of people wanna control the world, ie colonialism.”

The last five minutes go into talking about how fucking weird the Denver Airport is. And the Denver Airport is famously real fuckin weird. It’s the 20th busiest airport in the US, but the 2nd largest airport behind the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, and how there’s a $2billion 5 story bunker underneath it, and what’s up with that? That’s it for the number crunching, and then the video gets into the bizarre artwork found in the Denver airport, such as

A Masonic capstone crediting the New World Order Commision with helping fund the airport

The strangely unsettling murals on the 5th level of the Jeppesen Terminal that depicts, among other things

This nazi lookin soldier

And a letter from a 14 year old boy who died in Auschwitz.

The Denver Airport also has, perhaps most conspicuously, a 32 foot tall Satan Horse nicknamed Blucifer, which ended up killing its own sculptor in some kind of freak accident.

The video goes on to say that some people think the layout of the airport looks like a swastika, and how President Barack Obama happened to be in Denver in 2011 when the supposed “doomsday” comet Elenin could have possibly hit earth, suggesting a hint as to why that five story bunker is under the airport.

But Why Tho?

The video’s argument against the Denver Airport being involved with the NWO is the deliberate flaunting of its weirdness. Real points out that the Fly Denver website makes jokes about the Illuminati and lizard people, which is pretty Yikes™ on the airport’s part.

The video concludes how muddled and absurd the NWO/Denver conspiracy is, and kind of where my confusion starts.

But Why Tho, Part 2?

For a video proclaiming to explain the New World Order, it spends most of its runtime on how fucking weird the Denver airport is, as I mentioned above. Maybe “New World Order Conspiracy Theory” is more click baity than “What’s Up With That Airport?”

Watching it a couple times, I have to say that through my admittedly goyish perspective, there doesn’t seem to be anything in the video that’s inherently antisemitic. The antisemitism comes into play more with the Fly Denver website’s cringe as fuck lizard people shit.

The fact that the video was primarily about the Denver Airport rather than the NWO or government conspiracies left me wondering if this was going to be a continued series, or if it just caps off there.

Matt Real has been featured on the Buzzfeed Unsolved Network before, usually talking about aliens, particularly Investigating The Internet’s Plan To Storm Area 51, which starts with the same intro as the NWO vid. It hasn’t been explicitly stated, but it appears that Real’s videos may become a regular feature in between seasons of Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural and True Crime, possibly because he seems to induce the least amount of rage that Ryan and Shane aren’t there.

As I’m unpacking all this, I suspect that the NWO vid is a one off episode about conspiracy theories in general. There are several other filler vids between seasons, featuring different topics and different folks. Real’s vids stand out for their unifying theme. It might help to differentiate with a catchy title, like, idk, Matt’s REAL OR UNREAL Conspiracies or something. 

If Real’s conspiracy videos are going to become a regular feature, the possibility of stepping in some gross ass antisemitism will be a precarious tightrope they’ll have to walk, especially considering the reaction to this latest upload. It’s important to be aware of antisemitic dog whistles packaged in the dazzleflauge of shit like shape shifting lizard people, or any other kind of bullshit that sounds like incomprehensible gibbering madness on the surface. In my opinion that literally no one asked for, I think it would behoove the Buzzfeed Unsolved Network to take the initiative in seriously breaking down how much of our conspiracy theories ride on the back of antisemitism. I don’t think it’s a topic that can be capped off in a single disclaimer, and needs to be a continuing and honest discussion in good faith on the part of both the network and the audience.

#Buzzfeed #Buzzfeed Unsolved #Buzzfeed Unsolved Network #antisemitism #New World Order #seriously tho what's up with that airport?

[justkending]

Knock, Knock. Part 19.

Chapter Summary: The flight home, and meeting the family.

Pairing: (single) Jensen x Reader

Warnings: None. Maybe some Fluff...

Word Count: 3842

Chapter 19:

You woke up early, and made coffee for both you and Jensen to guzzle down before having to go through airport security.

You decided that you should probably let your family know that you were bringing home a different man than you had promised, but your mom was the only one who answered her phone when you called late last night.

She said she was going to let everyone know in the morning, and was excited to meet the man that was kind enough to take her baby in when she was struggling. You rolled your eyes at that before telling her goodnight, and you would see her soon.

So far you hadn’t had any problems at the airport with paparazzi or fans approaching you, and the airport wasn’t as busy as you thought it would be on Christmas eve. Everyone must have got earlier flights. So your morning was running pretty smoothly.

“I forget that your famous half the time, and have to watch out for people.” You said, looking down at your phone as you and Jensen sat down at the gate for your plane. You could tell he was scoping out the place for cameras, and he was on high alert.

“Hey, fine by me. Let’s me know you see me as just a normal human being.” He chuckled as he leaned back in the seat and adjusted the ball cap he was wearing.

He was wearing jeans, a green Henley, and a light jacket. For his disguise, if that’s what you want to call it. He added on a baseball hat with sunglasses for further protection.

You were wearing black Nike leggings, with white high-top converse, and a loose white V-neck, and a jean jacket. Your hair was up in a messy bun from when you first woke up. You hadn’t bothered trying to fix it since, so there were strands falling out left and right, but honestly it just made it cuter. Lastly, you had on your glasses since you didn’t want to mess with contacts the whole trip.

“Of course you’re just a normal human. We all are. Just some more well known than others.” You said going through your backpack to find the book you planned on reading for the flight.

You never looked over to see Jensen, but he had a happy grin on his face hearing you say that. Everyone always looked at him like he was different, and more important than others. He hated that sometimes, and it was nice to hear that that wasn’t the case with you. It humbled him.

You grabbed your book, and flipped to the page where you had folded the page down slightly. You leaned back in your chair, stretched out your legs, and crossed your ankles as you lounged in the seat.

“Comfortable?” He said laughing at you.

“Beyond.” You said with a smart ass smirk. “Did you bring anything to-“

You couldn’t finish your question because you saw two girls out of the corner of your eye pointing and whispering to each other.

“I think you’ve been compromised Ackles.” You mumbled nodding your head their way, and going back to your book.

“What?” he turned to see what you were talking about. His question was answered when the two girls gasped, and quickly ran your way. “Oh.”

You just sat there with a smug smile, as you looked down at your book.

“What are you grinning at-“ he couldn’t help the smile that had made a way on his face at your reaction. But, he was cut off by the two girls approaching him.

“Oh my god!” one of them whisper yelled.

“Are you Jensen Ackles?” The other one said in a hushed tone.

“Yep. That’s me.” He replied with a smile, as he re-adjusted his hat hoping no one else would notice.

“Oh my gosh! We are such big fans! We watch Supernatural all the time! I’m a total Dean Girl!” The taller of the two said.

“Can we take a quick picture, please? I promise we’ll leave you alone after that.” The shorter one said practically begging.

He let out a small laugh before he looked around.

“Of course. You guys are the ones that got me where I am. What kind a person would I be if I said no?” he said sweetly getting up and hooking his sunglasses on his shirt to show his bright green eyes.

“OMG! Thank you Jensen!” one of them said.

You had looked up from your book to watch the interaction, and a grin was on your face at how he was handling it.

“Do you girls want me to take it for you?” you asked sitting up and closing the book on your lap.

“Do you mind?” the tall one said handing you her phone with a big grin.

“No problem!” you said smiling back and standing up as you went to stand in front of them.

They both picked a side by Jensen, and smiled widely at the camera. Jensen smiling big as well.

“Say, pie!” you said, causing them all to laugh, and you got a really good candid of them.

“Thank you so much!” one said as she grabbed the phone back. “You guys have a safe flight.” She said to both of you as you went to take your seat back.

“Thanks again Jensen!” the other one said giggling as they walked away.

You watched as they walked away looking back every other second, and whispering to each other again like school girls.

You chuckled as you looked back at your book. Jensen watching you the whole time.

“Jealous?” he asked causing you to snap your head at him.

“Of what?” you laughed.

“You don’t have a picture with me.” He said with a sly grin.

“Hmm, you’re right.” You said looking back at your book. “I’ll just wait when you’re not paying attention.”

“Is that so?”

“You’ll never see it coming. Those are the best kind.”

You just heard him hum to your response, and the next second you were being attacked from the side.

“What are you-?!” you said as you saw him smiling wide at his phone he had pulled out, and put in front of you two as he took a selfie. “Jensen!” you said swatting at him with a bright smile.

“Got it!” he said leaning back in his seat and looking down at the phone. “Oh, that’s a keeper.” He said grinning at his phone.

“Let me see!” you said peering over his shoulder.

He pulled it to his chest, and put a finger up as he looked at you.

“Just so you know, it’s already saved so you can’t delete it.”

“Ok, let me just see.” You giggled reaching for his phone.

“Eh,” he pulled away more. “Also, before you try to find something wrong with it…”

“What?”

“You look perfect.” He said more serious.

You felt yourself start to blush, and smirked at him trying to play it off.

“Just let me see it ya big charmer.” You said softly smiling at him.

“Ok…” he slowly turned the phone to you.

You leaned in to see it more, and the smile only got bigger on your face. You were looking at Jensen in mid laugh, and he had a wide smile on his face with his mouth slightly open. It was a pretty good picture for not trying.

“I like it.” You said going back to your book, to hide the blush that was becoming more visible.

“Really?” He hummed. “No, ‘I look bad, my hair doesn’t look cute, or that’s a bad angle’? ” he asked.

“Nope. It’s good.” You said picking up where you left off in your book.

Jensen sighed in relief. Most girls found something wrong, and wanted to take 500 more before they found one they ‘kinda’ liked.

“Hey, you want anything to drink or eat before we get on the plane? I’m gonna grab a water bottle.” You said looking around for a convenient story.

“No, I’m good. I can get it if you want.” He said starting to get up.

“It’s fine. I need to stretch my legs before we board.” You stood up and stretched a little before grabbing your wallet. “I’ll be right back.”

You walked away for no more than 5 minutes to go get your things, and came back to Jensen with a group of guys taking a picture of him.

“Thanks man!” One of them said walking away with his posse. You moved to the side to let them pass, and kindly smiled at them.

“Hey.” One said looking you up and down, and grinning before one the others smacked him upside the head. “Ouch!”

“Dude! She’s out of your league. Walk away.” He said softly shoving him forward.

You giggled at the comment, and placed a hand over your mouth to try and stifle the laugh as you walked back to Jensen.

“Well, aren’t you mister popular today?” you said handing him a water bottle that you went ahead and grabbed for him anyway.

“Guess, I’m not the only one.” He said taking it and raising an eyebrow at you.

“What’s that mean?” you asked sitting down, and opening the drink.

“I heard what he said.” He said sitting next to you. You went to take a sip of your water. “He isn’t wrong though. WAY out of his league.” He said opening his drink.

You choked on your drink and almost spit it out. You leaned forward and covered your mouth with your hand again before swallowing.

“What!” you rasped out.

“Out of everyone’s league if we’re being honest with ourselves.” He said taking a drink calmly acting like he never saw your shock.

You just stared at him waiting for him to say something else stupid. When a smart ass grin was all that you got back, you punched his shoulder playfully.

“You little-“

“Flight 224 is now boarding. Austin to Oklahoma City is now boarding.” The attendant said over the intercom.

“That’s us!” Jensen said shooting up, and grabbing his carry on.

He rushed to the line, and paused halfway there motioning to you to follow. You shook your head while laughing, and grabbed your bags to join him in line.

“I’m coming. I’m coming.” You said rushing over.

__

It was a little over four hours later when you landed in Oklahoma. With the tickets you bought you had to stop in Dallas and fly out from there.

“Ok, my brother said he would be the one picking us up.” You said as you walked to the where the cars were after grabbing your luggage.

“Did he say where?” Jensen asked catching up to you as you sped past people.

“Yeah, north side of the the building under Southwest pick up.” You said maneuvering through more people.

You made it through the crowded airport and walked outside to where all the cars were waiting. You were looking for the electric blue jeep that always stood out in the crowd. As you scanned you took off your jacket and tied it around your waist. It was in the mid 70’s temperature wise, and was stunning outside. Oklahoma’s weather was bipolar and could be in the 70’s/ 80’s one day and then 30’s the next. Today just happened to be one of the nicer days.

You finally spotted your brother coming out of the driver side of the jeep that you could never overlook.

You jumped up and down, and squealed as you rolled your suitcase toward him, and jumped in his arms.

Jensen was startled by your yelp, and quickly looked to see where you were running. He laughed and followed at a slower pace.

“OH MY GOD!” you said hugging your brother as he squeezed you back. “I miss you nugget!”

“Haha! You act like you haven’t seen me in months or something.” He said pulling away to look at you, and returned the giant grin that you had on.

“Because I haven’t seen you in months!” you said swatting at his chest as you readjusted your backpack on your back. “How’s my favorite nephew? He still as cute as ever? Oh, what about his mom? How’s Sadie?”

“As adorable as ever! Gets that from his mother, and she is doing great.” He said grabbing your suitcase and wheeling it toward the back of the car.

“Of course he gets it from his mom. He sure as hell doesn’t get it from you.” You winked.

“Hey, hurtful.” He pouted. “May I remind you we are related, and look quite a bit alike?”

“Hmmm…” you looked him over.  He did have the same hair and eye color as you. His hair was slightly shaggy and curly, but still well groomed. His nose was kinda like yours, but the other facial structures were a little different. They were sharper than yours. He also had a slight scruff coming in as well. He got the height, unlike you, of the family at 6’2. Honestly, he was the male version of you, and everyone told you how cute you two were growing up, but you always brushed it off. “I don’t see it.” After a few seconds of giving each other a serious face, you both broke into laughter.

“And this must be Jensen.” He said putting his hand out for the man that had just caught up to you.

“That’s me.” Jensen said giving him a firm handshake. “You must be Charlie! Nice to meet you.”

“The one and only. I trust Y/N hasn’t told you too many embarrassing stories about me.” Your brother said, looking back to you and crossing his arms.

You shrugged and went to throw your backpack in the back seat.

“Only, the really good ones.” Jensen chuckled.

“That sounds about right.” He said rolling his eyes at you. “Here let me take that for ya.” He said grabbing Jensen’s duffel, and placing it in the back.

Jensen thanked him, then came and stood by you as he put his hands in his pockets.

“Nice ride man.” He said checking out the bright blue Jeep that had the top down. “Is it a manual?”

“Yeah, and actually it’s not mine.” Charlie said coming and standing on the other side of you. He nudged your shoulder. “This beauty is Y/N/N’s here.”

“Really? You can drive this?”

“Don’t acted too shocked.” You sighed waving the men off, and running up to it to check and see if it was still in good condition. “When I moved to Austin, I needed something with better gas mileage and this gorgeous lady didn’t make the cut unfortunately.” You turned around and leaned on it. “So, she had to stay home and live with the parents instead.”

Jensen chuckled as he watched you drool over your car.

“Well, what are we waiting for? We got family to meet, and Christmas traditions to uphold!” Charlie said, throwing you the keys.

“Hop on in Jensen!” You said going to the driver side while Charlie went in the back seat. “Driving in this city is a little bit different than Austin.” You said starting it up.

“How so?”

“Not as much traffic, plus we live out in the country.” You pulled out shifting gears as you went, and turned to Jensen as you exited the airport. “Open roads baby!” you yelled into the sky since the top was down.

Jensen laughed loudly as he looked back at your brother who was rubbing a hand down his face and shaking his head in embarrassment.

--

Sure enough you were just on the outskirts of the city. Not fully country, but not city either. It was about a 10-minute drive at most to get back to all the city sounds and lights. It was nice though. You were far enough away to have some privacy, but you still had a few neighbors close by.

You pulled up to the driveway, and cut the engine. Right before you got out of the car, your brother put a hand on you and Jensen’s shoulder and stopped you. You both stopped and looked back at him.

“Fair warning. Mom has only told me who you brought. Dad and Zoe don’t know.” He said looking at you. “She wanted to surprise them.”

“Noooooooo…” You drug out.

“Wait, is that a bad thing? Do they not like me?” Jensen said getting nervous.

“What? No! It’s not that, its… Well-“ you started.

“They are obsessed with Supernatural. Like OBSESSED. They are really big fans of you and the show.” Charlie explained for you. “When they met Jared after Gen had him over for my parent’s anniversary party dad went full on fan girl.”

“Your dad?” Jensen asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, and my younger sister Zoe is just as bad.” You huffed looking down. “Jens, I’m sorry if it’s a lot. I know you wanted to get away from all this and not have to deal with this-“

“Y/N.” he said cutting you off. “It’s perfectly fine. I want to meet your family. I mean we’re roommates. I feel like I should know who they are.” He said taking your hand and giving you a reassuring squeeze. That didn’t go unnoticed by Charlie, who just grinned at the motion. “Plus, after he realizes I’m a normal guy I’m sure they will calm down.” He shrugged with a smile.

You turned to your brother, and you both gave each other knowing looks. You both looked back at Jensen and gave him a nervous smile. He looked at you two, and a nervous smile like yours replaced his confident one.

“Let’s get the bags, shall we?” you asked jumping out of the car quickly.

Jensen looked at Charlie as you went to the back.

“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” he asked.

“Not for too long. Y/N will protect you. Promise.” Charlie chuckled as he patted Jensen’s shoulder, and went to the back to grab the rest of the luggage.

Jensen laughed nervously as he got out of the car.

__

You walked through the back yard, and gave Jensen a small tour of the land before you went inside.

“Honey, I’m home!” you yelled walking in the kitchen from the backyard.

“Is that who I think it is?” You heard your mom yell from the office.

She came around the corner in jeans and a Thunder basketball t-shirt, and placed her reading glasses on her head as she turned the corner spotting you.

“Hey, mom!” you smiled.

“Oh! My little monkey!” she said running up to you and holding you tight.

“Mom…” you sighed embarrassed at the nickname. Your backpack was on, and you had your suitcase in one hand. You patted her back with one hand. “Can’t. Breathe.”

“Oh sorry!” she said pulling away and looking you up and down while keeping her hands on her shoulders. “You’ve gotten so gorgeous! Have you lost weight? No, wait, new haircut? It shapes your face better hun-”

“Mom!”

Your mom and you always budded heads because she was very type A and you weren’t. You told Jensen a little about it, but didn’t go into full detail. She was really bad at trying to control your life and tell you the ‘best’ ways to do things. She thought her lifestyle had to be everyone else’s, and that she was always right when it came to opinions and decisions. You, being so independent and free spirited, tended to get into fights with her about your point of view. They could get heated pretty quick if someone wasn’t there to diffuse the situation.

“Sorry.” She said catching herself. “You look good honey.” She said with a soft smile.

“Thank you.” You said less annoyed. “You look good too.” You smiled back.

“Oh, and this handsome gentleman must be Jensen.” She said forgetting about you and swiftly walking over to Jensen.

“Hello, ma’am. It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N has told me a lot about you.” He said putting his hand out.

“Oh, forget the silly handshakes sweetheart! We’re family here.” She said grabbing him for a full on bear hug.

He grunted slightly at the force of it, but gave in and returned it.

You mouthed a sorry to him while he was facing you. He waved you off and smiled as your mom pulled away.

“You have a lovely home Mrs. Y/L/N. Y/N showed me some of the land.” He said looking out the windows to the back yard. You had told him about how proud she was for the landscape they had.

“Oh yes! We moved out here when Y/N was in the first years of college, and they had already built on it. The pool was all done, and hot tub under the gazebo, and the shop too. Oh, and the koi pond! That’s Y/N’s favorite. You see that swing right beside it?” she said as she pointed at everything. “It’s tucked in that corner that you have to be in just the right spot to see it.” Jensen nodded as he saw what she was talking about. “She would go and hide over there for hours if she wanted to be alone, or if she was upset about something.” She huffed as she turned back to you. “I could never find you half the time, until I started catching on to where you were running off to.”

“That was the point.” you mumbled. Charlie and Jensen were the only ones who heard, and Charlie stifled a laugh.

“Charlie.” You mom said grabbing his attention.

“Yes, ma’am.” He said straightening up.

“Go get your father out of that dang shop, and tell him that your sister is here. We have guest and he’s acting like a hermit sawing away at some new project he has.” She said waving him off as she went in the kitchen to make some coffee for everyone.

“Actually, Charlie needs to go pick up Sadie from home. I can go get dad once we settle in.” You said stepping in for your brother.

“Yeah, she’s at home with the baby, and I told her I would pick her up after I got Y/N. That way we only have one car here.” He added.

“Ok. Whatever works. Charlie you go get your wife, and Y/N and Jensen follow me.” She said walking through the living room to get to the bedrooms.

You huffed out a long sigh as you grabbed your bags again. Jensen came and wrapped an arm around your shoulder already noticing the tension building in them from being around your mom.

“Hey, I’m right here. You got this.” He said with a genuine smile.

You returned it and leaned into the side hug.

“Thanks Jay.”

“Y/N!” you mom yelled already in the other room.

“We should probably hurry. Don’t want her to have a heart attack 2 minutes after coming home.” You said following her voice.

Jensen chuckled as he followed behind you.

Part 20

Tags:

@shamelesslydean @sleepless-sin @unabashedsoul97@sandlee44@gripmetight-raisemefromperdition@cabbagewithissues@supersleepygoat@anotherwaywardsister@spnwoman @ravengirl94 @carryonmywaywardcaptain@ezilyamuzed@thosekidswhohuntmonsters@purpleskiesandcherrypies@anise-d-castle6 @adoptdontshoppets@casper57x@tailsoflightning@spookycowz@eve05glee@snffbeebee@angelessquirrel@mirandaaustin93@natura1phenomenon @tftumblin @gh0stgurl@screechingartisancashbailiff@kersumgen

#supernatural #Jensen Ackles #jensen x reader #jensen ackles series #reader insert #knock knock #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles au #jensen ackles x y/n #supernatural series #SPN #spn reader insert #SPN series #spn au series #SUPERNATURAL AU #Supernarural #justkending

[asleepinawell]

Things That Go Bang In The Night

Shoot Haunted House fic for halloween, except not really scary at all and mostly silly. Arranged as a series of shorts, or incidents as the case may be.

Based very loosely in my chaos au, but the only thing you need to know is it’s post-samaritan and shoot are a firmly established relationship at this point.

_________________

Nighttime Disturbances

John is cooking an aggressive amount of pancakes when Root comes downstairs. Root looks at the heaping plates full of breakfast food on the counter of the surprisingly modern kitchen and then at the dark circles under John's eyes and manages not to laugh. She does, however, smile ever so slightly and John's eye twitches just a fraction.

Shaw is the next to show up, wearing a shirt Root thinks might actually belong to her, but the mutual clothing-theft has gotten to the point where it's basically irrelevant. Shaw looks at John and John glares at Shaw and Shaw smirks for all she's worth. She takes two overflowing plates of pancakes, tucks a bottle maple syrup in the crook of her arm and secures a seat for herself at the big stone table in the kitchen. She looks at her plates for a few seconds and then shuffles the pancakes around with a fork until all but three are on one plate. The smaller helping gets pushed over in front of Root.

By the time John joins them at the table, Shaw has eaten half her pancakes, but she still eyes the plate of bacon and eggs he has. He puts a protective arm around his plate before he starts in.

Root waits until he’s drinking his orange juice before asking, innocently, “Did you sleep well, John?”

She's disappointed when he doesn't spit out his drink, but he does scowl at her around his glass.

Fusco shows up before John can answer and collapses into a vacant chair.

“Boy, when you said this place was haunted, you weren't joking.”

Root does not smile even a little bit. Shaw stuffs more pancakes in her mouth, a look of intense concentration on her face. On the other side of the table, John is grimacing.

Fusco doesn't seem to notice. “Creaks and bangs all night and ghostly moans. I don't think I got a wink of sleep.”

Root adjusts the collar of her shirt a little and she sees John's eyes narrow when he focuses in on the movement.

“Maybe we should attempt an exorcism tonight,” he says. “Pour some cold holy water all over the ghosts when they start being a nuisance.”

Fusco's forehead wrinkles in confusion. “I thought that was for vampires.” He gets up to investigate the pancake situation. “You really cooked a lot of these, huh?”

“I had trouble sleeping. For some reason.”

Root is done with her breakfast, but Shaw's still going strong. Root watches her stuff her cheeks like a squirrel preparing for winter.

“You two hear anything?” Fusco asks.

Root pretends not be watching John out of the corner of her eye. “Not that I can recall.”

“Funny. It was really loud. I was scared out of my mind. Spent the whole night pointing my gun at the door.”

“Do bullets even work on ghosts?” Shaw asks, her mouth momentarily pancake-free. “Silver bullets maybe?”

“That's werewolves,” Root corrects and Shaw shrugs as if defense against the supernatural is not an extremely important topic.

“I'm sorry we missed the excitement,” Root says. “I rather enjoy things that go bump in the night.” The eyebrow waggle might be a little too much, but she can't help herself.

John stands up, maybe just a little too fast.

“I'm going to go explore the rest of the house.”

_________________

Cleaning out the Attic

“Still don't see why we have to do this,” Shaw grumbles after she recovers from another sneezing fit. Everything here is covered with a thick layer of dust and it feels like her lungs are full of it, and Root has it even worse with the sneezing and itchy eyes. What a dumb mission.

“She thought it would be nice for all of us to get out of the city for a few days,” Root calls from the other side of the room. The boxes here are stacked high enough that Shaw can't see her over them.

“She could have given us an actual vacation then, not digging through moldy paperwork in a drafty old house in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

Root pops her head around the nearest stack of boxes. There's dust in her hair, a grey smudge across one of her cheeks, and she's wearing a shirt with an overly cute little ghost on it that says 'hey boo-tiful’. Shaw shouldn't think she looks hot like that. She blames it on the boredom. And on the glasses which she knows Root doesn't need for this but she's wearing anyway as some sort of attack on Shaw's sanity.

“Am I not entertaining enough for you, sweetie?” Root's practically leering at her now which looks really dorky with her wearing that shirt.

Shaw drops a stack of paper onto the floor and brushes her hands off. “We can do that anywhere. Preferably somewhere warmer with room service.”

“But we'd be missing out on the added bonus of messing with the boys.” Root prods the stack of papers. “Nothing in these?”

“Not unless she's interested in a detailed hand-written accounting of how much it costs to redo the roof like eighty years ago.”

Root taps her lower lip with one finger. “Hmmm.”

“You can't be serious.”

Root shrugs helplessly. “She says you never know what She might need some day.”

Shaw has been basically over the Machine's new data collecting obsession since it started three months ago. She can acknowledge that there is a ton of information and history out in the world that's never been digitized and that some small fraction of it might help the Machine help humanity, but this is ridiculous.

The Machine can hardly rely on just them to dig up every paper document in the city, let alone in the world, and Shaw suspects she has a lot of people working for her without them realizing what their employer is. They get sent on occasional random missions though, most of which are horribly dull and involve a lot of sorting through paper and not a lot of knee-capping.

“If she really is going to want every single piece of paper in this house, she should say that and we can get a bigger van and just cram everything in there and let someone else sort it out.” Shaw has Claire still working on scanning in the thousands of pages from their last little trip, and that had been months ago.

“Afraid that's not the mission, Shaw.” Root prods the half-full box in front of Shaw meaningfully with one long finger. “And how often do you get to stay in one of the most haunted houses on the east coast?”

“I'd think New England would be lousy with the things.” Shaw takes in Root's expression, gauging her options. She knows she can get out of this, but she's got to approach it the right way. “Anyway, it's not like we've seen any ghostly activity here. Scariest thing to happen was that kale disaster Reese made for dinner last night.” Reese is a decent enough cook, but there are sometimes lapses in his judgment.

“Maybe we'll get lucky and see something spooky tonight since John exiled us to the east wing. It's supposed to be where most of the haunting has taken place historically.”

Reese had half-ordered, half-begged them to move to the other wing, and while Shaw doesn't take orders from him, she’s decided to be merciful. Most rooms in the house are huge and empty which lends it some interesting acoustics and, well, Root never was much of one for keeping quiet. Which brings Shaw back to her current mission to get out of sorting papers.

“You know,” Shaw says, shifting her weight to move herself a little closer to Root, “we could get lucky right now.”

The Machine must really want these damn papers because Root actually hesitates, but Shaw knows Root has no defense against a smooth come-on like that. She bites her lower lip (an unfair move) and sees Root's already-weak defenses crumble away in a flash.

“Attics are notoriously haunted,” Root says thoughtfully. “Might as well give this one a reputation.”

There's paper carpeting the attic floor by the time they're both worn out, some of which the Machine is probably going to yell at them for irrevocably damaging, but it's so worth it.

Root rolls over in the nest of scattered papers, looking for her shirt, and picks up a paper instead.

“This is about that kid that died here.” Root hands the paper over to her. “He was found drowned in a bathtub in the east wing. Everyone suspected his older sister, but no one could ever prove it.”

Shaw looks over the paper. It's got a clipping from a newspaper attached to it talking about the death of some kid called Phillip. She vaguely remembers Root talking about the whole thing on the drive up here. Supposedly the kid's ghost haunts the house and grounds and once drowned a gardener in one of the fountains on the lawn.

“Does the Machine care about stuff that's clearly just superstition?”

Root gets up and pulls her shirt back on, much to Shaw's disappointment. “She cares about how humans react to death and grief and fear, so in that sense, yes.”

“What about you? Do you believe in ghosts, Root?” Shaw teases.

“No.” Root smiles, but it's one of those hard, cold smiles, not one of the happy ones. “Ghosts tend to haunt people who wronged them during their life, right?”

“I guess?” She thinks there's something with loved ones getting haunted too, but she's hardly an expert on these things.

“If anyone was going to have been haunted…” Root trails off and shrugs. “So the odds are against them existing.”

Shaw rolls her eyes, because of course Root's ego would dictate that if she hasn't seen a ghost no one could have.

Root offers her a hand up off the floor. “What about you, Sameen?”

“Most things people take to be ghostly activity can be explained by quantifiable, scientific means. People are always blaming things they can't explain on the supernatural. It's lazy.”

Root grins and leans in so her face is right near Shaw's. “So what will you do when the ghost of little Phillip comes wailing down the hall to drown you in the tub?”

Shaw headbutts her gently in the face. “Any ghost shows up, I'll punch its ethereal teeth in, okay?”

Root backs up, clearly amused, and then glances around at the mess they'd made. “I think we should try the library. We can let Lionel finish up with the attic.”

“He'll love that.” Shaw hasn't been looking forwards to cleaning up the mess they made. She looks around the paper-covered floor one last time and then follows Root back down into the main house.

_________________

The Face in the Fountain

It's cold outside and Root wishes she'd brought a jacket, but the house and grounds are so large that going back for one would take at least twenty minutes. It might be worth it, except she's really tired and doesn't want to budge from the edge of the fountain she's perched on. The house has an unfortunate number of steps and she's been lugging boxes up and down them for the last day.

From out here she's got a pretty good view of the entire house. It's a massive thing, built out of grey and brown bricks with dark, empty windows lining every side. There's two distinct wings coming off the main house: the west wing which juts out onto the front lawn at a right angle from the rest of the house, and the east wing which, inexplicably, does the reverse and sticks out into the woods behind the house.

The front lawn has a few pathways across the overgrown grass, all in poor repair, and a handful of crumbling, ornamental fountains full of brackish water, including the one Root's sitting on. The back lawn has what was once a hedge maze but is now an impassable wall of brambles that the forest is hurrying to reclaim.

Shaw is running laps around the front lawn. Root figures she's working out the frustration of being stuck here for a week with no one to shoot. Shaw pauses next to the fountain on her next lap.

“You don't have to wait for me out here if you're cold.”

“I don't mind.” There's no easy way to watch Shaw work out back in the city, but here she can watch the full length of every lap Shaw runs and discreetly take pictures with her phone.

“Probably shouldn't stay by these things too long anyway.” Shaw peers into the murky water in the fountain with distaste. “Who knows what sort of shit's growing in there.”

Root looks in as well, but other than a distorted reflection of herself she can't see much.

“Maybe breathing in spores from whatever's growing in this toxic sludge is where all the ghost stories come from in the first place,” Shaw says. She drops a large rock in and it vanishes below the surface with a sploop noise. Ripples run across the surface of the water further distorting Root's reflection and stirring up the mud from the bottom. Something moves in the murky depths.

Root jerks back from the water and falls off the edge of the fountain to land on the ground.

“Root?”

Shaw looks at her like she's gone nuts and Root takes a second to get her breathing back under control before she answers.

“I didn't want to get splashed.” She gets back to her feet and tries to brush the dirt off, but the lawn was still damp from the rain last night so her pants are pretty much hopeless.

“It didn't even splash.” Shaw peers at the water as if she's expecting to find some other cause.

Root keeps her distance from the fountain. “We should head back inside and get changed before dinner.”

“Guess so.”

Root resolutely doesn't look back as they head up to the house for dinner. She knows it was just her imagination combined with reading stories of this place, but she can't quite shake the image of a corpse-pale face floating under the water, it's glassy eyes opened wide and staring at the sky.

_________________

The Face in the Fountain (continued)

They eat all their meals in the kitchen because the dining room is enormous, dusty, poorly lit, and even Shaw can admit it's a bit creepy. The kitchen is more than large enough and one of the few mostly clean rooms in the house. It should be a nice, friendly team dinner, but Fusco is exhausted and freaked out from the ‘ghost activity’ the previous evening, Reese is still sulking, and Root has been quiet since they came in for dinner. Shaw isn't sure what's up with her, but she figures it's nothing Root's going to open up about with the other two here.

After dinner they have to get their bags from their rooms to move to the east wing. Shaw brings a flashlight along since the electricity here seems to have a mind of its own and the wiring in the east wing is supposedly even worse. She thinks about calling the whole thing off and staying in the west wing, but she knows she'd get shit from Reese about being scared of ghosts if she did.

She briefly reconsiders again though because Root is still acting weird and making sure Root is okay is more important than not being teased by Reese, but Root doesn't seem to have any issue with switching wings. Still, she knows something is still up because Root doesn't hit on her once during the walk over and she's being all jumpy. Maybe she should have brought Bear along after all.

The rooms here are larger and probably had been nicer once upon a time, but now they're mostly dusty and full of covered furniture. The cleaning service the Machine had sent here ahead of time had salvaged a few bedrooms in both wings so there's a few habitable ones the choose from. Root opts for the smallest and Shaw doesn't argue because the rooms here are unreasonably large.

She waits until they climb into bed for the night before she tries to get an explanation out of Root.

“You've been quiet.”

Root murmurs something in response but it's muffled by her pillow. Shaw speaks evasive-Root-tactics well enough by this point that she can figure out by the pitch of Root's voice that she's brushing off the question. Shaw might have pushed further normally, but she's tired from lugging boxes of papers up and down stairs all day so she settles for rolling over closer to Root and dropping her arm over her. Root puts her hand over Shaw's and settles in.

Shaw isn't sure what wakes her up in the middle of the night, but she's suddenly wide awake and Root isn't next to her anymore. An unnecessarily dramatic flash of lightning from outside shows her that the other half of the bed is empty.

She figures Root probably just went to the bathroom, but the whole creepy house situation seems to merit her checking just in case. The bathroom is empty and Shaw stops back in her room to grab a flashlight before looking any further. Root took her slippers with her, she notes, so it wasn't like she ran out in a panic.

There's only a few places in the house they've all spent any amount of time in. She knows Root wouldn't go to the library since the extreme amount of dust there had caused her the sneezing fits that had sent them outside earlier that day. She wouldn't have a reason to go back to the room they'd stayed in previously, and a quick check of the main entrance hall has it full of shadowy corners but empty of Root. So that leaves the kitchen.

Root's sitting on the counter in the dark eating ice cream out of the container. Her hair is back in a messy ponytail and her bunny slippers are on her dangling feet. Shaw admits that she's maybe a tiny bit relieved by the sight even though she hadn't really thought anything bad had happened.

“I couldn't sleep,” Root says by way of explanation.

There's another flash of lightning outside followed by a peal of thunder and then it starts pouring. Raindrops hammer on the windows.

Root's face lights up in glee.

“Thunderstorm in a haunted house. Another item to cross off the bucket list.”

At least she seems to be in a better mood now even if she is working her way through their entire supply of ice cream. Shaw tries to rescue the remains of the pint, but Root loops her stupidly long legs around her and traps her there up against the counter. Root holds a large spoon of ice cream up and pushes it at Shaw’s face and no way is Shaw letting herself be fed like a child even if it is ice cream.

She ends up with ice cream smeared across her face before she escapes from Root's hold. The whole thing is extremely undignified and she's glad Reese isn't here to see it. She might discreetly wipe the remaining ice cream off her face with one hand and then lick it off her fingers, but there's no proof.

“Are you done now?” she asks, still indignant, but somewhat mollified by the delicious chocolate goodness.

Root evaluates her almost empty ice cream carton. “I suppose so.”

The ice cream goes back in the fridge and they walk back together by the light of Shaw's flashlight. Root seems okay now, but Shaw is still curious about earlier. She doesn't like it when she doesn't know why Root's upset, and if she doesn't find out what caused this round how can she prevent it next time?

“Did you see something when we were outside?” she asks as they cross the entrance hall. “In the fountain?” That's when this had started.

Root makes a small hmph noise. “Ghosts aren't real.”

“You saw a ghost out there?”

“Obviously I couldn't have since they're not real.” Root's tone is a bit condescending which Shaw takes as an improvement.

“Sure, but there could have been a dead animal or who knows what else in there. We can go take another look tomorrow if you want.”

“Yes, maybe that's just the thing.”

The way Root says it is maybe a bit ominous, but Shaw is glad enough that Root’s in a better mood that she doesn't read into it too much.

The next morning Root is already up and gone when Shaw wakes up. Shaw heads down to the kitchen and after a few very pointed hints from Reese makes a detour to the front lawn.

There is a huge truck parked on the front lawn. And a bulldozer.

Definitely suspicious.

Shaw goes back inside and gets coffee before investigating further because asking her to deal with Root's shenanigans without caffeine is cruel. When she gets over to the truck she sees some workers have a huge black hose running into the fountain Root had been sitting on yesterday and are draining it. Root stands nearby watching over the proceedings.

“When I said we could take another look…” Shaw trails off.

Root beams at her. “It was a great suggestion, so I figured I'd get right on it.”

“Right.”

The workers at the fountain wave them over. One of them points at something in the bottom of the drained basin. Shaw goes over to look and there, nestled in the wet weeds and filth, is the most repugnant looking baby doll she's ever seen. It's face is ghostly white and cracked and its glossy black eyes are wide and gaping like a fish's. If there'd been hair on it once it’s long gone now and most of the body is crushed.

“This what you saw yesterday?” Shaw can understand why seeing that bob up under the water might be disturbing, especially given the setting and the whole gardener-drowned-in-the-fountain story.

Root has a nasty glint in her eyes. “Unimportant now.”

She steps back from the fountain and waves an arm at the woman driving the bulldozer. Shaw sees where this is going and retreats to a safe distance. She'd ask Root if destroying the fountain is strictly necessary, but she already knows the answer she'd get and anyway Root just looks so pleased with herself and it's kind of endearing.

It's a weird sort of morning, she thinks. She's standing on the lawn of a haunted mansion wearing her boxers and a hoodie and Root's bright pink flip flops and drinking coffee out of a mug with a cartoon penguin on it. Root's next to her watching the bulldozer demolish the fountain with a look of intense satisfaction on her face. Her clothing situation isn't much better, though she at least managed to put on pants. She's got a new shirt Shaw hasn't before yet that says ‘ghouls just wanna have fun’ on it (Shaw is sensing a theme here) and an oversized flannel that Shaw thinks she might have stolen from one of their recent numbers and is barefoot much to Shaw's horror.

“Can I have a sip of that?” Root asks as the bulldozer backs up to make another pass at the ruined fountain.

“No,” Shaw says and hands her the mug.

“Thanks, Sameen.”

_________________

The Monster in the Conservatory

Fusco is red-faced and out of breath when he comes running into the lounge.

“It's...it's in the…” He pauses panting for breath.

Root waits politely for him to finish. Or leave. She's not picky.

“In the conservatory,” Fusco manages to get out.

Root sets down the ornamental dagger she's been considering accidentally acquiring for herself. “What is?”

“M-monster.” Fusco collapses into a mildewed arm chair.

Shaw peeks around the door frame from the next room. “What sort of monster?”

“Big...angry…teeth…”

“Evil dentures in the greenhouse sounds like a John problem,” Root says and ducks down to open the cabinet under the table.

“I want to fight the monster,” Shaw says. Her tone allows for no arguments.

Root can't not watch that so she gives up on robbing the place and follows Shaw. They pick up John from the smoking room along the way and head, not to the main entrance to the conservatory, but upstairs to the walkway entrance.

The conservatory is relatively newer than the rest of the house, a two story greenhouse built out of thick sheets of glass to let the sunlight in. There's a walkway on the second level of it that's accessible via a small staircase in the conservatory or an actual door from the second floor of the main house.

Shaw pauses as they near the door and reaches behind one of the creepy statues that line the hallways to pull out...a sniper rifle.

Root is impressed and slightly turned on. Maybe more than slightly. She wonders how many guns Shaw has hidden all over the house now.

“Let's see what this monster is,” Shaw says and pushes the door open.

The air inside smells awful, like rotten plants and soil and Root wrinkles her nose in disgust. Left untended, everything in the conservatory has either died or spread out to overtake all the other plants. There's vines and small trees below them and it looks a little like a jungle.

Shaw holds a finger up to her lips and then drops down to her hands and knees on the metal walkway to peer down into the forest below. Root looks over the edge of the railing, but nothing catches her eye. Maybe Fusco was imagining things.

Shaw smacks her on the leg and points and sure enough there's some leaves and branches rustling in the far corner. At first Root thinks it must be a squirrel, but it's pretty clearly something much larger. Maybe a deer?

All three of them watch the greenery closely as the shaking foliage gets nearer and nearer to the center of the room. Their quarry bursts out of the leaves and raises its large face to gaze up at them and sniff the air.

“Not a monster after all,” Reese says as they watch their new companion yawn hugely and show off its massive teeth and pink tongue.

“She's beautiful,” Shaw says softly, her voice full of wonder that's usually reserved for dogs.

Root isn't sure ‘beautiful’ is the word she'd use for the massive black bear munching on things in their house, but Shaw's obvious delight is adorable. Root, however, now feels totally justified in her previous caution about bears as those teeth are very large and its paws look impossibly huge. She's glad they're up high.

“There's a broken pane in the back,” Reese says. “She must have wandered in looking for food.”

Shaw frowns. “I hope she didn't step on any of the glass. Maybe we should check…”

Root is about to ask just how she plans to do that, but John seems to be one step ahead of her.

“We are not tranqing the bear, Shaw.”

Shaw actually pouts, lower lip stuck out like a child.

“But she might be hurt.”

They all watch the enormous bear stand up on its hind legs to rip a branch off a little tree. The walkway is high enough that she couldn't ever reach them, but it's still intimidating.

Shaw sighs. “Fine.” She sits down with her legs dangling over the side. Root figures she's staying until the bear gets safely away. She's torn between wanting to stay and watch Shaw watch the bear and going back to investigate the possibility of further fancy weaponry in need of a new owner.

Staying with Shaw wins out easily in the end. They sit side by side with their legs hanging off the walkway watching the bear snort and huff its way around the floor. Shaw's theory is there was some sort of fruit tree or berry bush down there and the bear is searching the ground for leftovers. Shaw takes the scope off her rifle so she can watch it close up.

After about an hour, the bear must run out of food because it lumbers back out the broken pane (Shaw watches with concern) and back into the woods at the edge of the property.

“I hope she's okay.”

“She'll be fine, Sameen.” It's sweet the way Shaw worries about some things so much, often things (people, animals) that no one else seems to care about. “Should we rip your clothes a bit and mess up your hair so we can tell Fusco the tale of your epic battle against the greenhouse monster?”

“No clothes ripping.”

Root could say several somethings about the hypocrisy of that, but she doesn't want to discourage Shaw from future over-enthusiastic clothing removals.

“We should make it look good though,” Shaw says and offers her a hand up. “Guess you'll need to give me a hand with that.”

“My pleasure.”

_________________

The Ghost of the East Wing

Root has to admit that the east wing of the house has a good, spooky atmosphere. There's scorch marks on some of the walls from a fire that partially burned down the wing years ago (the stories have it that you can still smell the smoke in the air, but Root has yet to smell anything other than mildew), and all the furniture is under white sheets. The wind howls through the cracks and rattles the windows enough to be irritating and make the whole place chilly. And then there's the fact the forest has grown in thick around this wing so there's nothing but dark woods outside the windows.

But the heating works well enough to keep the place comfortable and she's got Shaw as an extra heater, so it could be much worse.

Shaw whines in protest when Root sticks her cold feet up against her leg to warm them up. It's a cute enough noise that Root pulls her feet back and pushes them up against Shaw's other leg to see if she can get a repeat.

What she actually gets is socked in the face with a pillow.

It takes a few minutes of shuffling around before they're both comfortable enough to drift off and Root is so worn out from all the excitement of the day that she falls asleep quickly and doesn't wake up again until Shaw shakes her by the shoulder.

“Hhzzmhh?” Root asks. It's pitch black and she's still tired.

Shaw lays a finger across her lips to shush her and tilts her head to one side as if listening. Root goes as quiet as she can, barely breathing, and focuses on every little noise the house is making.

Footsteps. Those are definitely footsteps, and they're coming closer down the creaky floorboards of the hall.

Shaw rolls out of bed and drops to the floor in a crouch. Root knows for a fact that there's no way to move across the floor in this room without the floorboards making a racket, and yet Shaw is completely silent.

The footsteps are getting closer, and even though Root knows that ghosts don't exist and that the house isn't really haunted, she still feels a slight twist of fear in her stomach. She grabs her taser off the nightstand since Shaw has a gun already and if somehow she's been wrong all these years and ghosts really do exist, then maybe an electric current will be more effective against them than a bullet.

The door bursts open and there's a tall, formless white figure in the hallway.

“OoooOOOooooo,” it moans.

Root sighs. He wasn't even trying very hard, was he?

Shaw leaps up from where she was crouched next to the door and socks the ghost squarely in where it's face would be.

“Oww!” the ghost yells.

Shaw kicks it in the leg and slams into it so it falls over, twisted in its own sheet.

Root gingerly climbs out of bed and winces when her feet hit the bare floor. She tests the power on her taser as she moves towards the fallen ghost. Sure, she knows it's John, but he doesn't know that she knows so who could blame her for defending herself?

It's hours before anyone gets back to sleep.

_________________

Reassignment

Shaw wakes up to the news that they've been taken off the mission and are to return to the city immediately. She'd sort of been hoping to see the bear again, but otherwise she's pretty glad to get out of this place.

The list of reasons Root gives for their sudden departure is hard to argue with. The many incidents the Machine took issue with include: destruction of valuable historical documents, destruction of historic architecture, petty larceny, grand larceny, discussion of unsafe animal handling techniques (Shaw rolls her eyes at that one), excessive sneezing on valuable books, using historical stone gargoyles as target practice, attempted assault on an asset with a non-lethal weapon, and successful unarmed assault of an asset leading to a mild injury.

It's an impressive list and Shaw figures it's no wonder she feels so tired.

Reese is loading the car when she gets outside. He still isn't speaking to her and is holding an ice pack to his bruised jaw. Really he should be grateful she'd stopped Root from tasing him. It's not their fault he decided to try and scare them and they're hardly to blame for retaliating.

Root is a little sad they're leaving early and still sulking about missing out on a good tasing, but she seems eager to get back home as well. She steals the passenger’s seat before either of the boys can try to claim it.

Fusco is grumpy despite being the only one to have gotten a full night's sleep. “Next time you three need help, don't call me.”

Reese broods intensely in the back seat.

“Guess it'll just be you and me for the next haunted house,” Root says.

Shaw considers pointing out that basically every single strike against them from the Machine was either her or Root's fault (though Reese had brought that slug in the jaw on himself), and that the chances of either of them ever being sent on a similar mission are slim to none.

“I think we're scarier than a bunch of ghosts,” she says instead.

Root looks quite pleased with that response and begins listing off directions to get them back to the highway and out of this desolate area. Shaw starts the car down the driveway, the slightly-more-decrepit-than-they'd-found-it house in her rearview mirror.

#person of interest #shoot #my tumblr fics #mp #will be posting on ao3 as well at some point soon #happy halloween y'all #line breaks no longer show up on mobile thanks tumblr #i wrote something in present tense and hated every second of doing so

[rantingswithrage]

Our House - Chapter 2

Dean Winchester Imagine

Supernatural Fanfic

Dean x Reader - some Sam moments

Summary: You gave up the hunting life to have a place to call home. You’re relationship with Dean has ups and downs as you try to figure out how to live a normal life while he continues to hunt.

This story doesn’t follow the timeline of events in the show. It takes place when Sam is still in high school but Dean is eighteen.

Warnings: Fluff, Swearing

Word Count: 2,651 

Masterpost

Seven months later and we are so much closer than ever. I love being with him and I wouldn’t change it for the whole world even if I couldn't always physically be with him.

It was a Saturday afternoon and I was sitting at home relaxing in front of the TV. I had decided to stop traveling on the road with them. I knew if I found a place to settle down, they could stop by from time to time and have a homey place to rest their heads. Since my father died almost a year ago and John died only a few months ago, I really wanted to have a place that felt like a home. Beacause now, the Winchesters were all the family I had left. I'm only seventeen but Dean is a year older and he knows his way around fake ID's. I was able to get myself a loan for the house. So after working all week to help pay back the loan to the bank, I need my Saturdays to do nothing. Although, I was really missing my boys today. Especially my boyfriend.

My phone rang. I picked it up without looking at the caller ID. It was Dean; he has his own special ringtone.

“Hey!” I said, probably a little too excited. He chuckled at my enthusiasm.

“Hey sweetheart! Glad to hear you’re in a good mood. Do you have any plans for today?” he asked.

“Nope, I’m totally free.” I said as sipped on my drink.

“Awesome, because I wanted to spend the day with you.”

“Really?! Are you close or do you need me to drive to where you are?"

“I’m almost at your place. Let's go out for a little bit then maybe can hang out there after. Sam is gonna hang back at your place and read up on some serial killer trivia or something. If that's okay" I could hear Sam protest in the background saying something about school work. Dean shushed him, "Quiet, I'm on the phone." I laughed at their antics.

"Okay, sounds good. How far away are you?" I asked while looking down at my oversized sweatpants and ripped shirt.

"We're about fifteen minutes away so, you’re gonna have to shut off the TV and get dressed.”

“How did you know?” I giggled. “You know me too well”

He laughed too.

“Alright, we're almost there, so get ready.”

“Ok, I’m gettiin” I said as I turned off the TV and got up.

“See you soon” he said. I smiled,

“Can't wait!” and we hung up.

I ran up stairs, took the quickest shower and got dressed.

As soon as I finished my simple make-up routine, I heard the doorbell.

I grabbed my purse and went to the door.

“Hey” I said as I opened the door to see Sam towering over me. I leaned in to give him a hug. Even though he’s a couple of years younger than me, it seems like he is a couple of feet taller than me.

"Hi, Y/n. It's good to see you. Dean's been driving me crazy talking all the time about how much he's been missing you."

I chuckled, "I know how he feels."

Sam smiled, "So, you're sure it's okay that I stay here while you guys are out?" Sam questioned. He looked like he was prepared for me to say that I wasn't okay with it.

I gently punched Sam in the shoulder. "Of course it is ya dork! Mi casa es su casa. I haven't touched your room since the last time you came through here. That's your room dude. If you’re gonna be lame and you really aren’t going to come hang out with us then please help yourself to whatever you need; food, washer/dryer, whatever. Just don't touch my collection." I smiled as I stepped aside to let him slide passed me into the house. I have been collecting bottlecaps from everywhere I went with the boys. It was a simple way to keep my mind off of all the guts and murder.

It's surprisingly easy to find unique bottlecaps, if you know how to look. Sometimes, one of the boys will bring me back one if they find one that is rare.

"Well, how would I add this one to the pile then?" He said with his signature smile as he reached into his pocket to show me a new one he'd found.

"No way!" I said way too excited. He held it high above my head so I wouldn't be able to reach it. I put my hands on my hips and scrunched my face. That only made him laugh more. Before I could respond, I heard the impala beep.

"Sam stop being a bitch!" Dean yelled out as he must have been watching our interaction.

"Shut up, jerk!" He yelled back as he lowered his arm and brought the bottle cap down but quickly moved his hand behind his back so I still couldn't see it.

"Now that he's tried to ruin my fun, I won't let you see it until you come back."

I sighed, "Uh, fine. But don't mess with the rest of the caps!" I commanded.

"I wouldn't dare" he said with a sly smile and slammed the door in my face.

I gasped and then I heard him chuckle from inside the house. "Have fun!" Sam yelled as his voice trailed off while he walked further into the house.

I turned around and made my way over to the impala. Dean hopped out as he saw me coming and ran over to the passenger side door.

“You look beautiful, as always.” He said and pulled me in for a hug and gave me a quick kiss.

“Thank you.” I smiled at him. I wasn't wearing anything super nice. Just my skinny jeans and my favorite Guns n Roses t-shirt.

He held my hand as he helped me into the car. He shut the door for me and he hopped in to drive us to go play mini-golf.

We have played one round that took the amount of time as three rounds. We kept trying to throw the other one off when they went to swing. I would yell just as he went to hit the ball. Dean would try to tickle me. Eventually, we had to get more creative to try and throw each other off. We were both very competitive and wanted to be the winner so we'd do anything to beat the other.

I knew exactly what I had to do if I was going to win. I was going to have to play dirty.

I stood further away from the start of this hole so Dean would have to look at me as he swung. I reached up making sure his eyes were on me and took out my hairband letting my y/h/c hair fall gently and seductively unto my shoulders. I then reached behind me to pull my t-shirt as tight as I could and lift it over my belly-button to show him some skin. I used my hair band to tie back the shirt so it would stay like that. His eyes were still glued to me, watching my every move. I gave him an innocent smile and said, "What are you waiting for, aren't you gonna take your turn?" he cleared his throat and looked away from me down to the golf ball that laid waiting for him to hit it. "Uh, ye-yeah. I j-just um. Sorry. I'll do it now." he stuttered as he collected himself to try and hit the ball.

I smiled to myself knowing I had caught him off guard. He went to hit the ball and hit it way too hard. It bounced out of the green and over the sidewalk into another patch of green. Luckily, no one was playing that hole. I chuckled, "Wow, Dean. I know each hole gets a little harder to play but that was a little over-kill, don't you think?" I teased.

His eyes trailed over my body before he responded. "I'll go get it." he said as he walked away.

"No redo's. That counts as your first stroke!" I yelled after him. He seemed to pause for a second but without a word he continued over to retrieve the ball.

On his way back I noticed he had a small smile on his face. He didn't look up at me though. This can't be good. I think he’s figured out that I was trying to throw him off.

He swung at his ball again and hit it with much more control and it ended up right next to the hole. He walked passed me to go finish his turn. As he walked by me with that smug smile on his face, all he said was, "Two." he was counting his strokes. Yup, he figured out my trick.

He finished that hole in three strokes. Now it was my turn to start the next whole. It was the last hole. The most important one.

I placed my ball down at the beginning of the green. There was a steep hill that you had to hit it over. If you somehow got a hole in one, you'd win a free game. I was determined to get it in one shot. Dean still had the smile on his face, I knew it couldn't be a good thing but I mustered up all my strength and will power to ignore anything he was planning to do. I steadied my breath and made my upswing. Just as I began to swing the club down Dean spoke up, "I love you." he said confidently. I couldn't believe what I'd heard. My club came down and swung right over the top of the ball hitting nothing but air. I turned around as the swing of the club came back down and looked wide at Dean. "What?" I said thinking maybe I had heard him wrong.

He smiled again, all teasing leaving his face and just revealing his happy smile. The one that is the most rare. He's got a million different smiles but his actually happy smile, I've only seen a handful of times.

He made his way over to me and placed his hands on my hips. His thumbs rubbed against my exposed sides.

"I said, I love you Y/n" he leaned down and his lips met my shocked ones. I took me a few seconds to catch up to him but my lips began to move with his. It was the most passionate kiss we'd ever shared. I couldn't believe he had actually said those words. I never thought I'd hear them from him, even though he knew I loved him and I knew he loved me but we'd never actually said the words before.

We finally broke apart. His hands had made their way up to my neck. "I love you too, Dean." I said as I pecked his lips again. We pulled away for a second and he wrapped his arms around me and held me for a moment. I felt him lean over and put his mouth right next to me ear. His breath was warm and made my whole body tingle. "Now that we've established that. It's your turn to try again and that counts as one stroke." my jaw dropped. He said he loved me to purposefully throw me off. We were neck and neck the whole game; just a point or two difference. He wanted to win so badly that he played the dirtiest card he had. His sly smile spread wide over his face as he stepped back to let me take another turn. I had so many emotions running through me that I didn't know what to do. His smile was cemented on his face. He was so proud of himself. I tried my best to shake it off and focus. I glanced back at him before I went to swing. It made him chuckle. I swung and hit the ball. It went up the hill and missed the hole. It rolled down but went into the secondary hole that collects the balls at the end of the game. I growled and turned back to look at Dean. He looked so pleased with the outcome. He walked past me to take his turn. I had to think up something quick to throw him off. He was about the hit the ball when I burst out the first thing that came to my mind, "I'm actually in love with, Sammy!" I yelled trying anything to stop him. He hit the ball anyway and we both watched as it went right into the hole. As the hole in one alarm went off he cheered, "It's in the hole!" He turned around and looked at me triumphantly. I pursed my lips together, unhappy with the result. That only egged him on more. Then my failed distraction finally registered to him. "Wait, what? Did you just say you're in love with Sammy?" he questioned.

"Yeah, I was trying to throw you off. It obviously didn't work." I said defeated.

He let you a loud laugh.

"Nice, my girlfriend thinks I'd believe she'd go for my scrawny ass brother over me. I mean, look at me, I'm a stud." He said posing with his arms flexed. I just rolled my eyes and walked over to the hut to return my golf club. "Somebody's a sore loser." I heard Dean yell after me.

"Suck it, Winchester." I yelled as I made my way back over to the Impala. He was taking his sweet time making his way back over to the car. He would stop every few steps and flex an arm or rub his hand through his hair and pose with his free game ticket. He was being ridiculous and definitely a sore winner.

He finally made it to the car and stopped right in front of me. I waited for him leaning on the passenger door. He had the keys so I had to wait for him to unlock it. He leaned over me letting his hips press against mine, pinning me to the car. "Is somebody in need of a hug." He said mocking. "No." was my only response. I went to cross my arms in front of my chest trying to create a barrier between his body and mine but just as my arms moved together he grabbed my wrist and pushed them over my head against the car. "Really?" was all I could say in response. I knew it was no use fighting to get out of his grasp. He was infinitely stronger than me. "Yes, really. I think someone may need a lesson in manners." He said as he crashed his lips onto mine. I was only joking about how hurt I was and I knew that he knew I was joking too, but I liked where this was headed. His hips touching mine, his hands pinning my wrists and our lips dancing together, it was heaven to me. He pulled away, we both needed some air in our lungs. His hands fell to my cheeks and mine rested on his shoulders. We looked into each others eyes for a moment. I could see some gold specks bouncing off the light hitting his green eyes. He smiled at me and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. "Come on loser, let me take you home." He said as he stepped back to let me off of the car. My body missed his immediately but my head hated his comment. "Whatever, lets just go." I said as I hopped in and he made his way back to his side of the car. We pulled out of the parking lot and he reached over to grab my hand. He held it the rest of the way back to my house.

Part 3

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #imagine #smut #fluff #angst #teen #pregnancy