bringing them back to the scene of the crime

Invisible, Chapter Six

Summary: Cursed as a child, you have lived your entire life invisible and alone. When deaths start happening in your town, the Winchesters come rolling in to investigate. What will happen when Dean is the first one who has been able to see you since you were a kid? Will Sam believe that you’re real? Will Dean believe you when you tell him you haven’t killed anyone? And why, after all of this time, is Dean Winchester the only one who can see you?

Invisible Masterlist - Previous Chapter

word count: ~1550

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Gibbs & Meadows

This was requested by @sealscreech! I hope you all enjoy this! <3 <3

Word Count: 232

Warnings: comfort

(gif belongs to of-badges-and-guns)

It wasn’t often that the stress of your job got to you.  This was one of the first times in years where you felt like you couldn’t handle your job.  Not only did it bring back memories of the worst case you had ever worked, it appeared to be almost the same situation as your first case.  Your stress did not go unnoticed by Gibbs.

There were a few wildflowers to his side that caught his eye.  He knew how much you liked wildflowers.  He plucked a few of them and made his way towards you.  The Marine lead you away from the crime scene, his hand resting in the middle of your back.

Gibbs handed you the flowers, his icy blue eyes looking into yours for a brief second.  “I know this is hard for you [Y/N], but you can do this,” Gibbs assured you.  “You’re a tough woman.”   The agent leaned forward, pressing a kiss to you forehead.

When you wrapped your arms around him, he returned the embrace.  “Gibbs what if this is a copycat,” you wondered.

“Shh,” Gibbs soothed, rubbing your back.  “We’ll do what we always do.”

“Catch the bad guy,” you mumbled, taking a step back from Gibbs.  You looked back at the crime scene that was a few meters from where you stood.

You’ve always hated meadows, but at least you had Gibbs there.


Tag List: @saranasai@mija-novella@trashforwinchesters@ivvitm1109@emilyymichelle@lapsissolaregina@girl-next-door-writes@flufy07@gabriels-trix@becauseflife@the-latina-trickster@moose-on-the-l00se@anamademedoit@theridiculouspanda@captain-amelia-bradley@holding-on-to-francis@massivelyunsteadyposter@haeminhee@lizbeth-loves-bobear@21-wolves@rayleyanns@silverwingedfox@myplaceofthingsilove@jez-zolnierz@pocketcow@mogaruke@mycuddlycorner

Sparks and Flames

Pairing: Linstead

Timeline: Before 2.11

Genre: Fluff

A/N: We could all use a little fluff in our lives right now, so I wrote this kind of AU piece! This is the first thing I have ever written, so please be kind, but I do hope you enjoy it! Reviews are always welcome!!

@halsteadpd thank you for helping me with this & @halsteadandlindsay thank you for being the reason I started writing in the first place!! 

They had both convinced themselves they were not on a date.

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Five Reasons to Say “I Love You” (Chapter III)

Originally posted by fandomediiits

Reason: They Are Always By Your Side

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader, feat. Tony Stark

Warning: Cursing

Summary: Peter and Y/n are best friends and have been ever since they were in kindergarten. Due to their close friendship, Peter has never said how he loved Y/n since they were children. But, as Y/n and Peter get older and Peter starts to have stronger feelings for Y/n, he can’t keep the words on the tip of his tongue.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: This is the third part of my new Peter Parker series. There’s three more coming soon.

Masterlist Request a Prompt


Peter was worried. He was worried about whether or not his hand was sweating as it sat in Y/n’s. He was worried about whether or not she truly wanted her perfectly manicured nails and soft hands tangled in his calloused and scarred fingers. He was especially worried on whether or not he had crossed a line by bringing Y/n with him to meet with Tony Stark, but he didn’t want to keep going on with his superhero business without Y/n involved in it.

Y/n had only taken Peter’s hand out of habit, or at least, that was what he had told himself. Since they were children, Y/n would intertwine her fingers with Peter’s when they took the train or walked the crowded sidewalks of the city streets in fear that Y/n would be separated from Peter or lost in the seas of people. Y/n had never let it be known to Peter, but she was never in her little life scared of being lost, she just wanted nothing more than to innocently hold Peter’s hand.

“Good to see you again, kid.” Tony’s voice removed both Peter and Y/n from their own separate thoughts. “I see you’ve brought a friend.”

It was then that Y/n removed her hand from Peter’s and allowed it to drop to her side and left Peter to feel and odd emptiness in his chest and hand.

“H-hello, Mr. Stark. This is my friend, Y/n.” Peter replied and motioned toward Y/n.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, smiled and shook hands with Tony. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. Peter’s told me a lot about what you’ve done for him.”

“It’s a pleasure, Y/n. I’ve heard about you as well. When we worked on the spider suit, the kid wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“Oh, really?” Y/n asked with a light laugh. “I hope it was all good.”

Peter could feel his cheeks heat up as Y/n’s eyes glanced over his form.  “Mr. Stark, I came to get some repairs on my suit and webshooters.”

Y/n’s laugh once again rang soft and sweet in Peter’s ears as he figured out that she had seen through his ruse. She was clever and smart, sometimes too much for her own good, but Peter had admired the way she was. She was, in all cheesy romantic reality, everything Peter had ever wanted.

“Well, then we will get that fixed. You and Y/n can help me so you may learn how to fix this on your own.” Tony replied. “You learn work in the gray area and you learn to do your own fixing. Deal?”

Peter nodded. “Deal.”

Peter watched in silence as Y/n and Tony conversed. He could feel himself memorizing the way she laughed when Tony told her something she found hilarious and he was not surprised to see Tony leaning in close to hear what Y/n had to say. Most people would think that Tony was hard of hearing because he had to lean in to hear Y/n, but Peter knew better. He knew it was one of the many tricks Y/n had to make people like her because the close proximity she held people in was one of the oldest tricks in the book.

Y/n was a special girl, even Tony saw it. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was that made her special, what made her stand out from the rest. She didn’t have powers, or at least, he didn’t think she did and she was most definitely not special because of the crush Peter had on her that didn’t seem to weigh her down as it would with most girls who seemed to know of those kinds of things. No, that wasn’t it. The young girl walked on air, spoke in a soft and crisp voice that Tony found was something you wanted to hear, not just because she always had something important to say, but that her voice sounded like the innocence of a girl and the strength of a woman.

As they walked into the lab, Tony along with Peter watched as the lines of Y/n’s face contorted into a look of happiness to a look of curiosity and wonder.

“This place is amazing, Tony.” Y/n said breathlessly. “It’s a marvel.”

Tony chuckled. “Why thank you, Y/n. You can have a look around if you want.” He said proudly, as if the approval of a teenager was all he’s ever wanted.

Peter was surprised about the causal nature of Y/n and Tony’s relationship due to the fact that Peter and Tony were not that casual with one another. He was also surprised at the hold Y/n seemed to hold on Tony in the short time they had met.

But then again, maybe that was what was so special about her, her ability to create relationships in such little time and maintain a sense of respect.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, Peter! Tony said he’d start on fixing your stuff while we take a look around.” Y/n said and bumped shoulders with Peter before she slipped her hand into his.

Peter’s eyes trailed from around the lab to his and Y/n’s hands before he looked up at Y/n, who was already starting to drag him along. Peter felt a laugh escaped from his lips as he watched Y/n look around while he attempted to not trip over his own feet.

“Bug, slow down, you’re gonna trip me!” Peter laughed.

Y/n stopped and looked back at Peter with a shy smile. “Sorry, Petey. I’m just really excited. Tony said he might let me hang around here sometime. We discussed the makeup of his suit and he thinks I bring good ideas to the table.”

Peter rose a brow as he refrained from allowing his jaw to drop. “Really? That’s amazing, bug! Maybe one day we’ll work alongside each other.”

“Or maybe one day you’ll get all the glory and I’ll be doing all the work behind the scenes.” Y/n joked, referring to the ongoing joke between them of how all Peter does is go out and fight crime while Y/n worked on helping him train and get him patched up.

Peter rolled his eyes in a playful manner. “Oh, shut up.”

Y/n shrugged with a smile and a laugh. She turned on her heel, her hair swinging over her shoulder in a way that framed her face and made her look more charming that Peter could have ever imagined. She was more beautiful than the way she looked on her blind date or homecoming and her cousin’s wedding combined. It was the mix between her intelligence, wonder and natural beauty that bewitched Peter in that moment where he watched her work the room.

“God, I love-” Peter paused for a second, as if his use of the word “love” never happened. “I love how excited you are about all this.”

Abandoned Chapter 3

INTRO | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 |


The bright headlights shined through the thin curtains, revealing two black vans, parked in front of the orphanages front building. Peeking through the curtains once more, and immediately recognizing the cars. Scanning the strange man coming out of it. Black suit, gold chain and an expensive Rolex to top it all off. Turning her head away, thinking about her next move, it had to be fast and clever.

Crouching on the floor, avoiding to be seen, she reached over for the phone. Her fingers shaking frantically as she dialed,

“He’s here. Burn the documents.” Breathing out her last words as the door slammed open. Black figures making their way through the office. Quickly ending the call, and deleting the number she just called, before coming, face to face with him.

“Kwang Dae” closing her eyes, as his face came closer to her’s. His breathing rasping against her face.

“I’m glad you still remember me after all these years. Not every day you meet a murderer coming in. Oh, wait… Now that I think about it, you have, the day I murdered Hanbin’s mother.” His evil grin unraveling under his lips. Flashing his infamous joker smile, before dragging her away, he wanted information and he was going to get it.

Dragging her down the dark hall, past locked rooms, upon reaching the kitchen. Kicking and pleading for him to let her go. Only agitating him more, causing him to roughly set her on the chair, propping himself against the kitchen table, pulling his gun out on her.

“Don’t give me that bullshit…. I know it’s here. I know it.” Sarcastically chuckling, while scratching his head with his gun, before turning it back on her. Her voice becoming sterner with each response. She was dead already, but she was going to protect Hanbin’s identity at any cost.

“Hanbin was never in our care. And you know that. She lied to you. Everything she told you was a lie.” Eyes watering as she talked. Bringing her back to the moment, of meeting Hanbin’s mother, the officer from Seoul, and the sweet little boy, who would be orphaned hours later.

“Fine.” Putting his gun down, before walking out of her view, and into the shadows. Wiping her tears away, looking once more around, before noticing him re-emerge from the shadows,

“On second thought. Say hi to her for me.” Bringing the gun back up to her, before pulling the trigger.


Gunshots echoed through the house, making everyone drop to the floor. Junhoe let one more shot out before throwing Taehyuns body out and into view.

“Parties over! If this is your buddy. Pick him up on your way out.” his deminer becoming colder as people didn’t move.

“Did I fuckin stutter. Get the hell out.” Yelling at the top of his lungs, before waving his gun once more, pointing it at everyone in the room, letting a chuckle slip under his chapped lips.

“Put the gun down Junhoe.” Jinhwan picking himself off the sofa, cautiously walking himself over to Junhoe, with his hands up in the air. All he could do was chuckle at Jinhwans sudden bravery, turning the gun to him.

“Sit your midget ass down.” Moving himself closer towards Jinhwan. Noticing the fear written on his face. Swallowing his salvia back, eyes closed, pleading one last time to Junhoe.

“Put it down. Everybody is leaving.” Opening his eyes, looking over his shoulder, noticing Chanwoo with Jai in his arms.

“What did you do?” Eyes gazing back at Junhoe, reading his confused look. Before realizing Taehyuns stiff body on the floor. Before Jinhwan could say anymore, Hanbin comes into view, wobbling his way over, the stench of alcohol on his clothes, with his arm wrapped around a hooker.

“Look what you did, everybody is gone.” Pointing around the room, propping himself on the girl next to him.

“You’re a dipshit Hanbin.” Junhoe smirks before kicking Hanbin onto the floor. Watching as Hanbin tried to recover from his kick. Turning his back on him, tucking the gun behind him.

“Give me Jai.” Junhoes fingers sliding under her back, taking her body out of Chanwoo’s grip. Pushing back her bangs, revealing her pale like completion. Glancing once more at Chanwoo, before walking himself out.

“Hyung! Where are you going?” Trailing behind Junhoe, before stopping.

“Stay here Chanwoo. I’ll call you when I get back. Meanwhile, gather up the girls. I need to sell one.” Repositioning himself before walking out of Chanwoo’s view.

Glancing back at Hanbin who was still on the floor. Jinhwan recovering from a faint heart attack. Bobby knocked out on the countertop, half naked. Donghyuk skinny dipping with a girl in the pool. Yunhyeong passing through his view, a towel wrapped around his waist. Sighing to himself, kneeling down to pick up the bits of the trash scattered through the room.

“Ahhh. Fuck this, Junhoe wait!” Throwing the trash back onto the floor, standing himself up, sprinting after him.

After running as fast as he could, he finally caught up Junhoe. Out of breath, as the two walked through the pure silence of the city. Passing little shops, people eyeballing at the girl in Junhoe’s arms. Whispering growing louder, as the people started to hide away, avoiding to get involved.

“What am I doing Chanwoo.” Fixing his grip on Jai’s fragile body. His eyes still looking ahead, avoiding any eye contact with Chanwoo.

“Taking Jai to the doctor, I assume.” Glancing up at Junhoe, while kicking away at the tiny rocks on the pavement.

“No not that. I mean what I am doing helping another person. This isn’t me. I’m the villain, not the hero.” Gazing down at Jai, letting a smile out, be stopping in his tracks to look over at Chanwoo.

Silence, as the cold winter breeze hit them. Both standing awkwardly in the middle of the alley, looking ahead, not a single word being said, just the sound of breathing could be heard, before Junhoe admits under his breath about his true feelings.

“I think I like Jai.” Dropping his eyes down, noticing the shocked face Chanwoo gave him. Suddenly glancing down at Jai, her eyes half open, eyesight disoriented as she looked up. Then closing them, as slipped back into unconsciousness.

The two continued their walk down the allies of Seoul, before stopping in front of a red building.

“Where are we?” Giving Junhoe a confused look.

“Doesn’t matter. Now prop open the door open for me, would you.” Nudging Chanwoo’s body towards the door.

Opening the door for him, the two disappearing into the red building. Taking the elevator to the 3rd floor, knocking on the chipped black door. There stood a nurse, with a mask on, inviting them in. Chanwoo was hesitant to go in any further.

“Come on Chanwoo.” Junhoe nudges him, which eventually Chanwoo gives in.


Her lifeless body fell harshly on the floor. The bullet lodged in her forehead. Kneeling down, to close her eyes, then standing himself up. Scanning every inch of the house, scattering paperwork on the floor. Enraged at not finding a single document regarding Hanbin.

Seating himself down in the women’s office. Feet reclined on top of the desk, hands gripping onto the chair.

“Fuck.” Slamming his gun down on the desk. Noticing one of his henchmen walks into view,

“Sir. The police are on their way here.”

“Burn the house down.” Standing himself up, walking over to him. Giving him a light pat on his shoulders before walking out of the place.

Seconds later, watching as the house rose up in flames. Content at the sight, he gets sets himself back into the car. Pulling out the necklace from before. Twirling it around in his hands, smiling to himself before placing his hands on his driver.

“Take me back to the warehouse. It’s been a long day. What do you say?”

“Sounds good sir.” Holding his lips back, avoiding to ask about the necklace. Kwang Dae recognized the guilt in his face. Leaning himself closer to his driver, scanning him head to toe.

“Your eyeballing the necklace?” Calmly saying, while shoving the necklace in his view.

“No sir. Not at all.” Stuttering through his words, avoiding eye contact with the necklace.

“Don’t be scared, I wouldn’t kill you for your curiosity. This is the last gift Hanbin’s dad gave her. Before that stupid bitch ratted me out. She told the police everything. The day the police picked me up, they just walked into another crime scene. Adding more to my light sentence.”

“Where is Hanbin’s father sir? Did you finish him off?” Avoiding eye contact with Kwang Dae.

“I just never got around to finding his father. But this necklace will bring them both to me.” Patting his driver on the back harshly as he seated himself again.

“Let’s go to the warehouse now.” Pointing his fingers straight, signaling for him to leave already.


Creeping slowly out of the shower, into the main room, looking at he Chanwoo picking bits of trash before sprinting off. Making his way through all the mess on the floor, up the stairs and intohis room. Throwing the towel off his nude body, making his way over to the outfit laid out on his bed. Changing into it quickly, rushing himself out of the room. As he walked out of his room, Hanbin was coming up the stairs with his hooker.

“Yah! Yunhyeong where are you going?” Tilting his head up, leaning himself against the hooker.

“Nowhere. Just needed to change. Yeah. You. Know Haha” nervously saying, avoiding to look at Hanbin.

“Let me guess? You’re going to see someone special?” Smiling through all his pain, he experienced in his stomach.

“No who said that haha.” Sweat rolling down his forehead, his famous trademark when he lied.

“Its ok I understand.” Getting closer to Yunhyeong, slipping two hundred dollars into his pocket.

“Have fun at the strip club. You deserve it. Now don’t spend it all you hear.” Punching Yunhyeong’s arm playfully, before walking himself out of his view.

Wiping away the sweat off his forehead. Running down the stairs and out the door. His feet leading him down allies, bus stops, and crowds of people. Taking a break to catch his breath, looking around him once more, before taking off again. Taking a sharp turn, a short cut through the alley, looking up at the windows above, stopping once he found the window he was looking for.

Noticing the light turned off in the room. He leaned himself on the wall, grasping for air after. Hands on his waist, looking around before noticing a girl walking towards him. She had grown up so beautifully, smiling at her simple appearance, before running up to her. Holding her tight in his hug, tears falling from each others eyes.

“I missed you so much big brother.” Tears falling onto his sweater, leaving water marks on it. Glancing down at her, wiping away the tears away from her face, smiling at her ugly crying face.

“Don’t wrinkle your face. You look like mom when you do that.” Laughing as he commented on her look. She couldn’t help but laugh, she looked at him, pushing his hair back and hugging him tight once more.

“Mom really misses you, even though she doesn’t want to admit it. Come home soon.” Breaking the hug, looking at him as she talked him. A frown as she analyzed him.

He kept his head bowed down, after hearing that. It made him think about the day, their mother kicking him out, finding about his fast money deal. He remembers his mother’s look, as she wept, disowning him in front of everyone in the neighborhood. No matter how many times he had begged, she would slam the door or slap him across the face, and disown him again.

“I can’t. I no longer belong here.” Wiping away his tears. Head still bowed down, avoiding to look at his sister.

“Please. We can find a way. Just come home Yunhyeong, give up your crazy lifestyle with those gang members.” Tilting his head up, wiping away his tears, his puffy eyes so sincere.

“Here take it.” Handing the two hundred dollars towards her. She shook her head in disapproval. Pushing it back and forth with each other. Before anything could be said, Yunhyeong head a familiar voice yelling, a voice he missed so much. Turning his head to see his mother, she was enraged to find her daughter with a son she disowned.

“Get back in the house. Neighbors are going to talk.” Completely not recognizing the guy, until she recognized Yunhyeong’s face.

“Get out of here Yunhyeong. I will call the police!!!!” Yelling at him. Grabbing his sister’s hand before leaving, slipping the money into her pocket. Nudging her to leave them two alone.

“Mom please.” Rubbing at one puffy eye while trying to talk to his mom.

“No, get out. I have no son. I don’t want a gangster hanging around my daughter. You and you’re dirty lifestyle and money.” Sneering as she talked, enraged by his appearance.

“I won’t come around any more mom. Excuse me.” Walking away from her. Tears rolling down his cheek, as he heard his mother, yelling his name. Picturing his mother after 4 years of not seeing her. Maybe it was time to accept his fate, he didn’t belong anywhere, nobodies son, or brother.

He belonged in that house. Where women flocked to him from every angle. Guns protecting him from his fears. Drugs to numb away the pain. Alcohol to express his true feelings while talking to complete strangers. Unlimited money to spend. But at the end of the day, he belonged to Hanbin, the boys, no longer someone, just someone’s puppet.


Walking themselves, into what seemed like a clinic inside of a spacious apartment. The lady took Jai out of Junhoe’s grip, advising him to stay in the living room. Junhoe tried to trail behind, but was stopped, once the door closed in his face,

“Let me in.” banging his fist on the door, practically breaking it down with every throw. Pleading, hoping the lady on the other side would let him in.

Chanwoo watched as Junhoe’s body and fist slid down from the door. Watching as Junhoe, was becoming soft for someone, practically weeping over a girl he hardly knew. It made him wonder, was Jai, Junhoe’s kryptonite?

Check Please Police AU where everyone except Bitty is a cop.

(This is hella long so it’s under a cut.)

Jack Zimmermann is the son of former Police Commissioner, Bob Zimmermann. Bob is a legend among the police with his cases solved and arrest record numbers. When Jack became a police office, everyone compared him to his father, and it got to be a little too much for him to mentally handle. So, he transfers to Samwell, a small town with a generally low crime rate.

When he arrives, Jack expects to keep to himself and do his job, but his partner, Detective “just call me Shitty” Knight, won’t let Jack isolate himself. The others at the station all welcome Jack into the folds of their little police family. Ransom and Holster are partners and always seem to be doing everything together. Lardo is small, but no one dares to underestimate her. Johnson doesn’t say much, but gives Jack the nod of approval on his second day.

Samwell is very different, but very good for Jack. Not nearly as stressful as when he worked Homicide back in Montreal where everyone expected him to either fail or do great things. No, here, there is very little of that pressure, and for the first time in a long while, Jack feels like he can actually breathe.

One day, they get a call for a Break and Enter at Bittles, a cute, little, corner bakery that looks like it should be run by a cute, retired grandmother. Jack is surprised when he meets the owner, the very attractive and popular Eric Bittle whom the whole town is in love with. He’s already gotten five marriage proposals this year alone. Shitty calls him Bitty when they get there; they appear to be friendly and know each other already.

“Does everyone in this town have a nickname?” Jack asks later on the ride back to the police station.

“Don’t question it, brah. It’s just how it works,” Shitty said smoothly.

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Imagine Clint Barton being gifted with the power to control women with his voice or just a touch (one of those Loki’s being a little shit types of magic). Women follow him around, bake cookies for him, show up naked in his bed, give him everything he wants. Maria Hill orders R & D to make him a sexier uniform. Pepper Potts fills his closet with tight jeans, snug shirts and leather jackets. Jessica Drew asks him to give their relationship another try. Little girls dress up in purple and their mothers pass their phone numbers. 

It gets crazy. He can’t go anywhere without a mob scene. Pictures pop up under the hastag #Hawkeyehottie and it trends worldwide. Even the bad guys aren’t immune; Viper voluntarily turns over HYDRA’s latest tech when Clint asks. 

Only Natasha is immune and, at first, she finds the situation funny. She even uploads some pics she snaps of Clint with bed head before things spiral out of control. Then the crowds get to be too much, and the first fights break out in front of the Tower. Hunting Loki down and changing things become her primary goal. 

Through it all, Phil stays unflappable, handling each new insanity, taking it all in stride. He escorts women out of the Tower, calmly breaks up hair pulling sessions, and even starts sleeping on Clint’s couch in case of midnight visitations. Since Clint is virtually a prisoner in his room, he and Phil eat together, watch TV together, deal with the fallout together. Phil’s there when Thor tells Clint there’s no cure; the gift cannot be given back but it can be controlled. He’s there while Clint submits to all the testing, meets with psychologists and behavioral specialists. He oversees the first trials as Clint is exposed to women again and learns, slowly, to use the magic only when he wants to. He’s part of the discussions on ethics and the morality of controlling others with Professor Xavier and Jean Grey.

Clint doesn’t notice when Phil’s suits got mixed in with his jeans. Neither one knows the last time Phil slept in his apartment. Come Christmas, they each get the other a present and open them under their own tree before they join the others. And Clint has no reason to not kiss Phil back the first time he leans in, after they’d been to a Captain America film festival. 

When Loki shows back up, ready to gloat about ruining Clint’s life, he finds Clint happily making dinner with Phil, puttering in the kitchen and laughing at Phil’s stories of the baby recruits. Seven villains are in jail because Clint talked his way into their organization and used his abilities to bring them down. Clint’s settled, more powerful, and content. It pisses Loki off enough for him to try and zap the two of them with another spell, but just then alarms ring and Thor catches his brother in the act, returning to the scene of the crime just as the Avengers knew he would. Loki is captured and Clint & Phil live happily ever after.

Stay Stay Stay

Originally written for the mtv reblogs in three parts, but combined for easy reading here. 

Inspired by the anon prompt “Oliver and Felicity getting into a really big argument, and Felicity being afraid this means they’re breaking up.” 


“This isn’t something you can just avoid, Oliver. It doesn’t just go away! The fact that we’re even discussing this proves that! How can you possibly think it’s okay to just continue on this road trip and ‘Leave it for when we go home’?” She’s pacing around their small hotel room, phone still in one hand after reading the most recent email Thea had sent, and she swears she’s about to throw it at him if he doesn’t knock this shit off!

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Peter: Kinesis

A/N: This is overdue. Long overdue. I’ve been working on this a while now, trying to get each part of it to work, and now it’s done. Happy New Year everyone. 

Summary: In which Queens gains another hero, and Peter gains something else.

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 4,578


The walls of midtown flew by Peter Parker as he scrambled his way out of the school. From his back pocket he produced his mask, slipping in on over his head as the doors bust open, rattling on their hinges from his strength. He cursed, chucking his backpack into the nearest alley and took off his clothes, the signature red and blue already underneath. Along with his spider-sense wracking through his body, there were the sounds of screams erupting from the blocks that lay ahead.

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EVIDENCE AGAINST THE WEST MEMPHIS THREE: Part 3

During their release campaign and in subsequent media interviews, Damien Echols and his defense team have frequently claimed that there is absolutely no evidence the West Memphis Three - Echols, and his alleged accomplices Jessie Misskelley and Jason Baldwin - brutally murdered three 8 year old boys in the town of West Memphis, AR, in May 1993. This claim has been made so many times it has become an oft repeated fact, but unfortunately nothing could be further from the truth. Here are some interesting facts of the case that you rarely get to hear, as they compromise the innocence campaign: 

FACT: Fibers found on the victims were found to be consistent with fibers from clothes recovered from both the Echols and Baldwin homes. 

Investigators at the crime scene found a tiny amount of green and red fibers on the victims bodies that could not have come from the clothes they were wearing on the day they were murdered, and thus most likely came from their killers through first-hand transfer as they handled their bodies. West Memphis police seized a number of clothing and fabric items from the homes of the three accused, including a shirt belonging to Damien Echols and a bathrobe belonging to Jason Baldwin’s mother. The fiber expert who testified at the trial of Echols and Baldwin claimed the fibers were “microscopically similiar” to the fibers of the shirt and bathrobe, and stressed the fact that while fibers cannot be matched with a sole item of clothing with exactitude, it was “highly likely” that the green fibers and the red fibers originated from the items of clothing submitted as evidence. In 2012 the defense experts claimed the fibers did not match at all, but by that time the fibers had deteriorated and the original examiner had died, making it impossible to say with certainty if they were correct. 

FACT: There is evidence more than one person committed the crime. 

Numerous independent experts have pointed out the fact that overpowering, binding, and assaulting three small but active 8 year olds would be virtually impossible for a single person to do, especially considering the crime scene’s lack of privacy (Robin Hood Hills was right next to the victims neighborhood and a busy highway ran alongside it, and the area was popular with local children and teenagers as a play area) and the general high risk that accompanies the murder of children. All the evidence points to a blitz-style assault, taking the children by surprise,  and a brutal beating that lasted a short amount of time. Two of the victims had defense type wounds to their hands, but these were superficial.  From this we can surmise that the victims were overpowered very quickly and had almost no time to fight back. Furthermore, there is evidence one victim attempted to run away from the original attack area before being caught and assaulted; Michael Moore was discovered 27 feet from the bodies of the other two victims, and compared to them his injuries were minimal. What does this mean? It means that while one or possibly two offenders assaulted the other boys, a third ran after Moore and brought him back to be bound and murdered. This is an extremely important fact to note, as Jessie Misskelley confessed to police that he had helped bring back one victim who tried to escape, before leaving the scene. 

Here are some other interesting facts of the crime that point towards at least two offenders, most likely three - 

1. The victims were restrained in a ‘hogtied’ style, their left wrists bound to their left ankle,  and their right wrist bound to their right ankle. The expert who testified at trial said that three different knots had been used to bind the children, and on one victim the knots on one side were different from the knots on the other side. Different types of knots used point to more than one offender. 

2. Amongst the items submitted as evidence were three large sticks (roughly the length of baseball bats) with rounded edges. The medical examiner testified that the vast majority of the injuries inflicted were made with weapons with rounded edges, and said that sticks recovered from the area were most likely the items used to beat the boys and fracture their skulls. Three different murder weapons suggests strongly three different offenders, as it would make no sense for a single offender to beat the boys individually with different weapons, then leave these items at the crime scene. 

Please tell me what you think :) tbc

“Breaking news” (part 1) - Austin Carlile imagine

Yeah, I’ve updated twice in a week ! :D

I’ve changed it a tiny bit so that Y/N was in high school instead of college, I hope you won’t mind anon! Also Y/C  = your city, Y/F/C = your favorite color and Y/H/C = your hair color ;)

EDIT: you can read the part 2 here!

Warning: violence (shooting)


- Austins POV -

We have made the present, obsolete

What do you want? What do you need?

Well find a way when all hope is gone

Weve seen the fall of the elite

Bury your life, sink your disease

Well end the world when all hope is gone!

The sound of Slipknot blared through the speakers of my car, and Ilaughed as I saw my little sister Y/N singing and headbanging in the car while I waited for the traffic light to turn green. Finally the light turned green and I drove in the direction of my sister’s school. It always amazed me how we were so alike: not only did we look a lot like each other, but we also had the same taste in everything, including music. Slipknot was the soundtrack of every single minute spent in this car.

She was a senior in high school, and because of tours I wasn’t able to spend a lot of time with her. So as soon as I got home from our last tour I told her she was going to spend a whole week with me at my apartment, which meant I also drove her to school in the morning, picked her up in the afternoon, took her to dinner or to the cinema… But basically most of our free time was spent watching Disney movies while eating popcorn on the couch, just like we used to do when we were kids.

We finally reached the parking lot of Y/C High School. Y/N grabbed her bag from the backseat and opened her door.

“Have a good day little sister!” I smiled.

“Thanks, I will!” She replied happily.

She was always so joyful and positive, that’s one of the many things I loved about her. As a big brother, I always felt as if I needed to protect her from everything, but she always told me that I was worrying too much about her. I can’t help it I guess!

I drove off and headed toward the highway. It was already 8:50AM and my band and I had a photo-shoot on the other side of the city just 15 minutes later.

I finally made it just in time for the photo-shoot. I greeted the guys and shook hands with the photographer. A makeup artist prepared us, and finally the session started. For about 2 hours, the photographer took hundreds of pictures, some of them with all the band, some of them were portraits of each one of us… Thankfully the photographer was a nice man so it wasn’t too annoying to do, because trust me some photographers or journalists can be a pain in the ass!

Rock music came from a radio placed in the corner of the room, and nobody was really paying attention to it until the music stopped abruptly.

Breaking news! Shots have been fired at Y/C High School. The police and paramedics just arrived there. 8 students are injured.

My eyes went wide as I heard the announcer break the news. I ran to the chair where my jacket and car keys were, determined to get there as soon as possible.

“What are you doing man?” Aaron asked, surprised.

“My sister is there, I have to make sure she’s okay!” I replied in a hurry.

I didn’t wait for anybody to reply and ran to my car, jumping in the driver sit and driving off quickly. After spending what felt like hours in traffic, I finally reached the school lot. I parked my car on the side of the road and got out, not caring about locking my car or being fined. I ran toward the entrance of the main building, only to be stopped by policemen about twenty meters away from the door.

“You can’t go there sir! We’re still looking for the shooter and we need to evacuate the wounded!” He told me, keeping me behind a yellow barricade-tape.

I started walking back and forth to try and calm down, pulling at my hair and biting my lower lip in the process. I was terrified. Knowing that my little sister was in there and could have been wounded was too much for me.

After a while, paramedics ran out of the building. There were about 6 or 7 of them, and they were carrying 2 people on stretchers. They were joined immediately by some of the policemen that were waiting outside to protect them. I stopped dead in my frenetic track and ran toward the barricade, trying to see if I could see who these people were.

On the second stretcher lay a girl who was probably about my sister’s age. Her body was limp, with her arm falling down from the stretcher, and her chest was covered in blood. But what caught my eyes was the resemblance with Y/N: same Y/F/C shirt, same jeans, same Y/H/C hair… That was her! My sister was hurt!

“Please, please, that’s my sister on the stretcher! She’s wounded, I need to see her!” I screamed, trying to make my way toward the paramedics.

“Sir you need to calm down! I’m sorry but we can’t let you go.” One of them said, holding me back.

“Please let me see her! I need to see her!”

Tears were now falling down my cheeks as I saw the paramedics bringing my sister’s stretcher in an ambulance. One of the policemen gave a questioning look to who seemed to be his boss, asking him silently if he could let me go. The man shook his head no and joined his colleague in preventing me from running toward the ambulance.

“I’m sorry sir, we’re not allowed to let you go past this line. This is a crime scene and we’re still looking for the attacker. You’ll have to meet your sister at the hospital.” He answered calmly, but with a sympathetic expression on his face.

I took a deep breath and left the scene, going back to my car. Once I was sitting on the driver seat, I sighed and rubbed my face with my hands. I gave a look at my own reflection in the rear view mirror: my eyes were bloodshot and I looked pale and tired. My hands were shaking, which didn’t help finding my car key in my pockets and putting it in the ignition.

Finally I started my car and drove toward the hospital. Once again I spent countless minutes stuck in traffic, which didn’t help me calming down at all. After quite a long time I finally made it to the hospital. I found an empty spot in the parking lot, parked my car and ran to the main building. I was met by a young woman at the reception.

“Hello, how can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Y/N Carlile. She’s been injured during a shooting at Y/C High School.” I told her breathlessly.

“I’m sorry but nobody is allowed to see her. She’s been brought here only minutes ago and she’s undergoing surgery right now.” She stated sternly.

“I’m her brother, I need to know how she’s doing! At least somebody tell me what’s going on!” I yelled, exasperated. Everybody seemed not to want to let me see her today.

“I’m sorry, please calm down. Take a sit in the waiting room, a doctor will come and tell you about your sister’s condition.” She excused herself, gesturing toward the waiting room.

I walked slowly toward the room and took a seat silently. After a while, a man in his late fifties entered the room. He was wearing a white smock, glasses and had grey hair. He instantly walked toward me. I got up and he shook my hand.

“Mr. Carlile? I’m Dr. Johnson. I was in the E&R when your sister was brought in.” He introduced himself. “Please let’s go to my office.”

He led me to a small office at the end of a corridor. I took a seat and he sat in front of me, readjusting his glasses.

“She’s been hit by 2 bullets, one in her arm and the one in her thorax. The first one wasn’t too deep and has been removed easily but the second one caused more injuries.” He started.

I shuddered at the thought of what had happened to my sister.

“It punctured her left lung and caused a hemorrhage. She had to undergo surgery to stop the bleeding and remove the bullet. She’s still in the operative room right now. I’ll let you know when you’ll be able to see her.”

I thanked him and came back to the waiting room. Here’s to waiting and worrying for hours again.

I woke up several hours later, a hand gently shaking my shoulder.

“Mr. Carlile? Wake up!” The same doctor woke me up.

It took a few seconds for me to remember where I was and what had happened. Y/N was injured and fighting for her life.

“The surgery is finished, Y/N has been brought back to her room. She’s still unconscious but you’re allowed to see her now.” He smiled.

I followed him through several corridors until we entered the ICU. I was asked to wear a blue smock over my clothes, then a nurse took me to my sister’s room.

What I saw shocked me. My sister seemed so fragile in this big hospital bed. She had a breathing tube going down her throat, several IVs in her arms and was hooked to a heart monitor that was beeping monotonously. I rubbed my face with my hands, swallowing the lump in my throat and inhaling deeply. Shes going to be okay.

I brought the chair that was in a corner of the room closer to her bed and sat. I took her small hand in mine and broke into tears.

“Please Y/N, you have to make it. You have to wake up, I can’t live without you!” I sobbed. “Gosh I’m so sorry, you should have stayed at home today, we’d have watched movies all day and you’d be all right now. I was supposed to protect you, gosh I will never forgive myself for-”

A loud beeping noise cut me off, making me look up toward the heart monitor. Nurses and doctors rushing into the room instantly, one of them asking me to leave the room. That wasnt happening, no it couldnt be possible!

superduperfakename-deactivated2  asked:

Can you give me your headcanon for how Thorin/Bofur works? I want to join the Boffinshield happy place too, but I still can't manage to see it.

oh man OH MAN I can do that! And I totally get the not seeing it, it took me forever to figure out their dynamic (once I did figure it out it CLICKED though and Boffinshield exploded all over the place)

And of course, with them it’s entirely headcanon and how you read Bofur’s character and how he would interact with Thorin and visa versa. Within the movie we just have the moments of “ThorIN WHEre’S Bi LBO!??!?”

In canon Tolkien verse there is the bonus amahhi found that mentioned Bofur being part of Thorin’s honor guard (which is where I got that addition for Mahrana) which is usually what we use to have them interacting more in any canon setting. But anyway, my ideas for those two are as follows

Keep reading

Aries:

Today is a great day to show off! Though you seem to think any day is a good day for that. All of your friends and family are tired of hearing about you, so you should go out and find a random stranger to tell your entire life story to! Don’t worry if they seem like they’re trying to get away from you, they’re actually incredibly interested!

Taurus:

The stars predict that today no one will listen to you. This is something you’re pretty much used to though, so you make the most of it. Any time anyone does something you don’t like, you tell them all about it without any repercussions! Note: Please don’t try this on your boss. They will actually hear you.

Gemini:

Today you feel like your mood is so good, it’s contagious! You feel you need to spread smiles everywhere you go! Gemini, that would be the cough medicine speaking. It’s not your good vibes you’re spreading, it’s just that cold you have. Please go home.

Cancer:

Today a bunch of old friends will show up at your house, wanting to reconnect! You’re so excited that they want to catch up on old times that you completely ignore the fact that you can’t seem to remember any old times with them at all. Or who they are for that matter. But you offer them a space on your couch for the next few weeks anyway because they keep telling you “su casa es mi casa” which you don’t realize isn’t the phrase.

Leo:

Today you decide that you need to reflect back on your life, so you decide to take up scrapbooking. You think this is perfect, because when you’re done reminiscing about what an awesome person you are, you can then make all of your friends and even just acquaintances look at how awesome you are!

Virgo:

Today is a great day to do a little spring cleaning! Though to be honest we think you might want to get a little permission from your landlord to take up the carpet to clean under it. Did you hear us Virgo? We said don’t take up the carpet without per– holy shit is that blood?? Why does it look like a crime scene under your carpet????? Maybe you shouldn’t bring this up with your landlord. Maybe just…put the carpet back and pretend like nothing ever happened.

Libra:

Remember that family member who got body snatched last month? Yeah, well you’ve decided you like them better this way. Like, at least now they don’t remember that you owe them $60. Also, they have better hygiene now. You don’t even seem to mind that they are quickly gaining political power with very antihuman platforms. At least now they don’t always bring store bought deviled eggs to family occasions.

Scorpio:

That goddamn Gemini got you sick. You refuse to take any medicine for it at all. No, instead you are going to take this as an excuse to be as miserable as possible. And if anyone tries to make you go anywhere, you’re going to randomly lick doorhandles and cough onto PIN pads at stores. If you have to be sick, EVERYONE has to be sick. 

Sagittarius:

You are often prone to extremes, so today might be a day to try to bring more balance into your life. We’re not even talking spiritual here, more like you need to not just eat take out chinese food for 3 weeks straight. And no, you can’t just follow it up with three weeks of salad to even it out. That’s not how eating works. Please try to eat, like, at least a vegetable a day. For our sake.

Capricorn:

Please stop remodeling your house. Just because you have the money doesn’t mean you should spend it like this. Did you even need a new kitchen? And when did that extra wing to your house go up?? You’re starting to scare us. Please don’t make this into another Winchester Mansion. Just go play with your goat or something.

Aquarius:

Today is going to be an amazingly productive day! You’re going to get so much done you can’t even believe it. You proceed to plan a number of things to do, then promptly fall asleep. Well, there’s always tomorrow.

Pisces:

You might crave attention today, Pisces, which is pretty weird since you generally are fine keeping to yourself. HAHAHAHAHAH ok sorry that was a bad joke, you usually crave attention, but today you crave POSITIVE attention. Try doing something nice for a friend, or maybe creating something and posting it online. Try not to just act out; while negative attention is still attention, you are less likely to get arrested for posting up a drawing online. Just a thought.

Lost and want to read from the beginning? Read from our archives!

Not feeling up to reading from the beginning? Read our cheat sheet!

2

Video footage of investigators removing the remains of a number of victims of the Houston Mass Murders, carried out by serial killer Dean Corll with the aid of Elmer Wayne Henley.

Most of the victims were young boys, with the youngest victim being 9 years old. They were lured to Corll’s home where they were plied with drugs and alcohol, causing them to pass out before being tied to a plywood board that became known as ‘the torture board’. The victims would be sexually assaulted, beaten, and sadistically tortured while they were strapped to it. Sometimes these assaults would last days, before Corll would kill them either by strangulation or by shooting them.

Dean Corll was killed when Elmer Wayne Henley shot him in self defense - having been drugged and restrained when Corll lost his temper over Henley bringing a girl back to his home. Henley immediately contacted the authorities, confessed to the murder of Corll, and revealed the location of a number of Corll’s victims. Henley would eventually be sentenced to six life terms - being only 17 years old at the time of his arrest.

etonline.com
My Favorite Scene: 'Blacklist' Creator on the Moment the NBC Crime Thriller Became More
Jon Bokenkamp reveals to ET why an insignificant season one moment featuring James Spader turned the tide.

No one loves a great scene more than the person who first dreamed it up: the writer. We’re asking shows’ creators and writers to tell ET all about getting to see their most cherished moment from their series make it from script to screen.

For Jon Bokenkamp, creator of NBC’s The Blacklist, the scene that catapulted the crime thriller into more than a procedural came early in the first season. By the first few episodes, the drama starring James Spader and Megan Boone was already considered a breakout hit.

It was a moment in the 11th episode, titled “The Good Samaritan,” in which Spader’s Raymond “Red” Reddington – one of the FBI’s most wanted fugitives – established himself as an unexpected and charming anti-hero that viewers rooted for. Here, Bokenkamp explains why an insignificant scene turned the tide for The Blacklist.

It’s become known as the “Stroganoff scene” in our writers’ room, or at least that’s how we reference it at times because we have done some things similarly a number of times after that. Raymond Reddington is searching for somebody who has betrayed him. It’s a very simple scene; he’s talking to a corrupt banker because he knows that the banker has information that can give him the name of the person who betrayed him – and he gets the name by the end. It’s basically three pages of Raymond Reddington being Raymond Reddington, hanging out with this family. Things get incredibly tense and dark, but also weirdly funny.

It was the first time we did that in the show and I think those elements came together nicely. It’s one of the reasons it sticks out to me – partly because of the writing, partly because of the way it was directed [and] largely because of the way James [Spader] played it. I wasn’t interested in doing a straight procedural and the sort of B stories and the characters and the overarching mythology of the show is really important to what The Blacklist is. This was an example of where we had fun, in what would have otherwise been a straightforward procedural scene.

There’s a version [of this moment] in a parallel universe in the 2008 movie, Taken. Liam Neeson is asking for something and he ends up shooting that person in the leg. It’s incredibly dark and tense; it’s uncomfortable and very muscular in a dark thriller kind of way. What happens here is the same objective of that scene but instead, when we join in, Reddington’s been flirting with the wife and making up a history with her. You get the sense that Reddington’s been hanging out with this woman having a glass of wine and making up bulls**t stories to entertain himself. Rather than the scene getting bloody, tense and about guns, it’s almost about the opposite. It’s about the wife, who is freaking out like most normal people would and she wants to call a doctor. She’s a bother to Reddington in the moment and he ends up telling her that if she doesn’t stop yammering, he’s going to end up putting her in the closet, which he does.

Reddington is somebody who has joy, is full of life and wants to see the best in people. He wants to have Stroganoff for dinner, have a glass of wine and hear old stories, but he can’t. At the end of the scene, he tells the woman, “So sorry, I’ll have to take a raincheck on the Stroganoff.” Just the idea that, after shooting her husband in the leg, locking her in the closet and threatening to shoot her through the door, that she would still want to have dinner with him – there’s a willful blindness. It showed me that that’s how fun the show can be.

There’s something incredibly endearing about the character. With a bad guy like Reddington, he can do and say things that most people would never do, many of which are horrible, awful things. He murders a lot of people, but it’s justifiable because they’re worse than he is and the world is better off without them. He has his own moral compass.

The idea of a “Stroganoff scene” on The Blacklist is a scene where we’re going to reach the objective of the scene but in a fun, unusual and unpredictable way. That might be him telling a story of how he was diving off an island and was saved by the locals who nursed him back to health or forcing two outlaws behind financial crimes who are out in the middle of the woods camping out and he forces them to sing a campfire song because he likes campfire songs and they have a guitar. It’s him having fun in the world and finding ways to entertain himself, and thus, entertaining us.

There’s a levity that [James] brings that I did not expect. He claims that he always saw a fun element of the character. Now we write to it. James isn’t somebody who improvises a lot. The only thing that was different [from what’s on the page and what he says] is we lifted something, probably for time. He’s very faithful to the script and there aren’t a lot of surprises in the performance to what he has in mind.

James brings a weight and yet, a levity to the scene and he’s also great with language. I can write a long run-on paragraph that I wouldn’t be able to say or that sounds goofy to me. We were on the phone just the other day and I said [in regards to a scene in a recent script], “I don’t know. It’s a whole paragraph…” He said, “Do you want me to try it for you?” He read it to me and I said, “Yup, I get it.” He has a way to find pauses and breaks and smiles and little moments within that I wouldn’t be [able to] – you wouldn’t understand what I was saying – and he somehow makes it articulate and entertaining.

Requested Imagine...

You and Spencer had been married for six months now, and had been together for another year before that. Everyday, waking up next to him was like the first day of being together all over again - it was a dream come true to have the man of your dreams next to you during nearly every moment of every day. You could never get sick of him, and you two even even worked on the same team which was wonderful for both of you - it caused no tension, it was magic how you to were able to work together on everything you were assigned and it caused no strain in your home life either.
Another week, another case. Someting brutal in Detroit, Michigan and the team had flown out to greet the team that had called for them.
“Afternoon, thanks for coming out here” the sheriff greeted as your team made it to the freshest crime scene.
“It’s no problem,” Hotch replied like he always did before proceeding to introduce the team. He one by one pointed at each of your teammates while saying their names. “Here we have SSAs, Morgan, Jareau, Rossi, Dr. Lewis, Reid, and Dr. Reid”
“Two Reids?” the sheriff replied, his voice confused. “I can’t believe that, that’s rare”
“I still can’t believe it either” Reid replied, piping up from behind Hotch.
Your jaw hit the ground, in awe at Spencer’s responce. “You’re adorable” you whispered, a smile bright across your face.
The sheriff smiled at the team before leading them into the crime scene, bringing them all back in to what they were in Detroit to do.

anonymous asked:

I consider myself a feminist but I give very little fucks that Katz was murdered. Yes, she was a woman. Yes, she was a women of colour. She died because she got too close. And if any other character had gotten too close THEY'D HAVE DIED TOO. But are we just angry because it was a WoC that died here? You're watching a show about a serial killer... everyone is inches away from death lbr.

The way we find her is so horrific and such an affront, and Jack’s reaction when he walks in and finds her body… What we do is, she kind of becomes a Body Worlds exhibit where she’s been sliced vertically and laid out in panels like an accordion. It’s like she’s been dismantled, as she would dismantle a crime scene. It’s horrific for everybody because they see somebody who’s just broken down into elements, and it’s heartbreaking, but I felt like it was a great gut-punch for Will and a great launching point that brings Will, actually, closer to Hannibal as a result of his reaction to it.

- bryan fuller gleefully confirming his deliberate fridging of a rare WoC on television, a quote from this interview that was later edited out in a cheap move to do damage control after a huge, so very justified backlash came back to bite them in the ass. even they clearly knew how gross her fridging was but conveniently decided to try to backtrack. 

a) beverly died because she was always destined to die back in season one, but abigail was fridged first, as decided by the male writers. they decided to develop her character SPECIFICALLY so her pre-destined death would hurt more for the audience and the male leads, they made her get “too close” in a super OOC move for her, so they could fridge her for will’s pain (“IT WAS A GREAT GUT-PUNCH FOR WILL”). b) the only people who’ve gotten “too close” are women who’ve been written to be smart and amazing and capable AND THEN BEEN PUNISHED FOR IT BY DYING. because a room of mainly white male writers scripted it so. c) get the hell off my blog and reconsider your stance on your gross brand of “feminism” that clearly doesn’t include WoC.

The Tourists

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this one and how it turned out. But I needed to write it out. The prompt was so sly. 

The Tourists 

Words: 1879

Warnings: Swearing and some injuries and that’s it probably it…hopefully. 

External image

– – – – – – – – – – – – 

The hotel was musty, definitely cramped, but it would do for the next week or so while you were here on the case you were working. The town was smaller than you had expected so you had to be extra careful with your image here. You were just the lost tourist, the curious tourist, the nosy tourist who liked to linger their gaze a few extra seconds on the crime scene before walking away. With small towns like these you had to keep to your business even more than usual and be extra private. You couldn’t afford someone who second-guessed your motives here.

You weren’t exactly sure what you were dealing with just yet but it was definitely going to be easier than your most recent cases. Probably even just as simple as a salt and burn if your luck was finally starting to hit again.

There was apparently a catch to this particular case, however; someone else was in town, doing the same thing you were doing. There were rumors about it, some guys acting strange, and you had a nagging feeling in your gut as to who you were dealing with. Maybe one or two questions about it wouldn’t jeopardize your image, though, so you went for the kill at the diner down the street the night before you planned to stake out the first house.

Upon entering the diner that morning, you could see it was pretty empty except for a few other early risers, each keeping to themselves. They all looked like locals, however, nobody out of the ordinary. A waitress you’d seen around town sauntered up to you, pen and pad in hand as she gave you a friendly smile.

“What are you in town for?” she greeted you, to which you just shrugged.

“Road trip,” you answered vaguely, leaning back in your chair as you thought of possible ways to bring up the topic of the strangers.

“Funny,” the waitress mumbled, looking around her cautiously and lowering her voice. “There are two other guys here in town doing the same thing. You know ‘em?”

There it was, your entry into figuring out who you were dealing with.

“Nope. Have you seen them around?” you asked her curiously, leaning forward in your seat.

“Not me, but everyone else seems to have seen them around. Sheriff says they were caught sneaking into a crime scene. My roommate says they’re super hot, though. Too bad they’re creeps. What can I get for you today?”

So, you were dealing with some amateurs. Figures. You ordered a black coffee and outlined your course of action over a slice of toast, your mind wandering back and forth between your case and the freaky guys that were ruining it. You’d have to drive them out somehow, otherwise you’d have to deal with even more problems. The first step, though, was finding them.

-

The halls of the house were long and a too dark despite the afternoon sun beating hotly outside. Your boots thumped quietly against the hardwood floors of the second story and you were careful to make as little noise as possible. You were positive you’d heard the unmistakable click of a door shutting, which meant that you weren’t alone in the house. Even if it was someone you could take down, you didn’t want to risk losing the title of “curious tourist” and have it be replaced with “creepy tourist.” That never ended well.

You were almost to the stairs, ready to stealthily slip out the back door from where you’d entered, but in a swift movement, one of the doors swung open, and your instincts kicked in. Literally. Your foot kicked the door nearly off its hinges and you didn’t take a second glance at who had been the one to open it. Someone was coming after you, though, and you’d almost made it out when a hand grabbed onto your elbow in an iron grip.

“Fast,” you heard a voice say, “but not fast enough, I’m afraid.”

You turned around warily to face the asshole that had caught up to you, coming face to face with the person who had actually been dubbed “creepy tourist.”

“Dean Winchester,” you blurted out as some sort of greeting, though you’d already known in the back of your mind that it had been them all along, despite their slow unraveling as the two freaks sneaking into crime scenes.

“In the flesh,” he smirked, a shoulder lifting up in a half shrug. You were suddenly hyper aware of his hand still on your arm and he noticed the quick shift in your gaze to the point of contact. In an instant he pulled away, leaving a few inches of space in between the two of you, a gap that felt electric. “And you…you’re the badass.”

You mimicked his smirk now, eyes boring into his as you responded, “In the flesh.”

“Well, badass, this is actually our case and we’ve got it all taken care of. Sorry to say it, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he told you, his eyes scanning over your face. You raised a brow in response, lips twitching up slightly again, a smirk threatening to resurface.

“You don’t have anything taken care of,” you snorted, arms folding across your chest. “I’ve talked to some people and they’re telling me that you suck at acting cool. Let me handle this case.”

“Fat chance,” Dean muttered, but you could see a competitive gleam in his eye. He wasn’t going to leave and neither were you; you could nearly smell the challenge ahead of you, one that you were determined to win.

-

“I thought I told you to get the hell out of here,” you teased, watching as Dean walk into the diner you were frequenting, along with who you assumed to be his brother, Sam.

“Hey, you’re that girl Dean’s been yakking about,” Sam started, but was effectively shut up with an elbow to the ribs.

You patted your table gently, offering a million dollar smile that usually got you where you needed to go these days. “Pop a squat, gents. Let’s talk about what we have in town.”

It looked like all of you were thinking the same thing. A summoned spirit that could easily be taken care of once you got to the source.

“Sam and I are heading to the house tonight,” Dean told you, causing you to raise a brow all over again. Dean seemed to naturally bring that reaction out of you, it seemed. He always had something dumb to say.

“We’ll see who gets there first,” you grinned, tapping your glass of cranberry juice thoughtfully. You were so determined to finish up this case by yourself that you were willing to get a little race out of it. There was no harm in a little workout. From the looks of it, Dean was ready to take you on, and was just as willing as you were to do whatever it took to get credit for the job.

-

It was more malignant than you’d given it credit for; the thing was knocking you this way and that, a strength too inhuman to fight on your own. You’d already taken a few blows to the head and could taste blood on your tongue, cuts and bruises had adorned your body in the short time you’d been back at the house.

For a split second, you’d almost wished Dean and Sam were here with you. It would have made the competition more fun and it would have also meant that maybe someone else would be getting their ass handed to them. Or possibly, it could mean someone could be saving yours.

Somehow, someway, fate had aligned perfectly in that moment, because as if on cue, you felt a hand on your shoulder pulling you to safety.

“I told you we were going to handle it,” Dean greeted you sternly, his hands patting you down to check for any major injuries. Once he deemed you as likely to survive he was up and moving again, hand at his gun.

“Shut up, we need to find the thing being used to summon it, and we need to destroy it. That thing is protecting it,” you explained, pointing to one of the bedrooms at the end of the hall. Then, you muttered, “I totally had it under control. It’s just really strong.”

Dean scoffed and made you stay put, a worried Sam sitting next to you to make sure you didn’t move anywhere. Dean was swallowed into the pending darkness once more, both you and Sam watching attentively. Not even seconds later, Dean was hurdled back to you, back thumping against the wall so hard that you could almost feel the pain as well.

“Holy shit, it’s strong,” Dean coughed and cringed at the pain of his impact against the wall. You didn’t even have time to give him your signature “I told you so” look, because it was time to end this. With the three of you together, it looked almost too easy to do. Lucky for you, it was exactly that: too easy. Sam was the distraction while Dean got knocked around a few more times, with you sneaking towards the bedroom to torch anything that looked like it needed torching.

All three of you were out on the front lawn not even ten minutes later, panting and bruised up and laying out on the grass. Sam was the first to get up. He brushed himself off and told Dean that he’d be walking back to the motel to clear his head, but not before waving goodbye to you and flashing you a friendly smile. Your hands were clasped together on top of your stomach, eyes focused on the sky that was beginning to get lighter with the coming sunrise. You felt Dean’s eyes on you and it made you turn to face him, a playful half-smile lighting up your face.

“Do I look that bad?” you asked him, only half joking. You probably did look like a wreck, which was not that fun to explain. Dean didn’t answer you, though, and his eyes were back on the sky, his hands pulling out clumps of grass.

“Where are you heading to next?” he asked you after a few moments of silence. You pondered the question for a moment, not knowing how to answer it. You never really knew where you were going to be next. It was a tough question to answer because of that.

“Dunno,” you murmured, being as honest as you could. The sun was beginning to rise and it caused you to realize how little sleep you’d been getting. Still, you didn’t want to get up. Being with Dean was really something else. “What about you?”

“There’s a potential up north,” he whispered, voice husky and low. Again, he turned to you, and you did the same. His green eyes were tired but still roguish, that gleam in his eye never going away. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

You thought of Dean and his stupid smirk and his stupid muscle car and his stupid investigation strategies and you just knew.

You’d definitely be seeing each other again. 

—————-

Read Part 2 Here!