sister and her boy

There once was a girl who found herself dead.
She peered over the ledge of heaven
and saw that back on earth
her sister missed her too much,
was way too sad,
so she crossed some paths
that would not have crossed,
took some moments in her hand
shook them up
and spilled them like dice
over the living world.
It worked.
The boy with the guitar collided
with her sister.
“There you go, Len,” she whispered. “The rest is up to you.” 
― Jandy Nelson, The Sky Is Everywhere
All For Show

Valentine’s Day Special #2

Pair : Steve Rogers x Reader

8. You ask your best friend to pretend to be your boyfriend for your sisters couples dinner party. Requested by anon. 

Warning : Language

Word Count : 2,434

Three knocks, that’s all it took before Steve opened the door. He stood there, wearing a tank top and sweats, and his hair damped from sweat, which only meant he just came back from the gym.

“Hey, didn’t expect you here today.” He smiled, waving you in.

“I know, but I needed to talk to you.”

You walked in to his apartment, and plopped down onto his couch. His place was like your second home. You were always there, and if you weren’t, then you two were at your place.

“Beer?” He asked, walking to the kitchen.

“Nah, just water.”

Steve tossed you a water bottle, as he started back toward the living room where you waited.

You took a big swig of the water and felt the cold liquid trickle down your throat. Making you feel somewhat at ease.

“So what did you need to talk to me about?” Steve asked, leaning against the wall across from you.

For some reason you were feeling nervous. Which was strange. Steve was your best friend. You two were so close, you were able to talk to him about anything. He’s seen you in sweats with no makeup on. He’s helped you when you were a drunken mess. And yet, you were somehow nervous about this topic.

“Y/N.” he snapped his fingers, catching your attention. “You okay?”

You slowly nodded, running your hand through your hair. Something you did when you were nervous.

“So my sister is throwing a couples party tomorrow night, and when I RSVP’d a month ago, I was dating Jared-”

“The asshole.” He cut you off.

“Woah, language.” You teased.

He dramatically rolled his eyes and huffed. “Anyways, go on.”

“As I was saying, I told her I’d go and now she’s expecting me to be there.”

“So?” He drawled out.

You swallowed hard, meeting your best friends gaze.

“I was wondering if you can go as my fake boyfriend.” You slightly winced as the words finally fell from your lips.

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12-year-old-boy-inc  asked:

hey, my sister died earlier this week and I really love seeing your lesbian goblins curled up soft and warm. Do you think you could post a couple of pictures of them?

I’m so sorry. here’s a vid with goblin love - hope it helps!

A post shared by Greer Stothers (@pangurandgrim) on Feb 13, 2017 at 9:59am PST

Body Heat

Request: Can you write a Sirius Black x Reader but the reader is James’ sister and Sirius tries to flirt with the reader and James is all like are you flirting with my sister and Sirius fires back or something?
Warning(s): Bar scenes, drinking, swearing, intense hugging(?), major Sirius feels. Honestly, just look at the title.
Note: This is my first Marauders’ imagine, so feedback is appreciated.

⇢  A Sirius Black x Reader work where the reader is James’ younger twin sister.


Most brothers preferred to keep their social life separate from their siblings’. James Potter was no exception. Which is why, when Lily and Marlene urged you to meet the Marauders at the bar with them, you fervently declined.

“A bar? Filled to the brim with drunkards? James would never let me out of his sight,” you argued, moving away as Marlene approached you with a tube of lipstick. “I’m not going.”

She crossed her arms, her lower lip jutting out. “Please, Y/N.” Marlene gestured at your attire: Black hot pants and a long sleeved crop top. “You’re already dressed for it.”

You glared down at your outfit, tugging at the hem of your shorts. “I didn’t know you guys chose clothes for me to wear to a bar.”

“What did you think? Your arse is hanging out for tea with the Minister of Magic?”

Lily gave Marlene a warning look as you flushed a bright red. “Don’t listen to her, Y/N. Your arse is not hanging out.” She paused, giving you a once over. “Well…You’ll blend in, at least.”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “James is going to kill me.”

“So what?” Marlene interjected. “He’s your brother, not your dad. Who cares what he thinks?”

I do; he’s my brother.”

A slight snort came out from Lily. “Marlene is right. You’re your own woman. You shouldn’t let the opinion of that arrogant toerag dictate your decisions.”

You and Marlene exchange glances. It was quite obvious that, over the years, James’ crush was becoming less unrequited. And although it was disturbing at first, you quickly accepted the idea that one of your best friends fancied your brother.

“You mean that arrogant toerag you so happen to like?” you said, raising an eyebrow. 

Lily raised hers back defiantly. “I don’t like James Potter.”

“Yeah, right,” Marlene scoffed. “That’s like saying Y/N doesn’t have the hots Sirius Black.”

You frowned, ignoring the slight amount of heat rising to your cheeks. “But I don’t.”

Now it was Lily and Marlene who gave each other incredulous looks. It was clear neither of them believed your poorly concealed lie. They knew, no matter how much you denied it, that you had developed a crush on Sirius the moment he gave you a bundle of white flowers for Christmas. Just the thought of his hand brushing against your cheek as he tucked a single flower behind your ear made your butterflies come alive.

“Let’s pretend, for now, that we believe you.” Marlene checked the time. “But in this moment, I hear the firewhisky calling my name. Are you coming?”

“Sirius will be there,” Lily sang.

You threw your head back defeat. “Fine.” You paused. “But not because I want to see Sirius.”

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Langst Headcanon

Soo, I’m really new to the fandom but when I discoverd the Langst Tag, I was surprised by how much I needed it! There are soooo many good langst things out here. Well, this is my share:

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5

Void!Stiles x Reader / Stiles x Reader

Requested by Anon


“You know, I was going to kill you.” Stiles’ voice drawled out as he strolled into his room.

“Stiles?” You asked only for the boy to shake his head.

“No, he’s in here… very annoying, I don’t know how you all put up with him for so long.” He stopped in front of you, eyeing you like a curious cat.

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Pink Floyd

Originally posted by riverdaleselite

A/N: I’M BACK… and so soon as well. Enjoy, beautiful (yes, I’m talking to you).

Request:  Hi honey ! <3 I was wondering if you could write an imagine, where Jughead always sees a little girl in Pop’s, she eats ice cream or drink milkshakes after school, and she is really talkatvive, annoys him a lot, but she reminds him so much of Jellybean so he never was mean to her, only in playful way, and when he find out, that she has a cute older sister at his age (reader) he likes her even more ? ^^

Word Count: 1,913

Warnings: None

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What if, when Petunia Dursley found a little boy on her front doorstep, she took him in? Not into the cupboard under the stairs, not into a twisted childhood of tarnished worth and neglect–what if she took him in?

Petunia was jealous, selfish and vicious. We will not pretend she wasn’t. She looked at that boy on her doorstep and thought about her Dudders, barely a month older than this boy. She looked at his eyes and her stomach turned over and over. (Severus Snape saved Harry’s life for his eyes. Let’s have Petunia save it despite them).

Let’s tell a story where Petunia Dursley found a baby boy on her doorstep and hated his eyes–she hated them. She took him in and fed him and changed him and got him his shots, and she hated his eyes up until the day she looked at the boy and saw her nephew, not her sister’s shadow. When Harry was two and Vernon Dursley bought Dudley a toy car and Harry a fast food meal with a toy with parts he could choke on Petunia packed her things and got a divorce.

Harry grew up small and skinny, with knobbly knees and the unruly hair he got from his father. He got cornered behind the dumpsters and in the restrooms, got blood on the jumpers Petunia had found, half-price, at the hand-me-down store. He was still chosen last for sports. But Dudley got blood on his sweaters, too, the ones Petunia had found at the hand-me-down store, half price, because that was all a single mother working two secretary jobs could afford for her two boys, even with Vernon’s grudging child support.

They beat Harry for being small and they laughed at Dudley for being big, and slow, and dumb. Students jeered at him and teachers called Dudley out in class, smirked over his backwards letters.

Harry helped him with his homework, snapped out razored wit in classrooms when bullies decided to make Dudley the butt of anything; Harry cornered Dudley in their tiny cramped kitchen and called him smart, and clever, and ‘better ‘n all those jerks anyway’ on the days Dudley believed it least.

Dudley walked Harry to school and back, to his advanced classes and past the dumpsters, and grinned, big and slow and not dumb at all, at anyone who tried to mess with them.

But was that how Petunia got the news? Her husband complained about owls and staring cats all day long and in the morning Petunia found a little tyke on her doorsep. This was how the wizarding world chose to give the awful news to Lily Potter’s big sister: a letter, tucked in beside a baby boy with her sister’s eyes.

There were no Potters left. Petunia was the one who had to arrange the funeral. She had them both buried in Godric’s Hollow. Lily had chosen her world and Petunia wouldn’t steal her from it, not even in death. The wizarding world had gotten her sister killed; they could stand in that cold little wizard town and mourn by the old stone.

(Petunia would curl up with a big mug of hot tea and a little bit of vodka, when her boys were safely asleep, and toast her sister’s vanished ghost. Her nephew called her ‘Tune’ not 'Tuney,’ and it only broke her heart some days.

Before Harry was even three, she would look at his green eyes tracking a flight of geese or blinking mischieviously back at her and she would not think 'you have your mother’s eyes.’

A wise old man had left a little boy on her doorstep with her sister’s eyes. Petunia raised a young man who had eyes of his very own).

Petunia snapped and burnt the eggs at breakfast. She worked too hard and knew all the neighbors’ worst secrets. Her bedtime stories didn’t quite teach the morals growing boys ought to learn: be suspicious, be wary; someone is probably out to get you. You owe no one your kindness. Knowledge is power and let no one know you have it. If you get can get away with it, then the rule is probably meant for breaking.

Harry grew up loved. Petunia still ran when the letters came. This was her nephew, and this world, this letter, these eyes, had killed her sister. When Hagrid came and knocked down the door of some poor roadside motel, Petunia stood in front of both her boys, shaking. When Hagrid offered Harry a squashed birthday cake with big, kind, clumsy hands, he reminded Harry more than anything of his cousin.

His aunt was still shaking but Harry, eleven years and eight minutes old, decided that any world that had people like his big cousin in it couldn’t be all bad. “I want to go,” Harry told his aunt and he promised to come home.

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au where isak’s sister is getting married and her fiance’s cousin is even and he’s invited,and so isak and even meet at the wedding and the whole day is just them trying to figure out if the other is into them (or guys at all) and even jokes about blowjobs and isak isnt sure if he’s JUST jokin or theres something behind it so isaks like “yeah dicks. haha…?” and is just looking at him with squinty eyes and evens like “dicks…”and someone walks up to them like, “hey boys,what are u talking about” and both of them look up and isak panics like “cake!” but at the same time even calmly says “dicks” and isak almost gets a whiplash turning to look back at him but evens just ??smilinG and the person just chuckles and walks away awkwardly and isaks like “dude wth” and evens like “what? we WERE talking about dicks” and isak screams internally ,”okay too much dicks” and evens like “does it make u uncomfortable” and isaks eyes widen and whisper yells “we are at a wedding” and even just shrugs “there are a lot of di-” and isak interrupts with a hand over his mouth, “aLRIGHT” and they both laugh and isak acts annoyed, rolling his eyes but hes smirking. and even bites his inner cheek while staring at isak and theres no talk about dicks for the rest of the night,but there are more laughs and stories and at one point when everyone else is dancing and theyre sitting at the table, even is feeding isak cake and theres a little icing on the corner of his mouth and even wipes it off with his thumb and as he’s pulling his hand back his middle finger gently runs along isaks jawline and they almost kiss but then people are pulling them up to dance so, it has to wait 

anonymous asked:

Do you like to think Even has siblings? Do you think they get along well with Even and Isak?

you wanna know my biggest secret wishful hc is??? i want even to have twin younger siblings so badly

just one girl, one boy

and i absolutely think the boy loves isak, because isak still presents himself as this really cool, suave guy, and he probably looks up to isak and starts wearing snapbacks because of him and isak has to be really careful he doesn’t introduce him to any dirty versions of his favorite rap songs and “don’t listen to your brother, liking pop does not make you cool” and they spend a lot of time together gaming and they always challenge even to super smash bros and always end up teaming up against him and they always win and even knows they’re gonna do that every time but it’s so much fun to watch him and isak laugh at his hopelessness with nintendo games and then they’ll both make fun of even’s love of classic films and his little brother gets really excited to watch adam sandler movies with isak which even has to sit through because it’s the law, and if he made isak sit through casablanca, he can get through an hour and a half of big daddy with his boyfriend and his brother

and the girl, i think the girl is more wary of isak at first, because even is her big brother, you know, and it took her a while to warm up to sonja altogether and now suddenly there’s a boyfriend, and even is spending so much time with him and taking time away from her, and her and isak don’t really have that much in common to begin with, so at first isak has no idea what to do with her or how to win her over, so isak mostly spends time kinda squirming around her and watching her glare at him from the other end of the couch, AND HONESTLY ??? things don’t look up and for a while isak’s like “EVEN YOUR SISTER HATES ME WHAT DO I DO” and even’s just like “give her time” but then finally there comes a moment where something shifts, and it’s a moment where even’s little sister wants to go bowling with them, but even’s trying to kindly explain to her that only his friends are going bowling, and he can’t look after her while they bowl so it wouldn’t be fair, and this little girl just wants to spend time with even again so isak offers even to look after her at the bowling alley. and even gives him a ‘wtf magnus is gonna kill you’ look, but isak convinces him, and then suddenly they’re all bowling together and magnus is actually a saint with kids, this one in particular, and suddenly there’re the boys bowling with even’s little sister (and letting her win and pretending to suck even with the bumpers up) and then even’s little sister realizes isak isn’t taking her big brother away from her deliberately, and that maybe they can love him very much together, and isak is suddenly okay in her eyes and suddenly it’s like she has two big brothers

and i’m just emotional thinking about even with younger siblings ok

When I was a freshman, my sister was in eighth grade. There was a boy in two of her periods who would ask her out every single day. (Third and seventh period, if I remember correctly.) All day during third and seventh she would repeatedly tell him no. She didn’t beat around the bush, she didn’t lie and say she was taken–she just said no.

One day, in third period, after being rejected several times, he said; “I have a gun in my locker. If you don’t say yes, I am going to shoot you in seventh.”

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anonymous asked:

Hi! Could you please do a scenario/headcannons for the rfa + saeran meeting mcs older sister and she's interested in them. Like she tries flirting blatantly with them while mc is there and mc thinks they're gonna leave her for her sister because she's slimmer, prettier, popular and pretty much every boys dream girls via looks so she's really insecure. My sister constantly puts herself as the superior sibling and whenever I show interest in someone she makes it her mission to have them. Thank you

MC’s sister about to catch these hands lmao

Saeyoung

  • Saeyoung instantly knows what’s going on and constantly tries to make eye contact with MC help him 
  • “MC, your sister knows we’re dating, right?”
  • Whenever MC’s sister tries engaging him in conversation, he just takes out his phone to make it look like he’s busy
  • He’s cringing internally at how hard MC’s sister is trying
  • “Wow! Did I ever tell you how much I LOVE your SIBLING”
  • Probably throws some intense shade 

Yoosung

  • At first, Yoosung thought MC’s sister was just being REALLY nice and friendly
  • Boi when he realized it, he internally screamed and wanted to run out of the room
  • Holds MC’s hand aggressively 
  • Refuses to make eye contact with MC’s sister
  • “I’m part of this group called Men of MONOGAMY.”
  • Doesn’t want to come off as rude since he really wants MC’s family to like him but he has his limits
  • After MC’s sister leaves, Yoosung rushes to MC and assures them that he loves and treasures their relationship.

Zen

  • He has a lot of experience with lovestruck fans so MC’s sister wasn’t any different
  • When he’s sure MC’s sister is looking, Zen shows hella affection to MC and because he usually does that anyway
  • “You’re very handsome in your musicals but you’re even better looking in person!”
  • “Tell me something I don’t know” (shut tf doowwwnn)
  • Zen’s not afraid to be direct with MC’s sister and probably tells her to chill tf out because he only has eyes for MC
  • He sees MC looking upset and makes sure to call them all the cute pet names under the sun

Jahee

  • Tries to pretend she doesn’t know what’s going on and dodges all the attempts
  • Her go to topic is Zen’s musicals
  • Looks at MC from time to time to make sure they’re doing okay
  • Queen of topic avoidance! 
  • “Jaehee, MC can learn a thing or two from you about hard work.”
  • “I believe MC is perfect just the way they are and you should keep your opinions to yourself.” savage af
  • Though Jaehee isn’t confrontational by any means, if MC’s sister says anything out of line, Jaehee’s going to say something about it
  • Makes sure to tell MC how much she loves them and appreciates their friendship

Jumin

  • Jumin is having none of this nonsense ESPECIALLY from MC’s sister
  • Isn’t afraid to be openly rude and ignores all of their sister’s advances
  • The only two women in his life: MC and Elizabeth Third
  • “If you’re going to continue to act like this, you can leave.”
  • Hit em with the stone cold killa Mr.Han!
  • Doesn’t even let MC’s sister touch Elizabeth and says “her fur is too white to be tainted” BURN
  • Probably doesn’t take out the BEST wine (he saves that for MC)
  • If things get too out of hand, he’ll ask for his bodyguards to escort her out.

Saeran

  • Doesn’t even notice, he’s not interested enough in MC’s sister to actively care about whatever she’s saying
  • He just wants to leave the room tbh he’s just there to silently support MC
  • MC’s sister tries to touch him and he makes sure she KNOWS he doesn’t want to be touched
  • Quietly glares
  • “You’re so mysterious!”
  • “I’m not mysterious, I just don’t like you.”
  • Needs a few hours to decompress after all that annoyance and becomes kinda needy for MC’s affection (but he doesn’t admit it)
all i have is love

the love of my life turns 27 today. happy birthday @arrogantbullyingtoerag​. here is the time traveller au i never thought i’d write. you deserve all this and more.


She is a young girl squatting in a field of wheat, the reeds rustling reverently around her as she holds her breath. Her sister will not find her here. The other boys might. Her red hair marks her out as sure as a bloodstain pooling on white snow, and yet she sways with the reeds, her knees buckling, the joints aching. They will not find her here. She can hear them calling, bloodhounds baying in the late afternoon sun, sniffing out her scent, the sprig of honeysuckle she plucked from the hedge down the road clutched tight in her sweaty palm, the sweetness of it dancing around her ears, in her head. Why is her head spinning? She is hiding. The cicadas are bleating all around her, soft ripples of activity jumping from plant to plant. She can hear a bike rolling its wheels past her on the gravel path behind the field. The trees are blustering in the gentle wind that ripples through. The reeds talk. She can hear them coming. She can hear their voices. She wants to be far, far away from here. The scent of honeysuckle is making her head ache. Take me away. They are coming closer. Take me away. She closes her eyes, and disappears.

A musty bookstore in Edinburgh. The shelves talk. The books rustle. Everything is coated in dust and candlelight. Hello? she wants to say. She’s holding her breath. She dare not say a word. The floorboards creak beneath her feet and the deep jade carpets bring up clouds of dust around her ankles, like there are ghosts trying to grab her by the calves, like they are trying to keep her here. Hello? This is like a perverse game of hide and seek. She wanders down the corridor, stepping into rare pools of candlelight, the heavy carpet leading her into the front room. The world is dark outside the windows. She wonders if she will ever leave this place, if she can ever leave. There is a heavy, baroque desk in the middle of the room. The bookshelves seem to climb up into nothing, into the stars. Hello? There is a man behind the desk. He looks like he has just stepped out of the bookshelves. His hair is white as a sheet, whisker-thin, climbing about his face like static. She wants to breathe but her lungs are full of dust. The man smiles at her, showing yellowing teeth, and speaks aloud the word that is stuck inside her head. ‘Hello,’ he tells her. She runs. She screams.

There is a tall manor house she went to once with Petunia and her parents, stuck in the middle of the countryside, so quiet and polished, like a French château. The people were musty but the house was not. She got bored and went wandering from room to room, surveying the display cabinets, chatting with the ghosts. That is where she is now. ‘Hello,’ says the lady of the house. Lily cannot remember her name. ‘We didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.’ The lady rings for tea, and Lily excuses herself. It is exactly like she remembered it, but without the warmth of her sister beside her. The house is whispering to her like it did the last time she was here. She cannot hear what it is saying. She wants to hear what it is saying. So she follows the whispers through the walls, trying to find its source, hear its secrets. She plays sardines with the suits of armour and ends up stuck in the airing cupboard, crying for help. Everything is so dark. She feels like she has been here before. She is in a dream. Everything is in a dream. She tries to reach out and touch the towels, the linens, but there is nothing. There is only darkness.

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It’s A Meta Crisis!

Anon: Hi first off I love your writing so much! I was wondering if you could do supernatural story were the reader is obsessed with the show but one day she wakes up in the bunker and she finds out she’s Sam and Dean’s sister but starts to freak out and her ‘brothers’ thinks she may be sick or tries to calm her down. Sorry if that’s confusing <3

Nonnie, I need to apologize for taking so long to get this out, but I hope this was worth the wait. Like always, please message/leave something in my inbox with comments, questions, criticism, if you want to be tagged, etc. Enjoy everyone!

Summary: You are a Sister!Winchester writer and you wake up inside the Bunker one day.

Warnings: None (yes, I know the gif is a typewriter, but it’s hard to find good gifs!)

Tags: @the-third-winchester-warrior @winchesters-favorite-girl @jensen-jarpad @daughters-and-winsisters @lil-sister-winchester

Originally posted by mr-nikolo

“Aaaand, you’re done.” You say the final words of your newly written story aloud as you type them. You wrap your blanket bundle around you a little tighter and click the post button. “All right. You’re up for the whole world to see.” You sigh in relief, happier than ever to get this story out. School is about to start up, something you’re not looking forward to in any way, shape, or form.

You close your laptop slowly. You wish the magic of the holiday break didn’t have to end. The sleeping in, the bliss of not knowing what to do for a whole day, not being sure whether it was Monday or Friday. It was heaven.

You look at the clock. 11:08. Well, if you are going to get any sort of sleep for the early day tomorrow, now was as good a time as any to count sheep. You turn off your light and flop down on your bed. You don’t bother to change clothes or take off your shoes for that matter; you’d be wearing the same outfit to school the next day anyways, so why bother?

You turn your head to look around the sights of your room. A Supernatural poster from season 8 hangs on the far wall. Nearby that, you can see the different ‘hunting’ accessories you had collected over the years, scattered all around your bedroom. Some came from bygone Halloweens, others as holiday and birthday gifts. The old pocketknife with the Men of Letters symbol you carved into the handle, the iron sculpture you pilfered from a garage sale, your stashes of salt and homemade goofer dust, and the leather bag that you used for a hex bag in cosplay. A stack of plaid and flannel shirts sits piled under the poster. You’re particularly proud of the angel blade you had ‘forged’ from moldable plastic beads.

You smile, dreaming about your made up life of being the Winchester’s sister. It’s easier to gain story inspiration through dreaming fanfiction. Oh, the hunts, the magic, the creatures, the excitement, the strong sense of family. Every little aspect about it. Just, Sam, Dean, and you. Against the whole world…

Even before you wake up, you can sense something’s wrong. It’s cold. Colder than your room. You feel around for your blanket to pull up to your face. You freeze.

They’re not yours.

Your eyes open immediately. You sit up cautiously. Did I just get kidnapped? you wonder silently. A dark ceiling and plain walls meet your tired eyes that clearly do not belong to you.

You’re not in your bedroom anymore.

The walls are windowless, an odd bookshelf in the corner. Your eyes scan along the book titles: Mythology and Lore, The Official Book of Exorcisms, Shapeshifters vs. Skinwalkers Vol. 1. The entirety of the bookcase was covered with more scrolls and books like these.

“Okay…little creepy…” You glance around the room, suddenly feeling a sense of either paranoia or excitement. You’re not sure yet. The floor is made not of your soft brown-beige carpet, but a hard floor instead. The most off-putting thing is the smell; it’s a mix of air freshener and dust. Overall, pretty musty. Definitely not the smell of the scented candle at home.

Sounds are pretty much nonexistent. There was always some noise in your home. A passing car on the outside street, siblings arguing in the kitchen over who’s turn it was to use the toaster for Pop-Tarts, or the neighbor’s cat yowling in terror after being chased up a tree by a bullying squirrel.

You peer over the edge of a plain bed. There’s a large wooden chest with leather straps on it. Sort of a trunk really. You’ve never seen this before, but it’s familiar. You abruptly realize you have seen it before.

In your head.

Pieces of everything about this room fly together. The books on the shelf. The floor. The lack of windows and noise. The smell. Waking up in a different bed. Everything is how you’ve imagined it in your stories. You’ve pictured this room in your mind a thousand times, creating different story upon story in this setting.

This is the room you created for the sister of Sam and Dean Winchester.

“That’s not possible…” Only one way for you to be sure. You rub your hands on the top of this mysterious box. If every other detail is right, then this would prove what was going on. Your eyes look down apprehensively, suddenly feeling a series of grooves on the lid of the trunk. You gasp aloud, trying everything to keep from screaming. A six-pointed star is burned into the top of the chest. A Star of Aquarius, better known to you as the symbol for the Men of Letters.

“Just like I wrote.” Your whole body is trembling. Jury’s still out on whether your shaking is from panic or happiness. You look down at yourself. You’re still in the same outfit you fell asleep in: black and white plaid shirt over a black tank top and ripped blue jeans. Your feet are still in the brown faux leather boots from Shopko. You’d tastefully nicknamed them your ‘Winchester Boots’. Little did you know that you’d actually be wearing them in the freaking Bunker.

You slap yourself. Ow. “Okay. Real. Not dreaming. I’m…in…the Bunker.” You turn around in place in a daze. A frightened happy smile stretches across your face. “I’m in the Bunker. The Bunker.”

You take a look at a wooden nightstand. You pull open the drawer cautiously, fearing what might be inside. Inside sits a knife, exactly like your knife in your bedroom. Your other bedroom The not Supernatural one. All the way down to the Men of Letters symbol carved inside. Which makes sense; you’ve based so much of your stories on yourself. Under that sits a small framed but faded photo. You immediately know who it should be, but your curiosity gets the better of you. You gently pick it up.

It’s happy photo of the little baby you sitting on your Dad’s shoulders. Not John Winchester’s shoulders. Your father. Riiight. The sister I created was adopted, not a Winchester by blood, you remind yourself. You stare intently at the picture, recalling the backstory you’d given your Win!sister.

A father turned into an encantado and the mom was a good friend of John Winchester so she teamed up with him in the hunting life. Y/N, became real close to Sam and Dean, helping out with research in her early years and later learning the trade. Teaming up wasn’t a constant thing, but enough to where the boys considered her their sister. John ended up killing Y/N’s dad when he showed up years later. Sam and Dean meeting up became less and less until it stopped completely when Y/N helped Sam get to Stanford. Contact resumed at Roadhouse with Ellen. Her mom died when the Gates of Hell were opened while Y/N was young. She’s been in Sam and Dean’s care since-

You’re cut off by a sudden, yet soft, knocking on the door. “Hey, Y/N.”

You know that mellow voice all too well. You gasp loudly and just barely manage to hold on the to the picture before it can shatter. Standing in front of the door is the freaking giant of a man Sam Winchester.

Originally posted by brothersinsync

He looks at you with mild concern. “You okay? Didn’t mean to scare you.” He finishes with a natural smile. “You didn’t answer your phone. Dean and I just finished one weird case. You’re gonna laugh your head off at this one.”

You back up into the side of bed, still not sure whether to be terrified or bouncing off the walls. You can barely hold onto your voice.

“S-Sam?”

“Yeah?”

Your eyebrows shoot like rockets towards the ceiling. “Sam??”

“Yeah…that’s me.”

“Sam Winchester??”

Sam steps towards you. “Y/N, is something going on?”

“Sam freaking Winchester. In front of me.” You run your twitchy hands through your hair. “Oh gosh, this is happening. This is real. This-this-i-i-it’s. Holy mother flippin’ Metatron. You’re Sam Winchester.”

Sam smiles unsure with a little laugh in his throat. “Y/N, you’re acting like you’ve never seen me before.”

You start gesturing frantically, as you usually did when you fangirled. “Yes yes yes yes, I know I know I know! This i-i-i-is. This is unbelievable. I mean, you’re right there and I’m right here in this room and-” You abruptly stop and take a look at Sam, who is slowly backing towards the exit. “I’ve gone meta, haven’t I?”

“Uh…Dean!” Sam shouts over his massive shoulder.

“What?”

The distant reply of another voice you know hits your ears and a dorky grin stretches across your face. “Oh man, Dean’s here too. Oh boy. Oooookay…”

“C’mere for a sec!” Sam gives you a funny look. “Just…stay right here for a minute.”

You sit down on the bed, beyond happy to comply. “Okay!” Your energy level is off the charts.

Sam walks out of the room with a slightly faster pace than you expect. You hear his footsteps recede to where they’re undetectable. You get up off the bed, a whole new strength coursing through you; in your sudden excitement to see the Winchesters, you ignored the fact that not only are you in a different place, but you’re different too. Your body is roughly the same height, maybe a little taller. But you’re extremely fit now. You feel muscles bulging out of your arms, calves, and torso. It’s a whole new thing. You’re still around the same size as you were, but more of a body-builder version rather than a light exerciser.

You run your hands along the slightly bulging muscles in your upper arms. “Cool.” Your eyes sidle to an unopened closet. A new thought hatches in your mind. “I wonder…” You walk over and open the door, adrenaline and adventure filling your energetic body. You smile. Inside, behind the rack of clothing, is the set of weaponry you dreamt of always having. Shotguns and rifles and swords and pistols and ninja stars and salt rounds and-

You lay your eyes on the two weapons you crave the most: the Enochian carved angel blade from your I See Wings series and three sets of throwing knives you imagined: One for demons, one for creatures, one for witches. Each knife set was enchanted with spells you had found in the Bunker, designed with silver or iron or salt.

At least, that’s how you wrote it. You still hope it’s true.

You pry one out from it’s meticulously crafted case. Oh, the glory of holding one of those babies is indescribable. The black leather grip, the smoothness of the knife, the simplistic beauty of the curvature. You never knew how long you waited for this moment. And your new body is just begging you to try the knife out. You curl it back almost daintily, aim and…

Originally posted by twoidjitsinthesalvageyard

Before you can let your blade loose, Dean himself comes striding into your room. He’s on guard instantly when he sees you with the knife. “Woah, Y/N.” He rushes over to your side and grabs your wrist. “If you wanna throw, we’ve got the shooting range, not your room.”

You stare at him in utter shock, that goofy fangirl smile coming back onto your face. “Dean?” you whisper. Your eyes grow wide. “You’re…real…”

Dean knits his eyebrows together. He scoffs and sits you down on the bed by your shoulders. “Course I’m real. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You can see Sam standing in the door, hesitant to come in the room. Your eyes flick rapidly between the two of them. “I’m-I’m really here? This isn’t some sort of…prank or-or joke or…” You look into the Winchester’s eyes, ever growing concern stretching across their faces. “I mean…you’re both real…” you breathe out.

Dean sets your throwing knife on the bed. “Y/N, are you high?” The seriousness in his voice throws you off guard.

“No! No, no, nope!” you yelp. “Definitely not high.” You scan around the room distractedly, trying to ground yourself on something. “Not high…definitely…not…”

“Uh-huh…” Dean clearly doesn’t believe you. He turns to Sam. “And you just found her like this?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what’s going on-”

“What was the last thing that happened to you?” you interrupt. If you can figure out what just happened to the boys, then maybe you can figure out how you got here.

Dean takes a breath. “Well, you wanted to stay and get some research done. We just got back from some weird ass musical about our lives.”

Season 10 episode 5, you immediately think. “So, you’re not a demon anymore and,” you point to Sam, “you just killed Calliope then, right?”

Sam squints at you. “How do you know that?”

“Y/N, what’s going on?” The expression on Dean’s face just melts your poor little fangirl heart. The concern, the honesty. Ugh.

“I…I don’t know. I just woke up here and…” You struggle to find the right words when a lightbulb goes off. You stand up off the bed. “Do you remember when Balthazar zapped you two to an alternate universe?”

Both Sam and Dean groan. “Damn, that was bad,” Dean complains.

“Well, think of this as a reverse one of those.” You grin sheepishly, standing awkwardly in the room as it dawns on the boys. Sam speaks up first.

“You mean…you’re from…”

“Not exactly.” You rub the back of your neck. “My name’s Y/N Y/L/N. I write stories about the show Supernatural. Mostly about if Sam and Dean Winchester had a sister…” you fade out seeing as Dean’s head looks like it’s about to explode.

“Wait, you what??”

“In the show, it’s just…well, you two. But, I began writing my own stories imagining if you two had a sister. And I guess I’m having some kind of meta crisis right now, apparently. I woke up here in the world I created.”

“In the body of our sister.” Dean sounds more hostile towards you than before.

“Not exactly. It’s sort of a reverse Balthazar situation with a bit of Chuck mixed in.”

Sam looks the least freaked out out of everyone in the room. “Okay. So, you wrote about…us and if we had a sister? Why if?”

“In my life or universe or whatever, Y/N Winchester doesn’t exist except in the stories I write.” You take a look at Dean who looks like he could Hulk out on you. You raise your hands defensively. “I based her on me though. So, it’s not like I’m possessing her; I am her. Sort of.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You wrote her so you are her?”

“Pretend you rewrote the Lord of the Rings with you in them. But, you didn’t want to name yourself after you, so you came up with another name. Like…Jim. Then you find yourself in that story you wrote as Jim. But you based Jim off of you so it is you in it’s own way.”

“This is already making my brain sick.” Dean rubs his forehead with the tips of his fingers.

“No, I get it. That makes sense.” You silently thank Sam for saving your bacon.

“The only question is how I got here. I literally went to sleep and woke up here. Nothing different than normal.”

“Okay…if you were writing this, as a story, what would you explain it as?”

You put a hand up to the back of your neck, a habit when you try to concentrate. “Well, if I was writing this, I’d probably be dealing with a spell of some kind, but nothing crazy happened to me last night. So,” you begin to pace, “that leaves me with…oh. Great.” You sigh and purse your lips together.

“What?”

“Hex bags. I have one in my room.” The Winchesters continue to stare at you. You sigh. “Not a witch, it’s just for cosplay and Halloween. But, I didn’t sweep my room last night. Someone could’ve swapped it out for a real one.”

Dean tips his head up to the ceiling. “I freaking hate witches.”

“Well, it might not be a witch.”

“What do you mean?”

“A witch is only one idea. It might be a tulpa, or a really messed up spirit, or-” You stop, a new idea entering your head. You close your eyes. “Ah, crap.” You raise your hand in a ‘shut-up’ gesture, simply going over to a tv set in the corner of the room and turning it on.

Dean leans forward on the bed. “You gotta kidding me.”

“Perks of writing your own world. You get a pretty good hunch on who did it.” A Casa Erotica scene starts setting up.

Sam points to the screen. “But, he died.”

Originally posted by your-not-invisible-to-me

A very familiar waiter rips off his mustache. “Think again, boys. And girl.” Gabriel pops out through the tv screen landing in front of you and the Winchesters. A weird combination of a smile and an ‘exasperated-parent face’ hits your face. The archangel looks at you. “How do they do it on BBC?” He raises an eyebrow. “Did you miss me?”