#god this is going to take a while to type on mobile

[hysterical-random-things]

I GOT YOU So with your Narinder then, how would you describe how his characterization and/or role has evolved in your AU? And also for bonus points, what would you say you're most proud of regarding this evolution? (No matter how mundane it may seem!) 💘

So my biggest thing that ive been really focusing on is trying to develop narinder (and by extension the lamb also) as his own person. He's angry and proud and bitter but like a big thing to me is Narinder is patient, almost to a fatal degree imo. He's not fast to act and prefers to wait and watch before interacting. However he does have a bad habit of making assumptions about how the people he "know" will act preemptively and getting really through off when they do anything different that what he expected (his original betrayal, the lamb deciding to fight for their crown, the lamb banning him from leaving etc)

(i am going to fully admit i pull some of his character quirks and behavior from my own cat nugget, girl has... Issues but isn't aggressive unless really pushed she's just kinda a mess and I've decided my narinder deals with issues the same way)

When he is through off he gets very defensive. Not violent but extremely guarded and not quick to trust again. Even if he knows he's "safe" he doesn't care.

This entire thing has become a big Thing for me. And I'm vaguely proud of how my narinder has shaped into a something I can kinda being accurate.

He's collected, he's put together, he's not even really rude but he will do the bare minimum for you if you've hurt him. He won't go down to your level and hurt you back but he makes sure you are Very aware he's not forgotten and at least for now he hasn't forgiven.

The biggest like choice i think I made with him was giving him more compicated relationships outside of the lamb and his siblings, he makes choices for himself, that are only for himself and doesn't care what others think.

[witcheshollow]

If you feel the need to gift your chronically ill friends things for whatever reason, here is my "starter pack/gift guide"

A pack of their favorite gateorade flavor, great for hydration, tastes good, easy and quick. Body armor, prime, etc are also good options if they dont like gateorade

Some of their favorite powder electrolytes. Liquid IV and drip drop are some good options. There are also the generic brand electrolyte packets at Walmart, I think they taste good. There is also bouy if they like the squeezy ones, i dont but if they do bouy has an unflavored one as well as like 30 different options

Kt tape. Regular, extreme strength, cooling, heating, literally any type of kt tape. They can probably find a use for it. Most ((not all but most)) chronically ill people, at least the ones I know, suffer from some type of joint issues and kt tape is a life saver. On this vein, I would stray away from braces unless you know what joints/muscles specifically give them the most trouble, kt tape is a bit more versatile

Compression socks, there are cute ones on Amazon, Walmart, many small business sell some nice ones. I would go for a higher compression, or at least upwards of 15 mmhg, for the best chance of them being worth it

Temperature devices, im putting these in the same bullet point bc it felt unnecessary to put ice packs and heating pads in different points. Ice packs are really nice for swelling and heating pads are really good for pain. Both are a good option ALWAYS. I will say, the reusable ice packs give you a better bang for your buck than the single use crack and use ones.

Their comfort foods. A bit of an ed tw for this bullet point, but i have noticed quite a few of my fellow chronic illness sufferers deal with an ed, and while it isnt all of us, those who do probably find it a bit extra hard to eat on rough days. So comfort foods/snacks

If they have to take their blood sugar for things, lancets. They usually come in like 100 packs for really cheap, like under 5 bucks cheap. Just check to see the brand of their lancing pen before you buy them tho

Batteries, it sounds weird but stay with me. Do you know how many medical devices I have that require batteries?? MANY. My hr monitor, my glucose monitor, my blood pressure monitor- like bro, a pack of triple a batteries will mean more than you think trust

A weighted blanket/stuffie. Stuffies are cute and easy to carry around, blankets are nice when you need some extra weight

If they have a service animal, an accessory for their vest/leash/collar could be nice

One of those reacher things that grab things for you. I want one of those. When your stuck in bed, cant move, ill, in pain and suddenly drop your mother fucking phone cord off the side of your bed and now you have to MOVE and grab it- 10/10 worst experience. One of those grabby things would be amazing

A migraine cap. I got mine from target but I have seen them at Walmart, on Amazon, weirdly one on depop, some on shein, some at places like tj maxx, etc. Migraine caps are especially wonderful for those days where your shut in your room, blinds drawn, fans off, three ice packs on you in constant rotation, barely mobile and for some gods forsaken reason your blinds wont close all the way so the light keeps catching your eyes and making you want to lose your ever loving shit bc you cant move to fuck with them. And more normal experiences Im sure lmao

If your short on funds, just being there with them, listening to them, watching a movie, body doubling so they can get some help with chores, running errands with them, literally anything so they remember their a human person with human feelings that you love and care abt. Who knows, it might help you feel better too

More than anything, listening to what they want and need is a bigger gift than most think

[mxtantrights]

Jason finding out his so is pregnant with twins? 🤔

probably really shocked. like big shock. didn't think that when the two of you were trying that this could happen. well, the chances aren't zero but it is low. low enough that it didn't even register that it could happen.

after the initial shock wears off Jason is probably trying to figure out how he's going to raise two kids with you. thinking about raising one was a total mind wreck, but this? This is going to take some planning. fine tuned planning.

Jason was already going to read all the pregnancy books but now he's reading double the amount. there are more ifs and maybes now that it's twins.

this also means that Jason has to make some investments. like two car seats. two car strollers. an actually car and not a motorcycle. (somehow the bat mobile is able to fit two car seats, don't ask how he finds this out)

doesn't want to know the genders. oh Jason is totally the type to want it to be a surprise. he wants to find out when you give birth. not at a baby shower and not in a doctors office.

probably stares at amazement at you all the time. not only are you carrying one life, you're carrying two.

satisfies all of your cravings. peanut butter and pickles? ice cream and French fries? done. foot massages, shoulder massages, soothing sounds to fall asleep to.

he also lets you sleep closest to the door for the nine months only because he knows you'll have to use the bathroom and it's easier and quicker for you to be near the door. but as soon as you've birthed the twins he's right back to sleeping closest to the door.

takes Polaroid pictures of you doing mundane things. says it's for the photo album that Alfred is putting together. (one day you ask Alfred about said photo album and he doesn't have any idea what you're talking about.)

Jason wants to name one of them, and he wants you to name the other. and he won't tell you the name ideas he has/won't listen to you if you try to tell him yours. likes surprises in this instance only!!

Jason probably has to be talked down from painting the room some ugly color. he wants to be inclusive but throw-up yellow is not it!

his siblings take care of a lot of things for him without him having to ask. suddenly the corners and sockets in the house are baby proofed. six month supply of diapers. wholesale club membership card in your name approved.

day of the birth Jason is calm on the outside but freaking out on the inside. he won't show it because you're already going through so much. (you find out about halfway through and ask him to freak out without)

you're in labor for twelve hours. Jason is there for all of it. he doesn't leave your side. the siblings become your henchmen. you need ice chips? Damian's got it. You need a nurse? Cass and Duke have your back. Need to watch better channels on the hospital tv? Tim is your guy.

Bruce talks to Jason while they both stare at your twins through the glass window of the nursery. Bruce doesn't have to say much, he knows Jason will be a good dad. And Jason likens Bruce's belief in him to his childhood with Bruce. Yes it wasn't normal but it was a childhood he'll never forget.

Jason carries both babies in his arms for the firs time and cries. Like silent tears rolling down his cheeks. You start crying too.

Jason's name for baby #1: Cassie

Your name for baby #2: Peter

a/n: OH MY GOD THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!! THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS IN ANON <33333 didn't know how much I needed Jason to be a dad until I did this. you're a rockstar!!

[forsaken-headcanons]

we r so back and hello new mods!!!! assorted hcs beam (take care of urself mods 🫶)

-two time doesnt like water. the survivors use this to their advantage. spray bottle!

-c00lkidd was the type of kid who hhATED baths/showers. had to be wrestled/bribed into them it was the worst

-when c00lkidd was older (maybe 9-10, just a bit before getting forsaken) he found 007n7 crying over the stress of raising him. he loved his son, but sfoth above it was hell raising him especially as a single father. c00lkidd behaved a lot better afterwards. too bad he never got to fully make it up to his father

-i feel like jane and john doe were the most healthy average suburban married couple. wanted kids and a dog. worked a 9-5. all the works. theyd gift each other flowers bimonthly, regularly went on dates, etc.

-jane doe was the one who proposed tho

-two time tried to stab one of the survivors the first time they got to use the dagger/the first time they got hold of a knife. safe to say everyone else now keeps them FAR from the kitchen

-the survivors also stay far away from two time after rounds until someone can get the dagger away from them

-the more normal looking skins (clothing changes, costumes etc) r just the spectre throwing them in the cabin for funsies

-the baker and lulu skins for elliot as yuri. idk im desperate for yuri

-noob has managed to convince multiple of the survivors to wear a dress from their wardrobe for the funsies

-c00lkidd has been kinda scared of/weirded out by two time since the time they tried preaching to him about spawn. he doesnt really like playing with them

-the shark onesie is actually just 007n7’s pajamas. one time the spectre started the round while the survivors were supposed to be sleeping because it got bored so everyone was running around in their pajamas. chance was making fun of guest 1337’s old man ahh pjs for like a week straight

-chance flirting with anyone and everyone (intentionally and unintentionally. its the Casino Charm (except the children ofc)) he’s been punched multiple times

-007n7 and guest 1337 unintentionally parents the survivors a lot

-^ one time noob cut themself on accident outside of a round and 007n7 gave em a bandaid and instinctively went “thank you for being so brave!” and pat them on the head, then was going to get them a candy before realizing what he did and just. both sat in stunned silence for like 5 minutes

-^^guest 1337 once accidentally began telling shedletsky to eat more veggies when they were eating together and uh. yeah it’s pretty awkward trying to lecture the equivalent of a god who’s hundreds older than you

-^ i hc shedletsky is just the human form of telamon, who’s like. an old god

-two time, noob, taph, elliot and chance end up being the subject of The Parents the most often

okay im done now runs away

- :3 anon

Hello there!! We will, thank you ^^

All of these are so fun… Always love hcs of 7n7 and 1337 being father figures to the survivors lol.

I also just want to say I went back and forth tagging everything on mobile and only realised I didn’t put the anon tag after I was done. so I had to backspace and retype it all. idk if I missed anyone

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Death Takes a Holiday | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions of self-hate, lots of death, lots of mentions of death, just so many, grief, misogyny, degradation in a not-fun way lol

Word Count: 7664

A/N: Buckle up... This one's a doozy.

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Nothing Dean could say could convince you of your innocence in the battle with the siren. Every time you looked at the wounds you’d given him, nausea would well in your throat. 

What hurt even worse were the things Sam and Dean had said to you. You couldn’t look at either man without thinking of them. You and Dean still slept in the same bed, but you slept on the far edge with your arms curled around yourself and facing away. The light you’d felt slowly coming back to you was diminishing once more. 

You were becoming further isolated in your own mind. In your retreat, you were becoming more and more worried about Uriel’s silence. Was he even aware of what you’d been going through? Had he seen what happened with the siren and not cared to help? 

“Hey, you with me?” Dean asked, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah,” you forced a smile, “I’m good.”

Dean gave you a look that said he knew you weren’t, but you just gave another small, lopsided smile to reassure him. 

Sam returned to your diner table while he shoved his phone in his pocket. 

“What’s up?” Dean asked, his eyes lingering on you before turning toward his brother.

Sam immediately opened his laptop and started typing. “Bobby found something in Wyoming.”

“A job?” Dean asked, taking a bite of the burger in front of him. You took a fry from his plate, munching on it with your shins resting against the edge of the table in front of you. 

“Small town, no one's died in the past week and a half,” Sam replied. 

“That so unusual?”

“Well, it's how they're not dying,” he explained. Looking up from his computer every once in a while, he continued, “One guy with terminal cancer strolls right out of hospice. Another guy gets capped by a mugger and walks away without a scratch.”

“Capped in the ass?” Dean asked, brows knitting together in confusion. 

Sam read, “Police say Mr. Jenkins was shot in the heart at point-blank range by a nine-millimeter,” from the article he was apparently skimming.

“And he's not a doughnut?” Dean asked around the food in his mouth.

“Locals are saying it's a miracle.”

“Oh, god,” you rolled your eyes.

“It's got to be something nasty, right? I mean, people making deals or something,” Sam suggested. He shoved his laptop in his bag and nodded at the burger on Dean’s plate. “Get that to go.”

Dean looked down but remained unmoving. 

You were confused, but you didn’t have the energy to ask what was up. 

“Come on,” Sam urged. 

Dean still stayed in his seat. 

“What?” the younger brother scoffed.

After hesitating, Dean asked, “Sure you want me going with you?”

Sam looked taken aback. “Why wouldn't I?”

“I don't want to be holding you back, or nothing.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dude, I've told you a hundred times, that was the siren talking, not me. Can we get past this?”

Dean put his food down and brushed his hands off. “Yeah, we’re past it.”

Frustration bubbled in your chest. Dean was being a real hypocrite in that moment; he’d told you repeatedly he didn’t mean what he’d said to you and yet was taking his anger out on Sam for the same thing. Maybe Dean had been telling you the truth when he was under the siren’s spell and was lying to you now. 

****

Given Dean and Sam needed a little space from each other, you and the older brother headed to a motel to start research after you’d interviewed the man who survived a bullet to the heart. The man was convinced it had been god, but an unsettled feeling in your stomach told you it had to be something else. However, he hadn’t been to a crossroads, and he said he felt like angels were watching over him. 

While the case was puzzling, your interest in it could not be held for longer than a few seconds before your mind raced with thoughts about the siren case. 

“What?” Dean asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“Huh?” You looked over at him; he sat on the table in the room behind Sam’s laptop while you were cross-legged on the bed behind yours. 

“Where’d you go?” he asked. 

You snorted. “What do you mean?”

“You were completely zoned,” he replied. 

“Yeah, sorry,” you sighed. “Jus’ got a lot on my mind.”

Dean sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. 

“What?” you questioned. 

“How long are we gonna keep doing this?”

You gave him a quizzical look and tilted your head to the side. 

Dean gestured between the two of you. “This!” He waved his hand around some more. “We just… keep dancing around each other.”

You scoffed. “Are you really lecturing me on not talking about my feelings.”

“Forget I said anything,” he immediately huffed, standing from his chair. 

“Wait, Dean, I was kidding,” you said. 

Dean grumbled, “Didn’t sound like it to me,” and started grabbing clothes out of his duffel bag to possibly go take a shower.

“C’mon, stop.” You shut your laptop. “I really was. I’m sorry.”

He paused and dropped his toiletry bag back into the duffel, then ran that same hand through his hair.

“So, where do you wanna start?” you asked after a few moments of silence.

Dean crossed his arms and turned to face you. “Where do you think?”

“I can’t stop thinking about the siren case,” you said. 

He nodded, gaze cast to the floor. It seemed he was expecting you to say that. “Me neither.”

“Really?” You were slightly surprised. 

“Yeah, I mean, how could I not?” he questioned. 

You took a deep breath. “Just be honest with me, okay?” Dean looked up at you. 

“Were you telling the truth when we were… fighting?” you asked. “Was the siren telling the truth about me making you feel guilty?”

He hesitated, and that really told you all you needed to know. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, tears springing to your eyes. “Okay, that’s alright. I’m glad I know now, at least.”

“(Y/N)—” Dean told you. “Sweetheart, I would’ve never told you that had the siren not tricked me, okay? Please, believe me.”

You nodded, sniffling your tears back to keep them at bay. “I know. But maybe I needed to hear that. Maybe I needed to know. Maybe we just needed to hear that so we can move forward from this angel shit.” You began to pace. “I mean, look at us, Dean. We’re so horrible at talking to each other— we had to have a fucking siren intervene to get us to be honest— we’re so far on either side of the bed that we may as well be sleeping in two separate ones— not to mention, sex seems to be completely out the window; off the table—” you flailed your arms around as you talked, “it’s almost like we don’t know each other anymore, Dean.

"And I miss you! You’re standing right in front of me, and I miss you. It feels like you’re still in Hell, and I’m still alone in that cabin with Uriel looming over my fucking shoulder. And— And the worst part is, I don’t even know how to begin fixing it. But I just— I want you to come back to me. I want to be able to come back to you. Because I am fuckin’ losing my mind, man. And before all of this, you were always the one to keep me grounded.”

You put your hands on either side of his face. “Tell me what I need to do to fix this. To— To fix what I’ve done. Please know how sorry I am, Dee. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Dean gently grabbed your wrists and tugged them ar0und his neck before cradling your face in his hands. He kissed you deeply, and you could taste the salt from tears the both of you had tried not to shed. 

When he pulled away, he told you, “It’s not just you. I- I haven’t been trying nearly as hard as you to fix things, and I’m sorry. I keep thinking that maybe you’ll finally realize you’re too good for me and decide to hit the road for good. Because you are too good for me, (Y/N). You— I mean, nobody’s ever fought as hard for me as you have. And I’m sorry that I’ve been… distant. I just— there’s things I can’t talk about yet, (Y/N). I can’t. I’m trying, but I can’t.”

You nodded. “I get it. But I’m here for you whenever you’re ready, okay? Even if that means when we’re eighty and sitting on porch swings. There’s no rush.”

He smiled weakly at your attempted joke. “I’m sorry I hurt you, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry, too. For… everything,” you told him. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

You leaned up on your tip-toes and kissed him eagerly. He responded in kind, and it seemed he wanted to deepen it. Unfortunately, the door swung open. 

You broke away, and Dean grumbled, “Dammit, Sammy.”

Sam seemed confused, obviously not realizing he’d interrupted something. 

“Anything?” you asked, brushing your hands over your thighs as you sat down on the end of the younger brother’s bed.

“That cancer survivor?” Sam began. “He was clinically dead, his wife pulled the plug, and now, he's taking her out for their twentieth anniversary.”

“Any sign of a deal?” Dean questioned. 

“No. What about you guys? Found anyone dying around here?”

“Not since Cole Griffith,” you replied. “He died ten days ago. Dean couldn’t find anything after him.”

“So, what are you thinking?” Sam asked, looking between you and his brother.

Dean shrugged. “Eh, maybe it is what the people say it is.”

Sam sat down at the table and flipped his laptop toward himself. “Miracles?” he scoffed. “Dean, our experience, when do miracles just happen?”

“Well, there's no deals,” he shrugged. “There's, uh, no skeevy faith healers.” He poured himself a cup of coffee before stretching one out to you. “I mean, these souls just ain't getting dragged into the light.”

“Maybe 'cause there's no one around to carry them,” Sam thought aloud.

“Whaddaya mean?” you asked.

Dean sat down beside you.

“Well, grim reapers—that's what they do, right? Schlep souls? So, if death ain't in town—”

“Then nobody's dying,” Dean nodded. “So what? The local reaper's on strike? Playing the back nine? I don't know, Sam.” He took a sip from his mug.

“Well, then, let's talk to somebody who might.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, last I checked, huggy bear ain't available.”

“No, dude, the kid,” the brunet suggested.

“The kid? The kid's a doornail.”

“Exactly,” Sam affirmed. “Look, if he was the last person to die around here, then maybe he's seen something. We should talk to him.”

“I love how matter-of-fact you are about that,” Dean chuckled. He looked to the floor and took a sip of the coffee Sam brought him. “Strange lives.” 

****

That night, you headed to the cemetery. As you set up a few candles and a cloth atop Cole Griffith’s grave, Dean flipped through his dad’s journal. 

“You sure this is gonna work?” your partner muttered.

Sam looked up from the bowl he was working over. “No,” he sighed, “but if his spirit's around, this should smoke him out.”

Dean slammed the journal shut and stood up.

“What?” you asked.

“This job is jacked, that's what.”

“How so?” Sam chimed back in.

“You want me to gank a monster or torch a corpse, hey, let's light it up, right?” He ran a hand through his hair before gesturing down at the grave. “But this? If we fix whatever this is, people are gonna start dropping dead. Good people.”

You stood, too. “I don’t want ‘em to die, either, babe, but there’s a natural order.”

Dean quirked a brow at you. “You're kidding, right?”

“What?” you snorted. 

“You don't see the irony in that? I mean, me and Sam, we're like the poster boys of the unnatural order. All we do is ditch death,” Dean replied. 

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, but the normal rules don't really apply to us, do they?”

A weight crossed Dean’s shoulders. “We're no different than anybody else.”

“I'm infected with demon blood. You've been to Hell,” Sam replied. “And (Y/N)’s in cahoots with angels. Look, I know you want to think of yourself as Joe the Plumber, Dean, but you're not. Neither am I. Neither is she. The sooner you accept that, the better off you're gonna be.”

Dean looked up at his brother. “Eh, Joe the Plumber was a douche,” he jested. 

“You gonna help me finish this?” you asked. You’d sunk back down to your knees in the midst of their conversation. 

“Hey!” a voice barked. You looked toward the voice; the source of which was a man carrying a flashlight jogging toward you. “What are you doing here?”

You quickly jerked upright and held your hands up in surrender. You and Dean shared an uneasy glance while Sam said, “Just take it easy.”

“Okay, this— this is not what it looks like,” Dean chuckled awkwardly. 

“Really? 'Cause it looks like devil worship,” the man scoffed.

Dean’s voice nearly cracked from how high-pitched he was. “What? No! No, this is not devil worship. This—This is—this—this is, uh—” he gave up. “I don’t have a good answer.”

“We're leaving,” you said, quickly gathering the things atop the tombstone.

“You're not going anywhere,” the man snarled, looking over to the younger brother, “ever again, Sam.” His lips drew up in a smile, and his eyes went white. 

“Alastair,” Dean breathed out. 

Discreetly, you reached for your knife. You knew it wouldn’t kill him, but you truly didn’t care.

“I thought you got deep fried, extra-crispy,” Dean said evenly.

“Nah. Just the pediatrician I was riding,” the demon shrugged. “His wife's still looking for him. It's hilarious. Anyway.” He moved his gaze to Sam. “No time to chat. Got a hot date with death—”

You’d barely given him time to finish his sentence before you were chucking your knife at him. He stopped it telekinetically just inches from his face and threw it back at you. With little time to react, you couldn’t move completely out of the way. Somewhat fortunately, the knife aimed for your heart lodged itself in your shoulder and pinned you to Cole’s gravestone. 

Alastair flicked Dean away to another graveyard while you cried out in pain and concern for him. Searing pain was coursing through your upper body; almost as though molten lava had been poured on your left shoulder. 

Alastair tried to do the same to Sam as he did with Dean, but it didn’t work. 

“You're stronger, Sam,” you heard Alastair say faintly over the ringing in your ears. “You've been soloflexing with your little slut?”

You rolled your head back and forth painfully, vision nearly blacking out.

“You have no idea,” Sam replied, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. Suddenly, you heard a large crash. Your eyes burst open to see Sam had thrown Alastair across the cemetery. Sam raised a hand— assumedly to try to exorcise him as you’d seen him do in the warehouse with Ruby— but Alastair fled the man’s body. 

That was the last thing you saw before your world went dark.

****

You faded in and out of consciousness in the backseat of the Impala. Sam spoke in a hushed voice, “I don’t know if they saw anything. Look—” he huffed, “why are you getting pissed off about this? I either did it, or we all woulda fuckin’ died.”

“Whatever,” he sighed. “I gotta go.” 

Then, the car slowed to a stop. You assumed you were in the parking lot of a motel somewhere. 

Sleep was threatening to pull you back under; the steady throbbing in your arm almost daring you to close your eyes again. Your head lolled to the side limply, and you succumbed to the darkness once more. 

****

The next time you opened your eyes, you were lying on a motel bed. You groaned, rolling on your side while clutching your shoulder. 

“Sweetheart, you there?” you heard a familiar voice call. 

“Yeah,” you hummed, shutting your eyes in pain. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got thrown fifty yards into a solid cement gravestone,” he snarked. “Oh, wait.”

You rolled your eyes, cracking a small smile. Cautiously, you sat up on your elbow opposite your hurt shoulder. 

“I think I have a concussion,” Dean whined. 

You turned to see him holding an ice pack to his head. “You probably do.” Wincing, you got up from the bed. “Lemme see.”

“Uh-uh. Sit down,” he told you. “I’m fine. You got stabbed.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “I’ve had worse.”

He gave you a skeptical look. 

“Okay, fine, this one’s pretty up there—” he chuckled while you continued, “but I’ll be okay.” You gestured down to the pressure wrap Sam assumedly had put around your shoulder. “He did a good job.”

Just then, the younger brother opened the door. “How you doing?” he asked the two of you while he shut the door behind him. 

“I'm in pain, that's how I'm doing,” Dean grumbled, the soft disposition he had with you disappearing.

“He thinks he has a concussion,” you told Sam. “I’m good. Nice job with the wound care, House.”

The brunet flashed a crooked smile. “Thanks.”

Just then, you remembered what you’d heard in the car, and your smile faded. Still, you tried your best to keep up a facade until you could thoroughly think over whether or not you’d tell Dean.

“So, demons, huh?” Dean said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah,” Sam snorted. “So much for miracles.”

Dean gave him a slightly accusatory look. “And what the hell happened with Alastair again?”

“I told you, he tried to fling me, or whatever.” He waved his hand in demonstration while nonchalantly walking over to the coffeemaker. “And it didn't work, so he bailed.”

They’d apparently had a talk prior to you waking up.

“Well, how come he couldn't fling you? He chucked you pretty good last time,” your partner reminded his brother.

Sam shrugged. “Got no idea.” He turned to the coffeemaker again, and you stared at Dean. 

It seemed he was trying to hold back his words, but to no avail. “Sam, do me a favor. If you're gonna keep your little secrets, I can't really stop you, but just don't treat me like an idiot, okay?”

“What? Dean, I'm not keeping secrets.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. 

Dean hummed in disapproval. “Whatever. So, did you go back and Q-and-A the dead kid?”

Sam walked over to him with a thin notebook in hand. “Didn't have to. Bobby called. He did some digging.”

“And?”

“He thinks I'm right. Local reaper's gone. Not just gone— kidnapped.”

“By demons? Why?”

Something dawned on you in that moment. “ ‘And he bloodied death under the newborn sky— sweet to taste, but bitter when devoured’.” 

Sam looked at you skeptically. “Uh, yeah…” he trailed off. “How did you know that?”

You cast your eyes to the floor. “My, uh, my mom had a copy of Revelations that’s been in our family for centuries. She would read it to me to remind me why we do what we do— because this is coming for us at the end of time.”

Dean looked at you with an unreadable expression. “Swanky,” he said. “What the hell's that mean?”

“You kill a reaper under the solstice moon, you break a seal,” you explained. 

“Solstice is tomorrow, by the way,” Sam cut in. 

Dean scoffed. “How do you ice a reaper? You can't kill death.”

“I don't know. Maybe demons can,” the younger brother shrugged. “Where the hell are the angels is what I want to know. We could use their help, for once.”

“(Y/N)?” Dean asked. 

Both boys turned to you. 

“I haven’t heard from Uriel in forever,” you said. “And, uh, I do not want to call him.”

Dean sighed heavily. “It looks like we're gonna have to take care of this one ourselves.”

Sam scoffed. “What are we gonna do, just swing in and save the friendly neighborhood reaper?”

“You got a better idea, I'm all ears,” Dean deadpanned.

“Dean, reapers are invisible,” Sam said. “The only people that can see them are the dead and the dying.”

“Well, if ghosts are the only ones that can see them…” your partner trailed off. 

“Dean—” you shut your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose, knowing exactly where this was going.

“C’mon, (Y/N),” he replied. 

“It’s just the concussion talking,” you asserted. “That’s insane, even for you, babe.”

“Am I missing something?” Sam questioned.

“He’s saying we become ghosts,” you explained.

“Dean—”

“Exactly,” you cut Sam off. 

Sam considered for a moment. “How?” he asked Dean. 

“Sam—!”

****

“I am so sorry, Pamela,” you told her. Dean led her into the motel room, and Sam opened the door for her. You followed behind, shutting the door.

“I can't even begin to tell you how crazy you three are,” she sighed. 

“I know,” you whined. “I don’t feel great about this either.”

“Which one of you brainiacs came up with astral projection?” she asked.

Dean raised a hand. “Yo,” he said.

Pamela smirked. “Of course. Chachi.” Dean made a face at you. ‘Chachi?’ he mouthed.

You smiled and shrugged.

“So, let's be clear. You want to rip your souls out of your bodies and take a little stroll through the spirit world?”

Dean nodded.

“Do you have any idea how heavy-duty insane that is?” Pamela crossed her arms.

“Maybe, but that's where the reaper is, so…” Dean trailed off hesitantly.

“So, it's nuts,” she insisted.

“Not if you know what you're doing.”

“You don't know what you're doing.”

“No, but you do.”

“Yeah, I do. And guess what?” she said in upset. “I'm sick of being hauled back into your angel-demon, Soc-Greaser crap.”

“Look, I'd love to be kicking back with a cold one, watching Judge Judy, too—”

Pamela cut Dean off. “Blind jokes?” she scoffed.

Dean rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. We're talking the end of the world here, okay? No more tasseled leather pants, no more Ramones CDs, no more nothing.” Dean paused. “We need your help.”

Pamela reluctantly agreed. You and the boys rushed around the room to prepare for her ritual, and she sat on a chair between the beds in the room. 

“Tell me something, geniuses,” Pamela said. “Even if you do break into the veil, and you find the reaper, how you gonna save it?”

“With style and class,” Dean remarked.

Pamela shot a deadpan expression in his direction. “You're gonna be three walking pieces of fog who can't touch or move anything. You'll be defenseless, hotshot.”

“I seem to recall a bunch of ghosts beating the crap out of us.”

“Yeah, well, they had plenty of time to practice,” she scoffed.

“Well, then, I guess we got to start cramming.”

Pamela scoffed again. “Wow, bunch of heroes. Alright.” She patted the bed to her right. “Lie down,” she instructed.

 You and Dean laid on one bed, and Sam laid on the other. 

“Close your eyes.” She recited an incantation, and you clutched Dean’s hand. He squeezed yours in response. 

“Okay, guys, that's it. Showtime,” Pamela said. 

Dean sat up next to you, letting go of your hand. “Well, nothing like shooting blanks. What's plan B?”

You looked around and slid off the bed. Strangely, the room seemed to have faded to shades of blue. “Wait, Dean, does the room look weird to you?”

Dean stood up and turned around, examining the room. What seemed to catch his eye, though, was the two of you laying on the bed; still hand in hand.

“Oh, I'm so feeling up Demi Moore.”

You smacked the back of your partner’s head lightly. “Perv.”

He chuckled.

“Alright, so,” Pamela spoke. “I'm assuming you're somewhere over the rainbow. Remember I have to bring you back.” She stood and walked over to Sam. “I'll whisper the incantation in your ear—” she leaned over and whispered something to Sam that made him smirk widely.

You shot a questioning glance at Sam. “What’d she say?”

Sam shrugged, still grinning. 

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. 

****

As the three of you walked down the street, a jogger went right through Sam without noticing. Sam flinched, but the girl kept going. 

Dean laughed. “That was wild.” Then, he stuck his arm into Sam’s chest up to the elbow. 

Sam’s face went stony. 

Dean grinned. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Get out of me.”

You snorted. 

“You're such a prude,” Dean snarked. “Come on.”

****

What felt like hours passed. Dean was getting frustrated with having found nothing, but something caught your eye on the balcony of a house behind him. 

“Oh, shit. That’s Cole,” you said, nodding at the blond little boy staring at you. 

As soon as the brothers turned to look at him, he flickered and disappeared.

You started off toward the house and went straight through the closed door of the home. You followed the sound of someone screaming and lots of noise coming from behind the closed door of another room. As soon as you entered, a ball went flying straight through your stomach. 

Quickly, you realized that Cole’s mother was cowering on his bed as balls flew past her, and Cole was the one throwing them. 

“Stop!” you ordered, and he instantly obeyed. “How are you doing that?”

“Who are you?” Cole asked, backing away from you. 

“Relax, Cole. It's okay,” Sam said, treating the boy as though he was a lost dog. 

“How do you know my name?”

“Look, this isn't gonna be easy to hear, but… you're—dead. You're a spirit. Us, too.”

Cole scoffed. “Yeah, thanks. I know I'm dead. What do you want?”

“We just want to talk.”

“About what?”

You and the brothers convinced the little boy to tell you about how he died. He wanted to stay close to his mom, though, while he did; you assumed for some sort of assurance that things were okay. 

You watched as Mrs. Griffith poured a glass of vodka and took a sip. 

“I was outside all morning,” Cole began. “They tell you to be careful when it's cold.”

“Cold air can cause an asthma attack?” Dean asked.

Cole nodded and shrugged. “But then I was in my room. It happened so fast. I called out for my mom, but nothing came out. Everything started spinning, and then I was just standing there, looking down at my body.” 

“And that's when you saw the man?” Sam asked.

Cole nodded meekly. “Creepy old guy in a black suit. He wanted me to go with him, but,” he looked back over at his mother, “I didn't want to go.”

“How'd you get rid of him?” Sam asked.

“I didn't. The black smoke did.”

Dean encouraged him to explain further.

“It was everywhere. I hid in the closet, and when I came out, it was gone, and so was he.”

“Do you know where the smoke went?” Dean asked.

“No. But I know where it is.”

Suddenly, the lights started flickering, and Cole jumped. Mrs. Griffith looked around, scared.

“They're back,” Cole whispered, clearly scared. He vanished.

Then, a blast of wind hit you in the face. Something white and human-shaped went up the stairs of the home.

“Another reaper,” you pointed out.

“Hey!” Dean shouted. “Wait! We need to talk to you!”

A woman descended the stairs, black hair shining in the dim light. For a reaper, she was gorgeous.

“Dean,” she breathed out.

He was confused. He shot a look at you before turning back to the woman. “Do I know you?”

“We go way back,” she said. “You don't remember me?”

“Honestly, if I had a nickel for every time I heard a girl say that…” he trailed off, smug as ever. “You're gonna have to freshen my memory.”

Tessa quickly stepped forward, reached up, and pulled Dean down into a kiss. 

“Whoa!” you said, and Dean quickly pushed her off.

“Warn a guy first, would ya?” he said uncomfortably. 

“Sorry,” she said to the two of you. “Had to give him his memories,” she explained.

“And that can’t happen any other way?” you scoffed. 

The reaper shrugged.

“Wait, Tessa?” Dean asked, something having dawned on him.

“That's one of my names, yeah.”

“So, you do know her,” Sam stated.

You crossed your arms.

“From the hospital after the accident,” Dean responded.

“With your dad?” you asked, surprised.

Your partner nodded.

Tessa rubbed her hands over her thighs, turning to go up the stairs again. “Well, this was fun. Now, if you'll excuse me—”

Dean stopped her. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, you can't— you can't take the kid.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Demons are in town, that's why,” Dean replied. “They've already snatched your reaper pal. The kid knows where.”

She rolled her eyes. “So?”

“So, you should shag ass,” Sam said. “For all we know, they could try and snatch you, too.”

“Except that this town is off the rails, and someone has to set it straight.”

“Yeah, we understand that, but these are special circumstances,” you pointed out.

“What? Your whole angel-demon dance-off? I could care less. I just want to do my job,” she replied.

“Right, yeah, and, look, we want to help you do your job. So, if you would just bail town—”

Tessa cut Sam off. “No,” she said firmly.

“Well, then, could you hold off until we fix this? Please,” Sam begged.

She sighed. “Alright, but just so we're clear, when I start reaping again, I'm starting with the kid.”

Sam nodded. “Understood. I'll find him.”

“What are you gonna say to him?” you asked the younger brother as he went up the stairs.

“Whatever I have to.”

You nodded.

“I'll tell you, life is funny,” Tessa said, pacing around you and Dean.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“You and me, together again.”

“Are you— are you making a move on me?” Dean asked, eyebrows knitting together.

You shot Tessa a glare.

“You're the one that got away, Dean,” she said, ignoring the daggers you were giving her. “You'd be surprised how little that happens to me.”

“Can I tell you something?” your partner asked Tessa.

You and the reaper were intrigued.

“For like, a year after our little, uh, experience, I wished I went with you for good.”

This was news to you, and your eyes softened as you watched him speak.

“But I guess things are different now,” Dean said.

Tessa snickered. “What? The angels on your shoulder?”

“So, you know about that, huh?” He seemed genuinely surprised, as were you. “Well, hey, don't get me wrong. I mean, most’a the ones we've met are dicks with wings. But still, y’know, I've done things— horrible things— and someone upstairs still decided to give me a second chance. It just makes me feel… I don't know.” He looked down at the floor sheepishly. 

Your heart cracked a bit in your chest, but Sam gave you no time to consider. He’d brought Cole down the stairs and cleared his throat to grab your attention. “Hey, guys,” he said.

Tessa looked down at the blond child who was hiding behind Sam. “Hey, Cole. I'm Tessa. I'm not going to hurt you.”

“It's okay, Cole. Just tell them what you told me,” Sam urged.

Cole still stood peeking out from behind Sam, his shoulders slumped slightly. “I saw the black smoke at my funeral.” He swallowed. “At the funeral home. It was everywhere.”

Then, the lights flickered, startling Cole.

“You doing that?” you asked Tessa rhetorically. 

She shook her head and looked around.

Suddenly, the front door opened and black smoke poured through. It filled the room, and you ducked with your hands over your ears and eyes closed. When you could no longer feel it surrounding you, you hesitantly opened your eyes and stood up. 

“Tessa!” Dean called. 

“Dammit,” you sighed.

“Well, how the hell are we supposed to fight that?” Dean gestured.

“I don't know. Learn some ghost moves?” Sam scoffed.

Dean grunted, “By tonight? Yeah, sure. I'll meet you back at Mr. Miyagi's.”

“Who's Mr. Miyagi?” The blond child’s question caught your attention, and a smile grew across your face. “For now, you, kid.”

****

Cole spent the afternoon showing you, Sam, and Dean how the ghosts you constantly fought used their abilities. You picked it up quite quickly; albeit a little faster than the boys. That night, you went to the funeral home. The outside walls were covered in shimmering blue symbols.

“This looks like New Jack City. Can nobody can see this?” Dean asked, gesturing to a clueless pedestrian that waltzed right through him.

“Maybe it's demon invisible ink. Only see it in the veil.”

You nodded and gathered your courage. The door in front of you was open, and you walked through. You and Sam flanked one side of the room while Dean took the other, but you found nothing. Then, you moved into another. 

Lying in the middle of the floor was a crudely-drawn eight-pointed star, and Tessa was piled in a heap atop another man in the center of the symbol. You assumed the other man was another reaper. On the far side of the room, a man stood guard. He hadn’t seen you or the brothers yet.

The older brother turned to you and Sam with a smirk. “Check me out.” 

You rolled your eyes, suppressing the slight smile threatening to crack across your face. Dean took a few steps forward before vanishing and reappearing in front of the guard.

Playfully, he tapped the man on the shoulder before disappearing again. The man punched at Dean blindly, and Dean appeared in another spot. Sam disappeared from beside you, and you just stood by watching the boys play with their food. 

The man eventually scrambled away from Sam and Dean. 

“Y’know, this ghost thing?” Dean smiled. “It's kind of rad.”

Just as you were about to join your group, a man walked in carrying a chain. He whined painfully while his hands let out smoke between his fingers.

‘Iron,’ you realized.

Then, a third man walked into the room. “Boys. Find the place okay?”

“Alastair,” Dean breathed out.

‘Fuck,’ you thought.

Alastair had the boys wrapped in the iron chain while he cocked a shotgun. “By the way, where’s that girl of yours? She’s got spirit.” He aimed the gun at Dean, and you used that opportunity to let out a sharp whistle.

Alastair’s head turned to where you were standing. “I had a feeling you weren’t far,” he said darkly. “Dean leads you around like a bitch on a leash.” He fired at you, but you disappeared before the rocksalt could hit you.

Somehow, though, the demon predicted where you’d appear next. The blast of the rocksalt felt like it ripped straight through the very essence of you, and it took several moments for you to come back to. 

When you could finally function again, the first thing you heard was Alastair telling Sam, “Well, go on. Why don't you try some of your mojo on me now, hotshot?”

Groggily, you looked over at Dean and Sam. Sam was fuming, and Dean looked at his brother pointedly.

“It's hard to get it up when you're not wearing your meat, huh?” the demon snickered.

“Go to hell,” Sam growled.

“Ah, if only I could,” he tsked. “But they just keep sending me back up to this arctic craphole.”

“To kill Death?” Dean scoffed.

It was then you realized you were bound by iron around your neck to a leash a demon held. The demon’s hand trembled, smoke pouring out through his fingers.

“No, to kill Death twice. It takes two to break a seal,” Alastair explained. “I figured another one would show up, though. They're like lemmings.” He pumped the shotgun and fired at Sam. He disappeared, and Alastair walked up to your partner. “By the way, it's, uh, good to see you again, Dean.”

“You can shoot us all you want, but you can't kill us,” Dean told him. 

Sam reappeared with his arms wrapped painfully around his torso.

“Fucking sucks, huh?” you called to Sam.

He nodded, wincing.

“Ah, that so?” Alastair said, responding to Dean. Then, a scythe materialized in his hand. “Anywho, moon's in the right spot; the board is set. Let's get started, shall we?”

“You're gonna kill a reaper with that? It's a little on the nose, don't you think?” Dean snarked, trying to appear as tough as possible.

The demon turned his attention to Dean. “Is it?” He raised his eyebrows. “An old friend lent it to me. You know, he doesn't really ride a pale horse? But he does have three amigos.” He walked over to the center of the room and the reapers as he spoke. “And they're just jonesing for the apocalypse.”

The demon hauled the older-looking reaper up by his collar. “It pays to have friends in low places, don’t you think?” He smirked wickedly while he put the scythe behind the old man’s neck. After chanting an incantation, Alastair pulled the scythe forward. A white-blue light emanated from the reaper’s neck, and you watched his head roll toward you. 

When you looked up to Alastair, you noticed an iron chandelier above the reaper trap. The demon then grabbed Tessa by the shoulder and held the scythe to her neck. Terror was behind the woman’s eyes, but she did her best to seem angry and defiant. “Stop!” she demanded.

Alastair just began his incantation.

You stared up at the chandelier, and it began to shake. It seemed the boys had joined in, too, and you just tried to muster up as much anger as possible to drop the chandelier. 

Just as Alastair finished his incantation, the chandelier dropped on the corner of the reaper trap and broke it. Instantly, Tessa disappeared, and you felt the chain around your neck breaking. Then, she appeared next to Dean and Sam.

“Bye-bye,” Dean smirked at Alastair.

You took that as your cue to vanish.

When you reappeared outside of the funeral home in the dark of night, Tessa and Dean were the only ones with you. 

“Where’s Sam?” you asked.

“We’ll go find him,” Dean said, nodding at you. “Tessa, you get out of here.”

She nodded, and you bid her goodbye. When she’d disappeared, you and Dean started searching for Sam.

“You okay?” Dean asked you.

You grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. He returned your gesture, silently reassuring you he was okay, too.

“Where the hell do we even start?” you questioned after walking a few paces. 

Dean sighed, “No idea. Just stay close, okay? I’m sure Alastair’s not happy with us.”

You nodded. 

“That’s right,” the demon’s voice came from behind you. “And you can’t run, Dean.” 

Suddenly, the source of the voice appeared ahead of you. 

Dean shoved you behind him in an attempt to shield you.

“Not from me,” Alastair sing-songed. “I'm inside that angsty little noggin of yours.” He advanced on you and Dean, and the two of you quickly retreated. 

Just then, bright lightning struck Alastair. When the light dissipated, he was gone.

“What the hell?” Dean breathed out.

“Guess again,” a familiar voice said from behind you. 

“And what do you want?” you questioned, knowing you’d be turning around to see Castiel.

Dean just scoffed and began walking away. 

“What just happened?” Castiel asked, following you and Dean. “You two and Sam just saved a seal. We captured Alastair. Dean, this was a victory.”

“Well, no thanks to you,” Dean scoffed. 

“What makes you say that?”

You then realized something and turned around. “You were here the whole time, weren’t you?”

Castiel looked at the ground. “Enough of it.”

Dean grunted, “Well, thanks for your help with the rock salt.”

“That script on the funeral home; we couldn't penetrate it.”

You tsked.

“That was angel-proofing,” Dean realized. 

“Why do you think I recruited you three in the first place?”

“You recruited us?” you snarled.

“That wasn't your friend Bobby who called, (Y/N),” the angel explained. “It wasn't Bobby who told Sam about the seal.”

“That was you,” you stated. You just shook your head and ran a hand through your hair.

“If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?” Dean questioned.

“Because whatever I ask, you seem to do the exact opposite.” “Well, thanks for not sending Uriel after me,” you said. Even in your exasperation, you were grateful you didn’t have to deal with him.

Castiel nodded.

“So, what now, huh?” Dean asked after a moment of silence. “The people in this town; they're just gonna start dying again?”

“Yes.”

“These are good people. What, you think you can make a few exceptions?”

“To everything, there is a season.”

Dean paused. “You made an exception for me.”

Castiel looked at the ground and then back up at Dean. “You're different.”

At that moment, Tessa appeared before you and Dean. “Guys? I could use your help.”

The next time you opened your eyes, you were in Cole’s room. His mother was staring at a book of his baby pictures and crying silently. 

“Hey, Cole,” Tessa said softly. Her jeans and black leather jacket had transformed to a flowing white dress. 

Cole startled and backed away from the reaper before looking over at Dean. “Tell your brother thanks for nothing.”

Dean looked at the floor with his hands shoved in his pockets, and you wrapped your arm around his elbow in an attempt to reassure him.

“Look at her, Cole,” Tessa urged gently. “Do you see how unhappy she is?”

Cole looked at his mother. “That's why I want to stay with her,” he whined sadly. 

“As long as she can feel you, she'll be in pain because she can't let go,” Tessa explained. “Because you won't let go of her.”

“Why won't anybody tell me what's on the other side?” Cole asked, looking between you and Dean.

The reaper smiled softly. “Maybe nobody wants to ruin the surprise.”

“That's not an answer.”

Dean then piped up. “She won't answer you, Cole. Reapers never do. But trust me. Staying here is a whole lot worse than anything over there.”

“Why?” the boy asked.

“Because one day, your family will be gone, and there'll be nothing left here for you.” Dean drew in a heavy breath. “It's okay to be scared.”

Cole straightened up and raised his head a little higher. “I'm not scared.”

“We're all scared,” Dean said. “That's the big secret. We're all scared.”

Cole looked back at his mother before turning back to Dean. “Are you coming?”

Dean smirked lopsidedly. “Oh, I'm sure I'll be there sooner than you think.”

When Cole had one last look at his mom, he hugged Tessa tightly before disappearing into a brilliant white light. When the light disappeared, a weight seemed to have lifted off Cole’s mother’s shoulders.

“Look out for that boy,” Dean told Tessa.

“Look out for yourself, Dean,” she nodded.

“What do you mean?”

“I've been around death from the get-go. You know what I see most? Lies. ‘He's in a better place.’ ‘At least they're together now.’ You all lie to yourselves, Dean, 'cause like you said, deep down, you're all scared. Stop lying to yourself, Dean.”

“What?” Dean’s brow furrowed.

“The angels have something good in store for you,” she mocked. “A second chance. Really? 'Cause I'm pretty sure, deep down, you know something nasty's coming down the road. Trust your instincts, Dean. There's no such thing as miracles.”

Your stomach sank, and you couldn’t bear to look at either person.

“What are you saying?” He asked.

Tessa said nothing, and a moment later, she was gone.

“Dean, I—”

“Don’t, (Y/N),” Dean begged. “Don’t, sweetheart, please.” You nodded, seeing as he was having trouble holding back his tears.

Then, Dean disappeared. 

“Dean?” you cried. “Dean?!” 

Suddenly, you felt something pulling at you. It felt like you were being dragged by the very fibers of your soul. And then, you were back in your motel room. 

You took a gasping breath and shot up, taking in your surroundings. The first thing you laid your eyes on was Pamela holding a hand to her stomach while blood poured out from between her fingers.

“What happened?” Dean asked from beside you.

“Guys, where's Tessa?” Sam questioned frantically.

“She’s…” Dean trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

“Pamela, I'm so sorry—” Sam tried to tell her.

“Stop,” she demanded, clearly very angry.

“—You don't deserve this.”

“Yeah, I don't,” she snapped. “I told you I didn't want anything to do with this. Do me a favor? Tell that bastard Bobby Singer—” she choked out, “to go to Hell for ever introducing me to you three in the first place.” A shuddering cough roughly took over her. 

“Take it easy, Pamela,” Dean told her. “If it's any consolation, you're going to a better place.”

She turned her head in the direction of Dean’s voice. “You're lying,” she muttered weakly. “But what the hell, right? Everybody's got to go sometime.” Then, she beckoned Sam closer. “Come here.” 

Sam leaned in close, and the psychic said something that made his eyes grow wide. When she’d finished, she started coughing raggedly again. She leaned back against the headboard, and a trickle of blood flowed out of her mouth. Her head lolled to the side, and she went still. 

“Pamela?” Sam murmured hesitantly. “Pamela!”

Dean looked over at his brother. “What did she say to you?”

Sam looked away. 

“Sam, what did she say?!”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[thelovelywriteress]

➷ Hard-fist crush

▶︎ɪᴛᴏɴᴀ x ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴛ ғ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

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Everyone would have seen you as some secret sister of Karma if wasn't for the distinct difference between you both.

He is cool and violent. You are annoyed and violent.

He punches people because he finds it cool. You punch people because they easily irritate you.

Class doubt they have ever see any other expression on your face except annoyance or angry.

Even though you're always have that scoff on your face, it wasn't a lie to say you got a pretty face. Many even conclude it as "waste for face like this."

When Itona finally join the class, you didn't care about him much. He joined the Terasaka gang and that was it. You see him as another student and someone else who you have to ensure.

It didn't take much time for Itona to learn about everyone in class, including you! He observed how boys compliment your looks and conclude how it oversee your violent behaviour too. Apparently your angry is got to be charm about you.

You and Itona didn't officially interact before one day you accidentally let your phone washed with your uniform. Now that your phone wasn't working, you need to spend god knows how on its repair. And you hate to spend your money on anything other than food.

As you were cursing yourself for being so careless, you come across Itona. Looks like he was checking some tools? Now like mention above you didn't officially interact before so you were kind of fighting yourself on whether you should go or not. Since you were in good mood you decide a casual hi wouldn't be much.

'What'cha doing? Looking at any other store to destroy?' Got to say you don't got best way to start conversation. Itona didn't react, heck he didn't even acknowledge your presence and it irked you. You was about to hit his head untill he finally said something to you too.

'You're that 'such a waste for pretty face', right?'

'Who?!'

Let's say Itona end up telling how Maehara and Okajima describe you and now you were planning all ways to hit them that they don't be able to ever walk again.

But again they weren't here right now and your phone was still not working. Sighing you ask him about any cheap mobile repairing shop. He does seems to be interested in these kinds of things, maybe he can give you lead?

Turns out he can't give you lead. HE IS LEAD. Bro specialise in mobile repairing too. Though you didn't trust him your phone, you reluctantly did give him your phone. Afterall he did seem type to be sure about its ability.

You decided to take him to a eating place. If he can repair your home, might repay him with food. You was munching on some food while his hand continue to do things with your phone.

You eyed him sometimes through repair process - unlike the times he wasn't part of your class his eyes look lot calmer now. On closer observation you notice his appearance; his hair look so white and soft. 'Are they soft too?' You subconsciously wonder.

"Here. It's done." You never realised you have been staring at him until Itona pulled his eyes towards you. You feel little embarrassed though you quickly hide it by checking your phone. Surprisingly it was working well.

"Wow. It's working so smoothly. Literally like a new one." This boy sure got good mechanic skills. He just nonchalant shrug and told he was just helping a classmate and munch on some food you order for him as payment. You did the same and it was silence for while.

"You aren't much violent like they describe you." He stated as you give him a werid look. Was he observing you? You started to feel little self-conscious but you quickly brushed it off. "What you interested to know about me?" You give a slight smirk,"Lots of guys in class are." Oh. "Since you're beast in beauty's body." What?

For next few moments you heard come information from Itona about how boys see you. "That fucking piece of shits- Maehara and Okajima!" You clutch your fist viens popping out. As Itona just keep munching on the food you gave him in exchange of information. He didn't seem to have any remorse for guys he sell out.

"Waste for a face like mine, huh?" You said in a low tone as you sat down. You were aware of the fact how much fist-lover you was but still it stings a bit how guys things about this and even disscus it in front of new guys. You weren't sure if you were annoyed by the fact you didnt hear a single good thing about you other than your body or that even new kid thinks you as some wild girl who didn't suit this body.

"They're wrong though." What? You quickly break out of your inner monologue as you stare at Itona, wanting him to justify his statement. "They say waste for a face like you but I think your personality suits your face very much." You don't know if he was saying this to confront you or what but you still feel arise of little happiness inside you. Plus basing on how Itona is, you felt statement was genuine. "I think if anything, you're overall cute." Huhhh! And for first time you were genuinely flustered too.

"If anything, you're overall cute. This sentence was playing rent free in your mind. "Argh! Stupid! Stupid!" You burried your face in your pillow as you remember the way he said it was like it was most obvious thing in world. And after that day you become visible flustered whenever Itona even pass through you.

"Don't come near me!"

"But I need to go out and it's only way to door."

"Shut up!"

You annoyed at students aren't weren't big deal but for some reason you were literally warry of every act of Itona.

"Here have it." You give him a cold medicine after you notice he had been sneezing all day. "

"Huh idiot like you forgot lunch. I am not even suprise." Proceeds to give him half of her lunch while taunting him some more.

Everyone was so confused like what the hell was going on between you and Itona untill Karma point out. "She literally got obvious crush on him idiots."

Yeah he knew because he do something same too. More you act all arrogant and mighty, more confused you get when you're in love. Bro probably do something same. 😒☝️

And it wasn't before everyone start teasing you both. Especially you, since you had punch almost everyone in the class and it was time for payback but only it wasn't payback cause you were ready to break bones of anyone who dare to do it.

Even they realised they can't tease you. They move towards Itona and he didn't even understand how they come to this conclusion - like don't you literally just taunt and pick on him all the time with side generous acts.

But with time even he started to get annoyed by it; "Yo Itona what's your favorite thing about her?" "When she punches you people so hard, you fly out of window."

───────────────────────────────────

Itona my beloved. 🥹 Seriously we need more Itona content, especially without all yandere stuff. 😤☝️

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving Part 25

Rating: No explicit sex or violence

Summary: you’re soulmates ofc I wouldn’t make you break up

Word count: 2,261

ao3 link

Helen had always been the staunchest man-hater of your little group, but even she wouldn’t defend your actions.

“I mean, he just got back from wherever the fuck, and you go off on him?”

“I didn’t go off on him!”

“To be fair,” Kate argued, “you did snap at him.”

If even your girls weren’t feeding your delusions, you were clearly quite deep in the shit. You poked at your Chinese with a fork, twirling the noodles around the tines. Nobody liked to admit that they were wrong, and you were no exception. Granted, you were lucky that you had friends who would call you out and bring you back to earth, but that didn’t mean you liked it.

“Yeah, you are gonna have to pull your head out your arse,” Helen commented, “suck it up, put on your big girl pants, and apologise. You throw this away based on your ego, and I will, in fact, belt you.”

“You two are my mates. Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Kate snorted, “Being on your side involves calling you a dickhead when you are being a dickhead.”

You waved away their words, not wanting to confront that truth just yet, “Alright, never mind my relationship drama. It’s film night! What we watching?”

It was a poor attempt at changing the subject, and they shared a glance, but allowed you to put it aside for now. You gave Helen the remote, allowing the pair of them to bicker while you stared somewhere past the TV, your mind on Simon.

Kate and Helen were long asleep as the credits of the last film rolled, but you were still wide awake. You’d tried in vain to get comfortable for the last hour, but all you’d done was shift from one side to the other, rolling to and fro like a pig over a spit. You would have liked to have pretended that this was due to the fact that the other two had taken each side of the sofa, leaving you awkwardly in the middle, but there was no point. It was solely due to the fact that you hadn’t spoken to Simon in days. This wasn’t unusual, of course, you’d spent the last few months barely speaking, yet this time, it was a choice.

It didn’t take you long to get sick of it. Very carefully, you extricated yourself from under the duvet and walked over to the hallway, where you’d left Price’s receipt on the side. You weren’t sure how many times you’d looked at it over the last few days, more than a dozen at the very least, but you’d never actually managed to suck it up and call. Sometimes, you’d gotten so far as to type in the numbers, but you’d never actually called.

Fuck it.

Tonight was the night. You grabbed your coat, sticking the receipt in your pocket, slipped your daps on, and slunk out into the hallway, taking your keys and locking the door behind you. Where you were going, you weren’t entirely sure, you just aimlessly wandered down the hallway until you got out to the stone stairwell, and you sat down on the cold concrete, digging the receipt out of your pocket and then typing the numbers in your phone. God, what you would have given for the old phones, with the cords, so you could soothe yourself by wrapping your fingers around the coils, playing with the twisted plastic. Unfortunately, you had a modern mobile, so you just fiddled with the receipt.

“Price.”

He’d picked up on one ring. Considering it was two in the morning, you were surprised.

“Price? You told us to give you a ring?”

“You made your mind up, then?”

“No.”

“What do you want then?”

“I want support, Price. Someone who actually knows what I’m going through, so I can actually sort my shit out.”

“Kingy will give you a ring. Sit tight.”

With that, he abruptly hung up. Prick. Even if he was helping, he could have had a bit more bedside manner. Well. It was two in the morning; if he was awake at this time, he probably had something serious going on.

It didn’t take long for Kingy to ring you, your phone buzzing with an unfamiliar number, and you picked up with a heavy sigh,

“Hello?”

“Alright, duck? Price said you wanted a ring?”

“What I wanted was support, with the whole ‘my boyfriend might die’ thing.”

“Ah. Gotcha. Still reeling after the whole hospital thing?”

“I mean, he was blown up. How am I supposed to take that on the chin?”

“He’s been blown up plenty, to be fair. It’ll take more than that to kill him.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Kingy.”

“Well, what do you want? I won’t lie and say it’ll be easy. My husband still worries every time I deploy, and he’s had to deal for a good few years now.”

You hadn’t realised anyone else even had a relationship. They all seemed like permanent bachelors to you. You folded your coat underneath you to take away some of the coldness that was seeping up from the concrete into your skin.

“How does he deal with it?”

“I dunno. Faith, I ‘spose. Faith that I’ll come back to him, that my lot will take care of me. Ultimately, I think it comes down to the person. He can deal with me being in danger. He doesn’t love it— who would— but he manages. And I think that’s about the size of it. You think you can manage it?”

It was a hard fucking question, and one you didn’t have an answer for.

“Tell you what. How about me and you get summat to eat? There’s a late night kebab place near you.”

You were well aware of that place, having ended many a drunken night trying to convince the manager to call you ‘boss man’. It hadn’t worked, but you’d never stopped trying.

“Alright, I could go for a kebab.”

Half an hour later, you were sat in the car park with Kingy and his husband, picking at chips as you listened to Danny,

“What Kingy forgets to mention is the therapy. A lot of therapy. Which is a weird, innit, you’d think it’d be them over there with the shrinks, but apparently they’re good for us waiting at home too.”

“And that helps?”

“Well, that and a bit of fluoxetine to take the edge off.”

You chewed on the chips thoughtfully as you considered Danny’s words. His husband was in just as much danger as Simon on the regular, but he seemed content with the situation, happy, even. Could that be you? Would there ever be a point where you wouldn’t have nightmares about Simon dying somewhere awful?

“-and there might even be a little one on the way next year.”

You tuned back in to the conversation, “You two having a baby?”

Danny grinned, “If they tire of making us jump through hoops. Honest, they talk to our mums, our mates, our bosses, I’ve got reference letters coming out my arse at this point.”

Kingy snorted, “Yeah, it is a bit full on. But we make it work. If you’re right for each other, you’ll figure it out. Don’t get me wrong, there’ll be some hard graft, but you’ll come out the other side stronger.” He put down his coke to look at you, “I really think Ghost would put the work in.”

“She dumped Ghost?” Danny cackled, “Fuckin’ hell. No wonder he’s been such a cunt lately.”

You arched a brow at Kingy, and he elaborated, “Our man might have been a bit on the grumpy side lately.”

“He made a recruit faint. And then bollocked him for fainting.”

“I think it’s more the crutches than anything. He doesn’t like being anything other than peak physical fitness.”

You must have looked guilty, because Kingy immediately lectured you, “Now, don’t be going back to him out of obligation. Nor pity, either. Ghost’s a big boy. The only one responsible for his mental health is himself; don’t you be taking that on. Not to be harsh, but he’ll be perfectly fine without you.”

You tossed a chip to a nearby pigeon, pondering Kingy’s words. What did you want? Well, dumb question; you wanted Simon. The dilemma was how much heartache would you be willing to go through for him? Would it be worth it? There was no comparing him to anyone else. He’d brought you stunning flowers, he’d given you cats, driven out in the middle of the night just to give you a lift home, watched Twilight with your girls, even called in the middle of a damn battlefield just to wish you a merry Christmas. Fuck. You’d never even come close to having that level of dedication before, and here you were about to throw it all away.

Kingy stopped bickering with his husband about mushy peas so he could instead prod you with his wooden fork, “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I think I made a huge cock up by leaving him.”

Danny muttered ‘I’ll say’ under his breath, and Kingy elbowed him in the ribs before continuing, “It’s not too late to fix things. Ghost’s been discharged to the watchful eye of the medics on base. Just say the word and I’ll take you there.”

Would it be rude to ditch Kate and Helen at your house? Probably, but they did both own keys to it, and were more than happy to make themselves breakfast rummaging through your cupboards.

“Alright. Take me.”

The base felt a lot spookier in the dark. You’d only ever been here during the day, when it was creepy enough, but now you half expected demons to leap out at you from every corner. Kingy didn’t seem so bothered, whistling to himself as he keyed in the code to the building, covering the keypad with his hand as he did so. You might have been offended if you hadn’t already broken into this very base twice before. Kingy pulled the door open, then ushered you through, his voice quiet, “Fair chance he’s asleep, given it’s about three in the morning. Mind you, he has been pulling all-nighters.”

He hovered at the door, and you looked down the hallway, then back at him, “Not coming?”

“He’s the only one sleeping in this building. Wakes at the drop of a hat, so he banned everyone else from sleeping anywhere near him. Guarantee he will have woken up just from me opening this door.” He pointed down the corridor, “Last door on your right. Have fun.”

With that, he left you, the door slowly swinging shut, leaving you alone with only the quiet sound of the halogen light bulbs buzzing overhead. You swallowed your nerves, walking down to the last door, wishing you were wearing something a little nicer than an oversized T-shirt and a pair of old leggings, as though you’d leapt right out of the late noughties. All you were missing was a statement owl necklace and a pair of uggs.

Simon’s door opened before you got to it. He hobbled out on his crutches, still wearing his cargo trousers like he had been in the hospital, though now his cast was decorated with both signatures and knobs. Typical. At least his arm wasn’t in a sling anymore, though now that he was wearing a regular T-shirt, you could see the bruises and scrapes decorating his tanned skin. His eyes were narrowed, a scowl playing on his lips already as he struggled with the door. For once, they didn’t soften as soon as he caught sight of you. You could practically see his guard being up.

“Simon. I came here to apologise.” Your voice sounded stilted and formal to your own ears, so you overcompensated, “I mean, I was such a dick in the hospital ‘cause you were injured and I was stressing about you being injured and I was tired, and they shut down the Greggs near me for refurb so I haven’t been able to just have a steak bake instead of cooking and I’m so knackered because-“

“Come to bed.”

“You what?”

He sighed, “I’m tired, love. My fuckin’ leg hurts, my arm hurts, and my sodding ribs too. Don’t make me stand around.”

Christ, he really was in a mardy. Not that you were going to turn him down, though. You took the weight of the door from him, letting him toss his crutches to the side and limp back to bed. You quickly took your shoes off and hung your coat over the back of a nearby chair, then pulled your leggings down, tossing them aside for now. He was already getting back in bed, pulling the duvet back up around his shoulders, eyes already closed. You hesitated for a moment before deciding to just go with it, slipping into bed beside him. Immediately, his arm snaking around you to gently pull you back against him, lips pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. The tightness went out of your stomach as he buried his face in your neck, his fingers linking with your hand as he held you against him. You couldn’t help but speak again, not quite believing you’d been forgiven so easily, “I really am sorry, Simon. I do love you.”

His voice was soft and a little muffled, already sounding half asleep. “Suck my dick and I’ll forgive you.”

Shit, you’d take that.

“Deal.”

Simon’s snore was your only answer.

[yi3248]

what’s your favorite roach headcanon?

hi anon!! sorry it took so long. your ask came in just as i decided to rewatch mw2 gameplay to refresh my memory so it took a While, but its finally here! it's a bit messy. feel free to ask if there's something specific you want an opinion of :D

i subscribe to the headcanon that he is selectively mute

was found hiding in a closet, somehow chilling with a cockroach in there

on another note, he finds the closet to be a comfortable place to be in, when everything gets too much. a makeshift barrier from everything

likes smooth peanut butter

when he was in primary school, while dropping him off, his mom got fed up with his nonverbal responses. parked near the gates, wants to know why he was being so difficult

(it wasnt on purpose. he wasnt trying to be difficult. he felt so exposed, through the windows, like other students could just know why he was locked in there, why they were taking too long to simply drop off someone)

hates tomatoes

likes the sweet kind of chili sauce

wears whatever graphic tees at his disposal when on leave

does dress up once in a while though, but like, for wildly mundane occasions

i want to say he has slightly bad vision (near-sighted) but its corrected with his goggles. doesnt wear the goggles on base, when hes not in immediate battle

either skips leg days, or hes the type who has difficulty building strength in his lower limbs

still trying to reason out why he failed 2 jumps lmao. since he was able to shake his pursuers in hornet’s nest, his running and jumping muscles should also be adequate. maybe as mactavish’s journal says, his gear was weighing him down (dear god, there was a lot of parallels mactavish drew in btwn him and roach)

likes snow. likes any snow activities. doesnt like how it freezes him though

probably hid in the toilet when there was a fire drill evacuation practice at school

roach and mactavish wouldve spend some time in the same room, quietly jotting out their thoughts on the mission in their respective journals

or even lets their frustration shine through. about their lack of ability to be better, to be more efficient (this was a common theme in mactavish’s journal. regrets and aftermaths)

a steady hand forces him to stop engraving his regrets deeply into a page. eyes snap up, mouth ready to follow along until he meets roach’s heavy gaze. he huffs, the exhaled air carrying some of his tension away, the shroud of distress slowly dissipates, but it lingers

he has his own team, and the burden, the need to watch them get through to the other end all safe and sound is so juxtaposed in their career. it is inevitable, but he can still try. they can be better, stronger, less chances to be picked off

he shakes his head, patting roach’s arm. “what? yer want to take a gander at my words?” he tuts, closes his journal with a snap, a wry smirk on his face. “go put that curiousity to proper work.” he ushers roach to the training area, ignoring roach’s pointed look of distaste

(dimly, he wonders if he will follow in price’s footsteps. if roach will assimilate some of his habits to remember him, in some sort of way. we’re all amalgamations of all the people we have met, naturally)

((as he yells into the comms for an answer that never comes, he doesnt have a chance to find out))

hates the water on base. it tastes different

somehow enjoys playing the mobile ads games more than the actual game

[kharrneth]

Queering the Blood God

This is Bo's fault btw @alphabitchnkari

Khorne is undoubtedly and unequivocally the most popular of the Chaos Gods, both among fans and with GW themselves. There are many reasons for this, and I believe one of those reasons is that in the hypermasculine and dark settings of Warhammer, both 40k and Fantasy, Khorne and his legions are the premier "manly" faction (and Warhammer is undoubtedly marked towards men and boys).

Khorne (and Khornates) are 100% a male power fantasy, albeit an evil one. He's the biggest, strongest Chaos God with traditional masculine associations (Bulls, Dogs, Wolves, War, Fighting, Courage, Honor, ect.). He's dominant, in control, in command, gets the hot girl (Valkia), and spurns the most feminine of the Chaos Gods, which is Slaanesh.

My own take on Khorne focuses on different aspects of his character that are there, but usually fade into the background or are not touched on a whole ton. My Khorne was designed with the aim of being attractive to both the feminine and queer gaze, while also staying true to the canon for the most part while ALSO actively defying the typical MPF body-type. Instead of the washboard abs that most male power fantasy characters go for, my Khorne is built more like a strongman. The strongman build is actually strong; the bodybuilder look many may use when they make a MPF character is actually mostly for aesthetic. Logically, it would make more sense for Khorne to look like this:

Taran Fiddler (Middle Piece), Lambstooth (Farthest Piece)

Than this:

Kratos, Wolverine, and Conan are Archetypal Male Power Fantasy Characters.

Also, since his Bloodthirsters look more like the second row, it would serve as a physical distinguisher between Khorne and his daemons. Most Chaos Ogres also worship Khorne, and therefore feed into his physicality, and let's not forget the fact that 1) Chaos Gods DO get fat and 2) most times we see Khorne he isn't exactly mobile.

Warhammer also takes place in what is essentially the Dark/Middle Ages, where the viewpoints on weight were different and associated with affluence, power, and privilege.

He's not exactly slender in the canon art either...

My Khorne conjures queer spaces and hopefully attracts the female gaze, too; at least, that was sort of the idea midways through his design. I wanted my Khorne to be appealing in the same ways and to the same people as King Bowser is from the Mario franchise. Khorne take inspiration from the Barazoku (Big Bara Blood God anyone?), the Bear community (Khorne is canonically hairy), and the furry Musclegut subcultures, since Khorne IS a dog furry.

Thus, the finished product:

Big Beautiful Blood God

Khorne is the quintessential manly god in the manly wargame that is warhammer, to the point of spurning and excluding the feminine. I had a lot of fun queering him. That will certainly upset the more close minded of the Warhammer community (and there are a lot of you; look at you especially 40k), but honestly the fact that Queered Khorne might piss of some bigoted dude tickles my fancy immensely.

[acewritesfics]

Perfectly Perfect | JAY HALSTEAD

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request: From anon.

Fic Type: imagine

Warnings: Daughters name in this is Ruby but you can change it to whatever you want.

Word Count: 877

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

©️ no one has permission to copy, translate and/or repost my works on here or anywhere else.

Jay and Y/N are roused from their light sleep by their baby girl’s whimpering coming through the baby monitor. Y/N moves to get out of bed to attend to Ruby, but Jay stops her, making her lie back down.  

“I’ve got her,” he says, pulling back the blankets and getting out of bed. 

“But it’s my turn, and you need to sleep,” she grumbles snuggling back into her pillow. Jay put in extra time over the last week working on the intelligence unit's newest case. Before they went to bed, he'd only been home for two hours. 

“You can take my turn,” he says as he leans down and kisses the top of her head. Just as Ruby’s whimpers morph into cries, he exits the bedroom. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” the new dad coos at his daughter as he scoops her from her crib and hugs her against his bare chest, carrying her down into the kitchen and heating up one of her bottles. As he returns to the nursery and sits on the wooden rocking chair that Hailey had gifted them, having bought it while helping Y/N with the baby shopping, he begins giving Ruby the bottle.  

After Ruby’s been fed and burped, Jay puts her back on his chest and begins to gently rock in the chair. He rubs Ruby’s back and whispers to her about how much he loves her and her mommy as she slowly falls back to sleep. 

An hour later, Y/N awakens to find Jay’s side of the bed still empty and faint snores coming from the baby monitor. She rises from the bed and heads into the nursery, but she pauses when she finds Jay sleeping in the rocker with Ruby tucked against his chest. Instead of waking him up straight away, she returns to their bedroom, grabs her phone, and then returns to the nursery to snap another picture of the father and daughter sleeping together. 

She walks over to the sleeping duo and softly runs her fingers through her husband’s hair. His eyes flutter open, and a little smile forms on his lips as he looks up at her sleepily. 

“Hey,” he says, his voice hoarse from sleep. 

“Hey,” she whispers, returning his smile and kissing the top of his head. “Let’s put Ruby back in her crib and go back to bed. I’m sure the bed will be more comfier than the rocking chair.” 

She moves aside as he stands up and carries Ruby to her crib.  

Y/N stands behind him, a hand on his lower back, gazing fondly at the child they created as he tucks Ruby back into her crib. Jay turns on the baby mobile that is hanging over her crib when she starts to stir. The soothing melody of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” quickly soothes baby Halstead. 

“Sometimes I can’t believe she’s ours and that we made her,” Jay admits as he looks down at the small baby who already resembles him so much.  

Ruby’s inherited his nose, blue eyes, freckles, and ears, and her Uncle Will’s auburn hair. There’s no denying that she takes after her dads side of the family. Y/N’s mom often tells her that its common for girls to take after their dad and she would know because all three of her girls take after their dad.  

“I think that sometimes too,” she confesses. “She’s perfectly perfect.” 

“With two imperfect parents,” he continues, throwing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. 

She kisses his chest and rests her head against it with a smile, “We can’t all be angels,” 

“What did we do to deserve her?” He wonders aloud. 

“I’m not sure,” she acknowledges, “but I thank God every day for her.  Now, let’s go back to bed before she wakes up again."  

Separating herself from him, she grabs his hand and leads him back to their bedroom. After getting back into bed, Jay pulls her close to him while seeming to be contemplating something important as he looks up at the ceiling. She is about to ask about what is going through his head when he reveals to her something unexpected. 

"I want another one.” 

“Another baby?” she asks making sure that’s what he is talking about. 

He looks at her and nods, “Yeah.” 

“So do I, but I think we should wait until Ruby is a little older before trying for another one,” she suggests, letting him know she has also been thinking about having another baby. 

“I agree,” he says, relieved that they’re on the same page.  

If they decided to have more than one child, they had both agreed that they would want their children to be close in age but not too close. They both come from families where them and their siblings are close in age. Will is only a year older than Jay, while Y/N is two years younger than her older sister and a year older than her younger sister. 

“But until we decide to try for another baby, you and Ruby are all I need,” she smiles. 

“You and Ruby are all I need right now, too,” he returns her smile as he cups her cheek with his hand and draws her into a sweet and loving kiss. 

[katieaki]

So, you’re interested in jumping into Pony Express but aren’t sure where to start/feel daunted by the undertaking/are freaked out about missing lore & context? Pony Express is intended to be a completely standalone work with no knowledge of my prior work necessary for enjoyment, but it has been rolling for quite a while now! Here’s some info to help you orient yourself! 💫 I recommend looking at this guide on desktop as the mobile version collapses the bullet points in a strange way.

✨ Here’s the absolute most basic summary:

Lou Primrose (30 years old, 5'0", illiterate, hardworking, 3x rodeo champion) is a rider for the Pony Express, the Wasteland's mail service. Lou has agreed to transport an unusual package from the middle of the Wasteland to the nearly uninhabited coast: a glamorous redhead named Holliday Bell. A case of mistaken identity sees Lou brutalized and disabled by religious assassin from the church of Johnny Knives (god of death) Reckoning "Artie" Tehachapi, who attempts to atone for her wrongdoing by serving Lou until she's healed. Together (for better or worse) the three of them head toward the ocean through unknown and dangerous territory.

This work is erotic in nature 🔞 with some violence and survival-type gore.

✨ If you’re totally new here, you might have some questions. Here’s a super quick primer under the cut!

What’s up with The Wasteland?

The Wasteland is a post-apocalyptic, non-dystopian society in the former American southwest. It has been several generations since the civilization Before (that’s us, or maybe like... our grandparents) was decimated. Nobody is particularly interested in the whys or hows of the collapse, though it seems that environmental disaster & earthquakes were the main factor.

It’s a series of towns, shrines, convents, and monasteries. Quite a lot of it is in repurposed buildings from Before (imagine Route 66-style gas stations, diners, and motels, all heavily repaired) and some of it is kind of ramshackle old-west-y new builds.

God of Death, religious assassins, churches– what’s up with all that? I’m afraid, sounds lore-y.

Wasteland society is heavily structured around the two churches of the gods of life & sorrow (The Listening Lady) and death & justice (Johnny Knives), who are married, immortal, and absolutely real. They live apart from the mortals, but they do live in the Wasteland with them. The Listening Lady’s church is responsible for basically every aspect of Wasteland life. Listening Church shrines and convents are also the Wasteland’s official or de facto orphanages, pantries, farms, hospitals, therapists, inns, textile mills, wedding venues, and basically everything else you need to keep a society functioning. Listening Church acolytes may have a huge variety of occupations, from the extremely down-to-earth (midwifery and laundry etc) to the real Weird and Churchy (doing rituals and divination etc). Many of them take a vow of silence in honor of The Listening Lady. The church of Johnny Knives is much smaller and much more specialized. Knife Church disciples are assassins whose sacred duty is to kill those who need killing, as judged by god. 

You don’t really need to get INTO this, though. What you need to know is: Listening Church acolytes are generally warm and kind and in caregiver- or artisan-type roles. Knife Church disciples are peacekeepers & generally a little scary, but are also working toward the public good– kind, but not necessarily nice.

I know the concept of gods and disciples invokes the image of like, robes and shit, but that is NOT how it is! Listening Church acolytes tend toward chiffon and midcentury-lingerie-as-outwear looks and/or country western workwear, depending. Knife Church disciples nearly invariably have sort of a greaser/biker/leather daddy thing going on. They all talk about the gods like they’re their parents and their bosses, which they are. I think it’s kind of more normal than you might be expecting. 

So there’s like, magic?

According to the Wastelanders, yes. You don’t need to worry too much about any of that. Just let them do their things.

And everyone is in a church?

Almost everyone interacts with Listening Church in some way, very few interact with Knife Church in any way, but most people in the Wasteland are ‘civilians’ (that is to say, not working for either church).

And they’re all lesbians? How do they have babies??

They’re not ALL lesbians, but basically all our POV characters are & it’s a very lesbian-heavy society. There are many ways that two women may have children, including biological. You got this, I know you do. 

And everyone is blue?

Yeah, but it doesn’t really come up.

Why?

Because I liked drawing them with the sky blue posca paint marker when I began this body of work.

Ok. What’s up with Lou?

Louetta “Lou” Primrose is a rider for the Pony Express– she’s a Wasteland mailman. Her job is basically her whole life. She’s been working since she was ten years old, working for the Pony Express since she was 14. After receiving a romantic rejection from Venus, the dance hall girl she’s in love with, Lou agrees to take a strange red-headed woman, Holliday Bell, to the (allegedly) uninhabited coast, where Holliday’s wife is (allegedly) waiting for her.

Lou is dedicated, practical, and hard-working, but also hot-headed, frequently mean, a little self-conscious, and ‘a rambling man,’ never in one place for long. She’s markedly not religious among other Wastelanders (so is a great pov character for you if you’re new to al this!). Her greatest achievement has been winning the main event at the Wasteland’s biggest horse games three years in a row, unseating the previous champion. Nobody else really cares that much.

What’s up with Holliday?

Holliday Bell is an elegant and mysterious woman who showed up to Lou’s post office with stamps pinned to her blouse, claiming she’d mailed herself there from a town hundreds of miles away. She is asking Lou, who works at the most westerly post office in Wasteland, to finish the delivery by bringing her way out to the coast where she claims her wife, a pearl diver, is waiting for her. 

Holliday is strange. From the beginning, Lou feels put off by her personality, which is both abrasive and seemingly rehearsed. She can be unspeakably cutting and is obviously hiding a big secret. 

What’s up with Artie?

Reckoning “RT” “Artie” Tehachapi is the Knife Church disciple who, after a series of lies and miscommunications spanning several parties across the Wasteland, is sent to apprehend Lou, who she thinks has kidnapped Holliday. She breaks Lou’s wrist and dislocates her shoulder in their first altercation before she learns that Lou is an innocent party in all of this. Deeply ashamed of her actions, she vows to serve Lou until they make it back to civilization.

Artie is upbeat and optimistic, especially for Knife Church, but her guilt at her transgressions against Lou & eagerness to make up for them have left her in a kind of anxiety spiral.  She’s the only one who has any real survival skills and continually works herself to the last drop, and then works herself a few drops more. When her big, horrible, deep, dark secret is revealed, her mental state continues to deteriorate.

What’s up with Venus? We haven’t seen her in a while?/Who’s the one-armed smokeshow?

Venus is Lou’s love interest, the girl she left behind in Hereafter. We haven’t seen her in a while because she, wisely, stayed there while Lou went off on her extremely inadvisable mission.

Venus of the Wastes is a dime-a-dance girl/saloon girl/sex worker who lives in Hereafter. She is Lou’s friend and Lou is both in love with her and her best client. Just before Lou left to deliver Holliday, she admitted to Venus that she was in love with her. Venus is, at least, very fond of Lou.

✨ Ok, but this is a lot! Where do I start??

If you’re looking to hop in on the story in progress, I’ve made summaries of part 1 , part 2 , and part 3 as we have gone on. I’ll update this with part 4 when we finish it. 

If you’re a completionist, the links above have epub & pdf files of the full text of each part. Here’s where part 4 begins, until we finish that part and I post it all together. You can find the rest of part 4 by scrolling backwards through the collection. I will also attach pdfs & epubs of all the full text to this post on my patreon!

If you’re a completionist completionist & you want it ALL, here’s everything and the chronological order in which they occur in-universe. Again, Pony Express is meant to be able to stand on its own two feet without any of the rest of this, but it might be fun for you to read the rest. The first three here are kind of a series, but Tears Can’t Put Out This Flame and Bloodied on Arrival could both be read independently. Care and Keeping probably needs those two to support it, unless you’re happy just jumping in and figuring stuff out via context. It’s Artie’s backstory, but it’s not necessary for you to read to make Pony Express make sense. It’ll just give you a little more dramatic irony etc. 

Tears Can’t Put Out This Flame  - a novella about Hero Sasaki, a novice acolyte at the Church of the Listening Lady (god of life & sorrow) who has been tasked with delivering a package to an anchorite from her church. Frances is a disgraced assassin from The Church of Johnny Knives (god of justice & death) who has been tasked with escorting her. Through trials of the road, emergency first aid, prayer, ritual (blood and otherwise), a little sex, and a lot of tears, they find love exactly where they should've expected it in the first place.

Bloodied on Arrival - a novel about Nuisance (and Hero), a road-weary assassin from The Church of Johnny Knives (god of justice & death) who finds herself and her new cat taking refuge at a companionship shrine run by a beautiful older widow, Hero, of the Church of the Listening Lady (god of life and sorrow). The two can't deny their immediate connection and aim for a rewarding one-night stand, but things don't go as planned.

Care and Keeping - a work in progress novel(?) about Hero and Nuisance and their new adopted feral child, Artie, a little girl who has known nothing but abuse, pain, and starvation who believes it’s her sacred mission to join Knife Church. Nuisance agrees to train her to join the church in a bid to keep her from it for as long as possible. This is a kind of coming-of-age story for Artie and a becoming parents story for Hero & Nuisance.

Pony Express - A work in progress novel about Lou (also featuring Artie) - see synopsis at beginning of post.

The novel/las are available for purchase on my Patreon for $5 or for pay-what-you-want $5+ on Gumroad. If you find you can’t afford that, but want to read it, please let me know! DM me wherever or email me at missluckycatknives (at) gmail (dot) com I’m happy to make my work accessible to you. All Pony Express and Care and Keeping are free as I work on them. 

[monstersdownthepath]

Ever heard of Hell Girl?

I can totally see a devil or an Infernal Duke offering something like the Hell Correspondence to mortals as a quick way to gather souls

If you don't know Hell Girl,here's an explanation

If you visit the Hell Correspondence website at just the right time and enter the name of someone you want to damn to Hell (if I remember correctly) the Hell Girl and her minions will appear and give you s black straw doll with a red thread around the neck. If you pull the thread, the person you cursed is killed and damned to Hell, but the cost is, you will also be damned to Hell when you die.

I could see it being a type of diabolic contract. They take one soul in exchange for yours, with no loopholes aside from divine intervention.

-----

I'm afraid that's another hard sell. You can contract devils to carry out assassinations all day and night, that's common! However, to have a devil drag an innocent person's soul to Hell and keep it there for eternity? That simply doesn't happen in Pathfinder. Often.

Skipping the Courts of Purgatory is a BIG cosmic no-no, and while demons and daemons may not care, the devils at least pretend to play fair, and thus the souls of innocents who are bound for other afterlives are usually allowed to leave Hell unless the devils think they can get away with keeping them. If devils could just skip the waiting line, they wouldn't work so hard to get their hooks into people and corrupt them beyond redemption!

Now, there are ways to skip the waiting line already, including the Ebon Acolytus, the Malediction spell, and most infamously Hellfire Ray, but all these methods will draw the ire of the Boneyard against both the mortal using them and the fiends receiving the souls, who will send a polite correspondence to the fiend in possession of a soul that doesn't belong to them commanding its release. If the soul isn't released to a proper afterlife, THEN the attacks begin as the forces of the Boneyard mobilize against the fiend, either directly via hunting psychopomps, indirectly via sneaking infiltrators to pilfer the soul, or by using agents in the universe to begin exacting their toll upon the fiend's mortal servants to force their hand. Sooner or later, one way or another, the error is corrected.

Only archfiends tend to have the power needed to hold onto improperly-sorted souls; anything less typically falls to the forces of fate. The only reason they get away with it at all is because... well... a lot is happening in the universe. Those three line-skippers above I mentioned cause a lot of chaos; it takes a while for the error of a missing soul to be spotted, then the soul must be located, THEN the fiend holding the soul must be contacted, and if the contact doesn't work, a plan to retrieve the soul must be made, and further plans must be constructed if the first one doesn't work. In the bureaucratic courts, it may take a while for an imprisoned soul to be freed, but one way or another it will happen, if not by the psychopomps themselves, then by the agents of other gods who are alerted to the soul-stealing. If your Duke is going around stealing the souls of high-ranking worshipers of Good-aligned deities, it won't be very long until he's confronted by one of them directly, at which point Asmodeus is more likely to hold up his hands and back away than to intervene, because he's been playing fair this whole time. As far as anyone knows.

... that's a lot of paragraphs, but this awoke something in me. If you really wanted it to work, you could skip the direct involvement of fiends altogether and make it a ritual that a mortal can perform themselves, condemning themselves and their target to a lower plane. Malediction and Hellfire Ray are allowed to work because they're the result of mortal choice, both damning the user for using them and giving the fiends receiving the souls a bit of plausible deniability, especially in the case of devils, who appreciate and exploit the existence of loopholes. If a devil is found to have a soul that isn't supposed to be there and confronted by the psychopomps, they can just hold it out at arm's length and go "Goodness gracious! I had no idea! Honest and truly, I thought this one was mine! Please, take it and put it where it belongs! I'll be sure to tell my followers to stop blasting people with evil beams!" while silently cursing the fact they were caught cheating.

Now, much like Malediction and Hellfire Ray, there's nothing stopping there from being an archfiend who simply knows the ritual, and happens to leave scrolls of it around in old dungeons and happens to tell its mortal worshipers that they exist. Why, this fiend may even retrieve the scroll FOR them if promised a juicy enough deal! But it's up to the mortal to actually use the power for themselves, allowing the fiend to wash its hands of the incident if it's actually caught by the Boneyard by going "I was just helping this mortal here achieve some revenge! It's their fault, not mine!"

[frozen-flower-thing]

Gonna make this post as a added bit of info for an upcoming post (hopefully if i post this it'll force me to actually post the other one)

So now welcome to

professor alexa's magic 101

Search tags = #prof alexa and/or #magic 101

That's right, this is gonna be me basically just explaining the magic in my writing in a series of post (that and gushing about cool abilities i came up with ngl) questions are welcome and in fact encouraged, attendence is not mandatory except for tests, and please be sure to give me a high rating on rate my professor!

for this first one im gonna explain basic magic classifications, this should be a fairly short lesson today class, be sure to take notes. This will be on the final

The first classification term is

Class

A spell or magical abilities class refer to what kind of magic it is and how available it is

ex. Attack, bloodline this would mean the ability or spell is a type of attack and is a bloodline ability (meaning only members of one bloodline are able to use it)

The possible classes are as follows:

Attack, defense, mobility, enhancement, passive, control, impairment, creation, charm, unique, bloodline, divine blessing, soul bound, essence bound, undefined

Most abilities will have one or two to determine what the ability does and one to determine if it is restricted to a person or group and how its restricted (if there is nothing to define restriction assume it's generally available)

Now most of these i think are self explanatory if you are unsure on one please come see me after class i will happily answer any questions (ask, reblog or comment) but i will provide a quick explanation of some of the less obvious ones:

Control: the ability to manipulate something freely (such as an element, blood, fire, plante etc) generally restricted to one substance but there are exceptions. This class is unique in that it is completely free general manipulation of the substance (some spells provide manipulation of an object but generally it is limited to whatever the spell does). Common pairings: attack, defense, passive

Impairment: weakening of a person or object either magically or physically, also includes sealing magic. Common pairings: attack, charm

Unique: this means the ability is restricted to a single person or group, this however does not mean it cannot be learned by others outside of the group but instead generally means the knowledge of how to use the ability is kept secret by that person or group

Divine blessing: means it the ability was granted by the gods or was granted as a wish via the ritual of zarkos. This also generally implies the ability is incredibly powerful. Common pairings: bloodline, soul bound, essence bound

Soul and essence bound: putting these two together as they are similar and commonly paired together, these mean that the ability is bound to a persons soul or essence meaning only that person can use it and will also be the only person to ever use it (soulbound does have exceptions to this)

Undefined: outside the current classifications, this is generally very rare

Type:

This in effect is the kind of magic the ability generally utilizes, some spells/abilities have several types while others have only one

Some common types of magic are: earth, water, ice, wind, lightning, fire, plague, shadow, light, void, enchantment, space, time, storm

As i plan to go into several of these in future classes i wont get to in depth at this point in time. Its important to keep in mind these are not all of the types of magic, there are many more, some of which likely haven't even been discovered. The tree of magic has many branches and is ever growing and likewise magic grows with it.

Notes and things to keep in mind

Rigid and malleable: during your research into magic you may find these terms in various different readings, annoyingly not ever scholar likes to use (especially older ones) due to various disagreements in their philosophy of magic (we will talk about that eventually) i recommend you use them when possible. These terms refer to how well one can change a spell/the diversity of its use, effectively if you can only use the spell one or two ways/ for its intended purpose it is rigid, if a skilled enough sorcerer can modify the spell and use it in various ways then it is malleable.

Difficulty: you'll see this often it just refers to how hard the spell is to learn/ use, different people use different terms personally i use, novice, intermediate, and advanced with few exceptions

Mana cost: how much mana it takes to use, if a spell does have this listed it will likely be labeled light, medium, or heavy. If you find one labeled weird and you cant figure out what its implying let me know i will see if i can figure out what they meant.

Something to keep in mind, mana cost not listed =/= no mana cost. Very few spells have no mana cost if its not listed either the cost is unknown or the author just didnt know or more likely didnt feel like writing it down

Alright with that said i think that's all our time for this class today, i'll be sure to post any addendums if needed or at least ill cover them next class. Please read to page 15 in your text books. If you have any questions please let me know.

That said our next class we will be reviewing the spell compelling words to get you used to the format and these classifications, this spell is a personal favorite of mine, its historically important while also being fairly simple so it should be easy to understand.

[pokemenlovingmen]

Okay!! I was able to counter act the links being funky in my app by opening your blog in my mobile browser!!!! so I was able to read your rules n stuff so now I can finally request (yusss!!! also, I saw the "ingo,,, again" under the PLA characters you write for and it made me think "ingo 2,,, electric boogaloo" heheheh. also yeah fuck kamado, all my homies hate kamado)

okay, could I please request a lil drabble (if you only do hc's thats fine of course! I just couldnt find it clearly if you only do hc's) of Adaman taking care of a reader who is on bed rest and healing? the exact stuff of how and what is up to you, for me its more so the comfort and caring side, not so much the angst side (so like, nothing thats like "omg reader was near death" pls?). gender of the reader I dont mind, just do what youre most comfortable with and yee!! thank youuuu

Hi you’ve been such a kind supporter I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you!! And yeah. Fuck Kamado. That exile would have been my villain origin story if the game gave me more agency, I swear to god.

And conversely, we love Adaman. They put him in pokemas and my quality of life has improved significantly <3

Oh and I’m sorry about the lack of clarity of what I do! I do only HCs, but at the level of detail I can’t stop myself from including, they’re kinda like a weird fusion between drabble and headcanons.

Healing Takes Time — Adaman x M!Reader

💎 — Hisui is a dangerous place and injuries ranging from minor to severe are all too common. So Adaman’s not exactly a stranger to presiding over loved ones on bed rest.

💎 — Doesn’t mean he’s good at it, though.

💎 — Mai reminds him that the slow passage of time is just as important as things that happen in the quick, efficient manner that he prefers as well. It’s not a slight from Mighty Dialga being displeased, it’s just the nature of time. But he can’t just stand around when it comes to your health! Yes, rest takes time, he’s aware, but all this waiting feels the same as doing nothing to him.

💎 — Mai basically has to keep him away from you constantly because he’s always fretting over you, which is definitely sweet of him even if it’s not exactly helpful, but it is funny to watch the cartoonish shenanigans of Mai trying to constantly shoo Adaman away from the medical tent.

💎 — Even if what you’re recovering from isn’t serious, you’d never be able to guess that from how he behaves.

💎 — He essentially becomes your primary nurse and seldom lets you out of his sight if he can help it (thanks to Mai being the reasonable one, he usually can’t).

💎 — Once things calm down though, after the first two or three days when your recovery progress is becoming quite apparent, he’s less frazzled and more willing to leave you be. He just can’t help that impatience winning out, though, sometimes.

💎 — He’ll be there to help you with maintaining yourself while you rest, sitting beside your futon while you recover, brushing your hair so you don’t have to, keeping a fresh cold compress on you at all times if the problem is that you’re sick and feverish, changing your bandages if it’s an injury, all that.

💎 — If you’re okay with it, he’ll also happily bring his Leafeon to see you for some good old fashioned grass-type aromatherapy. I know Leafeon can’t actually learn the move aromatherapy, but it’s clearly made of plants and must have some kind of floral/herbal smell.

💎 — And since we know he is a house husband in the making guy with an interest in cooking, you bet he’ll be bringing you all manner of home-cooked meals.

💎 — He’s so dutiful, oftentimes he doesn’t go back to his own tent for the night and will instead fall asleep on the cold floor next to your futon.

💎 — Adaman is very sure to keep you abreast of all goings-on in the clan, usually nothing much of interest, but he does uncharacteristically bring you all sorts of gossip. It’s not that he likes to gossip, but while you’re bedridden he can’t think of much to entertain you with so this is what he’s settled on. And also he probably would like to vent his multitude of frustrations with Melli specifically because you just know 3/5 instances of drama involve some kind of category 5 Melli moment.

💎 — Once you start to recover and leave your bedridden state, he’s still just as present as he was before.

💎 — If it was an injury he’s always making sure you’re not overexerting yourself, and if it’s something that happened to your legs, he’s volunteering to help you walk around so you don’t put too much pressure on the injury.

💎 — For illness he’ll always be on your case about taking whatever medicines/remedies you were instructed to, because your recovery has already taken ages (to him) already, and he’s not sure he can bear seeing you sick for much longer.

💎 — Regardless of the reason you’re bedridden, he’ll always give you a kiss on the forehead when he enters the tent and before he leaves—though if you’re sick, he musters the self control to wait. Ideally he can keep that up, but he might get a little impatient… oh well. He needs to remind you how much he loves you, and if he ends up getting what you have, he knows you’ll care for him just as dutifully as he did you.

[voxofthevoid]

you're well known to be a fantastic goyuu author. do you think you will ever write for other pairings in the jjk fandom, perhaps for itafushi?

Wait, hold up—

you're well known to be a fantastic goyuu author

I'M WHAT???

I'm...gonna be so normal about that. Yeah. Okay.

(I'm melting actually. Vox.exe has crashed.)

Re your question: My ao3 doesn't have any non-goyuu JJK fics for now, but I've written a few of them. All of them also have goyuu, so it's poly, typically V-types (e.g., goyuu and nanaita, but not nanago). You can find them here: chosoita+goyuu, nanaita+goyuu, sukuita+goyuu. Those links may not work on the mobile app though; you'd need to use a browser.

Re itafushi, I now have two ideas (more than the one it was when @thisdepravedsoul asked this question last month):

You know that new official art of Megumi? The magazine cover?

That did things to me, so I outlined a fic where Yuuji sees Megumi like that post-mission, gets a little gropey, and they fuck in a haunted school or something, followed by goyuu where Gojou sees what was done to Megumi and comes to sample the goods (Yuuji). The other one involves Gojou dubconning Megumi until Yuuji finds them accidentally and then offering him to Yuuji (who's oblivious to the dubcon aspects).

I do have several more fics with non-goyuu ships planned/outlined. They all also have goyuu because that's my center of interest in JJK, and it's pretty rare for me to write more than one ship at all. Yuuji has so many interesting relationships that I can't help it. Here's the current list, sorted by ship:

On top of the usual goyuu warnings, CWs include incest, dubcon/noncon, and implied MCD. The ships discussed are nanaita and sukuita, but Choso/Yuuji, Kenjaku/Yuuji, and Higuruma/Yuuji are mentioned.

Nanaita (plus goyuu):

oldest story ever told (hold me till we both go cold): Yuuji has complicated sexual relationships with Nanami and Gojou that are on the verge of either imploding or becoming more when Shibuya happens.

and every step forward put a little more sword in your heart: No-Shibuya post-canon AU where Yuuji's been pining after Gojou for years, he and Nanami have drunken sex, and it escalates from there on all fronts.

out of my head, into the nature: Vampire AU where Yuuji resurrects after the detention center with vampiric features; Gojou's only too happy to lend a vein, and Nanami gets roped into it despite his better judgement.

blood, lust, and a holy war: Gojou's the devil and Nanami's the angel on Yuuji's shoulder, and he fucks them both. The size is a bit of an issue at first, but they make do.

saints just swimming in our sins again: Established goyuu and nanaita where Nanami gets deaged, Yuuji tries to keep his hands to himself, and Gojou works very hard to make sure teen!Nanami gets some TLC.

Sukuita (plus goyuu):

of all the deadly sins, he's lucky seven: Omegaverse with omega!Sukuna/alpha!Yuuji and alpha!Gojou/alpha!Yuuji where Sukuna yanks Yuuji into his inndate domain to ride out his heat, and Yuuji's body autopilots its way into Gojou's asshole.

what does the poem of a killer say when it's written in the blood of the prey: Gojou and Sukuna are both gods and Yuuji’s a dragon-human hybrid who semi-accidentally tumbles into both their beds, separately. Fifty shades of monsterfucking.

no psychotherapy will ever relieve the hunted needing: Modern reincarnation AU where Sukuna’s reborn as Yuuji’s younger brother, and it takes everything Yuuji has not to smother him in his bed; it escalates into something very different. Then Gojou’s thrown into the mix as Yuuji’s high school upperclassman.

one day, the only butterflies left will be in your chest (as you march towards your death, breathing your last breath): Apocalyptic post-canon AU where Gojou doesn't get unsealed, Sukuna plays cat and mouse with everyone until only Yuuji's left, and they hate-fuck while Yuuji guards a weakening Prison Realm.

There are also a few others featuring Choso/Yuuji, Kenjaku/Yuuji, and Higuruma/Yuuji, one each for all three ships, but the bulk of my goyuu-plus ideas are nanaita and sukuita.

[batsplat]

Going back to the Italians, while it's true that sometimes I get annoyed with their insistence when they come and hunt me down, I recognise that it's partly because of me and the way I am. I am the kind of person who puts others at ease, who makes them feel like we've known each other for years. They think we're friends, that we can laugh and joke together as soon as we meet. Because Italians love doing this. So everybody thinks they know me well. Nobody approaches me with a degree of detachment. When they see me they want to hug me, grab me, touch me, squeeze me. There are all sorts of "types". There's the guy to whom it would never occur that maybe you don't feel like laughing and joking at precisely that moment. No, he appears and does his little shtick, one question after another, telling you things you never asked to hear. Then there is the worrier, who usually wants to come and sit down next to you, asking you how the bike is, the one who really cares about the standings, the opponents, who gives me all sorts of advice on how to ride in the next race. There's the sensationalist, the one who runs over as soon as he sees you. He hugs you, grabs you, pins you down and then calls his friends who arrive by the dozens and repeat the same routine. The souvenir hunter makes me feel like an animal in the zoo. He observes me, he photographs me from a nearby table or from the sidewalk. Ever since somebody had the bright idea of putting cameras in mobile phones, my life has changed, and not necessarily for the better: there is no such thing as privacy any more, ever. Anyone can spy on you, take your picture or even shoot a video of you. I truly loathe this, because the mobile-phone-camera maniacs have no compunction about stopping you, passing the phone around among themselves and snapping away from every conceivable angle in every conceivable pose. They don't ask permission. And, if they do, and you say "No", they just go and take your picture anyway, perhaps doing it secretly, which I believe is worse. The disrespectful type has no idea what privacy is. He'll come right up to you when you're at dinner with friends, or on a date, without thinking you might need some time to yourself once in a while. There's the moraliser, who comes up to you, interrupts whatever it is you're doing, puts his hand on your shoulder and says: "Goodness, you sure lead a nice life, you make all this money, you do fuck all and you get to travel all over the world! Life is good, isn't it?" And finally, there's the jealous one and here you have to be very careful, because it takes only a split second for an Italian to turn you from God to Satan in their minds. And if they change their minds about you, they're very unlikely to forgive. Having said that, when the Italians love you, they really love you. They transmit so much warmth, they really make you feel special. And that's why I always try to do something a little different at, say, the Italian Grand Prix. And that's why I still love my countrymen. It's just that I wish they were a little more polite.

Valentino Rossi in his 2005 autobiography, What if I had never tried it