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waynes-multiverse · 5 months

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Plastic Hearts – Part 22

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, injuries, hospitals, jealousy, drug use, angst, smoking everywhere 'cause it's the 80s, girl fights, a whole lot of FLUFF

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all your comments last week! So happy to bring these two idiots back to your screens of choice and give them an ending they deserve! Now, buckle up! We have some bitchy moments in this one 👀😇

<< 21 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

The gym smells of blood, sweat, and tears tonight. More so than ever before. The tensions run high.

It’s the first live taping since the show’s official cancellation. The first three matches have already run their course, the rest of the women joining Dean in his office, using the platform as the perfect viewing room. It’s like an NFL suite at Super Bowl. Everyone’s drinking, celebrating, and has gathered here to watch the biggest match of the night:

Red Sparrow vs. Liberty Bell

Usually, the green-eyed director would be bothered by the constant chatting, shrieking, and yapping. But tonight, he could care less as he passed the director’s crown on to his spawn, leaving Claire to man the booth and direct the show on her own, putting her AV skills to the test.

After all, the show’s already canceled. What’s the worst that could happen? Might as well let a rebellious teenager call the shots. Who gives a shit! Isn’t it awesome to be this carefree?

“Can you guys keep it down?” Claire hisses with an annoyed roll of her eyes, her shoulders tense with stress as she tries to concentrate on the monitors. “I’m trying to direct a show here! I can’t fucking hear anything!”

Amused, Dean chuckles. Now, his daughter finally knows what it’s like to be in his shoes. He’s tried telling everyone for ages that these women are fucking annoying and that being a director ain’t easy.

While the women are busy talking up a storm and pay attention to the match, Dean sneaks to his desk and opens the first drawer. He pulls out his pack of cigarettes, but it’s not a smoke he’s in the mood for. To his surprise and shock, however, the little bag of white powder he hides in there is gone.

Did he put it somewhere else?

Frantically, he starts opening every drawer, moving stuff in and out of them. He rummages through his folders on his desk, sees if he placed it there somewhere, but it’s nowhere to be found. His green eyes then dart to his kid and an eerie feeling settles in his stomach. Surely, Claire didn’t take it, right?

Like father, like daughter, it echoes through his mind.

He always loved the fact that his kid was so much like him – the love for good movies, the humor, the sass, the sheer unabashed talent. But not in that regard. God, does he hope she didn’t inherit his drug addiction, too.

“Claire?” Dean knows he has to be careful in his questioning, not wanting to alert the other women in the room to the pressing issue. But his daughter skillfully ignores him, too focused on her current task. “CLAIRE?!” he barks loud enough to rattle the entire office.

Yeah, okay, that wasn’t as smooth and inconspicuous as he had hoped, but he’s fucking panicking on the inside, alright? He has entered worried dad mode.

Don’t act so fucking surprised, okay? He has evolved like man is supposed to do.

In all honesty, Dean wanted to get completely clean two weeks ago. As soon as Y/N waltzed into his office and slept with him, he swore he’d never touch the toxic and nasty stuff again. He was done, and this time, it’d be final. No going backsies. But he had one teeny-tiny baggy left, and well, he hates to be wasteful. So, his plan was to slowly stop and keep the withdrawals at a minimum. And it worked great so far. It hasn’t snowed in four fucking days.

“What?!” his kid grunts back, audaciously annoyed.

“Did you snoop through my drawers and take my smokes out?” Dean asks her in his best dad voice. He’s gotten quite good at it since he practiced it over the last few weeks.

Do your homework!

Eat your vegetables!

Tell that fucking boyfriend of yours to stop sneaking in through the window, or I’ll get my gun!

“No, I don’t smoke!” Claire huffs without missing a beat and doesn’t take her eyes off the monitors even once.

Dean believes her. Usually, when she lies, there are a few seconds of thinking that pass by before she comes up with a reasonable excuse. Not that he buys any of them, but whatever. This time, though, she answered right away, and he knows she has no idea what he’s even talking about.

So, did he misplace it? You’d think he’d be more careful with drug storage, but sometimes it’s a glass of whiskey too many, and stuff gets lost. Did he leave it in the car? Is it at home?

But then it dawns on him. Joanna.

The blonde storms into his office, forcing the director to look up. Her mascara is smeared across her cheeks, her hair disheveled and overall she seems upset and out of breath.

“I need my own goddamn dressing room,” Barbie demands. “I can’t get ready and in the right head space with all of these women down there. I’m the star of the show. Some of us need peace and quiet to wash the shit of the world from us before they have to fucking perform!”

“Whoa, whoa, easy, alright? Sit down,” Dean tells her calmly and gestures to the seat in front of him, where the blonde immediately plops down with an exhausted huff. “You can get ready in my office tonight, okay? You want a drink? You look like you need one.”

Jo nods with a sniffle and accepts the flask he’s offering her, almost downing the whole thing.

“What’s going on? You good?” Dean checks. Usually, he wouldn’t care about the blonde’s feelings, but since she’s up against Y/N tonight, he wants to assure himself nothing goes wrong.

“Yeah, it’s just… Sam.” She scoffs and takes another swig. “He’s got a new girlfriend. His secretary, Jessica.” The blonde rolls her eyes at the name. “Who knows how long he’s been fucking her. Our divorce isn’t even final.”

Dean nods understandingly as he rises from his chair and pats the blonde’s shoulder. “I know. Divorce is shitty. You’ll get through this. Trust me.”

“Shit…” Dean mumbles.

He left an emotionally vulnerable woman alone in his office with a bunch of booze and drugs. How could he be this stupid and reckless? He doesn’t even suspect Jo took the coke on purpose. She was probably looking for a smoke and stumbled upon it, thinking, “What the hell? My day is already shit, maybe this makes it better.”

Dean knows because it’s usually what he thinks as well when he’s at his lowest. How do you think he got addicted to drugs in the first place, huh?

Here’s how: two divorces and a failing career.

“Boss?”

“Dean?!”

“Dad!”

The green-eyed director snaps out of his thoughts and turns to the room full of women upon their calling, all of them looking quite panicked and worried. It’s like a fox got loose in the coop.

His brow furrows as he approaches the booth and big windows, trying to see where the concern is coming from. “What? What’s going on?”

“I think there’s something wrong, boss,” Donna informs him. “That’s not the fight they’ve practiced during training. They’re going off script.”

Fucking shit…

“Dean, what the hell is going on?” Billie cocks an eyebrow at the director, but he can’t get himself to focus or reply as his green eyes are glued to the match downstairs.

Dean’s too cynical to believe in a God and has certainly never prayed before, but tonight he can’t help it and utter a quiet prayer, hoping for a goddamn miracle.

His heart is racing as he watches the match unfold. There’s nothing he can do about it. Nothing can stop it. It’s like watching a fucking car crash as a bystander on the sidewalk.

Looking at Y/N’s face, he can see that she’s panicking as well and getting scared. It breaks his goddamn heart. The actress tries to talk to the blonde and get through to her but to no avail. Killer Barbie is on a mission, and her target is clearly Y/N.

And then, it all happens fast. Jo throws Y/N onto the mat and grabs her leg, raising it up by the ankle. There are tears in Y/N’s eyes before an audible crack echoes through the gym. Y/N screams out in pain. Jo drops her foot and backs away in shock, hands high in the air. The entire gym becomes mum, only a few quiet gasps uttered by the audience bounce off the tall walls.

Dean’s heart is about to explode as he bolts down the stairs and almost takes a fall. He hasn’t even reached the ring yet and assessed the damage, but he already blames himself. This is all his fucking fault. Donna warned him, and he didn’t listen. Y/N was obviously not fine, and neither was Jo. How many goddamn warning signs did he choose to ignore? And for what? For fucking ratings no one even cares about?

Y/N’s agonizing scream rings in his ears as the director makes his way to her. Rufus is already there in his referee costume, trying to help her as best as he can. Dean’s so close he can practically count the steps to the ring. Has this gym always been this huge? It feels like he’s been running a mile.

But then, he’s abruptly stopped by Cas’ announcer voice and what his green eyes find unfolding in front of him.

“And here comes a camera guy to save our Russian warrior!”

Oh hell, no!

Dean should probably be glad that someone is helping her and not let his jealousy win. But does that someone really have to be fucking Benny of all people? The green-eyed director truly thought he was done worrying about that guy. Now, however, he has to watch that douchebag heroically carry Y/N out of the ring while the audience cheers and claps.

It’s his worst goddamn nightmare. Well, that and Y/N getting hurt in the first place.

“Put her down,” Dean demands fiercely as he faces Benny, his blood boiling as he watches the actress hold on to the guy’s neck and wince in pain. A bit of guilt mixes with his jealousy at that.

Don’t be an asshole. Focus, he reminds himself. Y/N’s more important than your fucking ego.

“What? No,” Benny denies his request with a confused and irritated frown.

“That’s an order,” Dean grits boldly.

“I don’t care. She’s hurt,” Benny snaps back with emphasis and acts like Dean doesn’t know what that means. “Fucking fire me if you have a problem with that. The show’s done anyways.”

That fucking little prick…

Dean purses his lips in frustration. What is he supposed to do now? Rip her from the guy’s arms? Start a fist fight?

“I can take her. I’ll drive her to a hospital,” the director insists with a little more reasoning.

“Let’s take my limo! There’s enough space for her,” Ruby chimes in as the whole pack of women flock to the rescue and worryingly gather around Y/N.

Great. More helping hands is what Dean needs right now.

“No, we’re taking my car,” Dean maintains, trying to remain calm amongst the concerned chatter. “Baby’s backseat got plenty of space, alright?”

“True,” Bela agrees with a dirty smirk.

Dean sighs, Billie rolls her eyes, and Y/N frowns at that. Dear God, these fucking women…

“How about we ask Y/N what she wants, huh?” Dean proposes, knowing the actress will surely pick him. God knows she’s picked him yesterday all night long…

Benny smiles as if he could win this battle. “Fine.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, what d’you want? Who do you wanna go with, huh?” Dean asks, lowering himself down to her with a gentle look in his eyes and a warm, caring smile.

“I don’t care!” Y/N whines with pained features and a high level of annoyance. “I just wanna go to a hospital! Any hospital in any car.”

Fair enough, Dean thinks dejectedly. Still, she could’ve done him a favor and picked him. He hates losing to a fucking camera operator.

“My limo it is!” Ruby exclaims and bolts ahead to the parking lot, keys jiggling in the air.

With a triumphant smirk, Benny turns and follows Valley girl outside, Dean swallowing down the urge to punch the guy as Y/N throws him an apologetic look over camera guy’s shoulder.

These fucking women…

Dean has floored the gas pedal of the Impala, but it’s fucking LA, so an hour was spent standing in traffic on the freeway. Moreover, he had to gather Claire and Cas as well and check on Jo, while Benny and the girls were already at the hospital with Y/N.

When Dean finally arrives, he rushes through the glass doors into the waiting area of the emergency room, Cas and Claire on his heels. His group is easy to spot, considering they’re all still in their fucking wrestling costumes.

His hands ball into fists when he sees Benny holding an ice pack to her injured ankle as she sits in a wheelchair, the girls scattered around Y/N on creaky hospital seats as they keep her company. He hates that camera guy is taking care of his girl. It should be him by her side, not some fucking footnote in this story.

“Hey, what the fuck is going on? Why is she still waiting?” Dean asks furiously, charging in full-throttle. His heart is burning for Y/N, and nothing can extinguish it.

Hell, if she isn’t getting help soon, he’ll burn this goddamn hospital down.

“Because she’s not a gunshot wound?” Ruby answers wryly, earning her glare.

But Dean supposes party girl has a point. It’s an LA hospital in a bad neighborhood.

“Want me to lick your wound? Saliva helps with blood clotting,” Meg offers as she holds Y/N’s hand tightly.

“She’s not even bleeding,” Cassie counters with a raised brow.

“She might be bleeding internally,” Meg argues and places her palm on Y/N’s forehead, taking her temperature.

“Stop it! You’re freaking her out,” Charlie scolds from the seat behind her.

“Why is this taking so long? My friend is in pain! Do you hear me?” Meg whines, calling to the nurses’ station.

Why are girls so exhausting? That question has been running around Dean’s mind for months now. He’s still lacking an answer.

Ignoring the female turmoil around him, Dean lowers himself down in front of Y/N and finds her eyes, smiling gently. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you doing, huh?”

“Dean!” Y/N smiles broadly when she recognizes him, her face lighting up and beaming brighter than the fluorescent lights above her. It warms his heart.

The director’s head then tilts slightly, inspecting her closer. She seems awfully chipper for someone in pain. Her pupils are gigantic, too.

Ruby leans in and whispers, “I gave her a Valium… and then half a Klonopin.”

Ah. There it is. She’s fucking high. That explains it.

Dean reaches out his hand and caresses her pink cheek, feeling her lean into his touch. “You feeling good, sweetheart?”

“I’m awesome,” she replies with a drowsy giggle.

He grins. “Yeah, I bet you are…”

Is it weird he’d like to fuck her in this state? Right, probably not a good time to ask those questions. (But he swears he wouldn’t take advantage of her. Just play with her and test her senses a little.)

“You’re so pretty,” Y/N tells him dreamily, making him blush hard as she touches a few strands of his hair and plays with them.

“And the first pill is kicking in,” Ruby notes, amused.

A nurse then finally walks into the waiting room with a tired gleam in her eyes and clears her throat to catch everyone’s attention. Dean can’t blame her. He knows it’s like a fucking circus in here.

“Good news. We have a bed ready, so I’ll take her back and all of you can leave?” the nurse explains and looks at the wolf pack hopefully.

Meg stares her dead in the eyes and replies flatly, “Not a chance.”

Yeah, Dean could’ve told that nurse those girls weren’t going anywhere.

Benny rises from his position and attempts to push Y/N’s wheelchair, following the nurse. But Dean will be damned if he lets him. Provocatively, he pushes the camera guy aside and scowls at him, making his territory and claim clear. The girls aren’t the only wolves in this waiting room.

“I got her. You can leave,” Dean growls with a deathly stare. “My show, my actress. I’m the director, and she’s my fucking responsibility, got it?”

Benny raises his palms in surrender and takes a step back. He already knew he lost when Y/N only had eyes for Dean as soon as the director showed up. A pill-high never lies.

The nurse helps Y/N into a bed in a small, quiet room. As they wait for a doctor, Dean impatiently paces the room, fuming away on his smoke. If you can’t tell, he’s far away from relaxed.

A man in a white coat with a friendly smile then finally strolls in and introduces himself. “Hello there, Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Dr. Gabriel Piccolo. Are you with the circus?”

Dr. Sexy, as Dean refers to the guy, lifts an eyebrow at Y/N’s unusual costume. You’d think as a doctor at a hospital in Hollywood, he’d see more people like this.

“I’m an actress on a wrestling TV show,” Y/N replies, not offended by his question in the slightest.

“Oh, uhm, I’ll have to watch it,” Dr. Sexy says politely and then gets straight down to business, cocking his head at her injured leg. “Okay, so left ankle. We’re gonna have to cut off this boot.”

“Oh! No, no, no. Sorry, these are important.” Y/N protectively throws herself over her knee-high army boot.

Dean sighs a little. Even high on pills and in unbearable pain, Y/N still prioritizes her silly job. “Alright, Doc. I got it,” the director relents and shoots the man a look.

Carefully, Dean unties her laces, loosening the shoe enough. “I’m gonna go slow, sweetheart. Just take it easy, alright?”

Dean flashes her a smirk and watches as she bites down on her lower lip, nodding. She inhales sharply and whimpers when he slips the boot off her foot. His fingers smooth over her leg, soothe the skin, and elicit a shudder from her. He can tell the action turned her on, can see the goosebumps rise on her arms as she presses her thighs together. He can practically hear her drip.

He smirks devilishly. Y/N sends him a knowing frown.

Dr. Sexy clears his throat and interrupts their heated moment, causing Y/N’s cheeks to flush furiously.

The doctor then assesses her ankle. It’s swollen and the skin a purplish-blue. Dean knows it doesn’t fucking look good. He guesses it’s not a simple sprain.

“Can you feel your toes? Can you wiggle them?” the doc checks. Y/N does as asked and moves her toes as best as she can. It’s not much though before she winces in pain. “How does that feel?”

Dr. Sexy touches the swell on her ankle, and Y/N squeezes her eyes shut and locks her jaw, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Fucking hurts,” she grits through strained teeth.

“Okay, we’re gonna take some X-rays. See what we’ve got,” the doc finally says and disappears out of the room.

Y/N exhales an exhaustive breath and looks at the director. “Distract me,” she prompts with desperate eyes.

“Well, I’m not gonna be my regular chipper self,” Dean quips, making her laugh. He smiles, too, and leans in closer. “How about this?”

He wiggles his eyebrows and then dips his head, claiming her lips in a blistering kiss that makes her legs quiver. His tongue slips inside her mouth, swipes deep as teeth scrape her lower lip. Upon her first moan, he draws back with a smug smile.

He leans close to her ear, whispering against her shell, “You know if curling your toes didn’t hurt, I’d make you come so fast on my fingers right now, baby girl.”

Her eyes widen. She gasps and gently hits his arm in a scolding manner. “Dean!”

“What?” He chuckles and pecks her crown. “It’ll be alright. Don’t worry so much, okay?”

The girls then soon flood the room, one by one providing endless entertainment that surely no other patient at this hospital receives. Y/N’s a fucking star here, although she always is to Dean.

First, there was Claire, who practically emptied the vending machine, buying sweets and snacks for every taste (with Dean’s money). He’s nothing more than a wallet to that girl.

Meg, on the other hand, stole more pillows and blankets from other patients, making sure Y/N was as comfortable as possible. Ruby read Cosmopolitan to her and filled out the magazine’s sex quiz, intriguing Dean a lot.

Every girl pretty much brought their unique sense of entertainment, making Y/N laugh and smile so much she almost forgot why she was here. Only one woman was missing from the wolf pack – Joanna.

As Y/N is finally wheeled away to her X-rays, Dean decides to join the other women in the waiting room. He’s more than happy to discover that Benny actually left when he can’t catch sight of the guy anymore.

Guess the director is the true winner, after all.

Donna then approaches Cas, who’s nervously sucking on a cigarette in the corner by the vending machine, and hands him a clipboard with a hospital form.

“Y/N doesn’t have insurance, and we don’t know what to fill out,” the blonde tells him and meekly saunters back to her seat.

Cas frowns and looks at the women in disbelief. “How could she not have insurance? She’s a professional wrestler.”

Billie arches a sarcastic eyebrow at that and replies wryly, “Yeah, employed by Novak Productions, who doesn’t provide health care.”

Cas swallows guiltily and purses his lips. “How many of you don’t have insurance?”

Almost every woman in the room raises their hand, except for Jo, Billie, and party girl.

That tracks, Dean thinks and is not the least bit surprised. Judging by Cas’ shocked expression, though, this revelation clearly shatters the privileged rich boy’s world.

The producer nods earnestly. “This is my responsibility, and I will take care of it,” he promises. Dean gives him a pat on the back, letting Cas know he’s doing the right thing. If the producer hadn’t footed Y/N’s bill, Dean surely would have.

The director then glances around the waiting area, noticing the sad faces and depressed mood. “Alright, she’s not dying, okay?” he tells them and catches their attention. “You guys did a great show tonight. Why don’t you go back to the motel?”

“Great?” Donna cocks a brow at his word choice. “We were amazing.”

Charlie looks up at him, a hopeful look in her eyes as her red hair shimmers in the fluorescent light. “You think we get our old time slot back, Dean?”

Dean smacks his lips, scratching the scruff on his chin. He then shakes his head. He can’t lie to them. Knowing what he knows, he also knows it’s over. “No, I don’t. I think we’re gonna die at 2am… But we’ll die on our own terms, alright?”

Nodding, Ruby sighs loudly. “I’ll drive everybody home. And then, we get drunk while we ice our knees.”

As the girls start to gather their belongings and rise from their seats, Jo rushes through the glass doors. The women punish her with little glares on their way out. No one buys it was an innocent accident. In fact, Dean’s pretty sure the wolf pack believes the blonde tried to murder their beloved leader.

Dean, however, doesn’t.

“She’s in room 3,” he tells Jo without further comment.

The green-eyed director didn’t know what he had expected when he sent Joanna into Y/N’s room. Maybe that they’d talk like adults, get it all out in the open, and finally make amends. Be best friends again.

But maybe that was a little naive of him.

It all started out innocently. Dr. Sexy entered the room with a set of X-rays and left happily a few minutes later. Meanwhile, Dean and Cas smoked in the hospital’s corridor and drank the most awful-tasting coffee out of plastic cups.

Then, the mood started to shift. The guys could hear the girls arguing with slightly raised voices, just loud enough for it to drown out into the hallway.

“Eight to ten weeks? It’s not that long,” Jo could be heard saying.

“It’s the rest of the season. I won’t be on the show,” Y/N threw in through gritted teeth. Dean could hear the upset in her voice.

Jo scoffed, brushing it off. “Well, we’re getting canceled anyways, so… It’s just a job, you know.”

“No, it’s not!” Y/N’s voice went up a notch in volume. Dean knew she was close to reaching a boiling point. This wasn’t good.

“Okay, geez, you don’t have to lash out at me. I did not mean to break your ankle, okay?” Jo countered, pushing all blame off her.

“I don’t fucking believe you!”

And that was the turning point. That’s when the yelling started. The one that could be heard throughout the hospital, spilling into every room and probably several floors.

“No, no, no…. See, that was an accident, Y/N,” Jo says with a jittery voice. “Unlike the time you accidentally fucked my husband! TWICE!”

“You made out with my prom date on prom night!”

“That is not the same thing, and you know it!”

“Oh? Is it the same thing when you hooked up with your co-star at your stupid soap wrap party one week before you got married? And coincidentally, Sammy was born nine months later! Is he even Sam’s? ‘Cause he looks a whole lot like what‘s-his-face!”

“How dare you!”

“You didn’t even love Sam! You only married him for his money!”

“You don’t have the fucking right to say anything about my marriage!”

Cas swallows down a big gulp of coffee, sharing a nervously concerned look with Dean. “Should we, you know, go in there?”

Dean’s eyes widen as he vividly shakes his head. “Fuck no! Are you nuts? We stay right here. Look, men are simple. They throw a few punches and then share a drink. And women… Well, women do fucking this. Bottle everything up, even for years sometimes, till it fucking explodes. Trust me, they need this. Let ‘em get it outta their system.”

Fucking women…

“Oh, do I have the right to talk about your power complex?” Y/N yells. “Or do I have to schedule a meeting with all the producers?”

“I’ve earned my title!”

“Right, your fucking work ethic is legendary! I’m so sick and tired of apologizing about Sam! I don’t care anymore! I have eaten shit for months! I have done everything I can think of to make this right!”

“You can’t make it right!”

“Great! Then I’ll stop trying!”

“Fine!”

“Yeah, fine like you telling me I should get raped to save our show! The show you don’t give a shit about!”

“God, you’re so melodramatic! I just figured you’re already screwing our director for attention, what’s one more network executive!”

Cas blinks at Dean with wide eyes and a raised brow. “Are you-… Are you and Y/N dating?”

Dean averts his eyes to the blue wall opposite him and wordlessly sips his coffee. He has a feeling the girls’ fight is about to take a turn, going into a direction he doesn’t particularly care for. Why can’t they just leave him out of it?

Cas, however, takes Dean’s silence as what it is – an admission. The producer’s face lights up with joy. He excitedly rubs Dean’s shoulder and gasps giddily. “That’s so great! You haven’t dated anyone since Amara! I’m so happy for you! I love Y/N! Are you guys getting married? Did you buy a ring? Can I be best man? You know what they say, third time’s the charm!”

Dean scowls at the producer and heaves a deep sigh. “Calm the fuck down, would you? No one’s getting married.”

“Go to hell! I’m not fucking Dean, okay?” Y/N denies Jo’s accusation loudly.

Dean thinks she’s a hell of an actress. If he didn’t know for a fact that he was balls-deep inside her last night, he would’ve bought that little lie.

“Oh please! It’s so obvious!” Jo counters. Dean can practically hear the exhaustive eye roll that followed. “He’s following you around the gym like a lovesick puppy!”

That’s what Dean was afraid of. He does not like where this conversation is headed.

“He is not! Shut the fuck up!”

“Are you really trying to fucking lie to me, right now? I’ve known you since middle school!” Jo snaps. “And he certainly fits your glorious dating choices! Drug addiction? Check! Asshole? Check! Commitment issues? Check! He’s perfect for you. I’m surprised your slutty ass didn’t jump him the first day!”

“Oh, fuck you, you fucking bitch!”

“Slut!”

“Whore!”

Then, more yelling, more accusations, and more tears follow before Jo storms out of the room and bolts past the boys down the hallway.

Fucking girls…

“I’ve never felt so guilty about anything,” Cas mumbles next to him, completely distraught and shaken.

Dean scoffs. “Geez, you’ve lived a charmed life.”

“Thought I was gonna have a wrestling show, and no one was gonna get injured?” Cas shakes his head at his own nonsense. “What the fuck is wrong with me? I destroyed our little family! I mean, Y/N is a gimp.”

The director rolls his eyes and sighs. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She’ll go on to have a full life, okay?”

Somehow that causes Cas to smile cheekily. He nudges the director’s shoulder. “With you?”

Dean sends him a thundering glare and dumps his burning cigarette bud into the producer’s coffee cup as he walks past him and returns to Y/N’s room.

Dean sat quietly next to Y/N as a nurse put a cast on her leg. The ankle, much like the women’s friendship, was broken, and the actress was out of commission for the foreseeable future. She hadn’t spoken a word yet, only sniffling and crying silently to herself. Dean left her alone and only handed her a tissue every now and then, figuring she needed some time to calm down and think. But he still wanted her to know he was there in case she needed him.

As the nurse finally leaves, Dean reaches out his hand and takes hers, drawing comforting circles on the back of it. Patiently, he waits till she’s ready to look at him.

“Well, I won’t be needing these anymore,” Y/N mutters with a pout and dumps her army boots on the little bedside table. “You should give them to Claire. She’d make a great replacement Red Sparrow.”

Dean purses his lips. It takes a lot out of him not to roll his eyes at her dramatization. He supposes that’s what he gets for falling in love with a goddamn actress – fucking theater no less. But he knows she’s really going through it right now, so he’s willing to cut her some slack.

“Relax, I’m not giving your part away,” he assures her with an easy smile.

“Well, you have to, if you want to keep the storyline moving forward,” she mumbles grumpily.

“Who cares? It’s just a TV show,” Dean argues.

However, that particular line seems to anger her. “Everyone keeps saying that. It’s not to me,” she contends and finds his eyes, her teary-eyed and desperate look boring into him. “I have people now. People who come with me to the ER. People who care if I’m hurt.”

Dean nods his head in understanding. He knows Cas and Y/N are essentially right, as much as it hurts him to admit it. They are a little family – a weird and incredibly dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just the easiest thing to say, you know?” he says and lets out a sigh. He rests his palm on her thigh and squeezes reassuringly. “How’s this? I don’t wanna make this show without you. I’m not gonna make this show without you.”

Y/N sucks in her lips, forming a tight line as she stares at her hands in her lap. “I thought we were all replaceable.”

Dean’s lips twitch with a smile. He lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Well, you’re not, sweetheart.”

He leans closer and kisses her ardently till her toes curl. When she hisses slightly in pain, he pulls back, both of them chuckling.

Then, Dean swallows the heavy lump in his throat. He knows he has to come clean, literally and figuratively. He takes her hand in his again. This time for his own comfort.

“Listen, uhm, tonight was kinda my fault… on some level, at least,” the director starts.

Y/N’s brow creases, but she brushes it off with a disbelieving snort. “Why? Did you tell Jo to break my ankle?”

Dean chuckles lightly, although he doesn’t feel like laughing, considering he’s scared to death she’ll dump him in a few seconds once she hears the truth. “No, uhm, but she might’ve found something in my office that caused a lack of judgment on her part. I-, uhm, I might not have been as clean and drug-free as you believed me to be.”

“Oh. I see…” Y/N bites her lower lip and averts her gaze back to her hands, her fingers fumbling in a nonsensical pattern like a nervous tic. And then, she doesn’t say anything for serval minutes, while Dean slowly feels himself go crazy.

“So, uh, where do we stand? Are we mad? Disappointed? Disgusted? Sad?” Dean pries and pokes for an answer.

“I guess, uhm, disappointed,” she says finally. Dean sighs internally as his heart tightens. He had hoped it wouldn’t be that one. It’s the worst one. “And sad,” she adds.

Strike that. This is the worst one.

“Okay, uhm, good,” he replies before noticing her cocked brow at his answer. “I mean, not good-good, obviously. Just good to know where we are… So, where are we? Is this-, you know, is it over? Between us?”

Y/N glances at him slightly and takes a thoughtful breath. “No,” she says, and his heart rejoices with relief. “I kinda already knew you’re not perfect.”

Dean’s brow furrows momentarily before he smirks cockily. “Agree to disagree.”

Y/N tries to hide a smile at his joke. She’s unsuccessful in her endeavor. She squeezes his hand in reassurance. “It’s not your fault. It was still Jo’s choice,” she tells him. “Are you, you know, still…?”

Dean vehemently shakes his head. “No, no, I’m not. I haven’t for a couple of days, and I won’t anymore. I promise. Especially after tonight. I learned my lesson. I’m done with it. For good.”

“Okay,” she accepts.

Dean frowns a little because her forgiveness feels too easy, but he doesn’t get a chance to prod some more, her soft lips on his shutting him up for now. The kiss is fervent and sweet all the same. It makes his head spin and provides him with a completely different high – a much better one.

“Well, looks like we’re gonna have to get creative with this thing, huh?” Dean grins smugly and gently pats her cast.

Y/N throws him a raised look that borders on amusement. Of course, all he ever thinks about is sex. But she doesn’t mind a little sexy goofiness in her life right now and leans in for another kiss. He is a pretty fantastic kisser, after all.

“I got markers!” Cas hops cheerily into the room with a few pens held high in the air, watching the two of them quickly pull apart with red-tinted cheeks. The producer smiles adoringly at them. “You guys! Look at you! This is so exciting!”

“Oh, uh–”

Dean sees the panic spread on Y/N’s face and quickly swoops in, sending Cas a friendly but threatening look. “Hey, uh, buddy? Keep this between us, alright?”

“You got it! My lips are sealed.” Cas winks and locks his lips with his fingers, but his excitement isn’t even close to disappearing. “And I paid your bill, by the way!”

“Oh, Cas, you didn’t have to do that,” Y/N tells him sweetly and seems clearly flattered by his care.

“Yes, I did, ‘cause you couldn’t possibly afford it,” Cas says bluntly and uncaps a marker, signing his name on her cast. “And I felt so guilty.”

A knock on the door makes the three look up and watch Jo hesitantly amble inside, her head lowered in resignation and guilty admission. She holds up a duffel bag with a nervous smile.

“I thought you might wanna leave the hospital with pants on, so I brought you your favorite sweats from the motel,” she says and hands Y/N the peace offering. Y/N accepts it with a small smile. Jo then glances awkwardly at Dean and Cas. “As you may have heard, Y/N and I got into a big fight,” she explains the general tension in the room.

Dean nods curtly. “Oh, yeah, everybody heard.”

“Yeah, the cashier at the gift shop couldn’t stop talking about it.” Cas chuckles, causing Y/N and Jo to blush in embarrassment.

“So, what’s the plan, Dean?” Y/N looks expectantly up at him like he’s an oracle with all the answers.

Lucky for her, though, he’s cocky enough to provide them.

“You know what? We got four episodes left, right? Fuck it. No one’s watching. No one cares. Y/N can’t even walk. So I say we do whatever the hell we want,” the director suggests and grins broadly. “Let’s just set the weirdos free and see what the fuck happens.”

“I hope you guys have fun,” Y/N mutters with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

“Oh, you’re not getting out of it,” Dean interjects her pouting and self-pity. “You’re like a one-woman idea machine. I need you. Where we’re going, you don’t need legs.”

Jo smiles encouragingly at her and sits down on the edge of the bed as Cas hands her a marker. The two women then chat as if nothing ever happened, while the producer and the director share a confused look over the sudden ceasefire. But they take it as what it is – a gift from above.

Girls…

“Hey, uh, there’s something I need to do,” Dean says then. “Are you guys okay here to keep Y/N some company? I’ll pick you up right after.”

The three of them nod, and Dean feels confident enough to leave Y/N’s side. After all the emotional turmoil and chaos over the last week, the director direly needs an appropriate outlet.

The Impala pulls into the parking lot of H-ELLTV in Anaheim. It’s early in the morning, the sun barely up but still powerful enough that the beams sting his green eyes. Maybe it’s also the lack of sleep that causes it to hurt more.

Drugs aren’t an option. It’s too early to drink, even for him. And sex would’ve been possible, but he doesn’t want to be the ass that asks for it while his not-girlfriend is suffering in the hospital.

So, here he stands, next to Dicksuck Roman’s spot, where a beautiful dark blue Aston Martin V8 is parked.

Ever since Y/N told him what that creep tried to do, Dean’s been raking his brain with different revenge fantasies. Sure, he could cut off the guy’s dick and make him eat it, or cook his balls over a BBQ grill, or chop his head off and dunk it in acidic cleaning supplies. But Dean knows the only way to truly hurt a man is through his car.

The green-eyed director then pops open Baby’s trunk and hauls out a golf club. It was a gift from Cas that came with an invitation to hit the green in Pasadena for “networking purposes.” As if. Cas eventually accepted that Dean would rather kill himself before setting foot in that country club. (He might’ve also threatened to kill everyone else in it, which scared Cas enough to drop it.)

Dean’s heart soars high to the cloudless sky above as he administers the first few blows, shattering the front window and thoroughly denting the scratch-free and glistening hood.

Not anymore, Dean thinks with sinister joy.

He stops mid-swing, though, when Crowley walks by. The two men look at each other for a moment. Will the manager call the cops? Will Cas have to post bail on top of paying hospital bills?

But Crowley only bobs his head in acknowledgment. “He pisses off a lot of people,” he offers as an explanation and strolls ahead into the building, not paying Dean any more mind.

So, Dean continues hitting and swinging and batting until his lungs burn and his arms hurt. Only then does he drive back to the hospital across town to pick up his friends with a lightener heart.

23. Every Breath you Take

*sighs blissfully* Aah, some sweet fluff before all the drama starts... (And yes, I consider this chapter less drama and lots of fluff. That's how far we've come 😂)

Let me know how you've enjoyed this part! Are we rid of Benny for good? Is Y/N going to break Dean's plastic heart? 👀

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444 @syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #director!dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester reader insert #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #dean winchester series #actor au #dean winchester au #supernatural #supernatural reader insert #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x y/n

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gotouhitori · 6 months

Text

Okay, so. I'm in Love with the Villainess. Watashi no Oshi wa Akuyaku Reijou. WataOshi. Whichever title you want to refer to it by.

Before reading or watching it, I wondered why the hell people were holding up this random villainess isekai light novel with an over-the-top masochist main character as a landmark yuri title. Okay sure I don't doubt there's yuri going on, but how can it be so special?

Then I watched the anime. "Huh. The series and its main character are clearly and unambiguously lesbian in a way that so many other series can't bring themselves to be. And it has the most frank discussion of queer issues I think I've ever seen in anime or related media. Yeah, I think I see now, it is a cut above." And both because I've heard the novels get into a few things a little more and because the series now has its hooks in me enough for me to want to read the novels anyway, I read the first novel. And yeah, that does add a bit.

And then I read the second novel. The latter bit of the anime does cover the first bit of the second novel, but it's mostly new territory for an anime-only or anime-first such as myself. And holy fucking shit. Spoilers under the cut.

For one thing, the anime/first novel dropped some trans hints about Yu, and that turns out to be a whole transfem allegory - which isn't unheard of by any means, but it's not especially common in a work where that isn't the main focus. And not only that, but there's an actually explicitly textual transmasc in Rae's past life, who forms part of Rae's motivation to make considerable effort and take considerable risk (up to and including treason) to make sure Yu can live as a girl - once Yu states that is what she wants, it is important to note. Random yuri villainess isekai light novel says trans rights, and will absolutely stand by it.

And then all of the stuff about class and inequality comes to a head, and remember how the game that Rae's in the world of is titled "Revolution"? Yeah. One of those happens. Various hints have been dropped about what happens, largely centred on Rae making efforts to save Claire's neck in the most literal way possible when things really go down. But holy shit does that turn out to be more effort and a much more complex endeavour than it appears at first... or for most of the time while it's going on, for that matter. Ultimately she arranges things so that while the revolution still happens (it is basically inevitable), overall loss of life and suffering is minimised, and the general situation is as good as it possibly could be. By the time the proverbial smoke clears, Rae and Claire are openly living as a couple, which is a lot more than you usually see - one of the things Rae comments on is how in per previous life, too much of the yuri she read ended with at least one of the girls either dead or winding up with a man, which annoyed her enough to write fanfic based on series she likes with unsatisfying endings to fix that. And though the game did have a yuri spinoff, the original - the events of which she was living through and manipulating - was het. The character she winds up with was never supposed to be a romanceable character to begin with.

And that's just the first two of the five novels. Living through and changing the course of an actual revolution and settling down with her partner is just 40% of the whole story. (And less if more novels get published.) I've just started the third novel, and it's certainly looking like the rest is going to be at least as much of a ride as the first two were.

This really is an outstanding series. It's Dungeon Meshi levels of "I cannot stop thinking about it" to me, which if you've seen how much I post about that, says a lot. And I haven't read even half of it yet.

#i'm in love with the villainess #watashi no oshi wa akuyaku reijou #wataoshi #yuri #trans rights #lesbianism #lgbtqia

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kolibruy · 23 days

Text

Mask

As an experiment, I tried to translate my own fanfiction. I don't know how badly I did it, but if it turned out to be readable, I could post fanfiction here too x) Of course it's scary to go for this... I just decided to try x_x

Rating: G Category: Gen Characters: The Diamond Cutters team (Whisper, Slinger, Claire, Mimic)

Summary:

As soon as she joined the new team, Whisper immediately faced difficulties: her mask did not want to work in any way. What should she do? Help came from where Whisper had never expected… *The events are entirely based on the comic book "Tangle & Whisper" and are a direct backstory.

Once again, Whisper was startled by the unexpected and loud beep that the white mask spewed out. The single electronic eye on the front side suddenly blinked and went out again. What is it?

She was clearly doing something wrong... but what exactly?

The wolf continued to nervously twist the high-tech mask in her hands, as if it were some kind of mysterious and alien find. But in words, everything sounded so simple! Such and such a button does this, another button does the opposite… Press this, then this… And it will work like clockwork! But for some reason, the simple algorithm did not work for the gloomy Whisper in any way: the mask simply refused to work, as if unwilling to obey unfamiliar hands.

"You'll figure it out in no time!" optimistically put an end to Smithy's explanations, thrusting his creation into Whisper's hands. The wolf, on the other hand, just watched with a dumbfounded look as Smithy hurriedly collected piles of scribbled papers and crumpled drawings... The inventor was clearly not up to it at all. He was too busy. The blue eyes blinked in confusion, looking first at the mask itself, then at its creator, who was hurrying away.

Maybe then Whisper didn't have time to understand anything, but... since Smithy said that everything was very simple... then perhaps she shouldn't burden the leader of the Diamond Cutters with stupid questions, right? She'll figure it out on her own. Somehow.

...Of course, Whisper soon regretted her decision: left alone with the outlandish mask, the wolf managed to get only annoying beeping from it. The mask seemed to turn into a small bird, angrily pouring out a trill of insults. It was getting annoying.

The wolf tried to start over. She slowly repeated the sequence of actions that busy Smithy had babbled to her.… Slowly, button by button... like that? Mentally praying, Whisper put the mask to her face: nothing had changed. Still, the wolf saw dead blackness instead of a cozy room around. However, now it was possible to notice a number of incomprehensible numbers, fluently replacing each other.… Well, that's something. Maybe it was lines of code? Should Whisper ever have seen these numbers?

Whatever it was, but in this ridiculous battle, the wolf was defeated again. She gave up trying to guess the coveted combination to the tricky puzzle. Whisper was sure that she was holding in her hands just a titanic work that took an indecent amount of time from the brilliant inventor. And what about her? She wasn't even able to just turn on the mask. Not like using it. The gentle wolf drooped even more. Will Smithy be very upset? What if he kicks a would-be volunteer recruit out of his team? Chaos, this is only the very first task, and everything was already wrong!

...But after all, cutters not taken her for ”deep knowledge of technology”, right? So would something terrible happen if she went out on the battlefield without her mask for the first time?

But it was such an important event. The very first assignment in a new role, in a new team… Whisper wanted everything to be perfect. She didn't want to stand out in any way. All of the Cutters proudly wore Smithy's creations. Everyone skillfully used the inventions of the talented lion against the Eggman… How could Whisper not follow their example? No, she has to deal with her mask. By all means. Whisper saw this as a manifestation of her respect: not only for the leader, but also for the entire new team. In response to all that the Cutters had done for her... it was the least she could do.

In her reverie, the wolf turned over the mask and peered into the dead eye, in which the blue ring should have been glowing. But it didn't glow. The lens resembled a smooth gemstone of the blackest shade of all existing ones. It seems that Whisper had not noticed before how this mask was actually... frightening. Why were these dots-holes on the right half needed? Is it such a symbol? Or did these strange holes have some important function? Or maybe-

No, no, it wasn't up to that at all now. She urgently needed to figure out how to use the mask before the operation began! But how? Keep playing with luck, hoping not to hit the self-destruct button in the end? Maybe Smithy will still have time to come back and explain to Whisper again-

Of course! After all, she can turn to other cutters, not necessarily to the main inventor! And how did this thought not immediately occur to her?

Inspired, the wolf jumped up from her chair and hurried out of the rest room.

At the same time, Whisper continued to look at the cramped quarters of the headquarters, in which she will spend the next few years… Unless, of course, she accidentally messed up. The anticipation of a new life felt like a pleasant chocolate sweetness. Whisper no longer hoped that the established way of life would change so rapidly for the better. And everything was just beginning... The wolf couldn't believe what was happening. Wasn't all this just a fleeting dream that would irrevocably melt in the morning rays? Maybe she's about to open her eyes and find herself back in the dusty cubicle of the Resistance?

Whisper clutched the mask to her chest like the most precious treasure. The wolf was walking down the corridor, and her new dark cape was fluttering behind her back. She was not used to this either…

Whisper broke away from her thoughts, concentrating on remembering the way to the armory. Some time ago, almost all the Diamond Cutters took the recruit around their lands together, having a nice tour. The main thing is not to confuse the door. After the unsuccessful experience with the mask, Whisper doubted her own memory ... but fortunately she made the rest of the way to the armory already following a familiar voice that echoed through the walls of the headquarters.

At first, only the sharp wolf ears appeared in the opening, and then the whole Whisper. She was in no hurry to take a step outside the door. At first she only watched what was happening from the side, like a child who stared at a toy showcase on the way.

At the end of the long room, hung from floor to ceiling with wispons and other dangerous weapons, stood a broad-shouldered ocelot. He was concentrating on his laser guns. Cutter kept getting distracted by two mischievous ephemeral spirits-wisps hovered above, weaving among the hanging fluorescent lamps. For them, it was like an aerial obstacle course prepared especially for them. Wisps were clearly having fun, judging by their happy faces and gambling coos.

«Cyan! Rocket! Just don't break anything!» Slinger called out to them for decency, concentrating on trying to figure out where the fresh scratch appeared on the body of his wispon. The whole spectrum of ocelot's heavy thoughtfulness was betrayed by his swaying tail.

Wisps muttered something in their own language in response. They listened to the cutter and slowed down slightly, but they didn't stop playing catch-up. It was as if wisps were ordinary little children, and not dangerous entities woven from the pure energy of Chaos. However, they were only dangerous in the wrong hands... they were the sweetest creatures in themselves.

Whisper stole a glance at the wall hung with weapons. There was also her orange wispon. A sniper rifle. The rifle would have been useless without a wisp named Rocket, whom the wolf met quite recently. Just think, but Whisper was the only owner of such a unique wispon… The Resistance could only dream of such a thing. Proud and happy lights lit up in the blue wolf eyes of their own accord.

Suddenly, wisps began to murmur and were distracted from the game. Both spirits descended to an unexpected guest, who for some reason got stuck in the doorway. Maybe she was waiting for an invitation? Orange spirit and turquoise spirit circled around Whisper affably, clearly greeting her. A shimmering train trailed behind them. Electricity was felt. Immediately Whisper's fur stirred. The wolf waved her hand timidly in response, and both wisps rose to the lamps again, as if wanting to disappear into the white glow.

Slinger immediately noticed the guest and smiled sunnily. It seemed that the ocelot could emit light along with wisps, even though he consisted of ordinary flesh and blood. Although, who knows?

«Oh, Whisper!» Slinger greeted cordially, returning the laser guns to their rightful place on the wall. Very soon, he will take them up again to destroy another pack of Eggman’s bots.

All the first days of her new life, Slinger was a safe island for Whisper: no expectations, no masks and no worries… The cheerful ocelot was generally the primary reason why Whisper was able to join Diamond Cutters. Of course, the wolf first turned to him. Perhaps it was even worth doing it right away and not wasting time arguing with an inanimate mask ... However, she did not want to use the help of an infinitely kind and generous ocelot too often.

Slinger continued to speak, noting the restless shadow in Whisper's eyes. He was quite a tall mobian, so he had to lean a little towards the wolf:

«How are you? Are you worried?»

«...A little bit.» Whisper did not lie, palely responding to Slinger's sunny gaze and smile, «I hope nothing happens.»

«Don't worry, we'll be right there! Let at least one @##!&% just try to approach you… And It will regret it.» although the ocelot said this with a smile, but in his eyes Whisper clearly saw a predatory gleam that overshadowed all doubts: this is exactly how it will be. «Let's blow up a couple hundred blanks and go home! Before you know it, it's all over, haha!» Slinger finished as if nothing had happened.

...Sometimes Whisper completely forgot who Slinger really was, right? The Diamond Cutters team took on the most dangerous missions possible only to extremely experienced freedom fighters. The Cutters wouldn't have taken Slinger in just like that. Only the best of the best were among them. And ocelot was like that. There was much more to his childish, beaming smile. But what about her? Did the team make a mistake with their new recruit? What could they see in her? Will she be able to meet their expectations, their trust?

As if hearing someone else's confused thoughts, the mischievous wisps immediately returned to their owners. Cyan settled comfortably on the shoulders of a tall ocelot, his gaze questioning the essence of the conversation. The orange Rocket landed on the palm of Whisper's hand. Rocket lifted her awkward paws up and squeezed her eyes shut happily. Rocket repeated and repeated something in her own language, but without a mask, no one could understand these cute messages… However, it seems that Whisper guessed it anyway. She may not have had time to get attached to a new companion yet, but warm feelings were already touching her heart.

«Do you see? We're not going to let Whisper get hurt, are we, guys?» Slinger asked cheerfully, and the wisps became even more animated, vying to answer the obvious question.

«Thank you, Slinger,» Whisper smiled warmly. «I appreciate it.»

She had no doubt that she could rely on ocelot. She only doubted her own abilities.

«And thank you too.» the wolf turned to the cheerful wisps.

Rocket and Cyan soared again, taking the enchanting light with them.

«...Actually, I wanted to ask for help,» Whisper said softly, showing the ill-fated mask to Slinger, who carefully pricked up his ears.

«With a mask?» he said.

«Yes.»

«What's the matter?»

«I... I didn't understand how it works. Smithy explained it to me, but he was in such a hurry, and I-»

«Yeah, I understand. Lately, he hasn't even had time to breathe once more...» Slinger took the mask with the extinguished eye from Whisper and turned it over in a puzzled way.

He examined it properly. He studied it with his cat's eyes. The front side, the inside. By his instantly frowning face, the wolf immediately suspected something was wrong.

Chaos, she didn't break the mask, did she? What's the matter?

«I would love to help you, Whisper...» Slinger finally looked up at the worried wolf, « ...But I don't use a mask. I have this instead.» Ocelot took out a monocle from the depths of his gray poncho, very similar to the switched-off lens in the Whisper’s mask. Perhaps it could be called... a mini version?

«Do you remember saying that you used to have a mask too?» she said.

«Yes. But to be honest...» Slinger scratched the top of his head and grinned, «I can't even remember roughly how this thing works.» ocelot returned the mask to the owner with a sincerely regretful look, «I'm sorry.»

«Oh, it’s okay.»

At some point, the wolf was already sure that her problem was about to be solved. Now, Whisper finally remembered that technology and Slinger are practically incompatible things. Gadget even said that for him it was beginning to believe in paranormal phenomena, because it was simply statistically impossible to break electrical appliances with the frequency with which Slinger did it.… Why Gadget has not tried to smooth out the relationship between ocelot and technology after all? Then the wolf would not have to take on all these breakdowns, resurrecting the unfortunate toasters and microwaves over and over again… But Slinger never had any problems with wispons: everything that fired seemed to jump into his skillful hands.

Whisper still have to try to figure it out on her own. But will she make it in time?

Slinger was silent. Then the disheveled ocelot smiled encouragingly again, that's how he was built:

«Well, what's the big deal! Then go without a mask today. Smithy will explain everything to you again later, no problem!»

At first, Whisper did not want to tell everything as it is. But she trusted Slinger completely:

«...It's important to me.»

«What's important? Be in a mask? Why?»

«Smithy did me a favor. I want to show that I appreciate his work.»

«Oh, Whisper! This does not mean that you don't appreciate his work!» Slinger leaned a little closer to the wolf, as if trying to give his words even more weight, «He is an understanding and kind lion! Don't get so upset.»

Whisper nodded, dropping her thoughtful gaze back to the mask in her hands. She really wanted to be in it on her first assignment, but apparently she would have to-

«You know what? Why don't you go to Claire's place?» Slinger suddenly spoke up again, beaming even more at the visit of such a wonderful idea, «She knows more about these things than I do. She should be upstairs.»

«Would she... mind?» Whisper stammered, confused for some reason.

«Of course not! Maybe she'll also make you some kind of prediction for today?» ocelot spread his hands and closed his deliberately cunning cat's eyes, «Who knows?»

What? A prediction? Oh, yeah. Claire is... a medium, right? Smithy also called her a "psi-operator”, but Whisper didn't even understand the meaning of that title. It was obvious that Claire had some kind of powerful ability... but what exactly was that power? Could Claire sense other people's emotions? To see the aura of others? Feel the danger? To anticipate events and see the future? To move objects with the power of thought alone? Whisper’s head was already spinning with various theories. ”Medium". Even the word alone felt extremely mysterious! And ”psi-operator"? Absolutely terrifying.

But at the first meeting, Claire left an exceptionally pleasant impression on Whisper… Well. If everything goes well, then Whisper will find out about everything herself after a while, right?

«...Yes. I'll go.» Whisper nodded again, more to herself than to Slinger. She drew the mask closer to her heart, along with an instant renewed hope to make everything perfect.

The wolf in the dark cape was already turning around, when she suddenly realized: maybe she should have asked Slinger to come up with her? Unlike Whisper, ocelot, after all, has been working with Claire for quite some time. They already have a good relationship. And Whisper barely exchanged a few words with Claire on that cursory ”excursion”... however, what's so scary about that? Whisper will just ask one question, right? The world won't go up in flames from this. And the wolf will not be kicked out of the team for this.

So Whisper left the armory, waving goodbye to Slinger and wisps. Soon they will all be on their way together.

The closer Whisper got to the living rooms, the harder her steps got. It was as if her legs were going to tie themselves into a knot to give themselves an excuse not to go anywhere. A dialogue was being rehearsed in the wolf's head, which was about to sound in reality: everything is to the point, everything is clear, everything is fast! So as not to cause any inconvenience to the future teammate! Whisper wouldn't want to start a full-fledged acquaintance with Claire on an unpleasant note… It made her nervous to realize that Claire was far from her and Slinger's age. For some reason, in Whisper's eyes, this fact turned everything upside down. It was as if she had to come up with a completely new language just to ask the medium for help.

Finally, the right door was right in front of Whisper. Plain and wooden, just like in the dormitories of the Resistance.

The wolf knocked, having only rehearsed the lines a few more times.

There seemed to be an infinity hidden in every second. The sharp wolf ears pricked up as soon as Whisper heard footsteps outside the door. Soon the door was opened and clear ice-like eyes stared at the wolf from a dark crack. As soon as Claire recognized the new Whisper as a guest, her gaze immediately warmed up: like a frozen river visited by the spring sun, chasing away all the cold. The monkey in the dark cape magically changed, brushing aside recent thoughts.

A friendly smile appeared on the neat face of the little mobian, and she left her secluded abode:

«Hello, Whisper! How are-»

«Hello, Claire! You're-» wolf stammered, accidentally interrupting the respected medium.

Oh no! Whisper immediately caught herself, covering her mouth with her hand:

«I'm so sorry!»

«Don't worry!» Claire chuckled kindly, immediately gently taking Whisper's hand in a soothing gesture.

Now the wolf herself appeared in the place of the tall Slinger. She unconsciously leaned closer to the interlocutor, who was barely taller than an ordinary child. It wasn't rude, was it?

Claire suddenly spoke first:

«What’s wrong? Did something happen to you?»

How? Did she-

Whisper blink in surprise:

«…Did you... feel it?»

«Oh, no!» Claire laughed softly at such a funny guess, «You just look a little worried, dear. What's the matter? Do you have any problems?»

«I...» Whisper exhaled and handed the short mobian a non-working mask, «...If you are not busy and I am not distracting you... then could you help me deal with the mask?»

«Of course! Just give me a second.» Claire smiled warmly and released Whisper to return to her room for a few minutes.

During this time, Whisper tried not to think about how stupid she looked and sounded. And why did she say that out loud? "Did you feel it?". How could you even think of such a thing? Obviously, everything was written on Whisper's face. In huge letters. In bold. You don't have to be a medium here to understand that something has happened…

After a while, Whisper suddenly realized that she and Claire had very similar dark capes. It felt like a real honor. Wearing the same uniform as all the other talented cutters filled the wolf with a wide variety of feelings. A sense of responsibility, among other things.

Finally, Claire returned. She was holding a Whisper’s mask in one hand and her own mask in the other:

«Oh, I'm sorry, honey... But it seems that you and I have completely different models. I'm afraid of spoiling something inadvertently.»

Claire's mask might be similar to Whisper's in general terms, but it was still completely different. The medium's mask did not have any lenses. There were only three dark dots-holes. It was not necessary for a higher being like her to see the world. However, maybe the reason was something else? Of course, the mask of the mystical psi-operator had to be special and distinctive from the rest. Whisper should have guessed it herself…

Whisper obediently took her mask back, already resigned to the trouble that had happened.

Claire continued encouragingly:

«Smithy's busy right now, but he'll definitely help you later. Don't be afraid to handle any problems, okay?»

«...So it's better for me not to take the mask with me on a mission?»

«Yes, I think it would be wiser to leave it for next time.»

«I understand. Thank you very much.» Whisper said with the utmost seriousness and hurried away so as not to detain the respected medium any longer.

Before the wolf had even reached the middle of the cramped corridor, Claire called out to her:

«Whisper?»

«Yes?»

«Don't get upset. I'll bring you some waffles tonight,» Claire smiled sincerely again, clearly intending to share the warming sun, «Okay?»

Waffles? Whisper expected anything but this. She had forgotten that she now lived here with the Cutters. Her and Claire's rooms were literally a few steps away from each other. Oh-

«Thank you!» Whisper belatedly replied with a confused note.

She will definitely need to figure out what to give Claire in return.

The medium smiled sweetly and closed the door, returning to her abode, filled with the smells of a wide variety of Mobius flowers: healing, beautiful and long-withered.

On the way back to the break room, Whisper continued to examine the mask in her hands. She wasn't trying to do anything anymore. Probably just hoping to find something she might have missed.… Where is it better to leave the mask? Should she take it to the armory? To Smithy's workshop? Or go up to her new room? Or maybe it's worth trying to remember the combination of buttons again? What if it does work out?

Carried away by her thoughts, Whisper was about to enter the break room to return to her favorite chair.…

But suddenly she stopped abruptly, as soon as she looked up.

This is-?!

A wolf in a dark cape immediately darted back through the opening, as if being a ghost from the depths of darkness.

She saw the black silhouette of an octopus standing at the end of the room. The last cutter, which Whisper preferred not to even think about once again, and-

Mimic.

Slinger said a lot of things to Whisper about his teammate. For example, that it would be much more difficult to get along with a Mimic than with anyone else. If even for Slinger (for the friendliest creature in the world!) it was difficult... then Whisper probably shouldn't have even tried. At first, she hoped to encounter the octopus only in the company of someone else. Ideally, of course, with Slinger. Slinger even promised in advance to settle any such issue. But the tall ocelot was not there. Neither sweet Claire, nor needlework Smithy were around.…

No, of course, it was just stupid to expect real danger from the elder cutter. Whisper just didn't want to appear like a complete idiot in front of one of the founders of the team. That's all. The first time they met, Mimic carefully watched at Whisper's every move, as if she were a potential thief and not a new member of the team. This observation made her terribly uncomfortable. Whisper immediately decided that Mimic disliked her from the very first seconds. But what did she do wrong? Wouldn't she make the situation even worse if she asked for help?

...When the wolf, clutching the mask to her heart, was about to hurry upstairs: away from such nervous meetings… Suddenly, there was an incomprehensible rumble in the room.

What's it? Did Mimic move something or-? Something heavy? Maybe it was Whisper who should have helped her teammate right now?

Partly due to the last thought, and partly due to ordinary curiosity, the wolf nevertheless carefully looked into the opening…

Mimic opened the door of the transparent refrigerator with a bang. He began rapidly filling the empty shelves with whole packs of some glossy cans. At the same time, Mimic worked not only with his hands, but also with tentacles, managing to hold the door for himself. When the refrigerator was full to overflowing, the octopus took one can and slammed the door with an even stronger bang. And how did it still not crack? Whisper heard the familiar hiss, accompanied by which an ordinary can of drink is usually opened… The octopus didn't seem to need any help. So-

Just as Whisper took a step away from the ill-fated opening, she suddenly noticed something familiar in the middle of the cluttered table.

It's not by chance-…

Yes. It is.

Whisper dropped her gaze back to the mask in her hands.

There was a Mimic mask on the table: almost exactly the same as hers…

It would seem that the wolf had finally found someone to ask for help... but it was scary to even think about it. Hmm, and what should she call it? Incredible luck or incredible bad luck? Why exactly did Mimic, the most ambiguous cutter of all, have a similar mask? Could Whisper have asked him for help? Or is it better not to? She felt that the stakes were much higher now. The tremor in her voice and unnecessary chatter would definitely not be tolerated by Mimic, unlike Smithy and Claire. And do not forget that the future of Whisper in this team depended not only on the leader, but also on Mimic — the ”second founder”, as ocelot called him… She had to take control of the situation.

Where is the best place to start a conversation? Apologize? Start with the case right away, so as not to waste his time? Or-

«...Are you going to stand there and stare at me for a long time?» suddenly Mimic spoke sharply to the ghost behind his back, without turning around.

Did he notice her?! How?!

Caught off guard, Whisper immediately stepped inside. Her heart skipped a beat and began to beat with triple force. Chaos, what had she gotten herself into?! She should have left right away. What was she doing all this for anyway?! Now it looked like Whisper was deliberately spying on Mimic, right? If she had been in Mimic's place, she would have been angry too. Has she already ruined everything, and-

«I'm sorry.» Whisper said in a surprisingly calm voice faster than her thoughts.

Mimic finally turned around.

There was no anger in his black eye sockets and predatory snow-white pupils, which Whisper was so afraid to see. The octopus's gaze was rather... completely blank.

Before that, in her entire life, which Whisper had spent mostly in the Resistance, she had not yet met the cursed mobians. She didn't understand what it was. And there were so many opinions on this subject on Mobius that it couldn't be counted… Almost everyone was terribly afraid of the cursed ones. Who would have thought that in the ranks of the best freedom fighters of Mobius there would be just one of them?

Soon Mimic arched an eyebrow, waiting for at least some sane explanation from the newcomer.

«I wanted to ask you to help me deal with the mask. If it doesn't bother you.»

It would seem that just a minute ago, Whisper was terribly panicking ... but as soon as she spoke, cold calculation immediately filled every cell of her body.

Whisper changed beyond recognition, as soon as she was on the battlefield, all her fears and doubts disappeared in an instant, irrevocably burning in an icy fire. She became a completely different creature, trying on metal scales on herself: in order to resist Eggman, wolf had to spy on him in some things. So it was now. As soon as Whisper was not in front of the brightly smiling Slinger, Claire or Smithy, but in front of the cursed Mimic, everything acquired the familiar cold colors of metallic shades. No, she wasn't afraid of him. And she didn't see him as an opponent. Whisper saw in him only a mobian who could sense someone else's weakness. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe not.

The octopus was silent. In his reverie, he dangled the can, boring into Whisper’s mask with a heavy gaze. The wolf could only guess what was going on in the cursed mobian's head. But she did not feel any threat from Mimic: even though it was the first time she had come face to face with the cursed mobian. It seems that all these stories turned out to be untrue.

Finally, Mimic spoke dryly, no longer addressing Whisper, but the void:

«...So our Smithy doesn't have enough time for his own duties?» the octopus drank sweets from a can of soda with such a look, as if in fact it was low-quality and indescribable bitterness, «...Unexpectedly.»

At that moment, Whisper felt a pang of guilt: Smithy was certainly not responsible for the fact that she didn't understand the instructions. The tall lion had already spent a lot of time to create wispon and mask for Whisper. No one else in the whole world had such. Was Smithy obliged to waste even more of his precious time on such a formality? In a good way, Whisper should have dealt with it on her own, without distracting the cutters from their business. But…

Mimic gave the glossy can to his own tentacle to free his hands. He walked up to the table and picked up his mask.

«Alright. Come here.»

Whisper roused herself and hurried to obey the order.

...Surprisingly, Mimic spoke quite calmly: without the irritation inherent in former Whisper’s mentors from the Resistance, without any reproaches and arrogance. One could even say that the octopus did not correspond at all to the image that had formed in the wolf's head long before the meeting. Slinger was describing a cursed octopus... what would be the right word? Probably strict. Whisper expected that she would not have the right to make any mistakes, because Mimic simply would not let her get away with it. This was the case with Slinger: ocelot, as he himself put it, learned on the run, barely keeping up with the older cutters… But Slinger never gave specific examples. Maybe that's why there was some misunderstanding? Or did Whisper not notice how she herself fell into the trap of all those rumors about the cursed mobians?

The octopus calmly explained the purpose of each button, even the most inconspicuous one. Mimic expressed himself in a completely different way, not like Smithy: without any incomprehensible terms and without distant thoughts that could not fit into the ordinary mobian's head. Simple and understandable. Whisper was no longer afraid to ask questions... but there was no need to. Mimic gave Whisper just enough time to figure it out and try to repeat it herself. Following the octopus, she pressed the buttons. The lens perked up, looking at the world with a glowing turquoise ring... Really? That's it? It even seemed that Mimic had replaced mask with a more obedient one while Whisper was not looking.

It was difficult to say whether Mimic could also professionally transfer combat skills… But something told Whisper that yes. Maybe if she had a similar mentor in the Resistance, she would not prefer to train alone.

She even had the following thought. The wolf knew firsthand that the ocelot often behaved frivolously. Even in extremely... serious situations. Perhaps in this way Slinger was mocking the very essence of a sometimes unfair and cruel world… Whisper understood that this could be annoying. Maybe it might have seemed so at first, but for Slinger, blowing up robots was not just fiery fun.

Whisper excitedly put on a mask. Finally, everything worked as Smithy described. She could see the world around her as clearly as with her own eyes. No obscure numbers and frightening blackness!

«...Now the interface.» meanwhile Mimic continued, politely giving Whisper time to get used to her new vision. The octopus also put on a mask.

...Whisper could not have imagined that there would be so many functions in such a light mask. Mimic himself noted which of them were fundamental and which were purely situational. For example, a thermal imager, although it might be needed, but obviously not as often as night vision. And for a sniper, the ”smart” sight was paramount at all. It is unlikely that Whisper had ever been interested in technology ... but then a purely childish delight blossomed inside her. Of course, she did not show it. She only thoughtfully listened to every word of the elder cutter, who was standing a little apart. She will have time to rejoice and think later.

Now it's time for communication. The Diamond Cutters used masks to communicate not only with each other, but also with their faithful wisps: a translator was built into the masks, which allowed them to understand funny gurgling language. Whisper had already communicated with her Rocket, but for this she had to use Slinger's monocle — then her mask was not even ready.

After listing all the voice commands, the octopus moved on to practice:

«Can you hear me?» Whisper was asked by the voice of a Mimic from the loudspeaker of the mask and from the outside world at the same time.

«Yes.» the wolf pressed the button, «And can you hear me?»

The sound of her own voice, coming to her from Mimic's mask, seemed simply terrible. Is that how the others will hear her? What a horror-

«Yes. Claire and Slinger are online too. Try to contact them.»

The elder cutter lifted the mask to his forehead and returned to the drink in the can, which he had been holding in one of the tentacles all this time. It seems that the drink was no longer as cold.

Whisper calmly did everything as Mimic told and showed her.

«Um, can anyone hear me?»

«Whispe-e-er! It's Whisper! You did it, a-woooo!» Slinger howled triumphantly, deliberately wolfish, celebrating her victory as if it were his own.

Whisper flinched in surprise: sometimes sensitive hearing was not a blessing of Chaos at all. Mimic readily suggested:

«The volume is adjusted from the side. I advise you to make Slinger quiet permanently.»

«Mimic?! You already here?!» asked the ocelot from Whisper mask, deliberately raising his voice so that the elder cutter would definitely hear him even in such conditions.

Whisper turned the wheel and a volume bar turned down in front of her eyes from the side.

«As you hear...» Mimic replied lazily, sipping a drink. Then he gave Whisper the following practical task: «Switch to the general channel so that both Slinger and Claire can hear you at the same time.»

«Like this?»

«Good job, Whisper!» Claire suddenly responded instead of Mimic, joining in the congratulations. She could be heard so well, as if she was standing very close.

«Thanks! Over and out.» Whisper said with a timid half-smile on her face and hung up.

The wolf took off her mask and blinked, getting used to the light again. She had hoped to at least just turn on this incomprehensible unit... but instead she was now free to use the mask on her own. Absolutely all functions. Of course, everything that had been learned still had to be consolidated, but now it didn't look so terrible. Neither did the future training of cutters in general look scary.

Whisper squinted at the octopus in the black cape:

«Thank you for your help.» she said softly.

Mimic did not answer. He emptied a can of soda, crumpled it to a flat shiny round and threw it into the trash with a tentacle, without even aiming. In an instant, the octopus pulled away, drowning in his thoughts — this was evident from his gaze fixed on an invisible point.

Both founders of Diamond Cutters seemed to Whisper not only authoritative and experienced... but also terribly tortured. Was the reason for this a Eggman who did not close the ”mechanical all-seeing eye"? Recently, there have been more robots both in the Sandy House and on the outskirts of Metropolis… Who knows? Maybe with the Diamond Cutters Whisper will see the long-awaited fall of the empire of Dr. Eggman.

Mimic suddenly put on the mask again and contacted the team:

«Let's move out. Take the wispons. Slinger, grab the Whisper’s rifle.»

The wolf just blinked in surprise.

Wait, what? Already?

«Accepted!» Slinger and Claire immediately responded with alacrity in one voice.

Something was wrong... after a moment's thought, Whisper realized that it was their team size: had the leader of the Diamond Cutters been in touch? She don't think so. As far as she understood, the old lion was not at the headquarters at all. How could they launch an operation without their commander? What about the plan? How-

«Is Smithy going to be with us too?» Whisper decided to express her thought out loud.

«...Smithy won't be free today.» Mimic replied with an ambiguous intonation.

Footsteps were heard, and Claire and Slinger appeared on the threshold of the break room. When they stood next to each other, the difference in their height seemed simply enormous. Both cutters were already fully armed: Claire was wearing a mask, with a wispon in her hands and a green wisp on her shoulder. In this form, she truly looked terrifying. And Slinger was even rearmed: in addition, he also held an orange Whisper’s rifle in his hands. The wolf immediately caught herself and hurried to meet her friend to pick up her weapon. The ocelot looked happy.

All the peace that filled Whisper disappeared at once. On a mission? Already? She didn't feel ready. Even the air in the recreation room was saturated with electricity. Either from the presence of the wisps, or from the omen of an imminent battle.

Claire and Slinger didn't ask about the commander. Ocelot, of course, once casually mentioned that the full complement of Diamond Cutters went only on particularly important tasks… But Whisper could not even imagine that the founder of the team himself could be absent. She even felt sorry. She would like to see lion not only in the role of an inventor, but also in the role of a skilled warrior too. However, everything is still ahead, right?

Mimic went to the wall and took his wispon, which, it turns out, had been waiting alone on the sidelines and propping up the wall all this time. The octopus put it on his shoulder like some kind of metal bat with an impressive sphere — it looked a little like a steel wrecking ball that demolishes buildings. Even the inactive wispon of the elder cutter looked very impressive.

Claire and Slinger parted to let Mimic go ahead and let him lead. Little Claire immediately followed. Before that, Slinger turned to Whisper and gave her two thumbs-up. There was a whole silent tirade in his eyes about how well she was doing.

Whisper smiled warmly and hurried after her new team.

Everything is just beginning.

#it's huuuuuugeeee...........#mask #sth #sth fanfic #sonic idw #idw sonic #diamond cutters #slinger the ocelot #whisper the wolf #claire voyance #smithy the lion #mimic the octopus #sonic fandom #sth fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #sonic fanfiction #gen 1 diamond cutters

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gorjee-art · 3 months

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#4 for your guys!!

I'm curious at the potential difference, if you're up to answering for all 4 of them 🖤

4. Do they have the same love language as each other?

Oooo~ rubbing my greasy little mitts at this question... To answer it the short way, No! None of them have the same love language! However, they appreciate and compliment each other, kind of like a team of mutual safety and affection! Charles is a "Show don't Tell" lover, it's tough for him as is to speak verbally, and expressing himself through words is..."poetry" to put it lightly. So to show he cares, It's acts of service! Doing heavy labor, chores, paying the bill, or generally ensuring the other person is comfortable. For Claire though he just tends to overly compensate because he's panicking and doesn't really have time to think. At the end of the day, it's giving away his coat, or letting her get close to him so that she feels safe.

Sebastian is a clown, his love language is to make the other laugh! Keep the atmosphere light, and humorous, his main concern is just making sure his buddies are having the time of their lives. The world is in a sad sad state during their time, so it breaks his heart to see so many frowny faces...He just wants to make it better!

Joe is...hard to describe, his love language is being blunt, honest, and actually kind of harsh! With his history of being a con, he considers honesty the highest form of respect and trust, so he'll always speak his mind rather than say what the other wants to hear. Like telling Charles he's a sad sack of mutt that needs to cheer up or Sebastian that he's a mental case and needs to get sent to the asylum. As hurtful as it is, at times he's genuinely there just to give wise and great advice, cause he genuinely just wants the best for his boys, he'd kill for his family!

...and he usually makes up for it with cooking duty. No one can argue with his cooking.

Claire is a gift giver, with a touchy-feely personality, giving unique nicknames left and right, kisses (platonic or romantic), hugs, and light touches. Her love language is...learning the other's love language! Mirroring their behavior, matching their energy, a bleeding heart that just loves people! Kind of like a really excitable puppy...

It's easy to figure out when she cares cause she suddenly forgets everything about personal boundaries and wants to know everything there is about you to an almost...annoying extent, her nosiness knows no bounds, but so does her kindness. This surprised the boys a great deal (Charles was especially dumbfounded), as she really is just a great hostess!

#oc - charles bonnet #oc - sebastian cunningham #oc - joe berlioz #oc - claire corielle

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angelsdean · 1 year

Text

umm. thinking abt jimmy and dean and making deals with supernatural beings to save their family. jimmy first says yes to cas after cas promising he can protect his family. he then spends a year with his soul effectively owned by heaven / cas. then, in the rapture when jimmy is dying and cas plans to keep claire as his new vessel, jimmy offers himself up in her place, like dean selling his soul and trading his life for sam's.

cas then asks jimmy if he's sure? like you won't die or age. you might be stuck with me for hundreds or thousands of years. and jimmy says yes and then jimmy only gets a year. and is that better or worse? he goes to heaven, but heaven is a farce.

and then there's also the inverse of jimmy and dean's "one year." jimmy spends a year bound to cas, with no freedom, but then gets an eternity in heaven. while dean gets one year left of freedom before an eternity in hell.

anyways, something something bad deals with supernatural beings. jimmy and dean bonding over their one year of life before they meet their bloody end (blown up and shredded by hellhounds). jimmy and dean meeting at the heaven roadhouse like, "man that shit sucked. also, what the fuck is wrong with this place?" jimmy being like "yea heaven's kinda fucked. been weirder since uh, that jack kid took over." dean asking more questions, dean figuring out that's not jack. um. this post is getting away from me jsakfdfjk oh, one more thing, jimmy telling dean how annoying dean and cas's horny staring contests were.

but back to the first thing, just yea, thinky thoughts abt castiel as the novak's azazel, and bad deals. and god, mary !!! god does mary get a bad deal. which also just reinforces the mirroring since dean is mary's mirror. and jimmy is a mary mirror. therefore, dean and jimmy are also mirrors. mmm tasty.

#vic.txt #mymeta #parallels #jimmy novak

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hsslilly-blog · 10 days

Note

What drew Claire to Thomas?

hi! sorry for taking ages to answer this. but i didn’t forget about it! thank you very much for asking<3

i think if you asked claire what drew her to thomas, she’d tell you it’s how direct and straightforward he is. how sure he is of himself/of things. claire hates people who talk in circles and never get anywhere, and she’s had her fair share of friends and partners who 1. aren’t objective with words and 2. do NOT know what they want out of life. she hates asking people important questions and getting a “maybe” in response. no! it’s yes or no!

overall, i think claire and thomas are very similar in some aspects and that’s what attracts them and it’s the reason they clash so much. it’s uncomfortable seeing yourself in another person, especially if they’re so candid about it (and both of them are). they might seem different, but i think they just express their core traits in opposite directions. deep down, it’s the same idea. whether you decide to talk with people just to be smug about it or if you withdraw from them altogether because you feel it’s not worth it, it’s still arrogance at the end of the day. they’re probably just annoyed because they think their way of being arrogant is the right way.

and at first they also think they’re very different from each other. they think very highly of themselves, and then they push each other off their pedestals. and once they’re at ground level, they’re very complimentary of each other. claire appreciates hunt’s reasonable and pragmatic behaviour; and while thomas does not have a playful nature, he’s very fond of claire’s bubbly approach to life. once they stop interacting with each other in a disingenuous way, they start admiring each other for their similarities and their differences.

#ask box #oc: claire swanson #huntclaire #i am answering this in class though<3 #and to be fair i think their strength is in how differently they express their core traits. makes you question why you're so annoyed at it+#lets you grow as a person. yeah i'm annoyed at this person but i'm kinda just like them. i just do it differently.#what should i do about it?#anyway i hope my point makes sense

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albentelisa · 1 year

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Hi there! So what do you think would happen if Jim had been the one with Shadow Magic, and Claire was the Trollhunter?

Jim does work for Morgana herself, but it's not willingly.

Hi! Another angsty ask, I say.

So, if Jim works for Morgana, but unwillingly, I would say it is because Morgana possesses Barbara in this AU. Jim will do everything to protect his mom, and it's not that far-fetched to imagine that she might show that it's easy to injure or even kill Barbara if Jim misbehaves (and Morgana loses nothing because it's just a vessel for her).

Morgana also feels some twisted attachment to Jim in this AU (he is her apprentice and she sees him as kind of her child). However, her love only brings Jim more suffering.

Angor Rot is also there and acts as both Jim's partner during the missions and his master/sparring partner when it comes to fighting. Angor is sympathetic towards Jim - they are in the same situation, after all. Initially, he tries to help Jim run away (as Angor thought his bindings were looser), but after some time he realizes that Jim puts his mother before himself. Nevertheless, Angor keeps thinking about the escape plans and is rather annoyed that Jim refuses to cooperate most of the time.

Morgana of this AU is rather suspicious of Stricklander as she questions his loyalties. She only contacts other changelings who seem to be more loyal to her. Walter meets Barbara when she isn't under Morgana's control and eventually falls in love with her. However, later he deduces that something is wrong with her (mostly because he learns that Jim is a shadowmancer who helps Bular without much enthusiasm). Strickler abandons the Janus Order eventually to fight for Barbara's (and to some extent Jim's) freedom and joins forces with Claire and her trollhunting team.

As for Claire, Jim learns about her new role right away and is crushed. After all, his feelings for Claire are among the few bright things he still has in this world (another one is his friendship with Toby). Jim tries to hide the information from Morgana, but she already knows. That is why Jim begs Morgana to give him the mission to recover the amulet - it is his way to protect Claire from harm. Jim gets closer to Claire, faking that he has a plan, while also sabotaging everyone else's attempts and secretly protecting Claire from Bular and changelings. Angor Rot is on his side in this charade - he sees it as a way to get out.

Jim joins Claire's trollhunting team as a part of his plan. He reveals that he can do some magic (just not the shadow type). Toby also gets involved, though, by accident, as Jim would prefer not to drag his best friend into the mess he is part of. Jim gets close to Blinky too and his time at the Trollmarket is full of hope (though, he feels uneasy around the Heartstone without knowing why).

Bular is the one who reveals Jim's secret to Claire, and she is furious, thinking that Jim played her feelings just to get the amulet (as they are dating already by that time). Toby is also angry and lost, not sure what to do and if he even knows a thing about his friend. It's where Strickler comes into the picture, revealing everything he knows (and he has gathered more than enough info).

From that point, Claire and her team look for a way to free both Jim and Barbara. Angor helps behind the scenes, and Claire accidentally learns that Douxie, whom she only knows as a waiter, is a wizard, so she begs him to join her team too. Together, they find a way to expel Morgana from Barbara's mind, so Jim feels he is free. Angor also gets his soul back at last.

It's not the end though, as at this time Gunmar is roaming free, and Morgana uses more loyal changelings. She also doesn't give up on Jim, trying to possess him directly this time and getting control over his mind.

Similar to canon, Claire and Toby (but also Barbara and Blinky) travel to the depths of Jim's mind and wake him up. Like Claire in the canon, Jim fights Morgana inside his mind, finding the courage to break the bonds with her and protect his mind for good.

#tales of arcadia #what if scenario #shadowmancer jim #trollhunter claire #jim lake jr #claire nunez #toa morgana #text post #ask box #anon ask

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illusivesoulgaming · 6 months

Text

"Directions"

Yesterday I saw an re music video on Youtube and one of the comments said "The alternate reality where the Raccoon City outbreak never happened". That was my inspiration for writing this short little thing.

Summary: "In a world where the Raccoon City outbreak never happened, a cop in the subway gets asked for directions"

Relationships: Leon/Claire

Word Count: 699

Read on AO3

The subway never had many people at this hour. All the better for him, he thought as he rubbed his eyes. The hangover from last night’s party with Jim was killing him. Downing half a vodka bottle after losing a coin toss didn’t seem like a good idea today, but it had certainly seemed good enough for him last night.

“Train arriving soon”

The computerized voice and the short jingle made him rub the sides of his head. Everyday he spent posted to the subway, the more he wished to get out of there. But rookies went wherever they were sent, not where they wanted to be.

“Just a few weeks and then we’ll have you in the streets. You’ll like the subway, Leon. Not a lot goes on there” Marvin had said to him.

“ “Not a lot goes on there” Understatement of the century” the cop said as he stretched his arms, barely containing a yawn as he did. Still had to keep the appearance of professionalism.

“Why does a city of a hundred thousand even have a subway?” Leon said to himself as he watched the few people that went in and out of the arriving trains. There were a lot more around rush hour, but still, he didn’t think it justified the number of trains or even the existence of the system in the city. “And Warren said they’re going to expand it even more next year. Must be laundering money or something. I should look into it”

“Give it up, mayor Warren! You’re under arrest” Leon said with his gun drawn as the door from the mayor’s office fell to the floor after he kicked it, a squad of police officers and the S.T.A.R.S unit behind him backing him up as he entered the office “You’re nothing but Umbrella’s puppet, taking their dirty money in exchange for letting them do as they please with this town, but it ends now!”

And just as he was exiting the building with the mayor in cuffs, ready to give his statement to the waiting reporters and their flashing cameras, a strong pull in his shoulder snapped him back to reality and out from his daydreaming.

“Hello? Civilian contacting planet cop. Anyone in there receiving me?”

Leon shook his head as he turned to see a redheaded woman in a leather jacket that left her toned arms exposed, black fingerless gloves and long brown boots staring into his soul with a very annoyed expression set on her face.

“Yes, ma’am, how can I help you?”

“Glad to see the city officers being so aware of their surroundings. Only had to stand here for a minute before you noticed. Do you know what station goes to the police department? I’m going to see my brother?”

“Take the train to Redstone Street Station. Once you exit, it’s only a short walk to the department”

“Good. Thanks” the woman replied “By any chance, do you happen to know if Chris Redfield is currently there?”

“Sure is. At least was when I left 2 hours ago” Mentioning the time made him remember all the hours he still had ahead of him before his shift ended. He complained mentally as usual. "Huh, did Chris ever mention he had a sister? Can't remember"

A bright white light began filling the tunnel, and shortly after the big red train arrived and stopped at the station.

The woman stepped into the train, and shortly before it closed, Leon spoke.

“Hey, tell Chris he still owes me 5 bucks”

The woman chuckled “Will do. He owes me money too. What’s your name?”

But before he could answer, the doors slid close and the train moved away from the station.

“Meh, whatever. I’ll tell Chris the daydreaming blondie cop at the subway station told me that you owe him money” Claire said to herself as she watched Leon slowly fading away into the distance as the train entered the tunnel.

“He’s cute. In that dorky way kind of cute” she thought as she sat down and turned on her walkman, put on her headphones and lost herself in the music as the train took her to her destination.

#resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #cleon #claire redfield #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #illusivesoulwriting #claire resident evil #resident evil claire #re claire #resident evil leon #re leon #leon resident evil #leon re #leon kennedy

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sexyleon · 2 years

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I really do not understand the hatred towards Ashley Graham. Like, it's normal for people to dislike a character, but it's something else entirely for that character to be on the receiving end of such vitriolic hatred. Like, what is it? Why do you hate Ashley Graham?

Narratively, she's a victim. She's been taken against her will, her body has been violated, and she has no means or skill to get out of the situation by herself. Is it because she's defenseless? Reliant on Leon? When we first find her, she's locked in a closet, behind steel bars that are locked behind a puzzle-- she literally could not get out even if she wanted to. Throughout the game she shows fortitude and resourcefulness. When Leon first finds her, she THROWS SOMETHING AT HIM as a means of protecting herself because that's all she can do. She's the one who notices the turning cogs in the castle great room that created the bridge over the water. She manages to solve a puzzle, fight off zealots, and make her way back to Leon without a gun. She drives the bulldozer on the island. Leon may be saving her, but she is also surviving.

So? Is it that she gets captured multiple times? The first time she's recaptured its because she runs away from Leon's touch after experiencing a reaction to the plaga inside her. She's running away from a man she doesn't really know touching her after she has been kidnapped, held captive, and injected with a foreign substance against her will, presumably by Saddler, Krauser, and the zealots, all of whom are men. Maybe it's just a woman's perspective, but her resistance towards Leon after a reminder of how completely violated she's been is pretty natural. You can't control your reactions to trauma. The second time, she's literally captured by a giant bug? Like. What is the expectation there? She doesn't have a gun, she's high off the ground, and snatched by some creature? The third time, she's captured by Saddler himself, using the mind control of the plaga to control her. Again, where is the expectation? Regardless of all that, games have narratives, multiple maps, and gameplay mechanics. Her recapturings drive the narrative. Sure, it would be easier if you only had to find her once, but that also means a shorter game and less fulfilling narrative.

Is it because she's not a strong female character? She's not like Claire or Ada? She's weak and annoying? Are female characters only likeable if they are strong? Do weak character deserve to be despised? Is being annoying a crime? Is it because she's privileged? Does that make her less of a victim? Does it make her less deserving of rescue? I really don't get it.

Overall, I think there's a conversation to be had about the hatred a lot of the fandom has towards Ashley. Because it's not just a general dislike, it's a profound (and seemingly undeserved) hatred. She doesn't do anything to antagonise Leon/the player besides exist. She doesn't betray Leon, like Ada. She doesn't attack him, like everyone else does. She works with him when he is there with her. She helps him. They work together to survive.

#resident evil #ashley graham #resident evil 4 #re4r #re4 #re4 remake #resi #plz no sexyleon #and honestly don't be all up in my comments defending why you don't like her that's not the point of this post #you don't have to like her but there is an overwhelming HATRED towards her for what seems like no reason #well i think we actually know the reason (misogyny) but i really don't know how to articulate that #Like. at what point will people admit that ashley may not be the best character in the series but she's definitely does not deserve #the amount of shit she gets for existing

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yellowmagicalgirl · 1 year

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Have the origin of my fic Things that Won't Last! (I'm still archiving old AU's)

So, Douxie and Krel get off on the wrong foot. Douxie cuts in line, and he isn't able to make it up by freeing Krel from the ice bc in this AU it was Zoe who helped to make the time trap. Afterwards, Krel is a little rude to Douxie for the cutting in line incident, and Douxie is rude right back because his grief over Merlin is impacting his ability to be polite to people who aren't polite back. Their friends try to get the two of them to maybe be a little nicer to e/o but eventually give up. Besides, it's not like Douxie and Krel's snark is actually hurting anyone, it's just annoying to deal w/the two of them.

It goes on like this for years until the Arcane Order kidnaps Douxie and Krel. (They also knock out Claire in the process, and by the time she wakes up Douxie and Krel have been so thoroughly hidden away that she can't find them).

In the mean time, Bellroc and Skrael forcibly merge Krel w/Gaylen's core. They also try to steal Douxie's magic from him, but all they can manage is to mess w/his connection to it. It still hurts, of course, and makes Douxie feel empty, but it doesn't completely break him. What does break Douxie is when Krel comes to kill him. His steps are jaunty, and his eyes, the tips of his hair, wings glow a sickly gold, the same gold of Morgana and the Green Knight. Douxie doesn't have the magical strength to fight back, so he pleads with Krel for a few short moments before shaking his head.

"There's nothing I can do to reason with you, is there? I know you hate me, but please just make it fast for the sake of our friends."

Douxie closes his eyes and waits for a blow that doesn't come. He opens his eyes, and watches as a neon red and electric purple light burns off the gold.

"Speak for yourself. I… I never hated you," Krel says before he takes Douxie's hand. And they run, and then Krel flies the two of them away from the base until they awkwardly crash-land in an empty field. Douxie is too tired to say the instinctual biting words at Krel. They find out they're slightly closer to Arcadia Oaks than NYC, so they decide to start a roadtrip together.

(They for some reason can't pick up burner phones, and of course between Gaylen's core and Douxie's new Magical Trauma™️ Claire can't portal to them.)

They decide not to kill themselves by renting a car and driving w/o stops aside from switching off drivers, so instead they have to stay at a lot of motels that, coincidentally, only have rooms with one bed! Technically, said beds are big enough that Douxie and Krel can go to opposite sides of the bed, but more than once Douxie wakes up to find Krel clinging to him. Maybe an excuse could be made for how Krel has wings he didn't have before and sure, one of them is stretched out behind him, but the other is protectively laid over the two of them.

Douxie doesn't say anything because even though Krel gets on Douxie's nerves during every waking moment (or at least he did before their capture) he's always found Krel attractive… and Douxie knows he ruined anything they could've had

Both of them silently agree to be nicer to each other, and yet they also both are unnerved by how nice their companion is being. And yet, when their conversations don't devolve into biting snark too, they find they like each other as friendly acquaintances. (They both consider themselves too far gone for more.)

After multiple close calls in fights (and multiple times of listening to Douxie cry himself to sleep, not reaching out bc Krel knows that Douxie dislikes him for no reason and yet once he's asleep Krel reaches out to comfort and hold Douxie) Krel ends up tinkering w/some Akiridion technology he had on him when captured and attaches it to Douxie's staff, and this amplifies what magic Douxie can summon. Douxie thanks Krel, and it's probably the first time he's ever given such a genuine unguarded smile to Krel.

"I never thought Akiridion technology and magic could have ever been so compatible." I never allowed myself to wonder if we could've been so compatible.

And then, sometime after this, the softness couldn't last. Krel is lamenting the changes brought about after having been merged w/Gayen's core, and Douxie tries to make a soft comment about how not everything's changed, but. Douxie is tired. It's far too easy to make an assholish comment about how thankfully Krel's still slightly shorter than Douxie. He's found that he really likes Krel, though, and internally he's screaming because he doesn't want to go back to how they were.

On instinct, Krel snarks back that Douxie should wipe the smirk off his face, or Krel would remove it for him. He doesn't want to go back to their rivalry either. Douxie asks just how Krel would remove said smirk.

And finally, the tension that's built between them for years finally breaks when Krel kisses Douxie, and Douxie kisses Krel back before Krel can apologize for overstepping. This time, when they fall asleep Krel is already holding onto Douxie.

(When they get back to Arcadia Oaks and their friends, said friends are thankful that the two of them are alive but also very confused by the way they're holding hands)

#krexie #tales of arcadia #toawizards #3below #gaylen!krel #hisirdoux casperan #rivals to lovers #krel tarron #my writing #my au's

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hannahssimblr · 10 months

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Chapter Eight (Part 2)

The thing I simultaneously love and hate about St. Stephen’s night is that you get to see everyone you’ve ever known on the streets of your hometown. There’s the kids you knew in primary school, the girls from your swimming club, your 5th year maths teacher, everyone and anyone you’ve encountered in your life is somewhere among the heaving crowds of one hopping pub or the other, and if everyone has had enough to drink they might even feel moved to speak to each other.

Claire and I squeeze into a pub that we frequented a lot during 6th year and the moment we’re inside I know that finding a seat will be a rare chance. People are everywhere and the sound is utterly cacophonous. She reaches for my hand and together we wrestle through the crowd and eventually find ourselves spit out into the smoking area where there’s a tiny corner of space just enough for us to squeeze into. Claire takes out her phone and immediately starts tapping out a message.

“For Shane.” She explains. “He’s already here… somewhere.” Sure enough within moments he appears holding three pints in his hands with the skill and precision of an Oktoberfest beer maid. He holds his laden hands out to me and when I hesitate unsure what to do he says “The middle one there, grab the middle one off me.” I gingerly slip it out of his hands and then he gives the other one to Claire along with a kiss on the forehead.

“Heineken?” I whine when I realise what he’s given me. “I hate Heineken.”

“Don’t drink it then.” He rolls his eyes. “Here, give it back, I’ll have it.”

“No.” I say, holding it out of his reach, because far be it from me to deny free beer. “It’s fine, I’ll suffer through it.”

“You’re such a baby.”

I give him the finger as I take a drink from my pint, not enjoying one moment of it and Claire sighs impatiently. “You two.” she says. “You act like children, did you know that?”

“No, Evie does.” Shane rebuttals, which makes me snort.

“You’re way worse.”

“Nah.”

“Yes! I’ll never forgive you for pelting me with stones in your driveway. You were such a bold child.”

“Ah yeah, like ten years ago.”

“You wish you still could sometimes.” I say gleefully. “You get the same look on your face whenever I’m annoying you. Like right now! I know you would if you could. Go on, grab a handful of gravel, there.”

“You’d swear you were actual siblings.” Claire drawls, and Shane pulls a horrible face at me that makes me want to burst out laughing. He really has been the closest thing to a brother that I’ve ever had, just like Kelly used to feel like a sister to me sometimes, but if someone had told me just two years ago that I’d be closer to him than I was to her I wouldn’t have believed them. When I remember Kelly I get a terrible, sick feeling inside and I wonder to myself whether she’s here tonight. I find myself scanning quickly over the crowd for a sign of her, but there isn’t one. Feeling more subdued all of a sudden, I go back to drinking my pint.

I’m only an hour into the night when I realise I am not there to actually enjoy myself and catch up with old acquaintances. At one moment as I tussle into the bar for the fourth time I realise that I am there to get drunk, extremely, mind altering drunk so that I can forget about the shambles of my Christmas and get to a point that I’m too incoherent to keep repeating the same lie to people about how I had a nice time with my family, and pretend that I didn’t spend it sulking in bed while the rest of them played awkward scrabble downstairs next to my dad who was passed out in an armchair by five o’clock.

Uncle Sean gave me a hundred euro for Christmas, but after about an hour I’ve whittled it down by half, and I’m sure by the end of the night the rest of it will be spent too. At a certain point I give up on pints, which are just making me need to pee every fifteen minutes, and make the switch to spirits. I order another two whiskeys and fill them up with ginger ale and then I go and stand with a group of people who I knew in school so that I don’t appear to be drinking alone. They’re talking about something that I find boring. Every conversation I’ve dipped into tonight has been boring and I wonder if it really is true what people in Dublin say about those from the country, that it’s all shallow, dull conversation that either centres around sports or their family’s farm. A girl next to me is recycling some gossipy story about someone from school that I heard two years ago and at that point I can’t stand it anymore. I down both whiskies one after another and slink off to find something else to do.

“Woah, slow down there Evie.” I hear one of them say as I turn away and they all laugh. I’m already reaching that dizzy, double vision stage of drunkenness and I welcome it openly, allowing the numbing drowsiness to envelop me wholly and feel my coordination lapse. I don’t want to think anymore.

At some point I find myself back at the bar, and I stand and wait for what feels like eternity as the barmen ignore me continuously. I reach out my hand as one of them comes close “Sorry there, can I get-” He serves the person behind me instead. I find the barstool behind my legs and slump into it hoping that it might anchor me a bit as the room starts to tilt.

“Gin and tonic, please.” There is a familiar voice beside me and I turn my head to see a fuzzy version of Kelly standing nearby. I wonder if she’s seen me yet. Her features are moving around her face in front of my eyes, but I know it’s her. She looks different with her hair straightened and I kind of want to tell her that. I also don’t want her to be angry with me anymore, and I see this as a good moment to start that conversation.

“Kelly.” I say, and she snaps around to look at me. It must be the first time we’ve made eye contact in a year. “Hi.” I say, and I can see her mouth tighten into a thin line as she hands her debit card to the barman. She says nothing to me.

I try again and I reach out to touch her arm and am aware of how sweaty my hand is against her smooth skin. She flinches away immediately, eyes blazing. “What do you want?” I drop my hand onto my lap pathetically. “I wanted to say hello.”

“The state of you.” She retorts. “I wouldn’t be seen in public hanging over a bar pissed drunk like that.” I can tell she wants to leave but the bartender is still making her drink so she can’t. She starts looking at the exit, over my shoulder for someone else to talk to, anything to get away from this conversation I’ve roped her into. It makes me feel unbearably sad.

“Why do you always run away from me?” I say miserably. “You never want to talk about why we aren’t friends.”

“There isn’t anything to say.”

“It’s not fair, you can’t just walk away from it all. I didn’t do anything wrong-”

“You were an awful friend.” She cuts in. “Hanging out with you was fucking shit, alright?”

“Not always.” I say, offended, and then she ignores me and takes out her phone to scroll through it as a last resort. I feel like I’m going to start crying as the gravity of it all comes crashing over me. How we were so close for so many years, we shared everything with each other, I know everything about this girl and yet we’re strangers now. It makes my heart feel like it’s breaking.

With a last ditch effort, I attempt to compliment her. “Your hair is nice like that.” I say, and I reach out to touch it, only she doesn’t hear me, and as she flinches away from me in alarm some of it gets tangled in my rings and I end up yanking it.

She makes a horrified, furious face. “Ouch!” She exclaims, and I see her eyes blaze, wide with disbelief as she holds onto the part of her scalp that I wrenched. “Did you just pull my hair?”

“No!” I start to protest, but there are murmurs in the crowd around us. I look over my shoulder and two girls are whispering about me while someone else is shaking their head. Kelly steps in closer to me, leaning over a barstool so that we’re almost nose to nose. “You’re a bitch.” She hisses. “Go fucking die.” She takes someone’s warm, discarded pint off the bar and throws it over my top and I cry out in shock. Everyone is looking, everyone is laughing, and then something terrible happens to me.

I start to get angry. Really angry.

I lash out at her before I can stop myself, and my hands shove her arms away from me, sending the pint glass straight to the floor where it shatters into smithereens, then I lunge towards her and shove her into the crowd of men behind her. “You’re a bitch!” I shriek. She looks like she’s going to murder me then, and comes, coming at me with her hands clawing at the air and her face contorted like a wild animal. As time slows down I ask myself, am I really about to get into a fist fight with Kelly? I’m bracing myself for her nails on me when I am yanked from the scene with violent speed, and all of a sudden Shane is in my face instead.

“What is wrong with you?” He’s shouting, and the ferocity in his voice brings startled tears to my eyes. I don’t know what to say. He’s holding me by my upper arms and squeezing me and it hurts but I don’t dare say anything about it. “Get outside.” He kicks open a side door and throws me outside into an alley filled with used beer kegs and plastic crates. My legs almost give out underneath me and I stumble backwards into the wall.

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#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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