#My favorite thing to do when I show people drawings of Mother

[the-sinful-voice-witch]

Stephanie Brown and Damian Wayne

Damian's drawing of people who loves him personally offended me when i saw the lack of Talia (but fucking Ra was there! So ridiculously absurd), Duke, Jason and more importantly in my opinion the lack of STEPHANIE BROWN! Barbara and Rose Wilson never had the bond he had with Stephanie not even Cassandra and im specially Salty about Maya because all the fuss about the "adoptive sister" That showed up right in the messed up new 52 as if Stephanie wasn't literally the fucking first big sister figure he had, this is so insulting giving the fact that STEPHANIE WAS HIS BATGIRL:

The Batman's no-daughter and Damian first big sister, Steph is a Bat member that is placed along Batman's children but she was never adopted and we could say she is kinda in the same position as Barbara, they can only become official daughters if they become daughters in law.

I firmly believe that Damian can't be placed along all the people that personally wronged Stephanie because... Damian has been an arrogant jerk with absolutely every hero he has met, he looked down on his own father at first, the fucking Batman! So he literally didn't discriminate Stephanie, because even if he tried to insult her saying he was disappointed to see she wasn't Cassandra, when he actually met Cassandra he tried to undermine her as well so to me that comparation doesn't have the same weight as when she was constantly compared to other heroes by other certain characters.

The little time they had together in the Batgirl run was way too precious, the teasing and the banter and how they worked together was so good! Stephanie was so good to him! She got him to be able to behave like a kid because she noticed he didn't even know how to play, she got him to play with him in a bouncing castle, she wanted him to smile, they worked together to save Dicks Batman and i always laugh when Damian teases her about "not having a big chest", Damian dear you were so fixated on that for no reason... Maybe Steph was also his first platonic crush... I think the second was Supergirl 😂😂.

(I miss them when they were like this... I miss them everyday 😭😭😭😭)

DCeased wasn't exactly one of my favorite comics regarding plot but it has a special place in my heart for being currently the only alternative universe that represented this sibling relationship as it was always meant to be until the disappointing death that was supposed to be solved by Talia and never happened as if they forgot.

That universe gave us a beautiful present and that was the very first time someone (wonder girl Cassie) officially acknowledged Stephanie as Damians big sister and not to mention the hug! 🥺🥺🥺 he actually let himself being comforted in her arms and hugged her back, when he saw her he even called her "Steph" Not "Brown" Or "Spoiler/Batgirl" and oh my god she became his Robin 🥲 and to me she is just the perfect Robin to his Batman after all... She was also the Batgirl to his Robin.

Another thing i want to point out, when Alfred was murdered Dick still didn't have all his memories, Jason was just too angry and Tim didn't do much, Barbara isn't that close to Damian so I think they totally should have used Stephanie here, Damian really could have used a big sister... Again wasting her character but I guess they wanted to use only the closest people to Alfred and sadly it looks like Steph isn't one... But she is an important person to Damian no matter how much DC wants to erase her, she will never dissapear! I can't believe Barbara and Rose Wilson and that pop out of nowhere post new 52 Maya are in that drawing of people who makes Damian feel loved BUT NOT STEPHANIE!! Even the horrible RA is there?! But not his mother or HIS FIRST AND IN MY OPINION BEST BIG SISTER FIGURE STEPHANIE!!! DC YOU HAVE A LOT TO ATONE FOR 😤😤😤😠😠😠😠

Fortunately the author of the webtoon family Wayne adventures has a better understanding of this and gave us the precious moments they deserve:

In my head this is Stephanie with her 3 best boys, the ex, the little platonic brother that might had or might not had a platonic crush on her and who i think is her very soulmate ❤💜

[inkandpaintleopard]

Oh and also I played the fnati fnf mod yesterday and Mickey’s gone into public domain and all that and anyway I thought this might be a good time to post all my old Treasure Island drawings

Every time I draw Mickey there’s like a 50/50 chance of it either looking feature-length animation-level quality or looking merchandise-level

Why would they do that to him

[hazashiovo]

G’day! Could I bother you for some Zuko hcs of him falling for a girl next door kind of girl during his time in ba sing se? If you still write for atla. Or with bolin if u don’t! (Can’t remember the name of his fav place rip)? Thank you so much!

I do write for everything that's on my list, especially Zuko ;)

Zuko x fem reader

When zuko first settled in Ba Sing Se with his uncle,he didn't expect an oddly friendly girl to take initiative in talking to him.

His cold demeanor didn't push you away from him,it really got him wondering, especially since he has a pretty bad image of himself.

Once he started leaving his guard down around you,that's when his feelings started to accumulate.

You would come to his uncle's tea shop almost daily, leaving a small present for Zuko. Maybe some rice cakes, or some cute little drawings. Just a way to show your affection for the boy.

You never asked about his scar,you didn't want to make him uncomfortable by bringing back unfortunate memories.

And he really appreciated that, he doesn't really like nosey people.

His uncle ships you two. Iroh also gives Zuko dating advice about how to talk to you,how to act and Zuko pretends he hates it,but secretly absorbs single thing Iroh says.

Each time you went out with Zuko was an amazing experience, learning new things about him.

Now let's say one day you didn't visit Zuko at all,which got him worried.

The next day same,wich is unusual,if you'd be busy the day before,you would visit and tell him,it's just something you do.

So he gets suspicious,and comes to your house to see if you're okay,only for your mother to tell him you've been attacked while making a delivery, everything you had was stolen.

Your parents would welcome Zuko inside to come see you.

He enters your room to see you lay in bed,hurt,but nothing very serious,just some cuts and bruises over your arms and so. He's bad at comforting,but he makes sure to tell you it's not your fault.3

And he is FERAL. After talking to you,Zuko asks your parents who did it,in which they say some raiders who have been bothering your family for a long time.

Safe to say,you never had problems with those people again.

He was close to you while you were recovering, bringing you your favorite tea,and claiming his uncle made him do it.(Which is bulshit).

Soon enough you got back to your usual routine,even spending more time with Zuko.

After you got better,he asked you out. Deciding that it's useless to waste more time on dwelling,and that he has to speak his heart.

After he confessed,you jumped on him, kissing him like there's no tomorrow.

And like that,he started dating you. He felt like never before,you gave him this warm feeling in his chest,and when you were not around he would be gloomy.

Iroh was so happy Zuko found himself a nice lady. And since then, it was unusual for you to be seen without Zuko,or him without you.

At one point in your relationship,Zuko spoke about the burn mark on his face,and what his father did you him.

Yes, he told you he's the prince of the fire nation,but he also told you he left that in the past. You trusted him with your life,and you made sure to let him know it.

He was so happy that you didn't judge him for what he did,and that made him trust you a lot.

.

.

My first Zuko request!

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 8: Jealousy Doesn't Look Good On Anybody Except...

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eight of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (a few times), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo and this should take you to the song. It's the song I named the series for, because I believe it encompasses how both the reader feels, but also how Soldier Boy will feel in a few chapters. I also believe that the song House of Memories by Panic at the Disco, fits the more modern parts of the series.

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

****************************************

Philadelphia 1938

The lights twinkled along the ceiling of the dance hall as the gentle swell of jazz floated through the air. Couples swayed on the dance floor clinging to one another as the soft tones of the music soothed the dull throb of the whispers of rising tension overseas. It was a Saturday night, and you and a few of your friends from the Dawson School for Girls had slipped away to spend the evening twirling in the arms of whomever caught your fancy.

Well, at least that's what your friends wanted to do. There was only one particular man who'd caught your fancy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The Dawson School for Girls was the answer to your mother's prayers, a boarding school in Boston, far away from Ben's "corruptive influence" as she put it. Ben was currently at boarding school number ten in Upstate New York. The last time you’d seen him was when you were on break and Ben had just left boarding school number nine for fighting with other students, but he wouldn't say what for. You’d sent him a few letters to tell him how bored you were including a few sketches and watercolor paintings, with minimal response, but it was like him not to write back.

You hadn't mentioned that Howard Stine had been coming on the weekends to take you out. Your mother was pleased with him, he checked all the boxes: wealthy, not Ben, educated, not Ben, from a nice family, not Ben, and of course most importantly, not Ben.

She was practically making wedding invitations and choosing the names of your children after only three months. However, it was nice to see her happy for a change, kept her from sniping at your figure now that someone was interested. Well, not sniping that much.

Howard was… nice, but he was one of the most boring people you'd ever met and he never understood why you always carried a sketchbook with you. When he'd taken you to Franklin Park one weekend, you stopped along the pond to sketch some of the ducks that were waddling on the bank, but Howard told you he didn’t have time to wait for you to draw them. Instead of telling him that he could just leave, you shut the sketchpad and continued to walk with him and quickly learned that it was better to leave your sketchpad at the dorm whenever he was in town. You also found yourself talking less and less, allowing him to fill the silence with his talk of the stock market crash and how the United States economy recovered due to the efforts of President FDR.

You hated that. You didn't recognize yourself when you were with him. You didn't feel like you.

And every time he was here all you could do was compare him to Ben. Ben would never tell you to stop drawing, yes he would tease you about it, but he always sat next to you while you were sketching, watching you work. You never understood that. Ben was so impatient with everyone else, but he was willing to sit with you for any inordinate amount of time if you were drawing while making you laugh the whole time.

I miss him so much.

"Can I get you a drink?" Howard puts his hand on the small of your back, leaning in to whisper in your ear. You try not to flinch at his touch. He had already been in town, walking you home from a dinner that was dominated by awkward silence and the clicking of utensils on plates when you'd run into your friends just as he was walking you back to the dorm. They had rounded the corner giggling and begging you to come with them. Despite your insistences for him to stay in and relax for the night at his hotel, he refused.

It meant that now you were stuck with him while all your friends got to twirl around with men that made them warm and giddy. Howard made you feel like you'd swallowed a lemon.

"I'm fine, but thank you." You force a smile.

Howard shrugs, before he walks away towards the crowded bar on the other side of the room and blessedly far away from you.

Your thoughts drifted to Ben. You missed your friend more than words could comprehend. Not just because you were far from your family in another city, but because it felt like you were missing apart of yourself when he wasn't there. You briefly wonder if he felt the same way when he wasn't with you.

Probably not.

You turn away from Howard's retreating figure, to watch the couples on the dance floor. You sway to the music, holding your arms around yourself and feeling your dark green dress swish around your ankles, one that you'd picked out yourself, not a monstrosity of pink tulle, but something that you believed accentuated the natural curves of your body that your mother used other dresses to hide. Your mouth turns down into a frown remembering how Howard had reacted to seeing you in it, when he tried to give you his jacket to cover up, but you refused.

You had wanted him to be stunned by how you looked in it, or at least, wanted someone to be. The same someone that was miles away and probably tickling the skirt of someone who caught his fancy.

"One of the most attractive men I've ever seen in my life is at the bar." Your friend Pearl stated looking behind you with wide eyes.

I've got you beat. You think to yourself to a sigh, wishing, again, that you were here with Ben instead of Howard.

"Very funny." You roll your eyes, thinking that she’s making fun of where Howard is sitting probably flagging down the bartender with both hands to catch his attention.

"I'm not talking about Howard. This guy is seriously a looker. And he's staring at you." Pearl says again.

"Sure." You continue to watch an elderly couple sway back and forth to the smooth jazz that ebbs from the band on stage.

Must be nice to be with someone for that long.

You watch how effortlessly the couple moves as one, how the man stares down at the woman with more love than you can comprehend. It makes your heart sink in your chest.

The way things were panning out, you were going to end up with Howard and you couldn't imagine looking at anyone like that other than Ben.

"You're about to see, because he's coming this way." Pearl takes a step back from you as if anticipating the stranger interrupting your conversation.

"He's not-" You begin to say, but you feel someone place their hand on the small of your back, turning you towards them.

"Fancy meeting you here." Ben smiles down at you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"Ben!" Your heart soars when you recognize your friend and you can't help but hug him so tight he laughs, the movement of his chuckle makes you feel alive for the first time in weeks. The sharp smell of whiskey and the familiar spicy scent of his cologne greets you.

"Guess you missed me." The rumble of his voice vibrates where your cheek rests against his chest.

"I did." You pull away from him reluctantly. "What are you doing here?" You can't help but smile at him, probably wider than what was attractive.

"Thought I'd stop by and visit on my way back to Philadelphia. Saw you walk into this place. " Ben shrugs. "What are you doing out so late?"

"Looking for trouble." You smirk.

"You found him sweetheart." Ben leans down towards you making your throat get unusually tight.

"Hi." Pearl says interrupting the conversation.

 Ben turns his smug smile on her. "Hi."

"I'm Pearl." She looks from you to Ben as if trying to decide that it's okay for her to introduce yourself.

"Benjamin." You watch him slip into the cool and smooth Ben, the one that charmed whomever caught his eye.

You can't help but feel a prick of jealousy against your skin. It was familiar, but every time it happened, it didn't make any of this easier. You knew that you shouldn't be jealous, you didn't have a claim on him, you were friends, just friends, only friends, best friends…

And now you were with Howard.

You let out a soft sigh watching the way that Pearl looks up at Ben and the way he leans towards her with the confident smirk you love so much on his face.

"Would you like to dance Benjamin?" She asks.

"I would." Ben's smirk turns into a smile.

Pearl steps forward to reach for his hand, expecting him to take it, but he doesnt.

"Come on sweetheart." Ben reaches out and takes your hand, twirling you ahead of him onto the dance floor.

"Ben-" You giggle, head spinning with the movement, but when he twirls you back into his chest, you feel your breath catch. This wasn't the first time you'd been pressed up against him and it wasn't the first time you recognized how perfectly you fit together. Your soft curves molding against the hardness of his muscles as you sway back and forth to the music. When you were pressed up against him, you didn't feel like you were too big, you felt perfect, because of the way you fit against him.

"You know I am here with someone-" You say, before you get too wrapped up in how good it feels to be with him.

"Yes. Howard Stine. Though I do believe you said he stepped on your toes." Ben smiles at you, eyes twinkling in the light.

"That was four years ago, and he's… sweet?"

"Hmph." Ben rolls his eyes. "You can't even say it with a straight face sweetheart."

"I have never said anything bad about your companions."

"Missy-"

"Besides her." You frown.

He laughs at your reaction, the hand clutched in your right seems to warm with his smile. "You've never said anything about them period."

Because I hate thinking about how many of them there have been. Because I hate that you don't see me as someone who could be with you.

"I try not to dwell on your numerous escapades."

"You sound a little jealous doll." He smirks at you.

"What was that you were saying about Howard again?" You tease, holding on to his shoulders as you sway back and forth to the music.

"Can't be jealous of someone I've seen get chased by a duck." Ben's eyes trace your body for a moment. Your cheeks blush under his gaze. "You look nice. Not one of your mom's I'm guessing?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You don't look like a cupcake." He spins you away one more time before bringing you back into his chest.

"No. I think she'd probably have an aneurysm if she saw me wearing this. Howard also thought it was a bit much-"

Ben's hand tightens on your waist. "What?"

You shrug, leveling your eyes on his chest to distract yourself from his hand placement. "He tried to get me to wear his coat."

"He what?"

You shake your head to dissipate the self-doubt and body-shaming conversation that was about to unfold in your head.

"It's nothing." You raise your gaze back to his, but you're surprised to see the anger that burns behind his green eyes.

"It's not nothing. He had no right to-"

"Ben." You soothe, rubbing your thumb over his shoulder to comfort him.

The song shifts to something softer, forlorn, a song that reminded you of the heartache you felt with Ben, but also a melody that eases your soul somehow.

"I don't understand why you're with him." Ben sighs, but you can still feel the tension in his shoulders beneath your hand.

"My mother is happy-"

"But you're not." The look in his eyes is unfamiliar, almost earnest, as if he's trying to get you to understand something that he can't say.

"Ben." You breathe.

"Fine. I don't want you to think about him when we're dancing to our song anyway." The look in his eyes shifts back to the playful green they'd been before.

"Our song?" The words make your heart skip a beat and you can't help but smile at him.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd smiled this much. Probably the last time I saw him.

"Yes." Ben dips you back, before bringing you up against him, the playful look in his eyes becoming softer as you come back.

You know that your own gaze is filled with love and you remember watching the elderly couple. The way they looked at one another warming your heart as you gaze up at Ben. The three little words tiptoe against your tongue, the three little words that you'd been trying to say forever, but you can't. You don't want to lose him, don't want to live in a world without him, because you know that it won't be worth living.

So instead you lean forward and lay your head against his chest, in the space between his neck and shoulder as the song continues. You think that you feel Ben's arms tighten around you, pulling you further into his embrace, but you chock that up to wishful thinking.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You hear someone yell, and all of a sudden someone's hand is on your wrist jerking you away from Ben.

What?

Howard is standing there his chest pushed against Ben’s, trying to look intimidating, but Howard's inability to reach Ben's shoulders made it difficult for him.

You rub your fingers over your wrist, where Howard’s bright red handprint stands out against your skin.

Ben’s eyes shift to notice your ministrations, darkening with the force of his anger at the thought that Howard hurt you.

“I think I was dancing with my girl.” Ben’s eyes narrow, skating back to Howard.

Your heart skips a beat when he says that, but you shake away the thought, knowing that Ben is only saying that to make Howard angry.

“Your girl?!” Howard sputters, his face growing red. “She’s not your girl!”

“Howie, buddy-“ Ben’s confident smirk slips over his features but you still see the anger beneath the surface. “Calm down, you’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

“Just because you think you have some claim on her because you’ve been stringing her along with the harem that usually follows you, does not make her your girl!” Howard fumes. “She’s with me.” Howard grabs your wrist again and drags you towards him.

“Hey wait a minute-“ You begin to say.

Ben grabs the front of Howard's tailored suit, rumpling the pristine fabric. “Don’t you dare touch her like that.”

“I will touch her however I damn well please! She's mine-"

The grip on your wrist is so tight that you know it’ll leave bruises. “Howard wait-“ You try again to diffuse the tension, bringing your free hand to rest on his forearm to make him let go.

“Shut up.” He snaps, eyes flashing back to you.

Ben’s temper flares and the sharp crack of his fist against Howard’s face echoes through the room. Howard stumbles away, letting go of your wrist as he reels backward to the welcoming hardwood floor that catches him when he falls.

“Don’t you ever speak to her that way you arrogant son of a bitch!” Ben shouts taking a step forward. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched at his sides and his jaw is tight, as his anger burns through the air.

By now the band has stopped playing music and all the couples around you are watching with wide eyes.

I have to do something before he kills him.

You put yourself between them, your hands firmly planted on Ben’s muscular chest so your back is to where Howard stands fuming. “Ben. Don’t.”

But he’s not looking at you, his gaze is locked with Howard’s, eyes blazing, muscles tensing beneath the palms of your hands. You try to ignore how good his chest feels beneath your touch.

Damn it.

“Ben.” You say his name again.

His eyes snap back to yours. The soft green has hardened to an emerald with the force of his rage, so different than how he looked when the two of you were dancing. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Please.” You whisper. "Stop."

Ben looks from you to Howard, before he finally exhales. “Fine.” He mutters, and he turns and vanishes into the crowd of people without another word.

A minute passes and the music begins all over again, the band on the stage starting with a lively tune that makes the couples around you to move back on to the dance floor, but the tension of what just happened remains in the air.

Because what did just happen? Did Ben do that because he was protective of me? Or did he do that because he was jealous?

Your eyes trace where he vanished, longing for him to come back, but when he doesn't appear, you're left to deal with the aftermath. 

********************************

After numerous apologies to Howard, he finally relented and took you back to your dorm, leaving your group of friends at the dance hall. You knew there would definitely be a conversation about what just happened between you all when they got back, but even you were confused. Ben was always protective of you, but what happened seemed over the top. You think about how Ben called you “my girl," the way he said it sending a thrill down your spine. He’d never done that before and you wondered if it was because he wanted to get a rise out of Howard or because he believed it.

Not like he’s tried to do anything about it. You think to yourself stroking one finger against your bruised wrist. The discoloration was more prominent now, black and blue marks beginning to sprout like flowers in spring. Howard’s eye didn’t look much better when he dropped you off. You were surprised that he’d been forgiving enough to continue to see you, not that you wanted to see him, but you didn't think you could handle a letter from your mother.

Then again maybe she would pull you out of this ridiculous school.

A small tap at your window causes you to raise your head to look out the glass. Ben is sitting there, but he doesn’t smile like he usually does. Your dorm room was on the first floor, which meant that Ben didn't need to shimmy up a tree to get into it like he did when you were home. Then again this was the first time he'd showed up here and you wondered how he knew where your room was. You also weren't thrilled at his appearance because you didn't know when Pearl would come back and you weren't sure what your roommate would do if she came back and found Ben in your room. She was a stickler for the rules and despite your friendship, rooming with her was one of your least favorite things about the Dawson School For Girls.

“If they find you here I’m going to be in so much trouble.” You say helping him through the small window, putting your hand on the back of his head so that he doesn't bang it against the glass. "You might like getting kicked out of boarding schools, but I don't."

“They won’t find out.” Ben rolls his eyes. He glances at Pearl’s empty bed on the other side of the room. “Roommate not back yet?”

“No she was still dancing when I left.”

Ben frowns. “Where’s the asshole?”

“Ben-“

“What?”

“He left. And I don't exactly invite him up to where I sleep."

“Good.” Ben flexes his fist.

“How did you know which room was mine?” You ask. Ben had never come to see you before at boarding school and the fact that he was here probably meant that boarding school number ten was out.

“I might have guessed wrong.” He smirks.

“Uh-huh.” You sigh, but all you can think about is how he acted earlier. Your feet shift back and forth “Why did you hit him?”

Ben’s eyes darken. “He shouldn’t have touched you like that or said that to you.”

You stand there for a minute observing his reaction.

“He kinda deserved it." You say slowly.

You knew it was true. When Ben showed up Howard shouldn’t have lost it like he did, he definitely shouldn’t have grabbed you like that or called you his-

You stutter on that thought. But maybe he is right. I am Howard’s. We’ve been going steady… The thought of being his makes something curl up in your chest and die. There was only one man that you wanted to belong to.

"Yeah.” Ben sighs.

"Why did you call me your 'girl'?" You ask.

"Um." Ben shrugs. "Felt right in the moment."

"What?"

"I mean you are. You're my friend-"

"But that doesn't mean friend Ben." You say it gently trying to catch his eye, but Ben won't meet your gaze.

"Fine. I just wanted to mess with him a little bit." Ben frowns. "But I didn't like that he called you his, or the fact that he hurt you."

“But Ben I am his.” You whisper even though you don’t want to. “We’re going steady-“

“That doesn’t make you his!” Ben snaps, eyes flashing. “Just because he feels the need to say it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“But Ben-“

“And I never want to hear you say it.” He continues loudly.

What is wrong with him? I've never seen him this angry about anything.

“Why?”

“Because that means he has some claim on you. You’re not his, you’re my friend.”

"You're being ridiculous. You're saying that he can't have some claim on me but you're possessively calling me your friend!" You shout back frustrated.

Why is he acting like this? Does he really hate Howard that much?

"I am not! I'm just saying that you're my friend and you're not his!"

“I can’t be both?” Your words hang in the air between the two of you and you mentally beg Ben to answer. He was acting like he wanted you to be his, like he believed that he had some claim on you and you couldn't remember another time that he'd acted this way. Sure he teased Howard, but this was more than that.

It was almost possessive and it kinda scared you how much you liked it.

Ben doesn’t answer your question. His shoulders are tense, hands clenched into fists at his sides, while something lurks behind his eyes that you can’t identify.

“Ben?” You say it like a question, ignoring the urge to press your hands against his chest like you did earlier at the dance to calm him down.

His gaze drops to your arm, where Howard grabbed you, tracing the bruises and clenching his jaw together. Ben’s right hand comes to delicately pick up your bruised wrist, running his thumb over the discolored flesh with a frown. “Does it hurt?” He rumbles changing the subject.

“No. Does that hurt?” You breathe noticing his bruised knuckles and gently probe your fingers along them.

You hated the though that he was hurt and for you, no less.

Why did he have to intervene? Why did he hit Howard?

“It was worth it.”

You both stand there for a minute, with Ben holding on to your wrist, touch surprisingly gentle.

“I just don’t like that he hurt you okay?” He mutters raising his eyes to yours. You weren't prepared for the soft look in his eyes. You expected him to still be angry over Howard, but he almost looked, worried.

“I'm okay Ben." You whisper back.

You want him to answer your question. You think again about telling him those three little words you wanted to say when you were swaying on the dance floor together but you can’t.

He nods once before he looks around the room, eyes falling on your sketchpad where it lays closed on your bed. "Got any new ones?"

You knew it was Ben's way of asking if he could stay, trying to tell you that he didn’t want to go back to Philadelphia that night, and you didn't want him to either.

"A few. If you're not too tired-"

"I’m never too tired for you."

You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest. “Okay.”

The whole time you sit together on your bed, Ben doesn't drop your wrist, in fact he continues to brush his thumb against it while you look through your sketchbook. And in a few hours when Pearl finds you and Ben curled up in bed together, you’re not embarrassed, because deep down you’re starting to believe that Ben cared for you more than he was willing to admit.

*******************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126

[jamesdeniscouldnever]

Headcanons for Zev and Rolan to tide you all over until I can nail down a plot for the poll winner fic.

How they take care of Tav

🎇Rolan🎇

The grumpy wet cat of a man is a little less grumpy and wet when Tav is tired or hurting.

If they're returning home after a long road full of fights and sleepless nights, Rolan takes a gentle approach.

After making sure they have something to eat and drink in front of them, he's drawing them a hot bath.

If they return with more severe injuries, then God's help Tav.

Scolding and fussing, cursing, and name calling.

He does it out of love, we know this.

Still feeds them and draws them a bath.

Helps remove their armor, all the while tutting and making aggravated comments about "always playing hero" or "can't go a day without a fight" even though tav knows he doesn't mean it.

Once they're in the bath, he sits beside the tub

He'd like to join him, but the tub isn't that big, and when there are two people, his tail gets painfully twisted

He talks them into comfort, what Cal and Lia have been up to, how things are at the tower, and stories about the threw siblings growing up.

Uses his long, glorious nails to really help scrub Tav's hair.

Purposely dumps the water over their head to help rinse without letting them cover their eyes.

Immediately feels bad when they yelp in pain.

Coos and helps rinse it out, pretending be just wasn't thinking.

After the bath wraps them in soft sleeping clothes and puts them to bed (mother hen, who?)

When Tav asks if he's joining them he replies "now now, I've got things to do. You sleep, I'll be back later."

And he does, once Tav is sleeping.

He watches then for a moment before sighing at their bruised Visage and whispering things about "my poor angel'

Curls up behind them, holding them tight.

Tails wrapped around their leg and arms squeezing them.

Falls asleep beside them, holding them like he can protect them from the life they've chosen.

⚜️Zevlor⚜️

Has almost certainly been either on the road with his beloved Tav or staying in their camp

He knows he said he'd like to retire in the city, but once he realized he loved someone who was such a menace to their own health, those plans went right out the window.

Fighting by their side is part of his way of showing care. Watching their back, shielding them from harms way, even if they scold him for it later.

His approach to love and care is so much more obvious than Rolan's.

Constant loving stares and words of affirmation, reverence to the person who dared show him kindness and love that he though he didn't deserve.

And when the day is done and a browbeaten Tav returns to him, he's got a hand on their back or an arm around their waist in an instant, leading them to the fire to eat and relax.

Watches carefully as he makes sure they eat least one full serving of their meal. Tail wagging in pleasure when they do.

Humming old Eltural lullabies while helping them clean up by whatever stream or river is near.

Brushing their hair is his favorite.

Once in their tent, he's pulling blankets over Tav and urging them to sleep. Strokes their hair until they are.

Stays up after they're resting, watching them, watching the camp for danger, enjoying the stars.

When exhaustion finally wins, he's back in the tent, curling up in a protective little ball by their side closer to the tents entrance so if anyone tries to get in they'll trip over him and wake Tav.

If Tav is ever severely injured, Avernus take this man, he is a wreck.

That face he makes when the guy gets shot by goblins in the Grove? That immediately followed by tears and sobs.

Even if it's not life-threatening, he's on this knees at their side and begging them not to go.

The most careful and methodical medical treatment Tav has ever received followed by the most protective and clingy Zev there's ever been.

He insists on doing everything for them now. He won't let them in harms way again.

Just a sad, overprotective, DILF of a paladin who loves his Tav.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 6: The House Of Salt And Scales]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, infidelity, Evangelical Christians, kids, parenthood, Willis Warning, (Mis)Adventures With Aegon, Targ family dysfunction, bodily injury, blood, alligators, ANGST!!!

Word Count: 7.5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 🥰🧁

“Did you hear that Willis is single again?”

Ugh. “Yes, Mama. I heard. You told me already.” You linger in the doorway with a white bakery box in your hands: your mother’s favorite, grasshopper pie, straight out of the 1960s. She allegedly ate through two a week when she was pregnant with you. Cadi has already dashed inside and made herself at home; she’s probably jamming the movie she got from Blockbuster—Predator, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Amir recommended it—into the VHS player. “You told me, Willis told me, all his deputies told me, Cadi told me, my mailman told me, the checkout ladies at the Piggly Wiggly told me, literally every resident of Napoleonville has informed me in no uncertain terms that Willis is single again. And I could not possibly care less.”

Your mother sighs and presses a hand to her forehead, wounded and incredulous, like she’s just watched a 60 Minutes segments about a tsunami or a genocide. “I just don’t understand it. In my day, people married for life.”

You glance back longingly at your Chevy Celebrity. “Yeah. I know they did.”

“When your father, and God rest his soul, when he was young, he was a hellion,” your mother says, as if you don’t remember it, as if you weren’t there. “He’d get his paycheck every Friday and stay out all night with his buddies, sometimes he didn’t come home the whole weekend. I’d lay into him when he finally showed, I’d say, ‘Rene, how on earth am I supposed to put dinner on the table if I don’t have any fish in the icebox?!’ Once he punched a hole in the kitchen wall and I had to cover it up with a picture of President Eisenhower! And I never even thought about leaving. How could I have done that to you? Forcing you to grow up in a broken home? Mothers and fathers living apart, whoever heard of such a thing? It’s unnatural.”

You’re brainstorming recipes to distract yourself. Caramel pretzel cookies. Banana chiffon pie. Cheese Danish cupcakes with diced cherries and a hint of vanilla. “Everyone draws their own lines, Mama.”

“But it’s not just about you,” she implores, her eyes shimmering with sympathy she never had for other women. You remember what she said on the rare occasions you confided in her about your frustrations with Willis: Of course a man isn’t going to want you bothering him with your feelings when he’s had a hard day at work. Of course a man—after you’ve had his baby, after you almost died to do it—is going to be crossing off days on the calendar until you can have sex again. He keeps a roof over your head and he never hits you, what more could you ask for? “What about Cadi? What if she grows up thinking that her marriage vows don’t mean anything? It’s the foundation of society, marriage. If that goes, everything goes.”

It’s the foundation of a lot of coercion and unfairness and misery, that’s for sure. “I wouldn’t want Cadi to stay in a situation that makes her unhappy. Would you?”

Your mother throws her hands up, like you’ve told her you’re converting to communism and catching the next flight to the USSR. “Life isn’t just about happiness, sweetheart! It’s about commitment, it’s about responsibility! If everyone did what they wanted all the time, no one would stay married!”

“Maybe that speaks to the value of marriage as an institution.”

“And morality is already falling apart in this country,” your mother continues, ignoring you. That’s what she does when she can’t refute facts, logic, evidence. “Young people living together, women having babies with two or three different men, people doing drugs, people on Welfare, people shooting and stabbing each other, sex shops everywhere, naughty magazines at gas stations, men wanting to marry other men—”

“Okay, Mama. I really have to go now.”

“Alright, I’ll shut up. I will, I will, I swear.” She makes peace with a brisk kiss to your cheek like a stamp on an envelope. “Enjoy a nice quiet night to yourself. Do you have any plans?”

Well, Mama, I’m trying to resist the temptation to call my engaged dominant oil tycoon not-boyfriend and tell him to come over for kinky adulterous sex. “Not really. I’ll probably take a bubble bath and then watch something Cadi would think is boring, like 20/20.” You hand over the bakery box, and your mother’s face lights up.

“Grasshopper pie?!”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. You know it’s hard for me to make it myself anymore. This rheumatoid arthritis, it’s got me all twisted up.” She nods down to where her fingers grip the box, knobby and increasingly useless.

“When’s your next appointment?”

“I’ve got one in…oh…about three weeks, I think. I’d have to check my daybook. All the way over in New Orleans with some specialist that Dr. Cormier recommended.”

“Okay. Want me to go with you?”

“Yes, that’d be fine.” It would be more than fine; she wants you to go, though she won’t say it. You aren’t sure if she doesn’t want to impose or doesn’t want to admit how reliant she’s becoming upon you, like growing up in reverse.

“Mawmaw!” Cadi shouts from inside the house. “Hurry up! I want to watch Predator!”

“You quit your hollering, I’ll be right there!” Then your mother looks to you and offers one last piece of very unsolicited advice. “Just be kind to Willis, alright? Give him a chance. I don’t think he’ll ever find a woman he likes as much as you. That’s what everyone says.”

“Mama, he has no idea who I am.” And he’s not interested either.

“Sure he does. You’re the mother of his child, and you always will be. Maybe you’ll find your way back to each other.”

“I’ll think about it.” You definitely won’t. “Goodnight, Mama.”

“So long.” She shuffles into the house, and once she’s shut the door you hear her muffled voice: “Arcadia, come on over here and help me slice up this pie…”

You drive home with the windows down and blasting St. Elmo’s Fire. There’s still an hour or two of sunlight left; the world is painted in gold and blood orange, the soybeans, the sugarcane, the grass growing tall and wild, the Spanish moss swinging from the trees, the earth ripening as its revolution hurtles towards the apex of summer. Cadi is out of school until August. Amir will be announcing his looming departure to San Francisco. Aemond will be getting married.

The adolescent alligator that Aemond is so afraid of is in the far corner of the front yard, basking in the last of the daylight. You walk into your room, flop down on the bed, lie there staring longingly at the pink phone on your nightstand. You reach to pick it up, then stop yourself. Aemond hasn’t fucked you, hasn’t kissed you, has rarely touched you at all since you found out about Christabel. But he stops by your house and invites you to his; he stitches himself into your life like someone somewhere once sutured his face back together.

I can’t. It’s wrong. He’s engaged.

Aemond doesn’t know you’re home alone. It’s Friday, and usually Cadi would be here with you until tomorrow morning.

Maybe it’s not really cheating until he’s married. I mean, if Aemond and Christabel aren’t sleeping together, if they almost never see each other…is it even a real relationship?

Wistful thinking, yes, denial, yes; but with each passing minute your resolve not to pick up the phone weakens.

We don’t have much longer until the wedding. Our time is slipping away.

He’s a robber baron. He’s arrogant, he’s delusional.

And I want him. I still do, and I can’t stop.

The phone rings. You sit up, startled. It’s not Aemond, you tell yourself so you won’t be disappointed when it isn’t him. But it is.

“Hi,” Aemond says; he sounds out of breath. “I’m really sorry to bother you.”

“No, it’s okay, Cadi is actually having a sleepover with my mom. They’re watching Predator. My mom has no idea what it’s about, she’ll be clutching that Bible she got signed by Jerry Falwell a little extra hard tonight. What’s up?”

“This is going to sound random, but…you haven’t seen Aegon, have you? He hasn’t shown up at your house, he hasn’t called? You don’t know where he is?”

Aegon? Why would I know anything about what Aegon’s doing right now? “Um, no…?”

A long exhale, a lull that’s full of dread.

“Aemond, what’s going on?”

“He and my father got into it a few hours ago. They were screaming at each other, kicking furniture over, which isn’t all that unusual, honestly. But then Aegon ran away.”

“Wait, like, he’s gone…?”

“He stormed out the back door, went down to the lake, and then headed north into the trees. And I assumed he’d be back by now, but it’s getting dark and he’s not here. He never came home. His Porsche is still sitting in the driveway.” There is a pause. “I think he’s out there.”

“Out where?”

“In the woods,” Aemond says, shellshocked, terrified. “In the bayou.”

Your eyes dart to the window; the golden daylight is dwindling. “Aemond, he can’t be alone in the bayou. It’s dangerous. He could die. There aren’t just alligators, there are wild boars, cottonmouths, copperheads, snapping turtles, brown recluses, fire ants, I don’t think there are any black bears this far south but it’s always possible, he could drown, he could get trapped in quicksand, you cannot let Aegon spend the night out there.”

“I don’t know what to do.” You’re not used to hearing this in Aemond’s voice: the panic, the vulnerability. “No one else seems worried. They said he disappears all the time, and that’s true. They’re convinced he’s found his way to a strip club or a Waffle House or something and will drag himself home eventually. No one will listen to me. My father has forbidden me from getting anyone else involved. He doesn’t want gossip getting around town and overshadowing the new rig project or…you know. The wedding thing. My wedding. And I can go over his head, sure, I can make calls, but when investigators show up here to start searching my father is just going to tell them to leave. How is it even possible to find Aegon? At night in a fucking swamp? Is anyone going to be willing to go out there before morning? Do I need people with bloodhounds or a helicopter?”

No way, you think as soon as the idea hits you. But it’s the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do. “I can think of someone who knows their way around the bayou.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s just after 7 p.m. when Willis arrives to pick you up: grinning smugly, mullet fluffed, Plymouth Gran Fury hauling his brand new 20-foot jon boat. He’s dressed for night fishing in boots, camo-colored waders, and a grey hoodie with SHERIFF printed across the front in black letters. You climb into the passenger seat wearing sneakers, denim shorts, and a blue raincoat over your Pepsi t-shirt. You haven’t been fishing since you were married to Willis, and you’ve never missed it. It’s a grisly business: hooks through lips, hooks through eyeballs, hooks swallowed and tangled up in some doomed creature’s guts.

Aemond is waiting at the mouth of the Targaryens’ driveway, just out of sight of the mansion they call The Last Desire. He gets in the back seat and sits there testily with his arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line, glaring out the window as an indistinct blur of primeval vegetation passes by outside. He has on his Marlboro jacket, light-wash jeans, and Adidas sneakers. You hope he doesn’t ruin them; although you suppose he can always buy more. He could buy a hundred more, a thousand more, and it wouldn’t make a difference. You can’t fathom what it’s like to live that way. It seems to conflict with all the laws of man and nature.

Aemond speaks grudgingly to Willis, a quick flat statement that invites no conversation. He didn’t call Willis to explain the situation, you did. You’re afraid to leave them alone with each other. You aren’t sure who would be more likely to end up a corpse decomposing in the muddy silt at the bottom of Lake Verret. “Thank you for agreeing to help with this.”

Willis chuckles warmly, either oblivious to Aemond’s prickliness or unbothered by it. “Bien sur! It’s my job, son. We’ll hunt your brother down.” Then he glances over at you, smirking, prying. “So, sugar…how’d you two make each other’s acquaintance?”

“Amir and I baked the cakes for his engagement party.”

“Engagement party, huh?” Willis looks at Aemond in the rearview mirror. “You gettin’ married?”

Aemond is still staring out the window. “Obviously.”

“So you ain’t single?”

“Legally, I am in fact single until the day the marriage license is signed.”

Willis returns his attention to you. “So he ain’t the petit ami you’ve been so secretive about.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Willis. I really can’t be more clear than that.”

“Oh, I know you got one. I know all your looks, sugar. Some days you come ‘round my office lookin’ lovesick, like you’re just a-floatin’ on a cloud. Other days you’re real mean, like you don’t want me takin’ none of your time, like you got somebody more important to spend it on. And then sometimes you just look…” He smiles, mischievous. “Well, how can I put it? Satisfied. The cat who ate the canary. And I recall exactly what that looks like on you. It’s been a while, sure. But I remember.”

From the back seat, Aemond sighs irritably. You say to Willis: “Can we please focus on finding Aegon?”

“Sois calme, sois calme. That’s why I’m here. We’ll be in the water in ten minutes.”

There is no more discussion; the only sound is the radio, Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler. Willis turns onto a winding dirt road that leads to a boat launch about a mile from the Targaryens’ property. He spins his Plymouth Gran Fury around and backs it down the concrete ramp towards the rippling, slow-moving currents of Lake Verret. It’s difficult to see from the driver’s seat—most people would have someone get out to guide them—but Willis knows the way by heart. He’s been on boats since before he could walk; Willis’ daddy knew the bayou, and his daddy knew the bayou, and his daddy did too, all the way back to before the Louisiana Purchase. Your family are newer arrivals (relatively speaking), having only been in Napoleonville for about 100 years and keeping mostly to the town. You remember your 11th grade science teacher saying once that alligators have been around since before the dinosaurs went extinct. Maybe that’s what Willis is: a relic of a distant time and species, afflicted with a cunning ruggedness that won’t allow his kind to go extinct.

When the trailer is mostly underwater, Willis gets out of the car to unhook the straps that keep the boat moored to it. You go outside to help and Aemond follows, though he doesn’t know what to do. He’s never handled a boat this size and it shows; perhaps a yacht would be more his speed. He stands aside and watches, frowning, hands buried in the pockets of his Marlboro jacket. His lack of expertise riles him. He’s not used to being the incapable one. He hates not having control.

Willis already has a tow rope tied to a metal handle at the bow of the jon boat; he lifts it out and gives the free end to Aemond. “Hold onto that, will ya? Don’t let her get away.”

“Sure,” Aemond replies ungenerously. Willis returns to his Plymouth Gran Fury to finish backing the trailer into the lake until the boat floats. Standing on the shore together, you and Aemond stare at each other, unable to speak honestly, unable to decide what you’d say even if you could.

The jon boat bobs in the water, and you show Aemond how to pull it away from the trailer using the tow rope. Willis drives the trailer back onto dry land, parks his car in a flat area near the boat launch, and then joins you and Aemond by the water’s edge. He walks to where the boat is floating just to the right side of the concrete ramp and, with some difficulty, clambers inside as the boat rocks under his weight. Then he stands in the middle of it and gestures for you to approach. “Let’s get goin’, sugar.”

You take Willis’ hands when he reaches for you and let him help you into the jon boat. When you stumble over a bench seat, he steadies you with a hand on your waist, familiar but in no way erotic; not for you, at least. Still, from where he is standing on the lakeshore with the tow rope, Aemond glowers venomously.

“Your turn, son,” Willis calls to him, winking. “And I promise not to get too sweet with ya.”

But Aemond doesn’t need any assistance to board the vessel. He has long limbs, good balance, and an ironclad determination not to let Willis see him falter. Aemond sits at the bow of the boat. You claim a spot in the middle. Willis takes a seat at the stern, starts the outboard motor, and guides the boat into the treacherous swampland that lurks like a stalking animal at the edges of Lake Verret.

In the bayou, the water is sluggish, currentless, thick with vivid green salvinia and duckweed. Towering bald cypress trees grow out of the opaque depths and are adorned with greyish, anemic bundles of Spanish moss like spiderwebs. Mangrove trees with their myriad of semi-submerged roots are sanctuaries for catfish, turtles, baby alligators. Larger gators—as big as the female that lives in your yard, and some up to seven or eight feet—prowl with only their nostrils and ancient yellow eyes peeking out from under the water. Great blue herons tiptoe along the shallow shoreline and stab at fish that unknowingly flit between their long skeletal legs. Cicadas shriek in the trees so loudly they almost drown out the hum of the boat’s motor. When the last of the daylight vanishes, Willis tells Aemond to turn on the spotlight mounted to the bow, and the water becomes a soupy, greenish, primordial witch’s brew beneath its glow. Aemond lights a cigarette and puffs on it as he ponders this alien corner of the world that he’s found himself in.

Willis has a number of items stowed on the flat aluminum floor of the boat, you notice now: nets, paddles in case the motor fails, bottles of water, ropes, fishing poles, flashlights, hunting knives, a few sturdy wooden walking sticks. He’s wearing his sheriff’s pistol on a belt fastened over his waders. This makes you uneasy, though you can’t recall ever seeing him use it. It seems wrong to be able to end a life with so little effort.

“Aegon!” Aemond shouts from the bow, using a flashlight to look to the sides of the boat where the spotlight’s luminescence doesn’t shine so brightly. You grab your own flashlight to help him search. “Aegon! Where are you?!”

There’s something burning in your nose and throat as you lean over the side of the boat to peer into the shadowy wilderness. Salt, you realize, but that doesn’t make any sense. Lake Verret is a freshwater lake. You turn towards where Willis is steering the boat with the rumbling gas-powered motor. “Do you smell that?”

“Yup. Sure do.”

“But…how…?”

“One of the rigs mighta hit a salt dome while they were drillin’, I figure,” Willis says. “There’s been talk for years that we got salt domes under the lake. But that don’t stop these oil companies.” He stares meaningfully at Aemond. Aemond glances back, rather abashed. “And ya know what that means. If the water turns brackish, most of the fish’ll die. And who’s got to live with that for generations to come? Not the Targaryens or the Rockefellers, that’s for sure.”

Aemond resumes shouting for his wayward eldest brother. A dark snake, perhaps six feet long, slithers down the length of the boat through the murky water. “Aegon! Aegon!”

“What did he and Viserys argue about?” you ask.

Aemond is cagy. “It’s…kind of personal.”

“Personal like he got a stripper pregnant or personal like he murdered someone in a drunken hit-and-run?”

“Neither. But closer to the first option.” Then he roars into the darkness: “Aegon!”

“Maybe the bon a rien already found his way back home,” Willis says. “Maybe—”

And then there is an echo through the bayou, faint but vaguely human, a ghost, a phantom. “Aegon!” Aemond shouts back. “Where are you?!” Willis cuts the boat engine so you can hear the reply.

Faintly, very faintly, his disembodied voice drifts out of the trees. “Over here! Help me! Quickly! Seriously, really really quickly!!”

“Keep talking!” Aemond yells. Willis is listening intently, trying to pinpoint a direction. His thick, dark eyebrows are knit together in concentration that is rare for him.

Barely audible over the screams of the cicadas: “What the fuck am I supposed to say?! Just get over here and save me!”

“We’re trying to figure out where your voice is coming from, so don’t stop talking!”

“Help me! Come help me!! Right now!! My arms are getting tired!!”

“What? What are you doing with your arms?!”

“I got him,” Willis says. He restarts the motor and steers the boat down a narrow corridor of the swamp. The path is only about ten yards wide and bordered by mangrove trees with nests of exposed, labyrinthian roots. The water is probably relatively shallow: five feet, ten feet, just deep enough for secrets. The breeze is cool and wet, almost chilly. On the shore, you spy a snapping turtle the size of a golden retriever. Its long prehistoric claws are coated with mud and green blades of marsh grass. It ogles you as if to say: What are you doing here? You don’t belong here. This is where the dinosaurs that survived the asteroid live.

“Aegon?” Aemond calls.

“Here! Over here! I can see you, I see the lights! Oh my God, I’m not gonna die! Thank you Jesus!”

Aemond laughs in relief. “I didn’t think you two knew each other.”

“Shut up and save me, you muppet!”

And then you see Aegon—the spotlight hits him, he is illuminated in a stark white glow—and your stomach plummets, your blood goes cold. In an alcove of the bayou, right where the water meets the shore, Aegon is up in a bald cypress tree. He’s about five feet off the ground and standing on top of a branch just thick enough to hold his weight. It’s too narrow to balance comfortably on; he is hugging the trunk to ensure he doesn’t fall, and a fall would be catastrophic. Sprawled on the muck surrounding the base of the tree are a plethora of alligators, all approximately ten feet in length. That’s big enough to be lethal humans. That would be big enough to kill a bear, a horse, a shark. When the spotlight shines on them, the gators begin to squirm and hiss, glaring with soulless reptilian wrath at the boat. Willis shuts off the motor, and the boat bobs placidly.

“Oh, fuck,” Aemond says.

“Yeah, exactly!” Aegon pitches back. He’s wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and tiny turquoise blue shorts. He is barefoot. “So what’s the plan?! By the way, hey, cake lady.”

“Hi, Aegon.”

Aemond says: “How the hell did you get up there?”

“I was pissed off about the dad thing and I was walking for a long time, then I realized I was probably in the wrong neighborhood for someone with two legs and no desire to get eaten. I tried to find my way back but then these pig-looking things started chasing me and I freaked out and climbed up here to hide until they left. But as the sun went down, alligators started showing up. And the more time went by, the more alligators there were. And that’s the whole story, can you get me down now?!”

Aemond asks Willis, petrified: “How do we get him down?”

Willis surveys the scene for a moment, thinking. “Alright. Here’s what I reckon. We can toss him one end of a rope and he can tie it to the branch above him, right at the base where it’s real thick. Then we’ll hold the other end of the rope, and he can kinda shimmy on down it into the boat.”

Aegon says: “But what if right before I get to the boat, when I’m like four feet above the water, an alligator jumps out and bites me?”

“They don’t usually do that,” Willis replies.

“Usually?!”

“Look, we don’t have a lot of options,” Aemond tells his brother. “We can do the rope plan now, or we can leave you here, backtrack all the way to the boat launch, get the car, get some help, and hope they magically have a better solution for you. Or you can wait up there until morning to see if the alligators leave. You pick.”

“Isn’t that the hick sheriff guy? Can’t he shoot them?”

“Gators got brains ‘bout the size of a walnut, son,” Willis says. “And if I don’t hit ‘em where it counts, I’m just gonna make them angrier. That ain’t good for any of us.”

“Okay,” Aegon concedes. “Throw me a rope.”

Willis grabs one from the bottom of the jon boat, hands an end to Aemond, and tosses the other to Aegon. It takes the eldest Targaryen boy four attempts to catch it; the rope keeps falling and smacking the hissing alligators in the face before Willis lugs it back to the boat to try again. Once he finally obtains the rope, Aegon knots it—double, triple, quadruple—around where the branch above him, just barely within reach if he stretches as far as he can, meets the massive trunk of the bald cypress tree. Willis tells Aemond: “Now ya gotta hold the rope real tight. No slack at all, or it’ll dip and he’ll end up in a gator’s lap.”

“Yeah, Aemond!” Aegon says, his voice shaky. “No slack!”

“Got it.” Aemond loops his end of the rope around his waist, makes a knot, and then grips it with both hands and tugs it until it forms a straight diagonal line from the tree to the boat.

“Ya sure you wanna do that?” Willia says softly, nodding to Aemond’s waist. “If somethin’ goes wrong and he ends up in the water, you’ll be goin’ in with him.”

“I’m sure.”

“Alrighty.” Willis grabs one of the heavy wooden walking sticks from the aluminum floor of the boat. “If a gator tries to cause a problem, I’ll whack ‘em good. Don’t let ‘em get their jaws ‘round ya, not an arm or a leg or nothin’. If they get ahold of ya, they’ll roll and rip your bones right outta the sockets.”

“Awesome,” Aegon says from the tree. “I’m so glad you told me that. Yeah. Great. Any more super helpful alligator trivia, Sasquatch?”

“Yes sir. If one chomps down on ya, poke it in the eye with your fingers. A whack to the snout or a poke to the eye is the best way outta a gator’s mouth.”

Aegon gulps and clutches the rope, steeling himself.

“What should I do?” you ask Willis. “Should I get a stick too—?”

“Nothin’. You don’t do nothin’. You just sit down right in the middle and keep the boat steady. And if your petit ami starts goin’ overboard, maybe try to snatch him. But don’t ya fall in. Ya don’t want to be in that water. If there are gators above the water, there are gators below too. I guarantee it.”

You sit in the precise middle of the boat, using your weight to reinforce the vessel’s center of gravity as Aemond and Willis stand at opposing ends. Right before Aegon begins his descent, Aemond snags your attention. He makes a motion with one hand, a slicing, a prohibition. Don’t do anything insane, he means. Don’t risk trying to drag me back into the boat if I start going over.

“Whenever ya ready, bon a rien,” Willis says. And no one else but you knows that what he’s calling Aegon is a good-for-nothing.

Aegon begins scurrying down the length of the rope, rapidly closing the distance between himself and the bobbing jon boat. He passes above the hissing gators congregating at the base of the bald cypress tree and then over the water, where there are ripples that multiply out from epicenters and flashes of movement just beneath the surface but no homicidal alligator activity. When Aegon nears the boat, Willis seizes him and helps him into it; and then Aegon ruptures into hysterical giggles.

“I almost died, can you believe that?” he asks Aemond, who is untying the rope from his waist and beaming, the first real smile you’ve seen from him tonight. “Because I ran away from Viserys?! What an idiotic way to go. I’ll never let that bastard convince me to off myself. I gotta outlive him. I gotta do Jello shots on that motherfucker’s grave someday.”

“Yeah, you do,” Aemond agrees, squeezing Aegon’s shoulder.

“Goddammit,” Willis grumbles. He’s using his walking stick to jab at the water near the rear of the boat. “We’re hooked on a mangrove root or something.”

“Do you need help?” Aemond asks, headed towards him.

“Yes sir, if you’d be so kind. I don’t…I can’t see…what the hell is it stuck to?”

“The motor…? The blades of the motor?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, you’re right. Yup. There it is. We musta drifted into it while we were preoccupied. Okay, we gotta push the boat off the root and then we can get movin’ again. Grab a stick, let’s start pushin’.”

“Should I get a stick too?” Aegon says, joining them. “I can hit stuff with sticks. I really want to get out of here…”

There’s a bit of a commotion at the back of the boat as the men try to propel it away from the mangrove tree. Willis is complaining that the water is too deep to touch the bottom with his stick. Aemond’s stick keeps slipping off the mangrove roots when he tries to get leverage. You aren’t sure what Aegon is contributing, if anything. The boat has begun to rock.

You look to the tree where Aegon had been imprisoned. The alligators are fully awake now; they are headed into the water and disappearing there, unseen, unheard, and yet all around you.

“I think we need to go now,” you say, but no one is listening to you. They’re still wrestling with the mangrove root. You rise, taking a few steps to the left to offset the boat’s listing towards the right. “Guys, we need to—”

The boat is freed from its organic jailor and lurches sharply towards the left. As the men cheer triumphantly—completely unaware of what’s happening—you are jolted off your feet and tumble backwards over the side of the boat.

The shock of hitting the water stuns you. It is cold and impossibly dark; when you open your eyes to try to find the surface, the boat, you can’t see anything. You paddle blindly. Something brushes your leg, and you scream bubbles of mute terror. You can’t breathe, you can’t think, you are picturing those ten-foot gators slinking into the water that you’re now thrashing wildly through. You swim towards what you think is the surface and strike unyielding metal—the underbelly of the boat—hard enough to put stars in your skull like the flashes of lightning bugs. You get turned around and don’t know where you are again. Something glides past your arm, and you gasp before remembering that there’s no air. Dark water—salt and silt and decomposition—surges into your lungs, your stomach, sinking you like an anchor from within. There is a whirlpool of motion around you and muffled shouting. Then something closes around your wrist.

The eyes! you think frantically. I have to poke out its eyes!

But the vice around your flesh has no teeth. It’s not a reptilian jaw, you realize now, but a human hand. It leads you and you obey.

When you break the surface, you cough bayou water from your throat and blink it out of your eyes. Willis is leaning over the side of the boat and stabbing at gators with his stick, shrieking at them in French. One lunges at him from the water, jaws snapping. Willis whips the pistol off his belt, aims it squarely between the creature’s eyes, and fires. The boom is deafening; the bleeding gator sinks into the water. Aegon is kneeling in the boat and offering his arms to help you climb up.

You look beside you. Aemond is barely keeping his head above water. “Go!” he orders you. “Get in the boat!”

With Aegon’s help, you heave yourself over the side and collapse to the aluminum floor, lungs aching, skull pounding, heart thudding mercilessly, soaked to the skin. Then you force yourself to your hands and knees to see where Aemond is.

“Aemond?!” Aegon is yelling. “Aemond, where are you?!”

He’s gone; you don’t see him in the water. You try to scream for him too, but the water still in your throat strangles you. Your hands close around the edge of the boat, and Willis grabs your raincoat to yank you backwards. “Other side!” says, pointing. “We’re gonna capsize, we need weight on the other side, go there!”

You scramble to the opposite end of the boat, sobbing now, still hacking up muddy water. Where’s Aemond?? Where is he??

Both Willis and Aegon are grasping for something. They’re shouting and stabbing into the water with their walking sticks. And then they’re hauling him into the boat: Aemond, blood pouring down the left side of his face, a gash by his temple, another on his forehead; something bit him or clawed him. He’s wearing only his jeans and a white tank top; he ripped off his Marlboro jacket before diving in after you. You don’t see his Adidas sneakers anywhere. They must have been kicked off in the water. His glass eye has been knocked out and lost in the muck. What’s left in its place is a void, gaping, pink; it’s difficult to look at, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t. It has the visceral, gory quality of organs never meant to be seen. His fingertips go to the socket to feel for his prosthetic. When he confirms it isn’t there, he covers his face with his hands and moans.

He saved me. He jumped in after me.

You crawl to him. “Aemond—”

“No!” He pushes you away, and you see that there’s blood and ancient silt from the bayou in his empty eye socket. It will have to be cleaned out. Willis watches, astonished, bewildered. For once, he is at a loss for words.

“Aemond, please…” You’d do anything to help him. You don’t know how to help him.

He saved me.

Aegon reaches for Aemond. “Hey, hey. It’s not that bad. Hey…” He drops to his knees, presses his forehead against Aemond’s, stains himself with his brother’s blood. And when Aemond tries to pull away, Aegon doesn’t let him; he’s got his fingers tangled in Aemond’s wet hair. “Thank you for saving me. I’m always almost getting myself killed and you’re always saving me. What would I do without you, huh? None of us would be okay without you. Thank you, Aemond. You hear me? You’re not gonna get this again anytime soon, so listen up. Thank you. Thank you.”

“I’m just so—”

“I know.”

“I hate that I’m like this.”

“It’s not a big deal. You’ll order a new one.”

“You know what he’s going to say.”

“Fuck him. Why do you care what he thinks? Because you think he’s the one who gets to decide what you’re worth? He isn’t. He’s not qualified.”

Aemond nods, but he doesn’t seem to be convinced. He still doesn’t look at you. He turns so the left side of his face—bloodied, eyeless—is angled towards the water and out of your view. Willis goes to the motor, starts it, and begins guiding the boat back towards the launch where he parked his Plymouth Gran Fury.

Aegon glances over at you. “You okay, cake lady?”

“Yeah.” But your voice shakes. The rest of you is shaking too; now that the adrenaline is wearing off, you can feel that you’re shivering in your wet clothes.

“Put it on,” Aemond says softly, and at first you don’t understand. Then you see that he’s pointing to his Marlboro jacket, left hurriedly flung on the floor of the boat. You unzip your dripping raincoat and don Aemond’s Marlboro jacket instead. It smells like him: smoke, cologne, effort, secrets.

“Thank you,” you tell him, wanting to say more. Aemond doesn’t answer. He stares into the murky water, greenish under the glare of the spotlight, and says nothing to anyone all the way back to the boat launch. Wordlessly, he helps Willis re-hitch the jon boat to the trailer. He remembers the steps. He’s a fast learner. The blood on his face is drying; his right eye won’t allow itself to look at you. The only sound on the drive to the Targaryens’ mansion is the radio of the Plymouth Gran Fury, which Willis turns up to cover the silence: In A Big Country.

At the end of the cobblestone driveway, lights are on in the vast house called The Last Desire. Everyone gets out of the car. Willis shakes a rather puzzled Aegon’s hand, then turns to Aemond, who ignores him. Willis chuckles, more curious than offended.

“So ya are the man who’s been givin’ her that satisfied look. I knew it. Yes, I knew what I saw. What’s your secret, son? Ya must really know your way around a woman if ya got her so mad about ya with a face like that. Ya look like the Rougarou got ahold of ya—”

Aemond grabs Willis by his hoodie, yanks him off his feet, jacks him up against the side of the sheriff’s vehicle. Immediately, you and Aegon are shouting and trying to break them apart.

You plead: “Aemond, don’t!”

“Aemond, he’s got a gun!” Aegon screeches.

Fortunately, Willis isn’t grappling for his pistol. He holds both palms in the air, open and empty, like he’s surrendering; but there’s still a smile on his face. Aemond doesn’t act like he’s heard anyone. He leans in close to Willis, his voice low and dark and snarling, his sole blue eye glinting. “You had so much in your filthy fucking hands and you just threw it away.” Then he slams Willis against the car one more time, tears away from him, and strides up the porch steps and into the house.

Aegon hurries after him, casting you a quick glance and a beckoning wave. It’s an invitation. You coming? Aegon mouths, and then vanishes inside.

Willis peers up at the house: stained glass windows, immense white columns. You don’t see any signs of Vhagar the Great Dane. Willis speaks calmly and without looking at you. “I think he’s in love with you, sugar.”

Improbable. Impossible. If he was, he couldn’t marry someone else. “He’s not.”

Now Willis’ eyes flick to you. “All I’m sayin’ is that I’ve been fishin’ on that lake since as long as I can remember, day, night, sun, storms, and nothin’ on earth would have gotten me to jump into that water. Not even Heather Locklear herself.”

“Just go, Willis,” you say, exhausted, heartsick. “Thank you for what you did tonight. But please go now.”

“How ya gonna get home?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about me.”

“Of that, I am incapable,” Willis drawls. Then he climbs into his Plymouth Gran Fury and is gone. You sprint up the porch steps in your soggy sneakers, searching for Aemond.

In the white-and-gold foyer, Viserys is just arriving. He struts across the marble floor until he is close enough to his two oldest sons to embrace them, to hit them, to extract their teeth with his knuckles. The others pour through the doorways—Alicent, Criston, Helaena, Daeron, Otto—but while they gape in horror and fascination, they don’t speak in anything more than murmurs amongst themselves. Viserys steals only a glimpse of Aegon, swift and disinterested, then examines Aemond: wet clothes, no shoes, grime and blood, dazed fury. When his cool, pale gaze reaches Aemond’s empty eye socket, Viserys flinches and looks away.

“So you lost another prosthetic,” is all he says. His face twists into a grimace. And you expect Aemond to do something, to jab back, but he doesn’t. He’s frozen, he’s paralyzed. His right eye is misty. He’s biting his lips so they don’t tremble. And suddenly you hate Viserys Targaryen, you hate him more than you can imagine hating anyone. You think that you could watch his entrails unspooled from his body without feeling a thing. The Targaryen family patriarch hasn’t spoken to you; you don’t register to him at all. You might as well be an oriental vase or a house plant.

“You’re the one who did it, Viserys,” Aegon says, stepping in front of Aemond seething and sharp like a blade. “You remember that part? I do. I remember. The North Sea, 1968. I remember him trotting around after you, always so desperate to prove himself, always doing anything you asked, anything you could dream up, worshipping you like you were God. And where were you when he was getting his eye socket debrided at Moorfields Hospital? In fact, where were you when he got his hands caught in a winch when he was eleven? Where were you when he fell off a pipe deck and broke six ribs because one of your idiot employees forgot to close a safety gate and he couldn’t see it? Where were you then? Where are you now?”

Viserys scowls down at him—revolted, repelled—but he doesn’t reply. He feels no instinct to defend himself. He is unable to internalize shame; it rolls off him like raindrops.

“You’d love me so much if I was dead,” Aegon says, grinning, baring his teeth like an animal. “How sick is that? You can love bones in a box, but not someone standing right in front of you. You love Aemma, a ghost. You love Baelon, and you never even knew him. You’ve got nothing for me. That’s fine, I don’t care, I’ll be alright without you.” He points to Aemond. “But you’ve got nothing for him either, and he’s everything you always wanted. You’re disgusting, you’re broken. You belong in a box too. The part of you that was human is gone. I don’t give a fuck about what’s left.”

Aegon shoves Viserys, hard, and then storms past him. As he crosses into the kitchen, Helaena grabs for his wrist. You can hear her whisper: “What the hell happened?!”

Then Aegon remembers one last thing. He whirls around and bellows at Viserys, his voice reverberating off the vaulted ceilings: “And I’m not getting my vasectomy reversed! You can’t make me! It’s bioethics! I asked the lawyer!” He stomps off and disappears, Helaena in tow.

Alicent shoots Viserys a hateful glare and then flees from the foyer, her long auburn ringlets streaming out behind her. Viserys goes in the opposite direction. Daeron and Otto share an awkward glance and then depart as well. Only you, Criston, and Aemond remain in the room, surrounded by treasures that might as well be handfuls of earth, flour, swamp water, salt.

Cautiously, Criston lays a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, on his right side where he can see it. “Aemond…”

“Don’t touch me,” Aemond says as he wrenches away. He leaves like a hurricane, like a flood, receding until there remains only wreckage and memory.

Criston sighs deeply, and then he asks you: “Do you need a ride home?”

You don’t respond. You haven’t decided how to yet. You stare at the place where Aemond stood, a void like a star that died out. Do I follow him upstairs? you think.

Do I?

[theolivetree123]

Elias's Fantasmic Adventure!

My 200 follower special!

(More under the cut!)

Event Summary

When Elias was younger, he always loved to read fairytales. Yet, there was one book that told a story that stuck with him till the present day. The story was about a creative and joyous mouse who, while asleep, dreams of himself on a spectacular journey through the depths of his own imagination. Elias loved that story, but as the years went on, the book fell into obscurity. No one in all of Twisted Wonderland seemed to know anything about this book! Elias thought he had been dreaming about it for years until he saw the same book in NRC's library. Though it was covered in dust, Eilas still felt the exact same spark that he had felt when he was little. As to not let the story fall into obscurity again, Elias begged Crowely to find a way to let people know about the book, yet Crowely couldn't help him. Elias almost ran out of ideas until he remembered a rhyme his mother would tell him.

Here in your mind

It’s magic you’ll find

When out of the night

Dark forces ignite

To blind you with frightening schemes

If you use your might

To brighten the light

You'll create night of wondrous dreams

This inspired Elias to put matters into his own hands. With funding from Kalim, Elias sought to put on a wonderful water and light show spectacular as a homage to his favorite fairytale. But, he will need actors and dancers! Help Elias create a nighttime fantasmic!

Actors and Dress Code

In the fairytale, the magical mouse goes on a trip through his mind. In his dreams, he sees wondrous, beautiful, and dangerous things. Since this live show is supposed to be inspired by that story, Elias would like all actors to dress appropriately for whichever part you may be going for. Of course, there is still a lot of room for you to be creative!

In this show, Elias will be playing the part of the mouse, who, fast asleep, dreams that he is a mighty sorcerer's apprentice with the power to control water, color, and magic.

In the original story, the mouse sees things such as:

A vibrant jungle

Elephants on parade

A Genie who can grant any wish

A large ocean with all sorts of creatures

Pirates

Fairies

Beautiful princesses

Evil monsters

Powerful dragons

With these in mind, you can decide how you want to be perceived in Elias's dream! Do you want to be a beautiful prince or princess? Or do you want to change Elias's dream into a nightmare?

Here's some references:

For your character's outfits, make them vibrant and fantastical! Anything can happen in Elias's dream!

If you're still stuck, then go watch the original Fantasmic! It should give you ideas for your character's outfits. (Yes, I know that the link is the outdated version, but tbh they didn't change much from the one linked and the updated one so IT'S FINE)

Rules

No NSFW!

This event will start today (September 3rd) and end on September 30th!

Anyone can participate! Whether it's an OC, canon character, or even a staff member.

You can participate by making cards, writing fanfics, or drawing fanart! Anything is cool!

If you make a card with voice lines included, please try to explain what role your character will be taking in the show.

Once you've made your entry, please tag me and use the hashtag, #EliasFantasmicAdventure!

Here’s the base if you’re making a card:

Actors

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

Elias Miel by me!

Joseph Akaba by @readsrandomstuff67

Yuya Florence by @cheerleaderman

Melione by @the-rini-rush

Flori by @bunniehunn

Zagarius Hekkate by @screamintoad

Makaria Hekkate by @blood-red-bumblebee

Mariah Amathyst by @slumberingrose-fandom

I look forward to seeing what you all create!

If you have any questions, feel free to dm me or send me and ask!

[heliads]

Hey! I love your writing sm

could you pls do an f1 soulmate au with charles x carlos?

maybe whatever a person writes on themselves shows up on their soulmate so they write each other cute 'good luck' notes or jokes before races and maybe they realize they're soulmates when one of them gets a podium and the other person sees their drawings :)

i understand that you wanted this to be cute. however have you considered that they could be insane instead. have you considered that there could be mind games, bestie. think about the mental warfare (i am)

masterlist

Carlos Sainz believes that his secrets come out the fastest when he’s drinking. Doesn’t even have to be alcohol, his favorite ruiner of silence– he’s let out contract details and personal opinions just as freely with isotonic water after a race as with a shot someone hands him two hours into a post-race celebration. It’s easy to let your guard down when you think you’re with a friend, when the stakes don’t seem high, when he knows better but doesn’t want to admit it.

That’s why he feels a rippling wave of panic when he sees Charles walking across the Ferrari hospitality, two cups of coffee in his hands. Charles sits down at an empty table for two, places one cup in front of himself and one at the empty chair, and looks pointedly at Carlos. Carlos thinks to himself, this can’t be good, and mentally reminds himself to book an appointment with PR sooner rather than later.

He takes the seat. Some things, you can’t fight. Charles still smiles anyway, pleased, and says, “I got you coffee.”

Carlos had noticed this, surprisingly. It was difficult to ignore. “You’re being nice,” he remarks, blowing into the hole on the lid to cool down the liquid inside.

“I am nice,” Charles protests. His accent comes out more when he’s unhappy, it makes the syllables bunch up together like pleats of fabric.

Carlos arches a brow, and takes a sip of his coffee instead of answering. Scuderia Ferrari loves to claim that they adore the art of coffee just as much as their mother country, but every time Carlos gets coffee from hospitality it’s either flavorless or burnt, depending on who serves it. Charles’ attempt isn’t terrible, but he doubts Charles did anything more to prepare it than just put in an order. It’s a nice gesture, though. Just like Charles said.

When he looks up and the steam properly clears from his vision, Charles is still pouting at him. Carlos shakes his head, smiling to himself. He makes it so easy sometimes, to mess with his head. It’s kind of fun. Poker, but with a far prettier deck of cards. 

“Alright, fine,” he relents, grinning so Charles knows he’s in on the joke, “I’m just teasing. No need to get mad, cabrón.”

“I’m not mad,” Charles says, a hint of a smile on his face although he stubbornly tries to shake it, “just interested in defending my honor.”

“Your honor?” Carlos asks, laughing in earnest. “So lord-esque, that is what I have been telling you. Of course Lord Perceval would defend his honor.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “You can deal with my honor, mate. I got you coffee.”

“And I am grateful for it every time you bring it up,” Carlos says, and takes a sip to prove it.

Charles does the same, but his eyes remain on Carlos the whole time. “So? Is it true what they’re saying?”

Carlos wants more than coffee for a conversation that starts out like this. “Who’s saying what?”

Charles gestures vaguely towards his phone. “Everybody. They say you’re going to leave Ferrari when your contract expires.”

Ah. That. “People love rumors,” he says absentmindedly, “I never thought you’d pay attention to them.”

“I don’t usually, but I was interested in this one,” Charles admits. “You’d tell me if you were leaving, right?”

“I’m not leaving,” Carlos says.

Charles sets down his cup. “But you’d tell me, right?”

“I would,” Carlos says. Pauses. Starts again. “What’s gotten into you, man? I never took you for someone to fall for theories like this.”

Charles shakes his head a little too quickly. “I’m not. They just seemed to believe it.” 

Carlos shrugs. “They believe a lot. My contract doesn’t expire until next year. They won’t worry about me for a while.”

“Should I?” Charles asks. “Worry about you, I mean.”

Carlos looks at him, really looks at him. The tense grip of his teammate’s hands around his coffee, even despite the heat still emanating through the cup. The furtive glances he keeps sneaking towards Carlos, then abruptly looking at the cup again when he gets caught.

“I’m not going,” Carlos says gently. More gently than he’d answer any interviewer, anyway.

Charles nods quickly, his head bobbing like a doll on a string. “Of course. Besides, I have too much interest for you to leave yet. Not until we figure out your, ah–” A pause. Delicate, but not at all from a polite inclination, no matter how it might seem to any outsider.

Carlos groans, exasperated. “My soulmate? My God, Charles, you have to give this up at some point.”

If it were not enough to have an overly inquisitive teammate, one that’s rather good at using his eyes and smile to get what he wanted, Carlos has been cursed with a racing partner that’s unnaturally interested in his missing other half. Carlos himself wants to figure out who his soulmate is, obviously, but at this point he thinks Charles is even more invested.

They all have soulmates. Supposedly. There’s probably at least a couple people out there who skipped that universal drawing of lots, but Carlos knows for certain that he is not one of them because his soulmate contacts him almost every day. Some people go weeks or even months without finding so much as a scribble appearing out of thin air on their skin, but Carlos blinks and there’s a new sentence on his forearm, bruising his knuckles, curling around his ankle. Whoever his soulmate is, they don’t care much for being ignored.

Neither does his teammate. Charles huffs out an exasperated breath. “If you will not be curious, I will be curious for you. You’re always so cagey about it, anyway. I know they write to you. Don’t you want to know?”

“Of course I want to know who they are,” Carlos scoffs. “What I don’t get is why you want to know. Why don’t you focus on your own other half for a change?”

Charles just leans back in his chair, grinning coolly. Ah, yes. Carlos has suspected for some time that Charles already has an idea as to who his soulmate is, but for some reason Carlos has never seen her around the paddock. It could be that Charles is just keeping their relationship private, but he doubts it. Charles likes his trophies visible and his games extensive. More likely than not, Charles has his soulmate engaged in some kind of cat-and-mouse game so they figure it out without too much help on his end. It’s hellishly manipulative, but he’s charming enough that they all let it slide.

Even Carlos, although he at least tries to put up a fight. Sometimes, he thinks Charles is amusingly aware of that, and doubles down on his efforts to get Carlos to cave until both of them are locked in some sort of affectionate stalemate.

“You shouldn’t worry so much,” Charles hums, pleased that he’s got the other hand. “I mean,” he says, leaning forward abruptly to seize Carlos’ hand in his own, “Don’t you want to know about yours? Aren’t you curious?”

Whoever sat at their table before them left a Sharpie behind by accident; Charles picks it up now, uncapping it with the same hand without letting go of Carlos. “You could just ask them right now, who they are,” Charles muses. The tip of the Sharpie hovers millimeters above the curve of Carlos’ palm, waiting. 

Carlos stares at the black ink. It’s easier to focus on the skin when he mumbles, “They wouldn’t answer.”

You’re not supposed to. Unspoken rules. He’s never liked that sort of thing, and neither has Charles, who knows this and smiles unkindly anyway. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” Carlos asks, mostly to himself. Charles doesn’t appear to hear him. The Sharpie dips lower until it touches Carlos’ skin. Immediately, the black ink flowers into his palm. Carlos waits for Charles to keep writing, to scrawl a question like who are you or can I fly you to a Grand Prix paddock, asap but instead Charles flinches, slams the palm of his own hand down towards the table, and covers up the pen again.

“Maybe you should do it yourself,” Charles mutters by way of explanation.

“Maybe,” Carlos says. He’s not sure if he’s agreeing or not. It would be easier, he thinks, to have Charles take the wheel again. It would also hurt more. Carlos caps the pen when it becomes obvious that Charles will not. “Drink your coffee,” he says. “It’ll get cold.”

Charles does as told, which is sort of surprising. Usually, he likes pushing the envelope until someone tells him to quit it. It appears to Carlos, though, that they have reached an unspoken limit, a line drawn out in black Sharpie on tanned skin that will not be crossed again.

A few minutes pass. They’re both quiet. Charles whispers into the condensation of his cup, “You’re not leaving, though, right?”

Carlos smiles. “I’m not.” Contracts change, obviously, but he’ll try to fight it. They all try.

They leave not long afterwards, race week means that they don’t have a lot of time to sit around. There’s always something to be filmed for media duties, an interview to conduct, checks to run through with engineers. Still, Carlos is somehow calmer than he was before, even despite the additional caffeine.

Charles, by contrast, seems jumpier than usual as they head towards the exit.

“Did you enjoy your coffee?” Carlos asks pointedly. 

 Charles glances quickly over both shoulders, then groans when he’s sure that no one can overhear him. “No, God. It’s terrible.”

Carlos chuckles. “But you went to so much trouble to get it. Surely you can pretend it’s more than just terrible. You drank, like, all of it.”

Charles gives him an appraising look. “It’s better with someone else.”

It occurs to Carlos, as he walks back to his driver’s room, that they may not just have been talking about coffee after all. He’s stopped by one of his PR advisors on the way back– apparently there’s a new TikTok trend that would be just great for him to do– and although he doesn’t feel that shaken, he must look it, because they only get halfway through a discussion of trending sounds before the agent asks if everything is alright.

Carlos scoffs. “Of course I’m alright.”

The agent arches a brow. “Are you sure? You look a little unsettled. Don’t tell me you were talking to George about track times again, he has that effect on everyone before qualis.”

Carlos shakes his head. “No, I didn’t see him. I was speaking with Charles, though, about nothing in particular. Just coffee and soulmates and stuff.” Unable to stop himself, he leans a little closer, drops his voice until it’s more of a whisper. “He’s found his soulmate, hasn’t he? She’s got to be around here somewhere.”

His PR agent, surprisingly, shakes their head. “No, he’s said nothing about it to us, and we’ve asked loads of times. Are you certain that they’re a she, though? That wasn’t the impression I got.”

Carlos stands utterly still. He thinks his blood may have cooled in his veins, congealing into a solid. He is not sure he could move if he tried. “Charles told you that?”

“Once,” the agent says offhandedly. “He got sick of us asking about his mystery woman. I don’t think he meant to let it slip, but you know how he is with secrets.”

They’re laughing at that. Carlos tries to chuckle along with him, but he can’t really do more than nod, because now he’s thinking about Charles’ soulmate being a man. It’s the driver in him, he supposes, the dreamer, that if he can imagine any scenario he would also imagine himself in it, and so it follows that now Carlos cannot stop thinking about the man on the other side of Charles’ heart being him, being Carlos. The picture fits a little too well. 

Carlos had never pictured his soulmate and thought of a man, but sometimes he’ll be up on the podium with Charles, champagne high and bright in the air, and he thinks maybe– maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing, not having a girl like that. He already knows what it’s like, anyway, to be at the top of the world and have another man standing there with him. If God did not intend for us to be with someone of the same sex, then why would He make it feel so natural?

Carlos somehow manages to end the conversation, to slip back into the relative safety of his driver’s room and lean his entire body weight against the door. He stares up at the ceiling, hands fisting the red fabric of his Ferrari jacket at his sides, and he lets himself, for the first time, wonder if his soulmate might not be a man as well. Anything Charles can do, Carlos can too, or so the commentators have started to say. Anyone Charles could love, Carlos could too. Anything his would be theirs. 

It is a risky thought. Pessimists will tell you that soulmates are good for nothing but getting your hopes up. Carlos does not know who his soulmate is nor, odds are, will he ever. It does no good to think about what he wants until he already has it. 

Later that day, Carlos tells his soulmate in non-descript block letters, All things must end. He caps the pen and covers his hand for the rest of the day. He sees Charles some hours later, looking pale and frightened. Carlos cannot, will not, imagine why.

He tries to push it from his mind. They are not hiding in Ferrari hospitality for the thrill of it, after all, but to prepare for the race ahead. Qualifying comes and goes, nothing to write home about but at least they should be decently in the points. One of them might be able to make it to a podium if they can give Lando Norris the slip. The best case scenario is that Checo will bin it so they could get a 1-2, but who knows if they’ll have any semblance of luck today.

Carlos qualified one position ahead of Charles. Fred Vasseur is already starting to eye him like a lamb to the slaughter, and Carlos makes a mental reminder to continually ask his engineer for Charles’ times during the race. He has a feeling that team orders might be given.

Strangely enough, it doesn’t make Carlos angry towards Charles as much as he thinks it should. He is irritated by Ferrari, of course, for picking one driver over another, but that’s expected in any given scenario in which the cars are swapped. Usually, though, that sort of thing happens enough times that you start directing your ire towards the other driver, but Carlos cannot manage that. In fact, he never has. Hating Charles is unthinkable. It would be easier to hate himself. Right?

Getting ready in his driver’s room before the race that Sunday, Carlos is struck by a sudden, unthinkable idea. He rummages around in his belongings for a while before coming up with a pen. Dark, thick, the kind you use for autographs when the hapless fan forgets to bring a writing implement of their own. Carlos uncaps it, stares at his skin, then starts to scribble. Words, underlined, circled. Do well. Good luck. Please.

He doesn’t know if– but he could, maybe, if he saw. Carlos loses himself in a frenzy, then snaps out of it just as quickly when his palms get covered in writing. The sound of footsteps outside his door makes him flinch, and he tugs on his gloves as fast as he can, smearing the ink even more than before. It doesn’t matter. Odds are nothing will come of this anyway.

The race goes as expected. Checo does not crash, much to the chagrin of all other teams, and Carlos gets stuck behind him long enough that they start talking about switching him with Charles, which happens around lap forty. When the checkered flag waves, Charles is third, Carlos fourth. He parks quickly and hurries over to the front. By the time he gets there, Charles has already withdrawn inside the cooldown room but Carlos can shoulder in with the other Ferrari crew and shout and slap each other on the back and that’s good, too, it really is.

He will tell himself that it is. Carlos, by now, has gone to a lot of teams and learned about a lot of strategy choices. He knows how to convince himself that something is fine, that the decisions of the team are ones he agrees with. He can idle with the crew and stare up at the podium with a fixed smile on his face, because Carlos is a Good Teammate and Good Teammates show up for each other. They accept team orders when they come their way. They do not stand in the shade of someone else’s idol and think, this isn’t fair.

Of course it isn’t fair, it’s motorsport. Charles is the one they love the most, even when he’s erratic and crashes every other race. Charles is the pretty boy, the golden one, Il Predestinato. Carlos is merely his father’ son. 

Charles, who figured out the whole game of soulmates months before. He guessed, at least. Told that to Carlos one night, grinning, drunk, spiraling after another lost podium. Charles had waited with wide eyes and a frozen smile as if waiting for Carlos to put something together, but the other shoe never dropped and eventually the moment ended, both of them pulled apart by other friends, downing other drinks, pretending they never existed. 

Carlos thinks of it now. He watches Charles emerge from the shadows of the space behind the podium to stand in the blinding sunlight, waving down at all of them. One of the mechanics is elbowing him in the side, speaking in that low voice they all get when they do the boy’s club talk, you know, someone’s soulmate likes him well enough, obviously, and Carlos has no idea what he’s talking about until he looks up and sees. Sees Charles, his palms dark with ink. From up here, it’s too small to see what is written. The Catholic boy in him thinks stigmata which is wrong, obviously, because there is no great divine mystery here, not when Carlos knows what happened.

Not when Carlos was the one to write all of it earlier that day. He’d almost forgotten during the course of the race, but it all comes flooding back now. That’s his ink on Charles’ hands, and that means– That means Charles is his soulmate. Always has been. Always will be.

Carlos stares up at him. Charles looks down, and although he’s been grinning with victory this whole time, the smile that slides onto his face upon seeing his teammate is different than before, it’s knowing. Charles knows that Carlos has figured it out at last. He’s been waiting for him to do it all this time.

It’s almost obscene, how close Charles must have come to telling him about a thousand times. Who would risk it like that? No one. Charles would. Carlos pictures him with the Sharpie earlier that week, black tip poised above his skin. How he’d caught himself before giving himself up. Perfect timing, a driver’s reflexes. Like managing to right yourself right before sending your car into the wall. Or, better, like doing it anyway. Like accelerating before you go. Like leaving your hands on the wheel so your wrists can break, too, not just your heart. 

Yes, Charles would. Charles Leclerc would. Charles, so impatient for his first championship that he’d give up his current chance by overshooting every corner, by doing too much until he ends up in the wall time and time again. This is the man who would expose his soulmate like a throat to a knife, and Carlos has known this about him for years.

The Ferrari section of the paddock is insane after getting a podium, so no one notices when Carlos fights his way through the crowds to let himself into Charles’ driver’s room. It’s empty when he arrives, Charles must have many more people to get through, so he paces relentlessly back and forth until Charles shows up.

Charles bursts through the door, still talking to someone down the hall. His exuberance crashes to a halt the second he sees Carlos waiting, and he hurriedly tells whoever is there not to wait up. Charles carefully closes the door behind him, locks it too, and then it’s just the two of them and this great and all encompassing secret for company. 

Charles swallows. “You know.”

Of course he does. Friends show up at each other’s driver’s rooms all the time, but this isn’t just on the order of congratulations for a good race result. They would not be hovering on the edge of this great precipice if it was just that. 

“You knew earlier,” Carlos challenges. 

Charles ducks his head in a nod. “I did.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Carlos asks. 

Charles’ gaze is shifty, it flicks from ceiling to floor to walls, anywhere but Carlos himself. Charles has always been a daredevil for the risks, but he’s never had the stomach for what becomes of them. The consequences are always a thousand times worse than the actions. 

“I didn’t think you would want it. Want me,” he corrects, almost whispering. 

This is so absurd that Carlos almost wants to laugh. Almost, because the look on Charles’ face is so pitiful that he can’t even smile. “Why wouldn’t I?” Carlos asks. 

Charles blinks in surprise. “Because you were never even that interested in finding out who your soulmate was, mate. Always said it would just be some girl you didn’t know. I didn’t want to see your face when you realized you didn’t even get some girl but me.”

“I didn’t want to look too much into my soulmate because I was afraid it wouldn’t be you,” Carlos says in a rush, and as he admits it he knows it’s true. 

How could it be anything but that? Carlos could have picked any team, but he went here. A hardheaded (formerly red) bull chasing not just the scarlet flag but the matador himself. Charles, all along. 

Charles’ eyes are wide, lashes darker even than the ink still staining his palms. “So you’re not mad, then?” He asks cautiously. 

“Not mad and not leaving,” Carlos reiterates. 

A ghost of a smile flickers over Charles’ lips. “You cannot blame me for wanting to be sure, I didn’t want you to go until I managed to tell you.”

“You certainly took your time about it,” Carlos comments. 

Charles rolls his eyes. “Just because we are racers does not mean we have to do everything fast, Carlos. Be patient.”

Carlos arches a brow. “You are telling me that?”

Charles has the grace to look at least a little ashamed. “Yes. Well. I can be patient now.”

Of course he can. They both can. Most people spend their entire lives searching for the answer to a question that is no longer a mystery to either of them. Time is all they have, time and sweet-sticky champagne and the sensation of being at the top of the world. Nothing will change them. Everything will. For once, though, the change does not scare him. It’s not bad, all of the time. 

Sometimes, it brings him Charles. Sometimes, it brings him this. No, not bad in the slightest. 

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

also: @quill-of-a-sparrow

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[jazzyblusnowflake]

First off, just wanna say you’re one of my favorite md creators when it comes to art and commentary ❤️ ty for being cool n stuff

Secondly, got any more nuzi headcanons or aus in mind? Would love to hear about them.

oh shit people ACTUALLY read my commentaries???

shit, welp time to relocate and change my identity-

and oop i have a lot of AUs, its just that not all of them are nuzi centered XD i mean Nuzi eventually happens, its just that its not the center of the story.

here are some:

i have some personal Reverse Solver au with ocs which is basically an overglorified future au with fankids and humans and aliens and Tessa being alive and new types of drones >:)

i have a Nuzi personality Switch&Swap au which im hoping to draw later on- cuz i already have some story snippets decided on it >:3

i have a massive Human au which i still dont have a name for yet smh- which is very crime, mystery and horror related, the romance comes as a thing that happens during the story- which has a lot of ships that yall probably have seen @keebokuun draw some of uwu basically Uzi is a semi-handicapped girl in the future year of 2371- who in searching for the mystery behind her mothers death, gets stuck in a story way bigger than herself.

i have an Unsolver au in which the solver is just simply a super advanced AI with a sense of indeviduality and the horrors basically just dont happen. Cyn gets to grow as a host, Tessa becomes the head of the mechanical maintanance devision in JCJ, and the disassembler drones are transformed willingly without any gore or beheading lmao. the purpose and plot of the story is something different from the original show, but they eventually do meet Uzi and the others later. its just that the story is a bit extra sunshine and rainbows just cuz i want the characters to have a good ending 😭

Theres the Exorsists au which i posted about a while back :"3 - though this and the Unsolver au are pretty recent and im not sure where to go with them yet, or if i ever will lol but they are fun to think about uwu

anyway i think thats all i can think of for NOW- yall cant keep my brain down for too long lmao- id make a Siren/Mermaid au too but honestly i feel like thats a bit too easy for me, i like a challange- >:3

[dianawinchester03]

Season 1, Episode 15 - The Benders

Series Masterlist

Third Person POV

Hibbing, Michigan

"I know you're just doing your job, but the police have been here all week already. I don't see why we have to go through this again" A woman says to the three hunters posing as state police, who's neighbor had been kidnapped in Hibbing, Michigan. "The more he tells the story, the more he believes it's true" She says gesturing to her son who claimed to have witnessed the bizarre kidnapping of the man.

"Mrs. McKay...." Sam begins with an apologetic tone as the three take their hats off, dressed in state police uniforms. "...we know you spoke with local authorities..." He tells her but Dean cuts in. "But, uh, this seems like a matter for the state police. So..." Dean says calmly. Y/N looks over at the woman's son with a sweet smile on her face.

"Don't worry about how crazy it sounds, Evan. You just tell us what you saw" She says encouraging. The young boy nods with a terrified look on his face and begins to explain, "I was up late watching TV...when I heard this weird noise." He says cringing a bit. "What did it sound like?" Sam asks. "It sounded like a monster." Evan says and the three share a look.

"Tell the officers what you were watching on TV" His mother says, rolling her eyes. "Um....Godzilla vs Mothra" Evan answers gulping. Dean chuckles at the answer while Sam and Y/N smile in reminiscence of memories watching that movie with Dean growing up. "That's my favorite Godzilla movie. So much better than the original, huh?" Dean says smiling.

"Totally" Evan agrees with a heartfelt smile. "Yeah" Dean nods, looking over at Y/N at Sam, "They like the remake" He whispers to Evan who cringes in disgust, Y/N rolls her eyes at Deans childishness. "Yuck" Evan groans while Dean nods in agreement. Sam clears his throat disapproval and Deans face drop, realizing he strayed from topic.

"Evan, did you see what this thing was?" Y/N asks the young boy gently. "No. But I saw it grab Mr. Jenkins. It pulled him underneath the car" Evan insists. "Then what?" Sam asks and he sighs. "It took him away" He says, looking outside terrified. "I heard the monster leaving. It made this really scary sound" He further explains as Dean takes note of this on his pad.

"What did it sound like, Evan?" Y/N asks him. "Like this, whining growl" He answers, thinking back to that night. The three look at each other before nodding, indicating they got enough information. "Thanks for you time" Sam says kindly to Evans mother and the three leave, making their way back to their motel.

________________________________

Later that night, the three hunters are at a local bar, Dean playing darts while Sam and Y/N are at the table right next to him doing their research. "So the local police have not ruled out foul play. Apparently, there were signs of a struggle" Y/N tells the boys as she flicks the ash of her cigarette into the ashtray.

"You know, they could be right. It could just be a kidnapping" Dean suggests as he aims his dart at the board. "Maybe this isn't our kind of gig" He suggests, throwing the dart. "Yeah, maybe not" Sam agrees and Y/N nods, taking a drag from her cigarette. Sam then shows her Johns journal and points to a location. "Except for this. Your dad marked the area, Dean" She says, tapping the book.

This draws their attention and Dean stops throwing his darts and walks up to see the journal. "Possible hunting grounds for a phantom attacker" She says. "Why would he even do that?" Dean asks, picking up his beer and sipping it. "Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes out at night, grabs people, then vanishes" Sam explains.

"He found this too: This county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere in the state" Y/N tells them, flicking her ash into the tray. "That is weird" Dean agrees, walking back to play darts. "Yeah" Sam and Y/N say in unison. "But don't phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot" Dean points out.

"Well, they're all kinds, Spring Heeled Jacks, phantom gassers. They take people anywhere, anytime" Sam explains as Y/N crushes her now finished cigarette bud in the ashtray, outing it. Dean goes and pulls the darts off the wall, walking back towards them. "Look, fellas. I don't know if this is our kind of gig either-" Y/N goes to say but Dean cuts her off in agreement.

"Yeah you're right. We should ask around more tomorrow" Dean agrees, going back to throwing the dart. "Right" Sam sighs. "I saw a motel about five miles back" Sam goes to say, suggesting they shack up. "Woah, woah, easy. Let's have another round" Dean says defensively. "We should get an early start" Sam says, shaking his head. "You really know how to have fun, don't you, Grandma?" Y/N snickers sarcastically, sipping her beer.

Sam gives her a look and she sighs knowing he's right while Dean shakes his head, "Alright. I'll meet you guys outside. I gotta powder my nose" Y/N says, picking up her jacket. "I'll wait on you" Dean calls out to her. "Okay!" She responds, going into the bathroom. His eyes trail up and down her body as she walks away, the little sway to her hips seeing as she's clearly a little tipsy.

A blush rises to his face when he realizes he's staring at her, clearing his throat he takes a sip of his beer.

Meanwhile Sam walk out of the bar and approaches the Impala but some rustling nearby draws his attention, he looks around suspiciously and rests Johns journal down on the hood of the Impala. Taking out his flashlight, he turns it on and shines it around the parking lot.

He then kneels down to shine it under the car, only to be frightened by a stray cat underneath that screeches at him. He screams, chuckling to himself in embarrassment after the cat runs away. Getting back up, he dusts his hands off.

Dean and Y/N exit the bar, flirtatiously arguing, "You took forever in there, Princess. Did you drink a whole gallon of beer?" He teases her. She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "You try peeing in a crusty ass bars bathroom as a woman and then complain to me" She retorts back huffing. Dean chuckles nudging her a bit as they walk to the car jokingly.

She nudges him back, sticking her hands in her jacket pocket, hiding the blush that's taking over her face but Dean notices it, satisfied he made her laugh. They approach the Impala, John's journal on the hood and no sign of Sam. They share a puzzled look and Y/N goes to the passenger seat, opening the door. The car empty.

"He's not here" Y/N tells Dean, panicked. They look around the parking lot, no sign of him. A group of people exit the bar and they rush over to them. "Hey, hey. Have you guys been outside around here in, like, the last hour or so?" Dean asks the couple and they shake their heads.

"Sam!" Y/N calls out for him in the parking lot, her voice laced with concern. "Sammy?!" Dean and Y/N call out in unison but no answer. Y/N then looks up and sees a highway security camera above. "Dean, look" She draws his attention to the camera, pointing to it.

________________________________

The next morning, the two have gotten little to no sleep. They're now at a local Sheriffs Department. "So, what can I do for you. Officer Washington and Wilcox?" The deputy that they introduced themselves to as state police asks them. "We're working a missing persons" Y/N informs the woman. "I didn't know the Jenkins case was being covered by the state police" She says.

"Uh, no. No. This is someone else. Actually, it's my cousin" Dean informs her. "We all were having a few last night at this bar down by the highway. And we haven't seen him since" He further explains. "Does your cousin have a drinking problem?" The officer questions. "Sam? Two beers and he's doing karaoke" Y/N jokes, making Dean chuckle a bit.

The officer also laughs lightly, "He wasn't drunk. He was taken" Dean tells her and she nods. "Alright, what's his name?" She asks them, going over to her computer. They follow behind. "Winchester. Sam Winchester" Y/N tells her. "Like the rifle?" She asks, sitting my down at her desk. "Like the rifle" Dean nods, taking a seat, Y/N sitting next to him.

The woman types in his name and waits for it to load. She then clicks on a file, "Samuel Winchester. So you know that his brother, Dean Winchester, died in St. Louis..." She begins and the two hunters share a look of panic. "...and was suspected of murder" The officers eyebrows shoot up at this, looking over at the two.

"Yeah, Dean. Kind of the black sheep of the family" Dean covers. "Handsome, though" He adds cockily, Y/N rolls her eyes and scoffs at this. "Uh-huh" The officer responds dryly, typing on her computer. "Please, the guy was a cocky shit" Y/N chimes in, Dean shoots her a glare while she gives him a cheeky smile.

Her smile making his heart beat twice as fast. "Well, he's not showing up in any current field reports" The officer notifies them. "Oh, we already have a lead. We saw a surveillance camera out by the highway" He tells her. "Uh-huh. County traffic cam?" She asks. "Right. Yeah. We're thinking the camera picked up whatever took him...Or whoever" Y/N says.

"Well, I have access to the cam footage down at the County Works Department. But...well, in the meantime, let's do this the right way" The officer says, getting up to give them a report paper. "Why don't you two fill out a missing persons report.." She begins, the two share a look of unease and impatience.

Y/N gets up and takes it from her, "...and sit tight over here?" The officer says and Y/N sighs. "Officer, look, uh, he's my partners family. Basically mine too" She begins. "And I kind of look out for the kid. You gotta let us go with you" Dean pleads. The officer understand but shakes her head, "I'm sorry, I can't do that" She says.

They look down disappointedly "Well, tell me something. Your county has its fair share of missing persons. Any of them come back?" Y/N asks hopefully. The officer looks down and doesn't answer. "Sams my responsibility. And he's coming back. We're bringing him back" Dean says determined. Y/N heart aches, knowing that Sam going missing is definitely taking a toll on Dean.

Hell, she's worried off her ass, she can't imagine how Dean must feel. Deans probably blaming himself and he definitely is. Y/N knows he is because of his nature to protect and if shit it's the fan, he carries the guilt even if it wasn't his to hold.

________________________________

In an unknown location, Sam's eyes flutter open to a bright light shining in his face, he gasps jumping awake when he notice he's locked in a cage what seems to be made up of metal. It seems to be a barn of some sort hes in. Sam tries to stand up but he can only make it halfway up because it's so cramped in here.

He tries to push the cage open, rattling at the bars but it's locked. His eyes shift next to him to see another person, in a cage, unconscious and locked up. Sam assumes he's dead and sighs painfully. The light from the sun in the cracks in the wall of the barn. His chest heaving in fear.

________________________________

"Greg, Alex. I think we got something" Kathleen, the deputy, calls out to Dean and Y/N who are sitting on a park bench, outside of the County Works Department after convincing her to let them tag along. They stand up quickly and the officer hands the papers to Y/N, Dean peers over her shoulder looking at the images.

"These traffic camera take an image every three seconds. It's part of the Amber Alert program. These images were all taken around the time your cousin Sam disappeared" Kathleen explains but they're all just pictures of cars heading down the highway. "This really isn't what we're looking for" Dean says as Y/N flips through the papers.

"Just wait, wait. Next one" She tells them and Y/N flips the page. The image of an old van infront of the bar. "This one was taken right after Sam left the bar. Look at the back end of the thing" She informs them, pointing to the picture. Their eyebrows quirk up, "Now look at the plates" Kathleen instructs and Y/N flips to the other page.

The van was old and the plates were shiny. "The plates look new. It was probably stolen" Y/N points out. "So whoever's driving that rust bucket must be involved" Kathleen says, sure of her assumption. The screeching of an old engine from a van driving by surprises the two hunters. "You hear that engine?" Dean points out.

It clicks in Y/N's head where he's getting at and she nods. "Yeah?" Kathleen responds a little confused. "Kind of a whining growl, isn't it?" Y/N says, quoting Evans words from earlier. "Sure" Kathleen says shrugging, looking wth them confused. "Well, I'll be damned" Dean says in surprise and Y/N scoffs in disbelief as they share a look.

________________________________

Back in the barn where Sam is being help captive, he's trying to knock down the cage doors in anyway. Holding onto the top and kicking with all his might but it won't budge. He does this several times till he falls to the ground tired. The sound of Sam trying to knock the cage down wakes up the other victim that's being help captive.

He groans in pain getting up. Sam jumps in shock at the sound, "You're alive?" He says I'm relief. "Huh?" The confused man responds. "Hey, you okay?" Sam asks quickly. "Does it look like I'm doing okay?" The man growls back sarcastically. Sam chooses to ignore this, "Where are we?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. The country, I think. Smells like the country" The man answers and realization dawns on Sam. "You're Alvin Jenkins, aren't you?" Sam asks. "Yeah" Alvin confirms and Sam shakes his head. "Wow, I was looking for you" He tells him. "Oh, yeah?" Alvin scoffs. "Yeah" Sam responds. "Well, no offense, but this is a piss poor rescue" Alvin retorts.

"Well my brother and my best friend are out there right now too. They're looking for us. So.." Sam says. "So, they're not gonna find us. We're the the middle of nowhere, waiting for them to come back and do God knows what to us" Alvin says pessimistically. "What are they? Have you seen them?" Sam asks him lowly.

Alvin looks at him like he's nuts, "What've you talking about?" He asks Sam confused. "Whatever grabbed us? What do they look like?" Sam queries and the door opens. "See for yourself" Alvin says, scooting into a corner of the cage. Sam lowers himself to make it seem as though he's asleep.

A person in a dark hood comes in. Hitting against Alvin's cage with a large metal rod so he goes further back, resting down a tray of food and water. "Leave me alone. Don't you touch me. You leave me alone!" Alvin screams in fear but the person just closes the cage. Alvin then grabs the food and quickly eats it up. Clearly being starved.

The person then goes over to Sam's cage,

hitting against it with the large metal rod making him scoot into the corner. They go to a little box, pushing a key inside and turning the lock, Sam takes note of this. He looks at them in shock at they leave. "I'll be damned. They're just people" He says stunned.

"Yeah. What did you expect?" Alvin quips up from his cage. "How often do they feed you?" Sam asks. "Once a day" Alvin responds, stuffing his mouth with the sausage and bread. "They use that thing over there to open the cage" He points to the little box that they shoved the key inside and turned it.

"And that's the only time you see them?" Sam asks. "So far. But I'm waiting" Alvin says. "Waiting for what?" Sam asks. "Ned Beatty time, man" Alvin says and Sam scoffs. "I think that's the least of your worries right now" He remarks. "Oh yeah?" Alvin asks. "Yeah" Sam responds nodding.

"What do you think they want, then?" Alvin asks as Sam reaches upwards outside the cage on the top, trying to pull what seems to be a big chain. "Depends on who they are" Sam says. "They're a bunch of psycho hillbilly rednecks if you ask me. Looking for love in all the wrong places" Alvin says frustrated. Sam groans as he tries to pull the chain.

________________________________

"Okay, your next traffic came is 50 miles from here and your pickup didn't pass that one. So.." Kathleen tells Y/N and Dean as they drive down the highway in a squad car, Dean riding shotgun and Y/N in the back. "So it must've pulled off somewhere" Y/N finishes her thought. "I don't see any other roads here" Dean points out, canvassing the map.

"Well, a lot of these backwoods properties have their own private roads" She tells them. Dean and Y/N huff in frustration, "Great" Y/N mutters. The police scanner in the car beeps and draws the officers attention to it. She types and clicks on it and it opens up a file. She then looks over at Y/N and Dean suspiciously. "So, Gregory and Alexandra" She says.

Their gazes snap over to her. "Yeah" Dean answers. "I ran the both of your badge numbers. It's routine when we're working a case with state police for accounting purposes and what have you" She begins and Y/N begins to panic internally along with Dean. "Mm-hm" Y/N says casually, sharing a look of panic with Dean.

"And uh, they just got back to me.." She says, pulling over the car into an empty lot. "Says here your badges were stolen. And there's pictures of you" She says, they both cock their eyebrows in fake surprise as she turns the monitor to show them two pictures of a male and female State Police officers. Both the man of African American Descent and the woman of (another ethnicity), in no way fitting Dean and Y/N's look or description.

Y/N clears her throat awkwardly, no sure how to answer, "I lost some weight. And I got that Michael Jackson skin disease" Dean lamely tries to cover, Kathleen shakes her head and Y/N glares at Dean like, 'You're such an idiot'. "Okay, would you two step out of the car, please" Kathleen says firmly. "Look, look, look" Y/N stops her from getting out gently.

"You want to arrest us? That's fine. We'll cooperate. I swear. Right?" Y/N looks over at Dean and he nods, giving Kathleen his best puppy dog eyes he learnt from Sam. "But first, please, let us find Sam" Y/N pleads with the officer. "I don't even know who you two are. Or is this Sam person is missing." Kathleen says suspiciously.

"Look into our eyes and tell me if we're lying about this" Dean says. "Identity theft? You're impersonating officers" She says firmly. "Here's the thing. When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire" Dean begins, her eyes have a bit of pity and uncertainty in them while Y/N breath hitches in her throat at the mention of his moms death.

She's surprised by this, her heart pangs in concern for Dean. "And ever since then, I've felt responsible for him. You know, like it's my job to keep him safe" Dean explains, clearing his throat as he feels tears welling up in his eyes. Y/N notices this and chimes in. "We're just afraid if we don't find him fast..." Y/N adds, not able to finish the sentence at the thought of something happening to her best friend.

"...Please. He's our family " She pleads with Kathleen. The deputy sighs and then turns to them, "I'm sorry. You've given me no choice. I have to take you guys in" She tells them and their faces drop. She then looks up at a picture that's clipped in on the visor of the drivers seat and then sighs again, contemplating a bit. She shakes her head and then straps her seatbelt back on.

"After we find Sam Winchester" She says firmly. The two hunters sigh in relief at this.

________________________________

Back at the barn where he's being held captive, Sam is still trying to pull the rod attached to the cage. "What's your name again?" Alvin asks him. "It's Sam" He responds, groaning. "Why don't you give it up, Sammy. There's no way out" He tells him roughly. Sams gaze snaps over to him, anger rising, fury in his eyes.

"Don't call me Sammy!" He bellows and the rod snaps. It falls into the cage and Sam coughs from the dust falling from the roof. "What is it?" Alvin queries as Sam picks up the object examining it. "It's a bracket" He informs him. "Oh, thank God, a bracket. Now we got them, huh?" Alvin retorts sarcastically.

Sam rolls his eyes at his tone. Suddenly, Alvins's cage door unlocks. "It must've been a short" Alvin says, hope rising. Sam looks at the door, confused by this. "Maybe you knocked something loose" He says, going to the door and creeping slowly out of the cage. Something doesn't feel right about this to Sam.

Sam soon realizes that this could be a trap because pulling down the bracket with most likely have not unlocked the cage. "I think you should get back in, Jenkins" He warns him. "What?" Alvin says confused. "This isn't right" Sam tells him. "Don't you want to get out of here?" Alvin says frustrated. "Yeah, but that was too easy" Sam tries to reason.

Alvin looks back at Sam and back to the door in contemplation. "I'm gonna get out of here. And I'm gonna send help, okay? Don't worry" Alvin assures him going to the door. "No! Im serious, Jenkins. This might be a trap" Sam tries to warn him but he doesn't listen. "Bye, Sammy" He says quickly before creeping out of the door.

"Jenkins!" Sam calls out to him pleadingly but it's too late. He's now outside of the barn, looking around to make sure no one is around. He stoops and runs out. Back inside the barn the cage closes for itself, indicating that someone was controlling it and it was most certainly a trap. Sam huffs in annoyance, pained at fact that he couldn't get Jenkins to listen.

Alvin moves quickly around the side of a house as the rain is pouring. He stumbles upon a knife that so happens to be on the ground, picking it up he mutters, "Thank you" while looking up at the sky. He wields the knife and begins running through the busy area when suddenly the sounds of a man laughing loudly frightens him.

He runs quickly only to be struck in the face with a log by an unknown man. The man laughs as Alvin tries to crawl away, he goes to hit him again but Alvin quickly stabs him in his calf and runs. He makes it about 100 yards until another man comes up behind him and stabs him in the thigh, making him scream in pain.

The two men circle him while laughing and Alvin quickly gets up, holding his thigh, bolting in another direction. It's clear they're hunting like as prey because they let him escape only for Alvin to be tripped by a wire that was set up prior. The two men laugh when he falls, giving him a predatory look before stabbing him as he screams in fear.

Sam who is still in the barn, hears the screams of Jenkins, his heart beating out of his chest.

________________________________

The next morning, the two hunters and Kathleen are walking back to the squad car, coffee cups in all of their hands. "Okay, officer. Look I don't mean to press my luck" Dean says. "Your luck is so pressed" She retorts back. "Right" Y/N mutters, clearing her throat. "I was wondering, why are you helping us out anyway? Why don't you just lock us up?" Dean asks her curiously and she sighs.

"My brother Riley disappeared three years ago. A lot like Sam" She begins to explain, Dean and Y/N feels sympathetic towards her now. "We searched for him, but nothing.....I know what it's like to feel responsible for someone, and for them...." She says before stopping, thinking of her brothers disappearance.

"Come on. Let's keep at it" She changes the subject, jumping in the squad car. "Guess she ain't so bad after all" Y/N says to Dean. He nods, "I guess" He says sighing, jumping in the car along with Y/N.

Sometime later, they're driving down the stretch the van was last seen. Y/N notices a turn off and nudges Dean, "Look" She points to it. His head snaps in the direction and he says, "Wait wait wait. Pull over here. Pull over" He tells Kathleen and she obliges. They all get out, "This is the first turn off I've seen so far" Y/N points out as they walk.

"You two stay here. I'll check it out" Kathleen orders them. "No way" Dean denies while Y/N shakes her head. "Hey!" She calls out to them and they turn back. "You're civilians. And felons...I think. I'm not taking you with me" She says bluntly. Dean and Y/N share a look before turning back to her, "You're not going with us" Y/N says firmly and the officer sighs.

"Alright" She agrees. "You two promise you won't get involved? Let me handle it" She makes sure. They both nod quickly agreeing, "Yeah, we promise" Dean says. "Shake on it" She says and Y/N looks at her suspiciously when she says this but still, the two put their hands out.

Only to be handcuffs together before they could react by Kathleen. "Oh, come on" Y/N groans. "Seriously?!" Dean huffs as she drags the two of them to the squad car, holding Y/N firmly and uncuffing her, she then loops the cuff into the door handle of the squad car and re-cuffs Y/N. "This is ridiculous" Y/N grumbles as Dean rolls his eyes.

"Kathleen, I think you're gonna need our help!" Dean calls out to her. "I'll manage" She says plainly, locking the car with the remote and it beeps. "Thank you" She adds before walking off, leaving the two behind. Y/N begins to dig in her pocket and Dean tugs at the cuffs and goes "I gotta start carrying paperclips" He says angrily.

"Easy hotshot, I've got this" She says and he looks at her confused as she digs in her pocket. "You got an itch or something?" He asks her, cocking her eyebrow. "You're gonna lose that sassiness when- GOT IT!" She exclaims happily, pulling her Bobby pin from her pocket.

"You always carry that around?" He asks her curiously, smiling in joy. "Not the first time I've been in handcuffs" She retorts back, flashing him a coy wink as she begins to pick the lock. His eyebrows raised at her, now intrigued by her statement. A smirk over takes Deans face when Y/N says this, "Is that so, now I'm curious. When else have you been in handcuffs, Princess?" He asks in a sultry tone.

The thought of Y/N handcuffs to a bed making his chest heave and to be quite frank, turning him on a but while he tries to play it off cool. Y/N rolls her eyes, trying to subside her blush. "Don't be a prev, charming. I mean I've been arrested before" She tries to play it off, shrugging innocently but Dean knows that bullshit. "Ha, sure. That's what you meant." He scoffs ironically and she chuckles.

"You're gonna have to tell me eventually" He adds in a flirtatious tone. Her eyes flicker up to his. She pulls the corner of her bottom lip into her mouth, biting it lightly. "Why don't you find out" She retorts back in a low tone, Dean is stunned. The way Y/N is bit her lip just added fuel to the fire. "Meaning, I'll show you my arrest record" She adds innocently, his smirk widens.

"Sure, that's what you mean" He snorts. God this woman is really gonna be the death of me. Dean thinks to himself. "Shut up" She quips, Dean is trying hard not to blush at the way Y/N flirted with him. "You almost got that?" He asks her clearing his throat. "Patience. It's harder how she cuffed us together" She tells him.

Meanwhile, Kathleen walks down the track to find an old house. The truck from the video footage parked next to it. She walks up the porch of the house and knocks lightly at the door. Not long after a young girl answers, her skin dirty, her hair looking like it hasn't been brushed in ages. Kathleen is taken back by her state.

"Hi. How are you?" She says gently in a concerned tone. The young girl doesn't answer and just walks towards Kathleen, she backs up a bit, "Who are you?" The girl asks her, touching her badge on her jacket to check it. "I'm Kathleen, I'm a deputy. What's your name?" Kathleen introduces herself and now asks the young girl.

"Missy" The girl responds, a troubled look in her eyes. "Missy, that's a pretty name" Kathleen says nicely with a small smile, feeling a bit uneasy at the girl's presence. "Missy, is your moms home?" She asks her. "She's dead" Missy responds in a plain tone. "I'm sorry. What about you dad?" Kathleen says apologetically and Missy shakes her head.

"Can I come in for a minute?" Kathleen asks her, Missy shakes her head a bit more frantically. "I just want you to look at a picture" Kathleen says, nodding understandably. "Have you seen that guy?" She asks Missy, handing her a picture of Sam. "Look at that picture" Kathleen says gently.

Missy looks at the picture and back up at Kathleen, to the side of her and back to her, a smirk rising on her face, "What?" Kathleen asks her a bit hopefully. "That's gonna hurt" Missy says with a dark grin when suddenly a man comes up behind Kathleen, hitting her against her head with a shovel off guard, knocking her out cold.

"Missy, sweetheart. Go tell your brothers I wanna see em" Missy's father orders her. "Yes, Daddy" She obliges with a grim smile on her face, holding the picture of Sam as she walks back.

All while this is happening, Y/N finally gets the cuffs unlocked around her and Deans hand. "Hallelujah!" She exclaims in victory. "Good girl, let's go" Dean praises her, a blush rising to her cheeks as they run down the track.

Y/N's POV

Something about Dean calling me a 'Good Girl' gets me all jittery, it's irritatingly hot. Ugh, I need to get ahold of myself. We come upon a barn and quietly open the door. We look around in disgust at the barn to see empty cages and rotten food about. The place is heavy, the same feeling I get in places where tons of people have died is what I'm getting now.

I notice at the corner of my eye a bit of movement. "Sam?" I gasp in relief when I see Sam in one of the cages. Deans gaze snaps in the direction I'm looking at and we make way to his cage. Sam has a smile and a look of relief on his face when he realizes it's us. "Are you hurt?" Dean asks him concerned. "No" Sam responds and Dean knocks the cage a bit.

"Damn it's good to see you" He says relieved. "How did you get out of those cuffs?" I hear a familiar voice behind me. I turn around to see Kathleen in a cage across from Sam. "I know a trick or two" I respond smugly. "Alright, let's get them out" I tell Dean and he nods, taking a good look at the locks. "Woah, these locks look like there gonna be a bitch" He says and I groan.

"Well, there's some kind of automatic control right there" Sam tells us, point to a box at the other corner of the room. "Have you seen them?" I ask him. He nods, "Yeah. Dude, they're just people" He tells us and I cock my eyebrow at this. "And they jumped you?" Dean asks him surprised. "Must be getting a little rusty there, kiddo" He retorts and I roll my eyes.

"What do they want?" I ask Sam as we go over to the box. "I don't know. They let Jenkins go but that was some sort of trap. It doesn't make any sense to me" Sam informs us as we open the box and try to click to see if anything will open. "Yeah well that's the point. You know, with our usual playmates, there's rules. There's patterns" Dean says vaguely so it doesn't scare Kathleen.

"But with people, they're just crazy" I add scoffing and Dean nods in agreement. "You guys see anything else out there?" Sam asks us. "Uh, there's about a dozen junked cars out back. Plates from all over. So we're thinking when they take someone, they take their car too." Dean tells him. "Did you see a black Mustang? About 10 years old?" Kathleen asks us.

"Yeah, actually, we did" I tell her and her face drops. Realization dawns on me, "Your brothers...I'm sorry" I say apologetically. "Let's get you guys out of here and then we'll take care of those bastards" Dean says. "This thing takes a key? Key?" I turn to Sam asking him. "I don't know" He responds shrugging. "Alright. We better go find it" Dean says, nudging me towards the exit.

I follow behind and Sam calls out to us. "Hey" He exclaims. "Yeah?" Me and Dean respond. "Be careful" He warns us. We share a look before nodding. "Yeah" We respond before walking out the barn and breaking into the house, making sure not to draw too much attention.

We end up in a dark room so we take out flashlights out and begin searching around it. As we can canvas the room, we see jars filled with human body parts. Teeth, hair, ears, noses...brains. Dean grimaces, tapping the jar. "Yikes" He remarks. "Is that-" I gag. "Yup" Dean responds gagging. "That's fucking disgusting" I gag in disgust.

We scan the wall with our lights to see picture of some guys dragging dead bodies, cutting them up, posing with them like if they're some sort of trophy. I feel disgusted, angry, sad, an array of emotions at the blatant dehumanization they did to these people. I pick up a picture of a familiar face and show Dean. It was a picture of a now dead Alvin Jenkins.

"Jeez. Demons, I get. People are fucking crazy" Dean groans looking at the picture in my hand and I nod in agreement. "Crazy is an understatement. These assholes are psychotic beyond repair" I say. We hear a bit of creaking upstairs. "You hear that?" Dean whispers and I nod quickly. "Stay here, I'm gonna go check it out- And don't argue." He pleads, my mouth snaps shut quickly when he tells me don't argue.

"You don't know why they're capable of, Dean" I try to reason but he sighs. "Please, Princess. Just listen for once" He says and I sigh. "Fine. Be safe" I warn him and he flashes me a wink, "Ditto" before walking up the stairs slowly. I wait about a minute or two before I hear a young girl screaming "Daddy! Daddy!" Then I hear some grunting and tussling. My heart is beating out of my chest when I hear Dean groaning in pain.

With that, I bolt into action quickly run up the stairs and crouch behind the wall, "I'm gonna kick your ass first" I hear Dean say, "And the yours" He adds breathing heavily. Before I could go out to defend him. A man comes up behind him and quickly knocks him upside the head, blood dripping from the side of his head. I clamp my hand over my mouth to stop myself from reacting.

They all pick him up and then tie him to a chair, all surrounding him. I quickly formulate a plan in my head but I'm easily outnumbered. I can't take on three grown men. Maybe two if your throw in the little girl but they kicked Deans ass, much less mine. I mean I've got my gun but there's like two bullets in the chamber and three men.

Dean then comes too and sees me in the corner, poking my head out behind the wall. I bring my fingers to my lips in a 'shushing' manner. "Come on. Let's hunt him" One of the hillbilly's say, getting up into his face. "Yeah, this one's a fighter. Sure would be fun to hunt" The older hillbilly says a bit excited, laughing in a wheezing manner. I grimace at the way they said 'hunt'.

This means they were 'hunting' everyone else they killed. Sick bastards. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me. That's what this is about. You— You yahoos hunt people?" Dean groans. "You ever killed before?" The old man asks him. "Wha-" Dean says confused, chuckling humorlessly. "Well that depends on what you mean" He answers.

"I've hunted all my life. Just like my father, his before him. I've hunted deer and bear. I even got a cougar once. Oh boy." The man explains excitedly. "But the best hunt is human" He adds grimly. "Ohhh, there's nothing like it. Holding their life in your hands. Seeing the fear in their eyes just before they go dark. Makes you feel powerful alive" He says proudly and I grimace.

Once again. Sick fucking bastards. "You're a sick puppy" Dean voices my thoughts. The man gets a bit irritated. "We give them a weapon. Give them a fighting chance. It's kinda like our tradition. Passed down father to son" The old man explains and his son I presume, smiles proudly, caressing the little girls hair intimately that I assume is his sister. Now that's just weird, what the hell.

I mean sure, Sam ruffles my hair whenever we hug but it's usually in a messy way. That's just some incest level bullshit. "Course only one or two a year. Never enough to bring the law down. We never been that sloppy" The old man says. "Oh. Yeah, well, don't sell yourself short. You're plenty sloppy." Dean says sarcastically and I shake my head at his tone.

He's gonna get himself killed I swear. The man then gets in his face. "So, what, you with that pretty cop?" The man asks him and he doesn't answer. "You a cop?" He asks him again making Dean chuckle. "If I tell you...you promise not to make me into an ashtray" Dean says mockingly and I hold back a snort in laughter. A man then punches him straight in the nose making me jump back.

Dean whimpers in pain. That's gotta hurt. "Only reason I don't let my boys take you right here and now is that there's something I need to know" The man says angrily. "Yeah, how bout it's not nice to marry your sister" Dean says sarcastically and I try not to laugh again, putting my hand over my mouth. At least I'm not the only one that realized that was some weird incest shit going on.

"Tell me. Any other cops gone come looking for you?" The old man asks and Dean groans. "Ah, Eat me." He retorts before adding, "Nononono, wait wait wait. You actually might" He groans and I chuckle lightly shaking my head. The man then comes up infront of him with a hot poker and one of his son holds Deans face in place. All logic leaves my head when I see this and I draw my gun.

"You think this is funny? You brought this down on my family" He says and Dean doesn't answer. I go to move out from behind the wall and Dean gives me a look that says, 'Stay right there!'. I oblige hesitatingly but crouch back. "Alright, you wanna play games? We'll play some games" The old man says in a psychotic tone. "Looks like we're gonna have a hunt tonight after all boys." He says to his sons who look excited.

"And you get to pick the animal. The boy or the cop" He says to Dean and I gasp lightly. "Okay. Wait wait wait. No. Look nobody's coming for me, alright? It's just us" He tries to convince them, blood dripping down his nose. His breathing growing heavier. "You don't choose, I will" He says and touches Dean with the hot poker. Dean groans in pain and I clamp my hand over my mouth again, trying to think of what to do. "You son of a bitch" He hisses.

Remain calm Y/N. "Next time, I'll take an eye" The man says, putting to poker close up to Deans eye. "Alright. The guy, the guy, take the guy" Dean chooses Sam and this shocks me but it makes sense because Sam can quicker fight his way out over Kathleen. "Lee, Go do it" The man tells one of his sons, taking out a key from around his neck and handing it to him.

"Don't let him out, though. Shoot him in the cage" The man orders his son and I gasp lightly. "What? I thought you said you were gonna hunt it. You were gonna give him a chance" Dean argues shocked. "Too late. And when you're done with the boy. Shoot the bitch too" The man orders his son. I decide to shimmy out of the window and creep around the side of the house.

I follow his son into the barn, making sure he doesn't see me. When I enter, he's already aiming his gun at Sam in the unlocked cage. I think fast and pick up a shovel on the ground, "Hey Alabama!" I draw his attention to me, knocking him across his head HARD with the shovel. He falls to the ground and we wrestle for the gun.

In the midst of the fight, two shots go off from the gun. He punches me across my mouth and I quickly recover, then Sam comes up behind me, right hooking him in the nose. Knocking him out cold him out. I check the chamber in the shotgun to see if there's any more bullets left, "Damn" I groan in annoyance when I realize it's empty.

I take out my pistol and hand it to Sam. "Here, it's got two bullets. Make it count. Take her to safety." I instruct him, pointing to Kathleen. "I gonna go rescue Dean" I tell him. "What about you?" He asks me concerned. "I'll be fine little Winchester" I give him a smug smile before creeping back outside. I make my way around the side of the house. The old man and his other son come rushing out with their shotguns and I hide behind a barrel outside.

They don't notice me so I climb back into the house through the window I came out in. I crouch around the corner to see the little girl with a knife to Deans eye. "Hey Sasquatch!" I yell and the girl quickly turns around. "How bout you let my friend go" I grit my teeth at her. She then stares at me with a troubled look in her eyes.

She charges headfirst towards me, screaming like a banshee, with her knife in her hand. I quickly backhand her, knocking her cold out on the floor. Dean looks at me stunned as I go over to untie him from the chair. "Jeez, Princess. Didn't know you hated little girls so much" He snorts. "Only the knife wielding ones, charming" I retort back with a wink making him laugh.

When I untie him and he stands up, I wrap my arms around his shoulder, pulling him into a hug. He returns the hug, chuckling into my neck. "Don't scare me like that you dick" I tell him a bit angry. He smiles at me. "Awww you care about me" He teases me and I punch him lightly in his shoulder in mock annoyance. He chuckles more, groaning a bit when I punch him.

I lightly touch his cut on his forehead in concern and he hisses. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I apologize quickly. "I'm fine sweetheart" He assures me with a small smile. My heart pangs in relief to know that he's okay, witnessing him getting tortured absolutely torn into my heart. "Good" I say lightly. His arms are still wrapped around my waist and mine are still around his shoulder.

His eyes piercing into mine, his forestry green orbs swimming with emotion. I know for sure this time he glanced down at my lips but our moment is cut short when, "Oh thank god" We hear Sam breathe out in relief, seeing me and Dean. We quickly break the hug, clearing our throats. Sam's eyes glances between the two of us, a smug smile appearing in his face. "Crap, did I just interrupt something?" He asks us, cocking an eyebrow.

"No!" We both respond hastily, shaking our head. "Let's just lock her in the closet" I point to the unconscious girl, changing the subject.

________________________________

After locking her away, we all exit the house. We see Kathleen and walk towards her. "Where's the girl?" She asks us. "Locked in the closet" Dean informs her. "What about the dad?" He asks her and she has a slightly horrified look on her face. "Shot. Trying to escape" She says vaguely and I cock my eyebrow at this. I look over at Sam who has a guilty look on her face but I decide not to press.

"I think the cars at the police station" Dean tells Sam as we walk down the track while Kathleen is calling in backup. "So...state police and the FBI are gonna be here within the hour. They're gonna wanna talk to you." She tells us. "I suggest that you three are long gone by then" She says and I let out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks" I say gratefully. "Hey listen, I don't mean to press our luck. But we're kinda in the middle of nowhere. Think we can catch a ride?" Dean asks her and I shake my head. Kathleen looks at him in disbelief but also shakes her head. "Start walking. Duck if you see a squad car" She suggests. "Sounds great to me. Thanks" Sam says.

He and Dean go to walk off but I notice Kathleen is still a bit on edge. My gut tells to say something so I say , "Listen uh...sorry about your brother" my tone genuine. She nods tearfully, "Thank you." Her voice cracking. "It was really hard not knowing what happened. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth. But....it isn't....really" She admits and I nod understandably, not knowing what to say.

"Anyway, you should go" She says, feigning a smile. I return it and give her a hug. "You take care of yourself, okay?" I tell her sweetly and she nods, allowing her tears to fall. "You too, Y/N" She says genuinely and I smile. Following behind the boys.

After about 15 mins of walking, Dean finally quips up. "Don't ever do that again" He says to Sam. "Do what?" Sam asks him confused. "Go missing like that" He says and Sam smiles. "You were worried about me" He points out. "All I'm saying is, you vanish like that again, I'm not looking for you" Dean retorts and I shake my head with a smile. "Sure you won't" He retorts smiling.

"I'll look for you Sammy" I tell him with a sweet smile, wrapping my arm around his waist. "Thanks y/n/n. At least someone cares about me" He smiles back, teasing Dean as Sam wraps his arm around my shoulder. "Oh don't worry about your idiot brother. He loves you. He just needs to keep up his whole macho man facade" I tease Dean who has his head to the ground, fighting a grin.

This makes Sam laugh. "Shut uppp" Dean grumbles like a 10 year old. "Come here youuuu" I say to Dean jokingly, wrapping my arm around his shoulder and he wraps his arm around my waist. My heart skipping a beat slightly as his hand brushes my hip. We all continue walking, still in a group hug. "So, you got sidelined by a 13-year-old girl, huh?" Sam mocks Dean. "Oh shut up" Dean groans in annoyance.

"Just saying, you're getting rusty there, kiddo" Sam retorts, mocking Deans words from earlier. I burst out laughing at this. "Shut up!" Dean says again laughing, making Sam chuckle. I love these fellas with all my heart and moments like these are rare in our stressful line of work. So when we do have these, I appreciate them every single time.

________________________________

Authors Note: Finally!! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and I'm really excited to to do next. Be sure to check me out on AO3 and Wattpad❤️This chapter is unedited so any mistakes please point them out so I can fix them because I will be coming back to edit.

Xoxo

[the1975attheirverybest]

COUNTDOWN TO SATVB

Rockstar Dad

A/N: Based on this request.

Warnings: none. But maybe typos.

————

Matty licked his lips, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The nerves. Excitement. The acting. The dancing around, screaming some of the lyrics out, enunciating some slowly for dramatic effect, almost tearing up as he looked out at crowd. It was all almost over. Just two more songs.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke into the microphone while his hand rotated the pegs on his guitar. His tech guy, backstage, watching in agony and scampering to find the peg tuner, before Matty completely ruins his hard work.

“We’ve had a long year-“ he paused “who here has seen us before? On our last tour…" the crowd cheered energetically, drawing a smile from him. “Alright! So, we’ve had a long year since our 5th album came out — our 5th album, Being Funny In a Foreign Language, came out in….October of last year, it’s now the end of September; so almost a year— it’s been quite a year, but you know what? We are….STILL at our very best, I’ll tell you that.” He paused, breathing in deeply. “And, we would like to thank a few people who have helped keep us that way. So…” Matty’s eyes wandered over to his two favorite people in the world, momentarily distracting him. As he thought about how his baby girl’s face lit up, earlier in the night, when she watched him walk onto the stage alongside the guys, how her uncoordinated hands had tried to mirror her mother’s clapping along to the rhythm of “Its Not Living,” her waving at him and mouthing “hello!” At the opening lines of “Paris,” as soon as he’d crooned the line “she said hello,” matty was overcome with emotion. He gave his family a small nod. “Give it up for you guys!” He laughed “thank you for coming to our show. We wouldn’t be here without you….” He refocused his eyes, looking at the crowd, taking in the sight. “ Mr. Brad Troemel, without whom, this psychedelic drama wouldn’t exist….”

As he made his way through the list of people that he owed gratitude, Matty watched his wife beam with proud, nodding along, applauding, and even though her claps disappeared into a sea of indistinguishable, identical sounds from the crowd, Matty felt hers differently. He could see that she was telling him to take the moment in. To be present. To be proud of himself.

“Most importantly, though…” He set down his guitar, his stealthy guitar tech ceasing the opportunity to swoop in and replace it with another instrument, and walked over to the side of the stage. “Give it up for my two favorite ladies.”

Matty jumped offstage, the crowd cheering and whistling loudly, his security staff rushing to keep up with him. He took his daughter into his arms. She was ecstatic to finally be in her daddy’s arms after calling out to him and sticking her arms out, gesturing for him to come to her all night.

Matty paused in front of the stage, considering his dilemma. How was he going to climb back on with his precious baby in his arms? Luckily for him, Mark understood what was going on, and so did Ross. While Mark lifted Matty back up, Ross held the baby in his arms, greeting her gently and cooing to her as she impatiently wiggled around, desperate to be reunited with her dad.

“A long time ago; in a whole other life, I used to do this thing…” Matty reminisced in front of the microphone, ‘An Encounter’ playing in the background. “Where I would kiss fans. I mean- fans who’s asked for it. I wasn’t, like, walking going up to random women and just kissing their lips for no reason, just to clarify.” He wandered over to Ross, taking his daughter back into his arms. “Cuz the internet does love a ‘Matty Healy is a creep’ story. This’ll

Probably be viral by the end of the night. Headlines like ‘Matty Healy confesses to getting off with several fans onstage.’ Anyway, what was I saying? Right! It was a thing. During robbers. You know? The Robbers Kiss.” Crowds cheering loudly promoted Adam to walk up behind Matty and fix the baby girl’s noise canceling headphones, making sure they lined up perfectly and provided maximum protection.

“Nowadays though?” Matty grinned widely, turning to look into his daughters eyes. “This is the only kiss that I care about.” He placed the gentles, softest kiss to his baby’s cheek.

When the crowd swooned, reacting the only way that one could possibly react to the infamous reformed dirtbag melting, rather publicly, at the mere sight of his baby girl, Matty’s daughter seemed to realize, for the first time, that she was looking at an endless sea of human beings, as far out as her eyes could see. Her moth fell open, hypnotized, she stared at the twinkling lights. In his ear piece, Matty heard George say something about this being the moment that his child discovers what Matty does for a living. Watching his daughter’s face, Matty’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“You see that, baby? Daddy’s a rockstar. All these people….” His voice getting caught in his throat, he chuckled, kissing the very top of her head and walking over to where the security guys were anxiously waiting.

Reluctantly, he handed the love of his life back to them, standing there, with a watchful eye, and waiting to resume his post until he’d made sure that she was back in the safety of her mothers arms.

He wiped the tears out of his eyes with the back of his arm. “That’s was a…” he rushed over to the microphone. “Anyway, if you were on tumblr in 2013, this one’s for you.”

George’s cue to play ‘Robbers.’

[writingforcuteppl]

Tattoos

PAIRING: Kenny McCormick x Reader

SUMMARY: One day Kenny arrived with both of his forearms full of tattoos, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander about how it would look while fucking you.

GENRE: Smut

WARNINGS: Swearing, suggestive, stigmatophilia, humping. AGED UP CHARACTERS

WORD COUNT: 1.4k words

“Kenny, have you seen my phone?” you entered the living room after you heard the front door bang. Kenny was back, and after searching for your phone all day long, you knew Kenny must have seen it before leaving your house.

Kenny had your phone in his hand, but your eyes wandered all over his forearms. He had tattoos. New tattoos. He used to have only one on his left arm, a snake, but now he had a whole bunch of new tattoos. You could see some of them were some of his favorite characters and references from some of the shows he had seen.

“Like what you see, princess?” he smirked. He knew you were such a sucker for tattoos, and maybe that was one of the reasons he went and got more. Plus, he also wanted to have more for some time now.

“Huh?” for the first time since he arrived, you looked him in the eyes.

“I took your phone by mistake. Sorry for that” he got closer to you, handing over your phone, and you were able to take a look at the back of his hand. He also has tattoos on it. A mouth with its tongue out and a big eye over it was covering the back of his right hand, and you could see some letters on each of his fingers.

“Kenny, what the fuck?” you took your phone from his hand and tossed it to the couch. You took a better look at his hand. You could see the skin was still irritated. The mouth was covering all the back of his hand, and the eye was situated on the same level as his wrist. It was creepy but so cool. Then you took a look at the letters on his fingers. The letter “P” was engraved on his pinky finger. Slowly you saw the other three letters.

“PRIN?” you question him. Kenny brought up the other hand, closing both hands into a fist and putting them together. You were able to read the whole word now. Kenny was only looking at your face. He felt so happy and relieved when he saw your smile.

“Princess…” you whispered.

“Do you like it?” your smile grew by the second. You nodded.

“I love it.”

Kenny sat down on the couch, palming his legs so you could sit on his lap. You made your way to him, putting both of your legs next to him.

“Cool, right? Now I look like I’m going to jail” You laughed at the comment.

“So you still remember, huh?”

When the both of you were little, your mother said only people in jail cover their whole body with tattoos after you let Kenny draw a little penguin on your arm with a Sharpie. Ever since Kenny has made fun of the comment.

“That’s, like, the dumbest thing my mom could’ve ever said.” Since you were little, that comment has bugged your mind. You think that tattoos express people’s feelings and emotions, and, of course, tattoos always have their meanings. Or sometimes, it can be something they really like or enjoy, and it varies from person to person.

“I want one too.”

“Then go get it, princess. I’m not stopping you” Kenny held your face. You were frowning. “You shouldn’t let her comments bug you anymore. You are a full adult now, princess.” you chuckled.

“Maybe one day I will…” Kenny gave you a peck on the lips.

“Did it hurt?” you asked while looking at his forearms. You knew he could handle pain really well, but you were still worried about it. More than one tattoo a day definitely came with pain.

“Just a little bit. The ones on the fingers hurt like hell” You took both of his hands, approaching them to you. You kissed his knuckles, being as careful as possible not to touch by any means where the tattoos were. Kenny was mesmerized by how sweet and cautious you always were. He was so fortunate to have you. Being friends since you were little, he slowly fell in love with you. And if he was honest, he was so lucky to have you.

You stared at the snake tattoo he had. It was the first tattoo he got, and flashes of that very first night came back to you. You remembered the way he fucked you over the bathroom sink, making you look over the mirror, seeing how his hand was around your neck, the snake appearing to be moving with the movement of the muscles of his forearm.

“What are you think about?” Kenny whispered.

“Just, you know,” you started to say, but your mind couldn’t quite make a sentence. “Stuff”

“Interesting. You know, I was thinking about when I fucked you in the bathroom. Remember how I made you look in the mirror so you could see how well you were taking my cock?” you closed your eyes and hummed in agreement. Kenny moved both of his hands to your hips, making you move further until your cunt was above his bulge. “So, what were you thinking about, princess?”

“The same thing, Kenny.” His right hand went to the back of your neck, pulling your face closer to his.

“Knew it. It got you all worked up, didn’t it?” you nodded, and when you least expected it, his lips were on your neck. “Then go ahead, princess.” It always amazed you how Kenny was able to read you. Kenny made you grind on his clothed cock and made you whimper. Kenny’s lips slowly approached your ear. “Get yourself off, princess,” he whispered.

You slowly started to grind back and forth on his bulge, finally feeling the pleasure you were craving. Maybe it was the fact of the new tattoos or perhaps the fact that you have been horny all day, but the absence of Kenny affected you.

Even if the two of you have been together for years now, you two can never seem to get enough of each other. Kenny looked at your face, the way your eyes were shut, how your mouth was partly open, how your breath was slowly starting to pick up. He felt the way your hands were clenching on his shirt.

“Kenny,” you whimpered. Kenny’s left hand made its way to your core. He felt the wet patch on your panties. Kenny stopped your movements. At this point, he was fully hard, and the fabric of his underwear was starting to bother him. Kenny managed to move down his underwear making his cock spring free. You grabbed it and smeared the leaking pre-cum all over it, and you heard him hiss.

“Look, princess, you’re so wet that I bet I could easily slide right into you without any problem.” Kenny moved to the side of your panties. “I wanna feel your pretty pussy cream my cock” he said. You felt shivers run down your spine.

You grabbed Kenny’s shoulders to give yourself some support. His cock was resting on his abdomen. You started to slide your pussy across his length. You heard Kenny groan the moment he felt your juices spread on him. The pace wasn’t as slow as before. Kenny saw you were struggling to keep up a pace, so he grabbed your hips and started to move you at a pace both of you could get a proper release.

“Fuck, baby” You loved how vocal he was. Moans and whimpers were filling your living room. It always helped you hear how good he was feeling. Your orgasm was closer than you thought as you felt your lower stomach tighten with the familiar feeling. Kenny was able to tell that. One of your hands clenched around his shoulder.

“I- Kenny, my god, I’m close,” so was he.

“Me too, go on, show me how good I’m making you feel.” you let out a strangled moan and cum. But Kenny didn’t stop moving your hips until he also was finished. Kenny whimpered when he felt his release coming out. Strings of cum painted his lower stomach, still moving to you help you ride out your orgasm.

“Shit, look the mess you made, princess” You took a look at his abdomen, and somehow the sight of it made your stomach flip, and you groaned. You swear under your breath, and Kenny smirked. He obviously knew you weren’t over just yet.

“How about now I make you cum around my cock?”

n a v i g a t i o n

Kenny’s Birthday Week Celebration Masterlist

[bluelocksource]

Itoshi Sae’s trivia (source: twt & Egoist Bible).

"I'll see with my own eyes what kind of FW (idiot) will be born in Japan."

☆ Character's colour: Adzuki bean color (reddish-brown).

☆ Nickname: ‘Japan’s Treasure’.

☆ Birthday: 10th October.

☆ Current age: 18 (3rd year of high school)

☆ Zodiac: Libra.

☆ Birthplace: Kamakura City, Kanagawa Prefecture.

☆ Family: Mother. Father. Himself. Younger brother.

☆ Current height: 180 cm.

☆ Foot size: 26.5 cm

☆ Dominant foot: Left foot.

☆ Blood type: A.

☆ Starts playing football: At age 1. “Before I knew it, I was playing soccer.”

☆ Team before returning to Japan: RE・ALE (レ・アール) Youth FC.

☆ Favorite food/drink: Salted kelp tea (shio-kombucha). “Because I can go back to 0.” (meaning he feels refreshed after drinking it)

☆ Disliked food: French fries. “It’s deadly delicious but it’s deadly to my health.”

☆ Favorite animal: Seagulls. “I like migratory birds that doesn’t stay in one place.”

☆ Favorite season: At the end of summer. "It seems that the world is starting to get lonesome."

☆ Favorite football player: Álvaro Recoba. “The left footer that casts a rainbow (perfect curve) on the pitch.” (Sae was referring to Alvaro quotes: “If today's game is on a rainy pitch, I'll draw a rainbow with my left foot.”. Álvaro is known for his curling-free-kick.)

☆ Favorite music: ‘Mercury’ by tofubeats ft. Seira Kariya. “I listen to this to cool down.”

☆ Favorite manga: Gegege no Kitaro.

☆ Favorite movie: Taxi Driver. “This De Niro is the coolest.”

☆ Favorite TV show: Chibi Maruko-chan. “It reminds me of home.”

☆ Favorite brand: “All of my sponsors. They know they're not crazy for betting on me, they have good eyes.”

☆ Hobby: Analysing data of football players and teams. “It’s easier to see the numbers in visualized data.”

☆ Mushroom shoots vs Bamboo shoots: “Depends on the mood.”

☆ What goes best with rice : Salted kelp (shio-kombu). “They don’t have it in Brazil, so I asked my parents back home to send some here.”

☆ What makes him happy: “A play beyond my imagination.”

☆ What makes him upset: Being forced to carry Japanese soccer on his back. “I’m talking about you guys.”

☆ What he thinks his strength is: He has flat ways looking at things. (meaning he look at things objectively) "People often calls me dry**, but who cares?"

☆ What he thinks his weakness is: The fact that he doesn’t know anything else other than soccer. “You guys shouldn’t live this way.”

☆ Favorite/Best subject: “I don’t know since I’ve only focus on soccer and didn’t pay attention in classes.”

☆ What made him cry recently: “Like I'd tell you, idiot.”

☆ Usual sleeping time: 8 hours (7 hours sleeping + 1 hour nap)

☆ Place he washes first when taking a bath: His bangs’ hairline.

☆ Fixation: Buttocks. “You’ll know an athlete's ability by the shape of their buttocks.”

☆ Number of chocolates received from previous Valentine: Around 2000. “That’s what my manager told me.”

☆ The first time he got confessed to: “I don’t remember which one was the first, octopus.” (here, octopus is just an insult like 'idiot' or 'fool', etc.)

☆ What will he do if received 100 million yen: “I’m not interested in such small amount of money.”

☆ At what age he stops receiving presents from Santa: At age 10.

☆ What was his last wish from Santa: “My own talent that I haven’t yet seen.”

☆ How he spent his holiday: Gazing at the sea.

☆ What will he do during his last day on Earth: Give the world's best striker the world's best pass.

*Not sure about the exact pronounciation but the most of the translation says 'Les Halles'. Updated! (25/7/2024)

** In Japan, there are terms called ‘dry person’ & ‘wet person’. ‘Dry person’ is someone who can think rationally without being overwhelmed by emotions and because of their calm demeanor, they are thought to be cold and unapproachable. ‘Wet person’ is the opposite of ‘dry person’.

note: i want to apologize in advance for any mistake made in the translation!

[daandyli0n]

more Rewrite Refs, y'all!! this time: MCI edition!

it is going to become apparent that my favorite Ghost Trope is the "whatever caused your death shows up on you as a ghost" thing

(warnings: child murder/death, blood/gore, bruises, somewhat obvious broken bones (in Felix's ref), eye injury (again, Felix), eye contact, bright colors/eyestrain, disturbing imagery)

this isn't in order of their deaths, but like. animatronic order, i guess

(click on the images to zoom)

design details!! yippee!!

Gabrielle/"Gabi"

the second of the murders.

soul inside of Freddy

transfem, fun fact!

shy and anxious; pretty much the reason Freddy sticks to the shadows.

biracial! mother is from Mexico and her father is black.

family wasn't too wealthy; her clothes were from her older sister.

was one of Elizabeth's friends, and was a kid that Cassidy was close to in the aftermath of Liz's death.

a "popular girl," mostly due to being friends with Naomi and Liz.

died on June 24, 1982; her birthday :(

Baker

the third of the murders.

soul inside of Bonnie.

the youngest; thought he was being taken to see Bonnie :(

AuDHD. no i will not elaborate.

one of Kelsey and Cassidy's closest friends.

one of the calmer spirits, surprisingly.

he thinks the fact that he became Bonnie is one of the coolest things that could've happened (Charlie thinks that it's either a coping mechanism or due to the fact that Baker was too young to really comprehend what happened).

died on June 25, 1982.

Naomi

like Susie, she was The First.

she wasn't the first to die; she was still alive when Gabi was murdered. she was the first victim of the MCI.

soul inside of Chica.

"popular girl," but not...mean. she Does complain about people who annoy her, though. but it's not too often.

like Gabi; best friends with Liz and close to Cassidy.

died on June 24, 1982; tried to warn Gabi, but was stuck inside of Chica and hardly able to even speak. the most she could do were raspy breaths; think along the lines of the noises Chica and Bonnie make when they enter the office in Fnaf 1.

Felix

the fourth of the murders.

soul inside of Foxy.

big fan of Foxy and pirates in general.

the oldest of the original MCI. (Charlie is 12, and three kids in the '87 Murders were 15-16).

genderqueer; "Idgaf what ye call me tbh. Call me whatever ye like, Matey, I don't care-"

was one of the more skeptical kids being lured; wondered why "O'Hare" was leading him to a back room to see Foxy...

was the only kid who really fought back; led to some...worse injuries (bruised, several smaller cuts, hand got broken, missing an eye).

Angry™

died June 25, 1982.

Kelsey

the final murder

one of the souls in Fredbear.

liked to draw! still does, tbh.

shy and anxious (cough autistic) kid.

close friend of Baker and Cassidy.

doesn't...come from a good home.

was at Fredbear's the day he died.

wandered to the Parts & Service room...where William was. got springlocked.

odd, cut-like wounds are from where he was y'know. a young kid in a springlock suit.

William cleaned the suit up and dumped Kel's body in a lake since he couldn't hide him in the suit.

him and Cassidy have a sort of "Comedy/Tragedy" thing with their masks. Kelsey's is much paler, is frowning, and leaks blood instead of the Black Liquid.

fun fact: Kelsey is technically transfem! didn't get to figure it out, unfortunately...but y'know.

anyway!! @that-darn-clown and @hello-there-world if y'all wanna see this :D

[box-of-roses]

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅. Letters to Skin .⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

♡ Synopsis: Everything you write or draw on your skin shows up on your soulmates skin; What happens when drawing on your skin results in someone becoming your best friend and then something more.

♡ Characters: Akaashi, Y/N, Kuroo, Kenma, Yaku

♡ Possible Warnings: talks about divorced parents

♡ Words: 2k

Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Series Masterlist

When people feel most alone they talk to themselves. Rationalize to their brains why they would possibly feel like this. In this world though soulmates exist. No one should ever feel alone, should not will. See, when you feel the most alone the universe decides to let you have a connection to your soulmate. The connection doesn’t go away just becaus you stop feeling alone either. Both people don’t have to feel alone, that would just cause someone to feel worse. I mean you try to connect to someone and they can’t respond? The universe isn’t always that cruel.

It doesn’t promise you speak the same language, it just makes sure you are able to connect. Y/N is the first to feel alone. Your soulmate is apparently having it a bit better than you do at this moment. Your parents had just told you they were divorcing. They had already signed the papers, all week you had thought you were just moving to a different house. Well, you were. Not all of you though. Because your mother travelled so much for work you would be staying with your father. You ran to your room and locked the door. They hadn’t even come after you. Looking back it was probably because they wanted to give you space to think everything over. To your little mind right now though it was the worst thing they could have possibly done.

Suddenly you felt a tingling in your arm. Oh how funny the universe was. You reached for a pen and scribbled some words down. ‘Hello, sorry to bother you.’ You waited a few minutes. Nothing. Maybe the universe hadn’t thought you were lonely enough yet. What was that weird tingling then? You tried to tell yourself it was just your imagination. Maybe your parents had lied to you. Just as you start going down that path your arm tingles again.

‘I’m sorry for replying so late’ another tingle. ‘I was in the middle of eating dinner. I’m Akaashi, what’s your name?’

‘Y/N’

‘Why are you so sad?’

‘My parents are getting divorced.’

‘I’m sorry, I hope you can become happier. Do you want to talk about it?’

‘Not really. Can we talk about something else?’

‘Of course.’ The words stopped appearing. Maybe Akaashi got held up again. You after all weren’t expecting that your soulmate would just drop everything to talk with you. ‘What’s your favorite book?’ Funny how even the smallest of things can make a person feel less alone. Make someone feel appreciated, loved, cared for. Those words can be synonymous but not always. Right now? They were applicable. Those words were always synonymous when you were talking to Akaashi, he always makes you feel loved and cared for and appreciated.

The two of you sat miles apart talking about books, flowers, anything other than the lingering sadness. Since the connection started it hadn’t gone away, as you were told it wouldn’t. You still worried though, your parents were soulmates. That didn’t stop them from falling apart though, as protection to yourself you hadn’t told anyone you had met your soulmate. You weren’t sure if he had done the same thing. Part of you was hoping he had done the same as you so there wouldn’t be an unfortunate meeting. You both decided not to talk too much about your personal lives. You would talk about school but not which school. You had stated early on why you were so scared of finding him.

He accepted your reasons and never pushed you to tell him anything that you didn’t naturally tell him. To fill the silence he would tell you about himself. The more you learned about him the less you cared if he hid you as his soulmate. You told him you would even feel proud for people to know you were his soulmate. You knew that he played volleyball, a setter, and that he wanted to be a manga editor when he graduated. You knew he had a best friend that he would often have to leave you on ‘delivered’ to go deal with. You laughed when he told you how mercilessly his teammates teased him when they found the writing on his arms.

The more you grew up the less it bothered you that people knew of you being his soulmate. You had told him that he could tell people if he wanted to. You still refused to tell others though. Maybe it was the lingering trust issues causing you to pause whenever you were going to tell your friends something sweet he has said. You didn’t fully know why you couldn’t say it. You loved talking to him, he was so sweet. He always managed to cheer you up whenever you felt down. You knew so much about him and you hadn’t even told him that you joined your volleyball team as a manager to see him. You knew it was stupid to think that you would find him like this. You had new friends though. Friends you were starting to trust enough to talk with them about your soulmate. The incident started at lunch. You were sitting with Kuroo, Kenma, and Yaku and you felt your arm tingle. A smile grew on your face as you felt it. He rarely ever talked to you during school, unlike you he tried to pay attention in class.

Even though you were the manager you had yet to be able to make it to a practice game. Luckily they didn’t get too mad, this time you were going to be sure to be there. You cleared your throat. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of it but you knew the boys were going to. “Yes Y/N?” Kenma was the first to notice you were trying to get their attention.

“So…I know I’ve never talked about it before but I’ve already contacted my soulmate. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, even though it kind of feels like that’s what I’m doing right now, I just wanted to let you guys know because I trust you.” You put your head down not wanting the potential backlash.

“That’s great Y/N! Do you know what their name is?” You nodded your head. The boys around you just seemed to get more excited. “Are you gonna tell us?’

You shook your head, “sorry. I trust you I really do but in case you know him. I’m just not ready to meet him.” Now you are more worried. You trusted them enough to tell them you had a soulmate but couldn’t even tell them his name. God you felt pathetic.

“It’s fine that you don’t want to tell us his name, really.” Your smile grew, you pulled out your pen and rolled up your sleeve. “Do your parents know?” You shook your head again. “Do you want to tell us about him at least?”

“Give me one second to reply and then yeah!”

‘How’s school going? I know you said you were anxious about it today.’

‘It’s good, I just told my friends about my soulmate. They want to know more about you. I’m surprisingly excited. I hope your day is going just as good!’ You drew a little heart for good measure. “Okay, he’s literally so sweet. He just wanted to check on me because he knew I’ve been anxious recently.”

“He seems like a good guy so far. I don’t want to push but…You’re not telling us his name because he plays volleyball right?” Your face grew hot as you nodded. Kuroo smiled mischievously, a glint of scheming in his eyes.

“Whatever you’re planning, stop it right now. I said I wasn’t ready to meet him yet.” You glare at him as you finish your drink.

“Are you ever going to be ready to meet him?” It felt rude but you knew it was true. He was pretty good at reading people. If it had taken you this long to tell them that you even had a soulmate how much longer until you finally wrapped your head around meeting your soulmate.

“Fine, I’ll let you pick one team to practice against. One. That’s all the scheming you get.” He smiled even more at that. One of his favorite activities was getting people to comfortably leave their comfort zone to do things that were good for them.

“I’ll just have to pick right then. We have some planning to do and you have a class to get to.” he grabbed the garbage from the table and got up to throw it away. Kenma usually walked with you to class since you both went to the same place.

“You know if you tell him you're uncomfortable he won’t go through with it right?” You smiled at Kenma’s concern.

“I know. He’s right though, I’ve known about my soulmate since my parents divorced and you're the first people I’ve told.” Kenma paused at your words.

“You’ve told? Has he told people?” You nodded sheepishly.

“His friends have known for a while. I wanted to tell you guys earlier but I was nervous.”

“I’m not upset, I’m just surprised. I figured if you hadn’t told anyone it was because he didn’t want to either.”

“This may seem silly but the more I learned about him I got excited at him telling his friends about me.”

“That doesn’t seem silly at all. I’m sure most people feel that way. Or at least I hope they do. I’m proud of you for feeling comfortable enough to tell us.” You had reached the door to your classroom and put the conversation on hold for the time being. As you made your way to your seat you got out your set up of colored markers. You drew all over yourself- and by extension Akaashi during this period. He had told you once before that he loved looking down and seeing the doodles over his skin. Since then you have made it your job to leave messages and doodles on your hands to make him feel happy.

Akaashi usually ended up with doodles over his hand and arm during this period. He knew that it was your least favorite class so despite wanting to pay attention to his own class he stares at his hands. He sits there and smiles as he watches little swirls etch themselves onto his skin. Hearts and stars are the most common. He would end up with a ring on his ring finger which made him smile. He hoped to meet you one day. He loved the interactions the two of you had even when you weren't writing to each other. It was getting close to the end of the day and he hated how when you two finally got to sleep at the end of each day that the drawings and sweet words would disappear.

He wanted to focus on his studies he really did but the thought of you feeling alone always made him pause for a moment. He picked up a pen of a different color and started drawing his own little doodles. He hoped they made you feel as special as your’s made him feel. He was already happier than usual because you had told your friends about him. That was a big deal to him, especially after you had confided your fears to him. He knows he’s going to have a smile on his face for the rest of the day and have to listen to the team’s comments. He didn’t care all that much though. He would roll his eyes and laugh along knowing how lucky he is to have you as his soulmate. Maybe one of these days he’ll meet you, at least he hopes you’ll ask him to meet eventually. He doesn’t want to push but he really needs to see your face, to confirm what he already knows. That you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing.

I hope you guys enjoyed! My askbox is open if you have a specific request and so are the taglists for any part of this series. If you enjoyed this work feel free to check out my other works here

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Taglist: @lifesucksweswallow

[valy-gc]

It's MC time guys!!

So I showed you Dust and Bram. They are two of my favorite MCs of thoses I created/imagined.

And now are some other favorites and it's 3 in 1!

Here is Kross (depressed one), Rinri (blond and glasses) and Jia (pink bows).

Their stories after the image (there is a lot but I love them so if you like them please read their story ^^)

Their backstories (it's long, you can go lower to have the Twisted Wonderland part, after the "what's in my bag" images):

First of all, let me clear a misunderstanding. Rinri and Jia are boys. Yep, the three of them are boys. Jia and Rinri aren't trans. Everything is explained bellow :)

They are triplets. Or more like, they considere themselves triplets. They have the same father, the great ultra rich Edward Murong, but they have three different mothers, the three living in three separates houses next to each other. But the three are born the same days, with just minutes of difference.

Their mothers were best friends. And they were friend with Anne-Marie Murong, Edward's wife. Edward was a real jerk, mysogyne and arrogant, thinking only of his compagny and producing a worthy heir. Heir he actually have with his wife. He don't care about any of his kids, not even his heir. They're just tools to him.

Jia and Rinri's mothers were really similare. They were gold digger bimbo, only thinking of appearance and they wanted girls. So, when they both gave birth to boys... they decided to raise them as girls.

Jia and Rinri DON'T identifie as female even if they actually don't care if peoples use she/her. It even amuse them. However, they loves dresses, skirts, frills, makeup and cute things. Rinri love gothic-cute and Jia love pastel-cute.

Jia and Rinri can't do anything by themselves. Their mothers, after having Edward's kids, received a huge allowance to raise them/to not bother Edward. So they had a housemaid, gardener... and a lot of pocket money to order food and anything they want. They were constantly alone, with a lot of restrictions (and the maid and gardener as the watchers). Their mothers wanted to have some sort of "stupid girls", just little gold diggers like them. So they taught them (more like paid someone for it) makeup, fashion, and to always have fun and let the "little people" do the hard work.

Jia and Rinri had to study in secret. They both have ADHD and are actually very smart boys but often "play" the stupid pretty girls, force of habit to have to be like this to please their mother (and it became funny to them, the look on people's face when they reveal how smart they are). Their mother also often introduced them as their "daughter" to old rich men. If they both look sweet and a little stupid, better not hurt Kross, because they become feral.

Despite all this, they are usually two ray of sunshine, always looking for the good way and they both love (family love, but they're really ultra close, that's why they say they're triplets) each other and Kross.

Rinri suck at drawing, he usually just do doodles, while Jia love aquarel painting with pastel colors of course. They both LOVE sewing their own dresses. Jia is really good a nail art and love video games, while Rinri is very good at singing and love nature and animals. His favorite animal is the crocodiles he call "swamp puppies". Jia prefer cats.

They're both influencer on instagram, posting cute selfies and pics, and showing of their sewing work.

Now, what about Kross?

Kross lived in the third house next to them. His mother didn't wanted girls or boys, she just didn't wanted kids at all, and made his life a hell. He was a little servant for her from an early age, often taking a beating or left to starve. She could cuff him to a heater when she was going out to meet mens and was hyper exigent for how the house was cleaned and picky about her food. The smallest little mistake was good excuse for a beating. he didn't even had a bedroom, sleeping in the garage with an old ripped blanket.

Since his mother, just like her two friends, was often out of the house, Rinri and Jia were always coming to his rescue. Rinri learned to pick lock so he could free Kross when he was cuffed to the heater.

Kross learned to cook very early and to master it very early too since mistake was leading to beating. So he was often cooking for his brothers too since they can't do anything.

In the opposite of his brother, due to a way harder life, Kross is usually gloomy. He lack self-confidence, often apologizes for everything and have protection reflexes when someone is angry near him. His brothers are kind of his safe zone. He also have social phobia and anxiety, to the point that he get into a panick attack if someone else than Jia or Rinri touch him (even just a light touch) He's actually fine with being in a crowd, as long as he's not alone (especially with one of the two with him) but he will rarely talk to peoples. He's always afraid of bothering peoples and tend to think nobody would care if he disappeared.

Kross love cooking, he's good at drawing and singing, even if he was doing that in secret. He's good a hairstyle on others, often doing Rinri and Jia's hair and he's smart just like his brothers.

While Jia and Rinri love taking care of themselves (like Vil) have a ton of product in their bathroom, ten different brushes and comb, a huge collection of makeup and accessories, Kross don't. He let them dress him, just refuse to wear anything too extravagant, comb his hair and do his makeup. He don't like bright color, he prefer black so he's not easily noticable. He don't like cutting his hair because he can hide with it, but he tied them in a bun when he cook.

Because of receiving beating from as long as he remember, more and more violent as he was getting older, Kross developped (as a copping mechanisme) an addiction to pain. His full legs and arms, from ankle to thigh and from wrist to shoulder, are full of cuts. He don't try to die. He don't WANT to die (thanks his brothers, they keep telling him they need him, so he want to live for them, that's the only way). He just seek the pain.

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-!- Jump this next part if you are sensitive about r*pe attempt -!-

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With the approval of his mother, a man tried to assault Kross. Kross was terrified and panicked, grabbed a bottle and broke it on the man's head. He was a little assomed but became more violent... until Kross grabed the broken bottle and sliced that man's throat.

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-!- You can read from here -!-

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After the altercation, Kross fled from his house to his brothers. Rinri and Jia were both in Jia's house (the three mothers were out... maybe in a nightclub). They both immediately helped him. it's after that he became really scared of people's touch. The three decided this moment they couldn't live like this anymore. They took some of their thing and ran away.

Not too long before that, they heard their "father" was dead and the Heir, Hai-Lee Murong, took over the weapon making compagny... to shut it down and make a model agency instead. (Hai-Lee is actually the one who killed his father) so the triplets though the best thing to do was to seek protection to their half-brother, despite the news saying he was cold and arrogant.

They discovered Hai-Lee was indeed cold but very humble. he's just wary of peoples because his life wasn't very prettier than their. When he heard how was their life until now, everything they lived and what happened recently with Kross, he immediately took them under his wing. He used his relations to arrest the three mothers. Jia and Rinri's for negligence, and Kross' for child abuse and murder (he put the man's murder on her)

He then trained his three brothers. Because the model agency, as was the weapon factory before, is a cover. in three giant basements, Hai-Lee have a very special work. Collecting artifacts to keep them safe, far from humans who could use it for bad, and also capturing cryptids and others creatures for two reasons: first, good creatures, to keep them safe. Second, dangerous creatures, to keep humans safe. His basement is full of aliens, unicorns, mermaids, slenderman... well all type of monsters and creatures. Some of the good creatures are actually working with him. All the model, photographers, makeup artists... well every single employee of his agency is in the secret and help him, as well as his family (they have another brother) and they are all trained in three others basements, one for all type of guns, one for close-fight weapon (sword, knife...) and one for fighting sport aithout weapons.

Hai-Lee also tried to help Kross with his pain addiction, by seing psy and all, but then offered him to get piercing. So that's why he have both ears fully pierced. he also have one at the eyebrow, tongue, each n*pple, belly button and... uh... a certain place.

The triplets ALWAYS have a gun in their bag, Kross with demonic bullets, Rinri with silver bullets, Jia with angelic bullets, and have each a protective artifact Hai-Lee gave them.

Kross have a tongue piercing, a little spider. If he take it off and use the pin to trace in the air, he will open a portal to any destination he already visited. He will discover that's not working for going from a world to another.

Rinri have an ancient amulet repelling malevolent spirits and curses. He keep it hidden in his clothes.

Jia have a ring, known to purify any poison or toxin that comes into contact with the wearer, whether ingested or inflicted through a wound.

Rinri and Jia also became models for him, while Kross prefered becoming photographer.

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Now about Twisted Wonderland:

The three arrive at the same time... and in the same coffin/portal. Of course Rinri and Jia loving cute things immediately adore Grim. While Crowley was thinking of sending the two to an all-girl school instead, he was surprised to hear they were in fact boys too.

Of course Crewel and Vil like the two "girls" because they love fashion and sewing. Kross is closer with crowley, since he's really helpful and will never say no to anything, force of habit.

They are "One student" the three of them + Grim. Each taking care of the subject they're good at (Like, Rinri take care of Biology homeworks)

Each join a different club. Mountain Lovers for Rinri. Film studies for Jia. And Gargoyles research for Kross. Even Grim join Board Games.

Jia and Rinri love brushing Grim's fur and adding accessories to him and will always try to add accessories on peoples. Rinri is bossy, not in a bad way. Meaning he's good as being a leader and will totally put jerk in their place, with violence if needed. (and it's often the case)

Jia is more the type to be like "I'll destroy you on social media". Of course the two will join magicam as soon as they can to continue being cutie influencers.

I know it's not a dating sim but I have couples for them.

Rinri with the octa-trio

Jia with Idia

Kross with Malleus and Leona (yep I love making even more rivalry between thoses two XD)

No need to say, both Jia and Rinri have a lot of fun with Floyd especially. They both loves hugs and will always allow him to "squeeze" them to not let him touch Kross.

If someone touch Kross and put him in panick attack, one of the two (or the two at the same time) will respond with a punch.

Also about their uniforms... Jia and Rinri made them. And when thoses aware ask them why they made dresses if they are boys, like "You know your mothers aren't there to force you anymore?" they will both answer "I don't wear cute panties to hide them in pants!"...cause yes, both wears cute panties, gothic black or red with lace for Rinri, cutie pastel ones with childish designs for Jia. They ever wear girls' swimwears.