#and I just wanted to. uh. doodle and get away from everything.

[follineo]

I'm actively trying to figure out how to draw a chibi because why not

She was thrilled with her new cape when she first got it, isn't she cute? :]

I want to do some more of these drawings soon, I loved drawing like this!! Although I realise I still need to practise

Thanks for your attention!

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Dead in the Water | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, Dean and the reader are dickish to each other

Word Count: 9338

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You were sitting inside of a diner across from Dean, munching on the last of your fries as he circled names in an obituary. Sam had gotten up to go to the bathroom, and you and Dean refused to speak to each other unless it was to start a petty fight. 

The pretty blonde waitress returned, leaning over the table and showing off her boobs. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked Dean. 

You looked over at him as he grinned around the pen he was chewing on.

You suppressed an eye roll, addressing Wendy. “Just the check, please.”

“Okay,” she smiled at you, glancing over at Dean once more. The waitress strutted away, and Dean dropped his head down before looking over at you. 

“You know, (Y/N), we are allowed to have fun once in a while.” He pointed at the waitress as she walked into the kitchen, “That's fun.”

“You can have fun when we find your dad.” 

Dean went to say something back to you, but Sam sat down and effectively cut the conversation short.

“Hey,” he said. “What’d I miss?”

“Just your brother trying to pick up our waitress,” you stated, glaring pointedly at Dean. 

“Can it, (Y/N).” He put the newspaper in front of Sam. “Take a look at this, I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin.” He pointed to the obituary he had circled in the paper. “Last week Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.”

“A funeral?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, it's weird, they buried an empty coffin. For, uh, closure, or whatever,” the older of the two shrugged.

“Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them.”

Dean’s expression hardened. He squared his shoulders and leaned forward on his forearms on the table. “Something you want to say to me?”

You took a sip of your drink, eyes widening as you looked down and to the side of you, feeling pretty awkward. 

“The trail for Dad,” Sam started, “It's getting colder every day.”

Dean sighed. “Exactly. So what are we supposed to do?”

“I don't know. Something. Anything.”

“You know what? I'm sick of this attitude.” Dean’s tone was harsh as he spoke. “You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?”

“Yeah, I know you do, it's just—”

Dean cut his younger brother off. “I'm the one that's been with him every single day for the past two years, while you've been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?”

Sam rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he did so. 

The waitress walked past again, effectively distracting Dean from his anger toward Sam. His gaze was focused right on her ass.

You snapped your fingers a mere inch in front of his face.

He jerked back, furrowing his eyebrows at you. “What was that for?!”

“For focusing on getting your dick wet instead of the task at hand,” you replied. 

Dean went to shoot something back at you, but Sam was quick to jump in. “Alright—” he directed his next question at Dean, “—Lake Manitoc, how far?”

***

You had been driving for what felt like forever. Lake Manitoc was, in fact, pretty far from the diner you had stopped at. In between playfully bickering with Sam about the cultural impact of 1995’s Clueless and fighting with Dean over the stupidest thing, you had been doodling in your journal to keep you occupied. You were focused on drawing the wendigo from your previous hunt to the most detailed extent your memory would allow. 

Most of your sketches were placed next to journal entries about the hunts you embarked on, or you wrote around them once you had finished your drawings. The drawings themselves were halfway decent, in your opinion. However, you always wished you would’ve been able to take art classes in your youth and had some semblance of normalcy. You did all your shading and drawing with black pens you’d purchased while hopping state to state. You found the process relaxing and helpful at getting your mind off the horrors of your day to day life. 

Your shading process was interrupted by the Impala’s roaring engine stalling to a low rumble in front of what had formerly been the drowning victim’s home. 

You got out of the car and headed up the painted green steps leading to the house. The wooden stair boards creaked beneath your boots as you walked. Dean knocked on the door of the house and was greeted by a man that looked to be about your age standing there.

“Will Carlton?” Dean questioned the young man.

“Yeah, that's right.”

“I'm Agent Ford,” the older Winchester started. “This is Agent Hamill—” he gestured to Sam, “Agent Fisher—” he gestured to you, “We're with the US Wildlife Service.” He held his fake badge up for Will to see. “Can we ask you a couple questions? Maybe see the spot where your sister went down?”

“Sure,” Will nodded. He led you and the boys down to the edge of the water. “She was about a hundred yards out.” He pointed at a spot far out into the lake. “That's where she got dragged down.”

“And you're sure she didn't just drown?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. She was a varsity swimmer,” Will answered. “She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as in her own bathtub.”

The older man sitting on a bench on the wooden dock that jutted out into the lake grabbed your attention. The following interrogation was just background noise to you as you studied the man’s slumped over form. 

“So no splashing? No signs of distress?” Sam piped up.

“No, that's what I'm telling you.” Will was failing at keeping his aggravation at bay. You were sure he had already had a week full of questioning keeping the wound of his sister’s passing ripped wide open.

“Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?”

“No. Again, she was really far out there.”

“You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?”

“No, never. Why? Why, what do you think's out there?”

“We'll let you know as soon as we do,” you heard Dean say. You sucked in a breath when Dean suddenly yanked on your arm to get you to follow him to the car.

“What was that for?” you hissed, ripping your arm out of his grip.

“You wanna stop creeping on the old man and focus on the case?”

“I wasn’t creeping on him,” you replied.

“Yeah? Well, then what were you doing?”

“Just... thinking,” you answered. 

“You can think when we’re not in the middle of talkin’ to a witness,” he told you.

“Are you that much of a control freak that I can’t think when I want to?” you asked incredulously. “Grow up.” 

Dean opened his mouth to say something back to you, but Sam cut him off in an attempt to stop a fight from happening in front of the Carltons. “Okay, so. Can’t talk to Mr. Carlton.“

“Okay...” you trailed off, “So our best bet is the police station, then.”

***

The sheriff, whose name you found out was Jake, walked out from behind the desk in the police station’s lobby as he addressed you and the boys. “Now, I’m sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?”

“You sure it's accidental?” Sam challenged. “Will Carlton saw something grab his sister.”

Jake led you and the Winchesters into his office. “Like what?” He motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. "Here, sit, please.”

You took a seat in one of the chairs and Dean sat in the other. Sam leaned on the back of your chair as the sheriff continued to speak.

“There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake. There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Yeah, Dean laughed, “Right.”

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still—” Jake sat down behind his cluttered desk, leaning forward on it on his forearms, “We dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.”

“That's weird, though,” the older Winchester noted, “I mean, that's, that's the third missing body this year.”

“I know,” Jake started, “These are people from my town. These are people I care about.”

“I know,” Dean told him.

“Anyway,” the sheriff sighed, “All this...it won't be a problem much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Dean questioned.

“Well, the dam, of course,” Jake stated as if it were obvious.

“Of course, the dam. It's, uh,” Dean stuttered awkwardly, “it sprung a leak.”

You jumped in before Dean could make the situation worse. “No, it’s falling apart, remember? The feds won’t give them the money to fix it, so they opened the spillway,” you told him. 

“It’s good to see somebody does their research,” the sheriff commented. “As Federal Wildlife, you should already know that.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed.

A few quiet knocks on the door drew your attention behind you.

A pretty brunette walked into the office. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

You and Dean stood up, facing the young woman.

“I can come back later,” she said, turning to leave.

Jake’s voice stopped her movements as he stood up as well. “Gentlemen— and lady— this is my daughter.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” the older Winchester smirked.

‘Is he seriously making his voice deeper?’

“I'm Dean.” He shook the woman’s hand. You fought the urge to scoff, given he couldn’t spare you a handshake when he’d met you.

“Andrea Barr,” she smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He was eyeing her up and down. 

‘He’s still fucking smiling.’

“They're from the Wildlife Service,” her father interjected. “About the lake.”

“Oh.”

A little boy with shaggy, copper-colored hair walked out from behind Andrea, his head down low.

“Oh, hey there,” Dean grinned at the boy. “What's your name?”

The child looked up at Dean with sad eyes before turning and walking out of the room without saying a word. Andrea looked at Dean apologetically before following who you assumed was her son out of the room.

“His name is Lucas,” Jake answered for the boy. 

You watched as Andrea gave Lucas a box of crayons and ran her hand over his hair. 

“Is he okay?” Sam asked.

“My grandson's been through a lot. We all have,” the older man admitted. He went and stood by the entrance to the office, turning to face you and the boys. “Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know.” He led the three of you out of the office.

You thanked the sheriff.

Dean looked at the sheriff as he began to talk.“You know, now that you mentioned it—”

‘Oh, boy.’

He directed his attention toward Andrea, “—could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?”

“Lakefront Motel,” she told him. “Go around the corner. It's about two blocks south.”

“Two—” He feigned confusion. “Would you mind showing us?”

Andrea laughed. “You want me to walk you two blocks?”

“Not if it's any trouble,” Dean stated, his smile bright.

‘Is he for real?’

“I'm headed that way anyway,” she shrugged. She told her father she would be back to pick up Lucas at three and told Lucas that she would take him to the park before leaving with you and the boys. 

“Thanks again,” Sam nodded at Jake as he followed Andrea out of the station. 

You and Sam stayed a few paces back from Dean and Andrea as he attempted to charm the brunette. You and Sam both wanted the pavement to swallow you whole.

“So, cute kid,” you heard Dean tell her. 

“Thanks,” she replied.

‘Short, to the point, not taking any of his crap,’ you thought. ‘I like her.’

“Kids are the best, huh?” the older Winchester tried again.

Andrea glanced back at him over her shoulder, shaking her head with a smile on her face as she continued walking.

She stopped in front of a place that said “Lakefront Motel” in bold, white letters, contrasting with the red background the words were placed upon. “There it is. Like I said, two blocks.”

Sam thanked her.

She turned to address Dean. “Must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.” She walked away, calling back over her shoulder, “Enjoy your stay!”

You let the laugh you were trying to suppress burst out of your lips. “I like her!”

“‘Kids are the best'? You don't even like kids.” Sam was not missing the opportunity to rag on his brother. 

“I love kids!” his older brother argued. 

“Name three children that you even know,” Sam responded.

Dean paused to think for a moment but came up empty. You waved your hands at him in a shooing motion before walking toward the motel with Sam.

“I’m thinking!” he called after the two of you.

“Have fun going to get the car, Dean!” you called back to him as his younger brother chuckled.

“We seriously just walked two blocks and left the car at the police station all so Dean could try to hook up with the hot mom,” you sighed, shaking your head. 

You and the boys had gone to your separate motel rooms to unpack once Dean had grabbed your bags— well, his and Sam’s— making you go out to the Impala to get your own. 

Sam told you that he and Dean were going to take some time to unpack and the three of you would meet up again later. You were never one for unpacking your duffel bag on hunts since you would not be staying in one location for very long. Instead, you took the downtime you had been given to do some research.

You pulled your laptop along with a few other items out of your bag before flopping down onto the flimsy mattress and kicking your combat boots off. As you blew out a puff of air, you opened your laptop to The Lake Manitoc Tribune’s browser page. You scrolled through article after article on the drownings in the town. One article, in particular, caught your attention. The headline read “Local Man in Tragic Accident” with the story of a man named Christopher Barr written below. 

‘Christopher Barr... as in Andrea Barr?’

Your question was answered when you scrolled a little way down the page to see a picture of a soaking wet and traumatized Lucas wrapped in a towel. He was standing next to a policeman who you assumed was Lucas’s grandfather. 

You read the article in full detail. It told the story of how Lucas and his father were out swimming in the lake when Christopher was pulled beneath the surface of the water. Lucas was floating on a nearby wooden platform at the time of his father’s drowning. Two hours later, Lucas was rescued. 

‘That poor thing...’

You were no stranger to witnessing the death of a parent, so you knew how hard it must have been for Lucas. As far as you could tell from reading through loads of articles, Lucas was the only eyewitness to see whatever creature you were dealing with. This struck you as peculiar since there were so many accounts of other lake monster sightings, making you believe you were not dealing with something corporeal. 

You heard a knock on the door moments later, and you opened it to find Sam standing there. You invited him into your room, and the two of you sat at the small table by the window of the room to talk. 

“So,” he started, “we figured out what’s up with Lucas.”

“Yeah, I did too,” you responded. “That poor kid.”

“Yeah...” he trailed off, shaking his head. 

“Where’s Dean?”

“Back in our room. He’s still unpacking.”

“Jesus, how much shit does he carry around with him? He’s been unpacking for, like, forty-five minutes,” you scoffed.

“He’s slow,” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah, so I’ve gathered,” you retorted. 

You saw Sam’s eyes drift over to your bed where some of the contents of your duffel bag were scattered. He nodded at what you assumed was your open journal as he questioned, “You draw?”

“Yep,” you replied. 

“Can I see?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, leaning back in your chair to grab it off your bed. You opened it to some of your most recent drawings and let him flip through them. 

“Dude, these are really good,” he complimented you. 

You thanked him with a smile. “I did one of you the first week I met you.” You showed it to him.

“Thanks,” he grinned. “This is amazing.” He looked from the drawing back up to you. “But why’d you draw me?”

“Well, I draw people I find interesting,” you shrugged. "You and that freaky head of yours are interesting.”

“Who are the other people you drew?” He gestured to one of an older woman from a few months back. 

“Not a clue,” you answered. “Like I said, people I find interesting. Random people in bars, diners; pretty much anywhere.”

“That’s so cool,” he told you. Sam handed you the book back. 

“What about you?” you asked as you took it from him. “You have any fun hobbies? Hidden talents I should know about?”

“Not really,” he replied. “I mean, I like to read.”

“Lame,” you joked, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed. “C’mon, there’s gotta be something more fun than that.”

“Well, I liked going to the gym at Stanford and going on runs.”

“Oh, so you’re a health nut,” you chuckled.

“I guess so, yeah,” Sam laughed. 

A moment passed before you spoke again. “You remind me so much of my brother.”

He turned his head to you. “Didn’t know you had one.”

You shrugged. “I, uh, don’t talk about him much. But yeah.”

“What was his name?”

“I always called him ‘Stevie’ or ‘Bubba,’ but his name was Steven.” You smiled fondly at his memory. “He was super smart. Greatest person I’ve ever known.”

Before you could continue, you were cut off by a knock on the door. 

“You girls done in there?” Dean called. 

“I guess we are now,” you remarked. 

Sam got up and let his brother into the room as you glanced at the clock on your bedside table that read “3:15.” 

“We should probably head over to the park now,” you told the boys.

“Park? Why?” Dean inquired.

“Andrea said she was bringing Lucas there at three. He’s the only eyewitness we got, so we should probably try to talk to him,” you informed him.

“Alright, let’s go.”

***

Conveniently enough for you and the Winchesters, there was only one park in Lake Manitoc since it was such a small town. You noticed Andrea sitting on a bench on the outskirts of the small field near the playground watching over her son. He was sat on the ground by another bench a little ways off from Andrea, using the bench as a table for him to color on. Lucas had crayons, paper, and what appeared to be green army men scattered on the bench. 

“Can we join you?” Sam asked Andrea once you three had walked up next to her bench. 

The brunette looked up at you three, smiling as she stated, “I'm here with my son.” 

“Oh,” the older Winchester started, “Mind if I say hi?” Without waiting for her answer, he went over to Lucas. 

Andrea addressed you and Sam as the two of you sat on the bench next to her. “Tell your friend this whole Jerry Maguire thing is not gonna work on me.”

“I don't think that's what this is about,” Sam told her.

You watched as Dean knelt next to the young boy while Andrea and Sam talked about Christopher’s drowning. Lucas paid Dean no mind, continuing to color as Dean played with the army men on the bench briefly. He spoke a little more before grabbing a piece of paper and sitting on the bench. Dean showed off whatever he had drawn to Lucas before putting the drawing down when Lucas was unresponsive and decided to say something else to the young boy. Moments later, the older Winchester walked back over to you, Andrea, and Sam. 

Andrea was saying something about how Lucas had not spoken since his father’s death as Dean reached your group. 

“Yeah, we heard. Sorry,” Sam told her. “What are the doctors saying?”

“That it's a kind of post-traumatic stress,” she explained. 

“That can't be easy. For either of you.”

“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just...when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw...” she trailed off and shook her head. 

There was a short silence broken by Dean. “Kids are strong. You'd be surprised what they can deal with.”

You noticed Lucas get up from his seat by the bench out of the corner of your eye and make his way over to your group with a piece of construction paper in hand.

“You know,” Andrea began, “he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish—” she was caught by surprise to see Lucas suddenly next to her. “Oh, hey, sweetheart.”

Lucas ignored his mom and looked up at Dean. He handed the man the picture. 

“Thanks,” Dean nodded, looking the drawing over. “Thanks, Lucas.”

You caught a glimpse of the paper, recognizing the house in it but unable to place where you had seen it. 

“We’ll see you around,” Sam told Andrea as you and the Winchesters turned away from the Barrs.

You studied Dean as he looked over the picture. In your mind, he was still a dick but had made the child feel comfortable enough to communicate by some means with him.

“What are you looking at?” Dean interrogated you gruffly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

‘And he’s back to being a dick.’ 

***

You slept pretty well that night but woke up groggy in deep need of coffee. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and got up from your bed, moving over to your duffel bag. You grabbed a clean black shirt from your bag along with a pair of jeans and socks. You tucked the oversized shirt into your jeans and tugged on your combat boots. After finishing your morning routine, you headed out of the door. You figured it was late enough that the boys should be up, and knocked on the door to their room. Sam opened it a few seconds later. 

“I want coffee,” you stated dryly, feeling a bit like a zombie in your decaffeinated state. 

“Me too,” he answered. “You want anything, Dean?”

The older brother grunted in response from somewhere within the room.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

After grabbing the Impala’s keys, you and Sam headed over to the car.

“Is he always that cheery in the mornings?” you asked referring to Dean.

“Yeah, he’s a joy to be around when he first wakes up,” Sam responded sarcastically. The two of you got into the car and Sam began to drive away from the motel.

“Ooh, I saw a cute little coffee shop over that way.” You pointed out of the passenger’s side window. 

Sam followed your instructions, and soon the two of you were off for a drive in the neighborhood around the lake with coffees in hand. 

You straightened up in your seat when you saw an ambulance in front of the Carlton house. “Pull over.”

Sam did as told, and the two of you hopped out of the car. There were several other onlookers standing near the house. 

“What happened?” you asked one of the older women nearby.

“Oh, the young man who lived here, Will Carlton,” she began, putting a hand on her chest, “he died last night.”

“What?” Sam asked incredulously.

“The poor thing drowned.”

“How?” You gave the woman a quizzical look. 

“I don’t really understand it myself,” she laughed uncomfortably, “he drowned in the sink. His father didn’t find him till this morning.”

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath. 

“Poor Bill,” the older woman sighed, looking at the house. “First his godson in May, then his daughter, and now Will.”

“His godson?” Sam questioned.

“Christopher Barr.”

You looked up at Sam, who looked down at you with a confused expression that mirrored your own.

You said your goodbyes to the older woman and headed back to the car. 

“This just gets weirder all the time,” Sam commented as he drove the two of you away from the scene. 

“At least now we know there’s a connection to Bill Carlton,” you reminded him.

“But what did he do to deserve this?”

“Hell if I know.” 

You and Sam filled Dean in on the situation as soon as you walked into the boys’ shared motel room.

“What the hell? So you're right,” Dean said, talking to Sam, “this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else.” 

“Yeah, but what?” you asked. 

“I don't know,” he told you in an annoyed tone as if you had asked a stupid question. “Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water...” he trailed off. He straightened up and his eyes grew wider as he came to a realization. “Water that comes from the same source.”

“The lake.” You were making the same connections he was.

“Yeah.”

“Which would explain why it's upping the body count. The lake is draining. It'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time,” you added.

“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere.” Dean got up from the bed as he spoke, his stress level seeming to rise slightly. “This is gonna happen again soon.” He sat down on one of the chairs at the table near the window. 

“And we do know one other thing for sure. We know this has got something to do with Bill Carlton,” Sam mentioned. 

“Yeah, it took both his kids,” the older Winchester acknowledged.

“And this lady at the Carlton house said that Chris was Bill’s godson,” you explained. 

Dean looked up at you and Sam. “Let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.”

***

Your attempted questioning of Mr. Carlton had gone unsuccessfully. 

“My children are gone. It's...it's worse than dying. Go away. Please,” the older man dismissed you. Through the duration of his visit, he refused to look up from the boards of the wooden dock. His posture had been slumped over, and his facial expression remained solemn. 

“We’re sorry,” you told him before you followed the boys back to the car. 

“What do you think?” Sam asked.

“Aw, I think the poor guy's been through hell,” Dean replied. “I also think he's not telling us something.”

“So now what?” the younger brother inquired, leaning on the roof of the car.

“Huh,” you let out, still facing Bill’s home.

“What?” Sam asked. 

“You got Lucas’s drawing on you by any chance?” you asked Dean. 

He looked at you questioningly but pulled it out of his jacket pocket nonetheless. 

You unfolded the paper and held it up next to the Carlton house. Lucas had drawn Bill’s house on the paper, which is why the drawing looked familiar to you. 

“Maybe Bill's not the only one who knows something,” Dean commented. 

***

You and the boys were just inside the door of the Barr household, trying to get Andrea to let Dean talk to Lucas.

“I'm sorry,” Andrea expressed, “but I don't think it's a good idea.”

“I just need to talk to him. Just for a few minutes,” Dean pleaded.

“He won't say anything. What good's it gonna do?” 

“Andrea, we think more people might get hurt. We think something's happening out there,” Sam explained. 

“My husband, the others, they just drowned. That's all.” 

You could tell Andrea did not really think that. 

“If that's what you really believe, then we'll go. But if you think there's even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let me talk to your son,” Dean tried one last time.

Andrea gave in, showing you and the boys down the hall to Lucas’s room. Your group found Lucas sitting on the floor surrounded by drawings and army men. He was coloring another picture. 

Dean walked into the room and crouched down beside the boy’s setup. “You know, I, uh, I wanted to thank you for that last drawing. But the thing is, I need your help again.”

You looked over at what Lucas was drawing. It was a person in the water. You quirked an eyebrow at it as Dean placed the picture of the Carlton house in front of Lucas.

“How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen? Maybe you could nod yes or no for me,” Dean offered. 

Lucas ignored him.

“You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.”

That seemingly touched something within Lucas, who dropped the crayon and looked up at the older Winchester. 

You heard Andrea suck in a breath as Lucas handed Dean a picture of a white church, a yellow two-story house, and a little boy with a red bicycle. 

“Thanks, Lucas,” Dean said quietly.

***

“Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died,” Dean brought up as he drove along the highway. The three of you were attempting to find the place Lucas had drawn. 

“There are cases—going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies,” Sam explained.

“Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please,” Dean remarked.

You leaned forward on your elbows on the back of the leather front seat. “All right, we got another house to find.” 

“The only problem is there's about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone,” Dean brought up, his tone once again implying what he thought you were suggesting was stupid.

Sam looked at the picture, which he held in his hand. “See this church? I bet there's less than a thousand of those around here.”

“Oh, College Boy thinks he's so smart,” the older brother mocked. 

“You know, um...” Sam started. “What you said about Mom...You never told me that before.”

“It's no big deal,” Dean shrugged. 

Sam looked at him with his signature puppy dog eyes expression.

“Oh God,” the older Winchester groaned. “We're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?” 

You and the boys walked up to the yellow house that matched the one in the drawing. The house just so happened to be across the street from a church just like Lucas had drawn. 

You were greeted at the door by a petite old woman. “Hello,” she smiled.

“Hi,” you grinned back. “I’m (Y/N), this is Sam and Dean—” you gestured between the two boys, “—we just have a question for you.”

“Come in, come in.” She was incredibly welcoming as she allowed you and the Winchesters into her home.

“We're sorry to bother you, ma'am,” Dean began, “but does a little boy live here, by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle.”

The woman’s formerly cheery disposition suddenly shifted to solemn. “No sir. Not for a very long time.” She looked over at a picture of a smiling little boy on a table in the living room. “Peter's been gone for thirty-five years now.” She turned back to you and the boys. “The police never— I never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared.” The woman’s voice wavered as she spoke.

Your eyebrows turned upwards out of sympathy for her. 

Sam nudged your elbow and pointed out toy soldiers sitting on one of the side tables. 

“Losing him—you know, it's...it's worse than dying.” The woman echoed Bill Carlton’s earlier statement. 

“Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?” the older Winchester question. 

“He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up,” the woman whimpered. 

Dean picked up a picture off of a mirror in the room. It was of two little boys in boy scout uniforms, one of them being Peter with his red bicycle. “Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, nineteen seventy,” Dean read from the back of the photo. 

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Sam stated softly. “We’ll just be going now. Thank you for your time.” He and his brother turned to head out of the door.

The woman turned away, her sniffles tugging on your heartstrings as you went to follow the boys. 

“Mrs. Sweeney?” 

She turned to you, as did the boys, who watched from the door. 

“Can I give you a hug?”

She seemed surprised by your question but accepted your offer nonetheless. As soon as you wrapped your arms around her, she broke down into sobs.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered to her. 

She nodded into your shoulder as a response. 

After another moment, you released her and rubbed up and down her arms. “It’ll be okay.”

She nodded once more. 

You and the boys showed yourselves out. None of you said a word until about halfway through the drive.

Sam was the one to break the silence. “Okay, this little boy Peter Sweeney vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton somehow.”

“Yeah, Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something, huh?” Dean mentioned.

“And Bill, the people he loves, they're all getting punished.”

“So what if Bill did something to Peter?”

“What if Bill killed him?”

“Peter's spirit would be furious. It'd want revenge. It's possible.” Dean’s eyes flickered to yours in the rearview mirror. “This is probably the quietest I’ve heard you since I met you, (Y/N). Wanna share what you’re thinkin’ about with the class?”

“Like you give a shit,” you grumbled back.

“I was trying to, but fine, keep being a bitch.”

You could not believe Dean. “What, you treat me like I’m stupid, act like a dick to me for weeks, and suddenly I’m supposed to believe you’re genuinely concerned?” 

“Forget I asked.”

The Impala pulled in front of the Carlton house, and to your surprise, you had not seen Bill sitting on the dock. You and the Winchesters got out of the car, calling out to Mr. Carlton.

You wheeled around when you heard the roar of what sounded like a boat engine. 

“Guys?” you called to the boys behind you when you saw Bill driving his boat out into the lake. 

You immediately broke out into a sprint, yelling for the man to turn his boat around. 

Bill turned his head to look at you three standing at the edge of the dock but continued driving out. As soon as he turned his head back around, the water beneath the boat sprang up as if a bomb had been blown up beneath the surface. Bill’s boat flipped over into the water, and neither Bill nor the boat ever resurfaced.

You and the boys called Jake to the scene of Bill Carlton’s disappearance. Neighbors gathered around the lake, looking for signs of Bill, the boat, or whatever had taken him down. After Jake found nothing and questioned the neighbors who witnessed what had happened, he asked you and the Winchesters to head back to the station with him. 

Once inside the station, you spotted Andrea and Lucas sitting behind the desk in the police station’s lobby. 

When the young woman saw you, she bounced up and put the bag that was in her hands on the seat behind her. “Sam, Dean, (Y/N), I didn’t expect to see you here. 

Jake looked between your group and Andrea. “So now you're on a first-name basis,” he scoffed. “What are you doing here?” He directed the question to his daughter.

“I brought you dinner,” she explained. 

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, I don't really have the time.” He shook his head and moved past her to head into his office, you and the boys hot on his tail.

The sound of Andrea’s voice made all four of you stop and turn around. “I heard about Bill Carlton. Is it true? Is something going on with the lake?”

“Right now we don't know what the truth is,” Jake relayed. “But I think it might be better if you and Lucas went on home.”

As soon as the older man mentioned Lucas going home, the little boy jumped up with a panicked look on his face. He whined and tugged on Dean’s arm as Andrea and Jake tried to comfort him. 

Andrea managed to get her son off of Dean and pull him out of the office. You watched the pair as they left, and noticed Lucas’s eyes never left Dean.

The sheriff threw his jacket onto a chair and scrubbed a hand through his hair as he walked into the office.

You looked at Sam and the two of you supposed you were to follow Jake.

You sat in one chair, Dean sat in the other, and Sam leaned on the back of your chair just as had happened before. 

The older man leaned on the front of his desk in front of your trio. “Okay, just so I'm clear, you see,” Jake trailed off, recovering a moment later, “something attack Bill's boat, sending Bill—who is a very good swimmer, by the way—into the drink, and you never see him again?”

“Yep, that about sums it up,” you replied.

“And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake? And what you're describing is impossible? And you're not really Wildlife Service?” Jake casually mentioned.

You managed to keep a poker face on, but apparently, Dean gave you away.

“That's right, I checked. Department's never heard of you three.”

“See, now, we can explain that—” Dean started, but was immediately cut off by the officer. 

“Enough. Please. The only reason you're breathing free air is one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton's disappearance. Or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again.” Jake jutted his finger in your face as he spoke, his tone harsh.

“Door number two is... rather appealing.” You were trying to keep up your plucky attitude despite your circumstances.

“That's the one I'd pick,” he said sharply. 

***

You had your head against the window, legs tossed to the side of you as the hum of the Impala’s engine was slowly lulling you to sleep.

Sam’s voice pulled you out of your haze. “Green.”

“What?” Dean asked. Apparently, he had been in a daze, too.

‘Not good considering this asshole’s the one driving.’

“Light's green,” Sam elaborated. 

Dean turned right.

“Uh, the interstate's the other way,” you yawned.

“I know.”

“Oh-kay—” you dragged out the word, “—so why are you heading back to Lake Manitoc?”

“Cause I think we still got more work to do,” he responded.

“But Dean, this job, I think it’s over,” Sam interjected.

“I'm not so sure,” Dean replied shortly. 

Sam gave his brother more pushback. “If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest.”

“All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt?” Dean argued.

“But why would you think that?” 

“Because Lucas was really scared.”

‘Can’t argue with him there.’

The younger Winchester was caught by surprise. “That's what this is about?” 

“I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay.” Dean tried to play off his concern nonchalantly, but you could see right through the act.

‘Aw, he does have a heart.’

“Y’know, I’m actually with Dean on this one,” you declared. 

Dean quirked a brow at you in the rearview mirror, but you simply shrugged at him.

“Who are you two? And what have you done with my brother and (Y/N)?” Sam quipped sarcastically, glancing between you and his brother with a confused expression.

There was a slight pause before both you and Dean said in unison, “Shut up.”

***

“Are you sure about this?” Sam looked around as you and the Winchesters stood on the front porch of the Barr house. “It's pretty late, man.”

Dean ignored him, ringing the doorbell. Immediately it opened to reveal a panicked Lucas.

“Lucas? Lucas!” Dean called after the boy as he took off into the house. 

You followed behind Dean as all four of you sprinted through the house. You heard a splash beneath your feet and realized water was pouring down the stairs in front of you. Lucas started to pound on the door that led to where the water was coming from, which you assumed was a bathroom. 

Dean pulled Lucas out of the way just before you gave a powerful kick to the door, effectively knocking it in. 

Inside the bathroom, the tub was filled to the brim with murky, brown water. You jumped out of the way to let Sam try to pull Andrea out of there, knowing he would be a better fit for the job than you were. 

Sam eventually managed to pull her out of the bathtub. They landed with Sam on his back and Andrea on top of him, sobbing and coughing up water. You immediately offered the woman a towel you had found and wrapped her in it.

Lucas threw Dean off of him and immediately wrapped his arms around his mom. 

Happy to see that she was okay, you and the boys let Andrea have some privacy to get dressed. After she had done that, she and Sam went into the living room to talk while you and Dean looked for a connection to Peter Sweeney. 

You found a bookshelf full of photo albums and began giving the labels a quick once-over. You found one with “Jake— 12 years old” scrawled across the white label of the brown cover. You flipped to a page with pictures of the same Boy Scout troop that Peter Sweeney seemed to have been in from that picture you saw at the Sweeney house. You shut the book on your finger, holding your spot in the photo album.

“Whatcha got?” Dean asked.

“You’ll see.” You walked past him back into the living room. You opened the photo album to the page your finger was tabbing, putting the book in front of Andrea on the coffee table. “You recognize the kids in these pictures?”

She seemed caught off-guard, and you felt bad for potentially startling her after the night she had had. 

“What? Um, no.” She took a pause. “I mean, except that's my dad right there. He must have been about twelve in these pictures.” The brunette dragged her finger across the page gesturing to her dad as a young boy. Jake was standing next to who you recognized as Peter Sweeney in several of the pictures.

“Chris Barr's drowning,” Dean spoke up. “The connection wasn't to Bill Carlton. It must have been to the sheriff.”

“Bill and the sheriff,” the younger man corrected his brother, “they were both involved with Peter.”

“What about Chris? My dad—what are you talking about?” Andrea was looking at the three of you like you were crazy.

“Lucas?” Dean’s voice brought your attention to the little boy staring out of the window. “Lucas, what is it?”

Lucas kept his gaze focused outside as he walked out of the door. Andrea continued to call after Lucas as you all followed him outside. Lucas stopped and looked at the ground and then up at the older Winchester, who stood beside him.

Dean faced Andrea. “You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there, okay?”

Andrea did as told, pulling her son away from your trio. 

You turned to the brothers. “You guys still have those shovels in the trunk?” 

“Keep workin’ hard over there, sweetheart,” Dean deadpanned. 

You pushed yourself off of the tree you were leaning against. “Dude, you only had two shovels and you were too busy trying to be macho and digging whatever’s down there up yourself to let me use one of them,” you protested. “So don’t tell me shit about ‘working hard.’ But by all means—” you then started to use a mocking baby voice, “—if Dean is getting a wittle too sweaty, I’d be happy to take his pwace.”

“Nope. I got it.”

You loved using his stubbornness against him. “So hush your mouth.”

He glared back at you and plunged his shovel back into the dirt when the metal part of the shovel hit another piece of metal. You and Dean both looked down at what laid beneath the ground and you helped the boys pull the object out of the dirt. 

“Peter’s bike,” Sam remarked.

You heard a gun cock behind your head before feeling the barrel pressed squarely on the back of it. “Who are you?” 

‘Jake.’

The boys slowly turned around.

“Put the gun down, Jake,” Sam pleaded. 

Both he and Dean dropped their shovels. 

“How did you know that was there?” The sheriff demanded.

The older Winchester did not answer his question. “What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake, and then buried the bike? You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.”

“I don't know what the hell you're talking about.” The sheriff’s lie was not even in the ballpark of convincing.

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty-five years ago. That's what the hell I'm talking about.”

“Dad!” Andrea yelled, running up to the altercation.

“And now you got one seriously pissed-off spirit,” Dean continued, keeping his eyes trained on Jake. 

“Peter’s gonna get everyone you love— Lucas, Andrea— and drag their bodies god knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter’s mom felt. And then it’s gonna take you. It won’t stop until it does,” you informed him, trying to keep your voice even despite the cold chill running down your spine emanating from the spot where the gun met your head. 

Jake pressed the gun further into your skull. “Yeah, and how do you know that?”

“Because that's exactly what it did to Bill Carlton,” you told the older man.

“Listen to yourselves, all of you. You're insane!” he chided. 

Dean scoffed. “I don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us. But if we're gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake.” 

“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea interrupted, her voice shaking.

“No,” her father lied. “Don't listen to them. They're liars and they're dangerous.”

The brunette wasn’t having it. “Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me.”

A pause followed.

“Tell me you—you didn't kill anyone,” Andrea pleaded.

No response came once again. You felt the gun behind your head drop away. You rushed over to Sam and Dean, your adrenaline still keeping your breath in a vice grip. You could see the guilt beginning to overtake Jake’s features. 

“Oh my God,” Andrea breathed.

“Billy and I were at the lake,” Jake started to explain. “Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time, it got rough. We were holding his head under the water. We didn't mean to. But we held him under too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank.” 

‘Great,’ you thought. ‘Makes our job so much easier.’

Jake’s focus remained on his daughter. “Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake. But, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost? It's not rational.”

Dean was done with Jake’s skeptical attitude. “All right, listen to me, all of you. We need to get you away from this lake, as far as we can, right now.”

Andrea turned her head and immediately cried, “Lucas!”

You turned your head in the direction she was looking to see the little boy leaning over the side of the lake reaching for something.

You took off, following close behind Jake as you ran. You spotted Lucas get pulled into the water by something, causing you to cry out his name. You ran off the solid ground onto the dock, leaping into the water once you reached the edge of the platform. You pulled yourself deep into the lake, trying your best to make out the shape of Lucas or the spirit of Peter. You went back up to the surface, taking in a deep breath. You looked over to Andrea on the dock, and she stared back at you with a panicked expression. You shook your head, diving back below the surface.

While you did not see Lucas, you did see a boy with skin pale gray and tattered clothing rising to the surface a mere few feet from you. You flinched back, the appearance of Peter’s spirit catching you off-guard. It grabbed Jake, who you just noticed had gone into the water and began pulling him under. You sprang into action, swimming as fast as you could over to where Jake was being pulled down. You reached your hand down, trying to grab him, but. it was too late. You were running out of air, and because the water below was getting blacker as you went deeper, you could not see Jake anymore.

You clawed your way back to the surface, gasping for air when you came up. Andrea looked at you frantically, and you shook your head once more. She screamed “No!” just before splashing coming from behind you on the right caught your attention. You looked behind you to see Dean holding an unconscious Lucas to his chest. The poor little boy’s head was lying on Dean’s shoulder limply, and you and Sam swam to help him. Sam took Lucas ashore, and you checked him over to see if he would need CPR. Once you determined that he would, you immediately set to work. You were able to revive him with two cycles of rescue breaths and chest compressions. He immediately coughed up water as air filled his lungs once more. You got out of Andrea’s way and let her hug her son. 

The scene before you— Andrea on her knees, crying and hugging her rescued son— was the reason why you did what you did. Seeing families reunited and given a temporary happy ending was what made you love hunting, despite how gruesome the job could get at times. You figured that even though your life was so screwed to hell, at least you could save the lives of others.

Once you and the boys had changed clothes, dried off, and packed up, you began loading your stuff into the car. Dean clearly had something on his mind, and you were not the only one to notice.

“Look, we're not gonna save everybody,” Sam reminded his brother, having figured out what Dean was mulling over.

“I know." His voice was distant. 

“Sam, Dean, (Y/N),” you heard Andrea call. 

You looked up to see the young woman walking toward you with Lucas, who carried a tray of food wrapped in cellophane.

You all walked toward each other, stopping once you had met in the middle. 

“We're glad we caught you. We just, um, we made you lunch for the road,” Andrea smiled. “Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself.”

“Can I give it to them now?” Lucas asked his mom.

The sound of his voice made you smile. 

“Of course.” The young woman kissed her son’s head. 

“Come on, Lucas, let's load this into the car.” Dean led Lucas over to the car, and you stayed with Sam to talk to Andrea.

“How you holding up?” the younger brother asked her.

“It's just gonna take a long time to sort through everything, you know?”

“Andrea, I'm sorry,” Sam sighed.

Andrea shook her head. “You saved my son. I can't ask for more than that. Dad loved me. He loved Lucas. No matter what he did, I just have to hold on to that.”

You heard Dean talking to Lucas from behind you, and you turned around to face them as Dean spoke. “All right, if you're gonna be talking now, this is a very important phrase, so I want you to repeat it one more time.”

“Zeppelin rules!” the boy cheered.

Dean cracked a genuine grin. “That's right. Up high.”

The two boys high-fived as you, Sam, and Andrea began walking over to them.

“You take care of your mom, okay?” Dean told Lucas.

“All right.”

Andrea leaned over the open door of the Impala that Dean stood behind and pressed her lips to his.

“Thank you,” she said to him.

You rolled your eyes, pissed at him for his ability to pick up whoever he wanted. 

He scratched his head, walking around to the other side of the car. “Sam, (Y/N), move your asses. We're gonna run out of daylight before we hit the road.”

You got into the seat behind Dean, waving to Andrea and Lucas who were waving back at you as Dean backed the Impala out of its parking spot.

Once you were on the road, you spoke up over the music. “Y’know, I’m not dissin’ on Zeppelin because I love them, but there were so many other amazing bands that ‘rule’ that you could’ve told Lucas about.”

Dean groaned. “Really? You’re picking a fight with me about that?”

“I’m not picking a fight, I’m giving my honest opinion,” you replied.

“Okay, well, who would you ‘ve told Lucas about?” he questioned.

“Um, how ‘bout Fleetwood Mac, Metallica, Guns ‘n’ Roses, Blondie, Black Sabbath, need I go on?”

“I cannot believe you just said Fleetwood Mac is better than Zeppelin,” he stated incredulously.

“It’s fucking Stevie Nicks, dude, of course Fleetwood’s better than Zeppelin,” you argued. “She’s a goddess.”

Dean turned left onto the Interstate, picking up the Impala’s speed. “Robert Plant’s better.”

“Yeah, no,” you responded dryly. 

Instead of responding verbally, Dean put one of his Led Zeppelin tapes into the cassette player and cranked the volume up. “What’d you say? Can’t hear you over the greatest band of all time!”

For the first time since you met him, you genuinely laughed at him. “You are such an idiot!” 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireaderr @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylorr @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel

[xitsensunmoon]

Biting the Hand That Feeds au FAQ (Vampires + donor au)

Any general content warnings for bhtf au?

Yes. A normal amount of fnaf warnings, a normal amount of vampire warnings. For someone who doesn't know I elaborate... For vampire stuff, the most obvious ones are blood, hypnosis, bites, and animalistic behaviour. Less obvious - slightly suggestive themes. For fnaf - fnaf's usual violence, dark themes, a drop of gore and murders. The lore is uh. Very dark. I will try to decrease the amount of all of the cruelty but man. People who know, know how hard it will be. But I will tag everything properly so don't worry.

Is there a fic for your au?

No. And currently, I'm not even planning on writing one.

How do I find the story?

For now, we have two comics that are directly connected and one that doesn't have a specific place in the story but is about canonical lore.

[ 1 ] - [ 2 ] - [ x ]

In future, we will have more and I probably absolutely will forget to update this post so I recommend checking the tags. Here's the tag list

Tip: don't click the tag. Tumblr hides half of the results. Type it in the blog's search instead :)

Are the comics the only canonical thing about au?

No! I answer asks and draw a lot of doodles with bhtf au all the time and 90% of them are canon. You can, yet again, find everything in the tag list linked in the previous question.

Can I draw/write fan stuff for your au?

Yes, please!! I'm always happy to see fanart and fan writings and literally everything that you do! Just tag me when you post and use a fanart or fanwriting tag for au specifically so I don't miss it!

Can you include my characters in your story?

No, unfortunately, I cannot. The story is already written and I don't have any "space" for background characters either. Maybe it will change but currently, things are like this.

I asked a question with an interaction with my characters and I never got an answer, why?

I don't accept such requests. I'm not ready to spend my time drawing other people's characters for free(if I personally don't want to, of course)

Is there any limit to how many questions I can ask?

No, not at all! You can ask all you want just please make sure your question wasn't answered before. There is a big possibility I will just simply delete it if it was answered beforehand many times. Check the ask tag for it.

What about limitations? Any boundaries?

Please no questions about tickling🧍‍♀️ I got so many of those it already makes me uncomfortable. And for some reason, a lot of people send asks that include violence towards my characters and while I don't really feel uncomfortable with this I just idk what to answer and why are you even doing this lmao

What questions I should avoid?

Well, not really avoid but I will mention it anyway.

The things I have planned to draw right now:

- Sun and Moon and y/n's first meeting

- The creation of Sun&Moon

- Why S&M are sensitive to light and darkness

- How they hunt

So no need to ask me about these. I will show it, I promise.

What about sexual themes?

I understand that I post a lot of suggestive stuff and it may appear I allow such a thing but no.

You can create content with it tho, I don't mind for the most part. Just be ready that I may not reblog it, as my Tumblr is a SFW place. It's always 50/50.

Romantic themes?

I do draw some kisses and cuddles when I feel like it and you of course can send ideas for cute interactions but in the story we're very far away from it lol.

My question gets ignored even though I followed everything that you mentioned here. Why?

Answered in main FAQ.

Can I share the ideas for your au with you?

YES!!! Yes, yes and yes! I'm very open to that, like yes! The only thing that I definitely want to mention - you should expect that I actually can take your ideas and use them. Some people are protective of their ideas so if you're like this you probably should not share them with me :)

The information that you're using for your au is wrong.

Happens sometimes yeah. I know nothing about any medical stuff for y/n so I usually improvise. After all it's an au about robotic vampires man, this information is absolutely wrong. But! You're free to drop feedback/constructive criticism in my inbox!

Will be updated later

[neathyingenue]

What’s been going on with Silvia?

An update ft. sticky note doodles

After hearing that her dear friend the Six-Finger’d Scrimshander was living somewhere that wasn’t a house, Silvia has installed it in the guest room of her Side-Streets flat, where they’ve been getting along swimmingly.

Her professional life is going great! Ever since she and Lord Oswald J. Emerson struck a bargain—he writes silly plays, Silvia writes silly reviews, they create public beef that sells tickets and papers—the Prodigal Plebian has practically been printing itself.

Silvia’s also made a new friend, one Youthful Naturalist! She’s been lending him a hand where she can—trying to convince him to move out of his rookery, and keeping her kitchen stocked with jellied eels should he come over, and taking him wherever he wants to go in her zee-clipper.

In the meantime, she’s been growing frustrated with her lack of progress regarding her research on the Third City. If you’ve been with Silvia for a while, you’ll recall that she has been learning Yucatec Maya and chasing leads to discover if there are any pockets of Third City inhabitants untouched by colonialism where she could convince her remaining dad to move with her. (Hm? Inherently contradictory logic? What inherently contradictory logic?)

Enter the Sixth Coil and the freed captives. Several of them are from the original Third City. Silvia follows them to Venderbight, uses her broken Yucatec Maya to explain what she’s after—

They tell her: There’s no such place as you’re describing. We hang around in Venderbight, but even now, there’s nowhere untouched by the Masters, by London.

Silvia presses them—No, there has to be, maybe you just don’t want me there? Why not? Why won’t you let me in?? I promise I’m trustworthy, I won’t tell—

And she finally realizes that she sounds like a fucking conquistador.

Welp! No better cure for a crumbling belief system and self-perception than to zail as far away from your problems as possible! She and the Youthful Naturalist fuck off for a while and that’s when the Delight gets wind of them.

Speaking of wind. The Wax-Wind catches up with Silvia’s ship. Silvia gets a bad burn across the right side of her neck and shoulders.

Not to just rehash everything that happens ever in Evolution, but, uh, shit hits the fan, Silvia gets pretty traumatized. But secretly she’d glad that she’s helping the Youthful Naturalist, proud of both of them. Her search for precolonial Atlantis failed. But here’s another basket to put some eggs in. If they crack the secret to life and death, well, no one else will have to die like Silvia’s other dad, they can have all the time in the world to create their own utopia.

And the other basket of eggs is the Marvellous. She’s been so busy she’s scarcely had time to think of it [I’ve been on the lodging grind for 3+ months ;_;]. But can’t she just win and make the Masters let go of everything, set everyone free, end imperialism, or whatever? That’s how it works, right?

Oh, by the way, no one knows she’s been doing this shit. Not her father-ish figures, not her flatmate, not her partner, not her best friend, not her newspaper employees. Just her crew, and they are pretty pissed at her right now, so she’s been avoiding them.

Around this time, Silvia gets a letter from Shaw (one such father-ish figure) explaining about Nemesis and saying he might not make it back from his final revenge quest.

ALSO around this time (or maybe right after) Silvia gets what really sounds like a last will and testament from Jones (other father-ish figure).

And ALSO also around this time, Brett (Silvia’s best friend) is recovering from learning of the death of his partner.

Then Silvia forgets to be careful, and Caoimhe (her partner) sees her burns and asks what’s going on. She doesn’t buy Silvia’s story about a cooking accident she forgot to tell Caoimhe about (Silvia never cooks), and she really doesn’t appreciate that Silvia tried to lie. Caoimhe gives Silvia the chance to come clean.

So it all comes out. The Marvellous. The scientific voyages. The experimental surgeries. The multiple supernatural enemies. Caoimhe is appalled that Silvia would be taking all these risks without saying a single word—she thought the most dangerous shit Silvia was involved with was printing ill-advised articles about powerful people. Caoimhe’s extraordinarily patient and supportive, but Silvia didn’t even tell her!

The breach of trust frays at their relationship and drags Silvia further into guilt and despair, especially because Silvia’s support network is spread rather thin at the moment!

So… here we are. Silvia’s standing in the crumbling ruins of her relationships and ideals. She needs to help this 20-year-old cheat death, and then she needs to beat a bat at cards, and she’s so, so sad about everything.

This is it folks! We've hit rock bottom! Even I'm not sure how she's getting out of this one :) :) If you made it this far, thanks for reading <3

[The Six-Finger'd Scrimshander - @T6FS; Lord Oswald J. Emerson - @lord-emerson; August Shaw - @zeebreezin; Robin Jones - @viric-dreams; Brett Heroux - @thedandy-detective; Caoimhe Coledoc - @the-insouciant-scientist]

[leonenjoyer69]

The sillies :3 and the both colored and not bc I really really like the sketch for this one :3 my old emo playlist has recently creeped back into my life and ofc Migraine by Tøp hits me with this wonderful idea. Also, fun fact, the physical drawing was originally just supposed to be a concept doodle that I was gonna redraw on a different paper but I uh, got carried away..

Anyways!!! Little info dump below the cut on the relationship between the 3 of them bc @dustmint asked about it and I thought I'd share my response here too, teehee

OKAY, SO, HOW JEKYLL AND HYDE ACT TOWARDS HARRY:

I do firmly believe that Hyde fights Harry more Aggressively and outright, on board to do whatever it takes to get rid of him (or at least out of control) , while Jekyll took a bit more convincing (mostly once he was done freaking out over the fact that he's a fraction of a person just like Hyde is). He definitely also hates Harry, but in a more subtle, silent way >:3 instead sorta challenging Harry mentally as opposed to physically, like Hyde wishes to. He's generally more observant and tries to strike when he thinks it best, sometimes his emotions get the best of him tho.

MORE IN DEPTH:

So, once they figure out what/who Harry is from his lil journals in the mind scape, Jekyll may or may not have an identity crisis (he definitely does) but once he kinda gets through that he just feels bad for Harry, being locked away in the mind scape so long and dealing with everything there and such. Plus, Harry is seemingly their whole parts (their previously whole parts, at the least), so Jekyll certainly doesn't want him to die or anything. Hyde doesn't really feel too strongly about him right off the bat, more so just annoyed that Harry took control and now he's stuck in the mind scape with Jekyll.

Though!! Things change once Harry kinda shows his resentment towards the two, saying that he wouldn't be letting them out anytime soon, and revealing how he plans to reverse the potion. This immediately sends Hyde into feral dog mode, trying to use literally everything he can to absolutely break Harry and gain control back. Jekyll is still a bit reluctant for a while, but eventually starts siding more with Hyde, plotting how to gain control back or take care of Harry without killing all of them, bc ofc they don't wanna die.

But yeah, between sending out nightmares, forcing the heart palpitations and such by fighting, or just being a general nuisance (most all of which are usually by Hyde) it's not really surprising that the resentment Harry already had towards them grows lmao.

He does eventually find out that those little phantom strings he can still see around his wrists and such can kinda be used to vaguely control/subdue his other halves. Yeah, he threatens them a lot.

Also!!! Jekyll and Hyde start getting along better, but definitely still bicker and shit occasionally (which tends to piss Harry off a bit, since he's been so fed up with their fighting and refusing to be one for so long, it just ticks him off very easily). Jekyll also feels really jealous of Harry bc of how he seems to be able to fix things so easily (and his blooming relationship with Lanyon ofc)

Anyways!! That's all I got for now lmao. Lots of character development for Harry lately. Man, I really need to start doing stuff with Elias again 💀

Oh also here's a colored version where they're not ghostly:

[stinkysam]

Buggy the Clown - This is you.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "Imagine if you will a scenario where a character finds out the reader is an artist (or has knowledge of it) and mentions it in passing or brags about it to everyone else. Then, per everyone's curiosity the reader is forced to pull the sketchbook out from his bag and is like "okay but I'll only show you the pages *I* like" before someone immediately wrestles it out from his grasp (and trust me I played tug-o-war for a good five seconds). Nothing too embarrassing was in it thank goodness but mayhaps there's a fluffy twist where it turns out the reader has numerous doodles or candid sketches of the person he likes in there? Cue a confession sequence lolol" - @intrepid-captain

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

You had briefly mentioned to Mohji you liked to draw in your spare time. He repeated it to Cabaji, who told Alvida you knew how to draw. And Alvida told the others she saw your drawings -she saw one from afar- and that they were the prettiest and most beautiful things.

And of course, it ended up falling in your captain's ears who now wanted to see them too.

But you did everything you could to hide your sketchbooks away from him.

Not because you weren't confident in your art, but because in all of your sketchbooks there was his face every few pages. If not on almost all of them.

You had clearly underestimated him. Or overestimated, as he sneaked into your room to rummage through your things.

"Captain !" You called out, making him jump. "There's a creep in my room ! Ah. No, it's just you." You joked as you watched him from the entrance of your tent.

"Eeeh !? Do I look like a creep !?" He stomped, his hands flying to your direction to shake you by the collar but you grabbed them first.

"We're holding hands !" You say, acting shy, but there's nothing shy about your sly smile. "What are you looking for ?" You ask, laughing a bit at his unamused expression, and get in, throwing him back his hands.

"Your sketchbook." He simply said and you froze as he went back to searching, looking under your pillow.

"Why ?" You smiled nervously.

"Can't I be interested in what my freaks do in their spare time ?"

"I… guess… ?"

"Well then ? Where it is ?"

"Uh… okay, but only the pages I want, okay ?"

He frowns and raises an eyebrow, not understanding why such a rule.

"Okay." He said, but you could tell he was lying.

"Turn around. I don't want you to see where I hide 'em."

He huffed, really not liking all those rules but accepted anyway, turning around and crossing his arms as his hands flew to hide his eyes.

"Fine."

Quickly you took the pillowcase from under your bed, opening it to reveal a bunch of sketchbooks. You chose the first one, the oldest, where you were still in denial of your feelings for him so there wasn't as much art of him as in nowadays' sketchbook and put back the others under your bed.

"Are you done yet ?" He grumbled, not wanting to wait any longer.

"Yeah." You say, opening it to a certain page.

He stared at it, grabbing the sketchbook while you still held it up. He said nothing, his eyes analyzing every little thing on your drawing. It was Mohji with a big lion. God it was beautiful. Alvida was right. And it reminded him he wanted that fucking lion.

He tried to turn the page but you stopped him, going to another page instead. He frowned, not understanding and not liking the restriction, clicking his tongue in distaste.

When he looked at you, you smiled as innocently as you could.

He watched your sketches this time, the Big Top from several angles. Like a plan.

"Fuck, you're even good at perspective ?" He said and you snorted.

He tried to turn the page once again but you turned it to another one. A realistic portrait of Alvida.

His eyes twitched. This was getting on his nerves. Not only he can't see everything but you draw "some other" captain ? And not even him ?

He began to pull on your sketchbook and quickly you did the same, followed by five good seconds of silent struggling before one of his hands let go of it to stab a finger in your side. Making you yelp and pull away, giving him free access to your drawings.

"Ahhh !" He laughed, his hands flying above your reach, turning pages and pages how he wanted. Until he stopped at a colored page. A red thing catching his eyes. His… nose.

More accurately, a watercolor work of his face.

He stared at it, bringing the sketchbook closer to his face as you hid yours with your clothes.

There was a silence as he admired himself. Why did he look so… good ?

He turned the page again and…

There were multiple portraits of himself. Sketches of his eyes, his nose, his lips, there even were comments on his make-up when he changed it. It was scribbled and hard to read but they were compliments. Compliments you never said to him.

His heart was beating loudly as he stared at himself and your pretty words.

He turned to you.

"Why did you never tell me this ?"

You finally looked at him and shrugged. Buggy closed the sketchbook.

"Can you… draw me. With… a normal nose ?" He asked quietly, looking into your eyes, hoping you'd say yes and let him see how he would be if he didn't have this atrocious and ridiculous nose. Would he look prettier ?

You stare back, a bit taken aback and you don't know how to answer for a moment.

"No." You finally say, but your tone sounds almost insulted.

He frowned immediately, not pleased by your answer.

"What, can't-"

"I like your nose." You say, ignoring him.

You stare at each other in silence, and you continue.

"I know you don't like your nose. Always thinking we're talking about it. But I like it." You step closer, and he looks at your face for any sign of lie, mockery. But there is none. "I don't want to change it. I don't want to change your face or anything about you."

His heart almost melts at your words. But he's still mad you won't grant him what he's asking. It's just one small drawing. What bad could it do ?

He opens his mouth to talk but you cut him off.

"No. I won't obey this order. I won't help you compare yourself to a drawing of someone who looks like you with a different nose. I'm not gonna help your insecurities."

He scoffs and reopens the sketchbook, pointing at drawings of him. Him ? Insecure ? Fine, let's use that word then.

"How can I not be insecure when you draw me like this !?"

"What ?" You stared at him, confused. "You think I add some sort of magic to make you look more handsome or prettier ? Buggy, that's how you look, I'm just putting it on paper. But thank you, I accept the compliment."

"No, you-"

"You are handsome. Buggy. You're the prettiest man I've ever laid my eyes on." You say, trying to ignore your heart beating crazily in your chest.

His was beating just as fast and loudly as he stared at you, your words slowly sinking in.

You grabbed the sketchbook, turning to another page of him.

"This is you."

You bent down, throwing it on the bed and grabbing the pillowcase with your other sketchbooks inside before pushing them into his arms.

"Here. Take these. You're in it too. You."

He looked at them, not daring to open them and looked back at you. Unsure of what to say.

"Keep them."

"No, they're-"

"I insist, captain."

"Why are you doing this ? Why are you being so…" He grimaced, unsure of how to finish his sentence.

You hesitated for a few seconds.

"Because I love you." You said with a shrug. "I thought that was obvious." You chuckled. "Or it'll be once you open these. It's a bit embarrassing how much you're in it."

He smiles.

"You could've just said you don't take commissions. No need to get sappy on me."

You snort.

"To never get paid ?"

"I would've paid you." He said, almost offended. "Can I really keep them ?"

"Yeah."

[fishsticksloser]

Hi :> Can i request the rise turtles confessing to the reader? Like in the middle of their confession they just begin to babble a lot, but Then the reader just gives them a short kiss on the lips and say “you talk to much <3” and just casually walks away

Love Confessions

RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: aged up, mutual pinning, confession, awkwardness, eventual fluff, not written as headcanons, swearing

A/N: I am projecting so hard rn... These are long, so I put it behind a Read More to condense. :)

Donnie

You and Donnie got along really well. You'd developed quite the crush on him and he you although he wouldn't tell you that. He took you out all the time, to find mystic stuff or just search for good scrap metal he could use. Sure, most people wouldn't think anything of it, but it was a lot of fun.

"This isn't easy for me. I've never... Not like this. But... You matter to me. A lot." Donnie says as you sift through a pile of scrap.

"You matter a lot to me too, Donnie." You smile, passing him a fairly good sized piece.

"My brothers get so annoyed because of how much I talk about you." That caught your attention. You stop what you're doing, turning to him. "Stop smiling at me like that... You're going to make me fuck up..."

"Fuck up what?" You ask.

"I'm 100% sure you're all I think about. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." Donnie starts rambling, more reasons he 'appreciates' you. He keeps his eyes off you, nervous about what he's saying could possibly mean. "Look, I’m not sure if I’m liking this development. Now… Now it feels like I can’t go a day without thinking about you, and about how you’re doing, and if you’re doing well, and if you’re happy, and I just want to see you and talk to you and I miss you when you’re not there and— and—"

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his. His rambling stops, hand cupping the side of your face.

"You talk way to much." You laugh, pulling away from him.

"Wait... Don't." He mumbles, dragging you back to him. "Not yet."

Leo

Leo walked you back to your house after you went out to dinner. It felt like a date. Was it? Did Leo just feel too embarrassed to tell you? You 2 had known each other for quite a while, you definitely had a crush on him. Maybe you were reading too much into it.

"I had a really nice time, Leo." You smile as you get to your front door.

"Uh... Me too." He rubs the back of his neck.

"Is everything okay?" You tilt your head slightly, watching his reactions. You smile, you've never seen him this nervous.

"I just thought… Never mind. It's dumb." Leo laughs nervously.

"Come on, Leon. You can tell me anything."

"How on earth do you expect me not to fall in love with you when you look and smile at me like that?" Leo groans, dragging his hands down his face. "I’m done pretending that you’re just a friend to me when I see you so much more than that!"

He continued to ramble. You're eyes were so pretty, you laughed at all his jokes, etc. It continued, almost seeming like it would never end. So you stood on your toes, pressing your lips to his softly. He caught your waist, gently holding you close.

"If you wanted to kiss me so bad, why didn't you do it then?" You laugh.

Mikey

Mikey was your best friend, only that... Until it wasn't. You confided in Donnie your massive crush on Mikey. Donnie kept trying to get you to confess, but you were nervous. Eventually Donnie got Leo to try and convince you too. It got to the point where they left, dragging Raph with them, leaving you completely alone with Mikey.

So now you sat in Mikey's room, painting, doodling, just having fun.

"All this time I think I was bound to fall in love with you. It was only a matter of when and where." He sighs, putting down his brush.

"What?" You ask.

"I keep daydreaming about you, and it’s so distracting and annoying and I can’t stop, and it’s all because I’m in love with you and—" You quickly stop him, kissing him softly.

"Then don’t. Don’t stop daydreaming about me, don’t stop being distracted and annoyed by me. Don’t stop thinking about me. Don’t stop… Don’t stop being in love with me." You breathe. Mikey grins, kissing you again.

Raph

Raph was always so nice to you, he comforted you when you were having a bad day, he knew all the ways to make you smile. He was so genuine... You were falling so hard for this giant.

"I asked myself if I’d give you the world if I could, and yes. Yes I would. With no hesitation, I’d give you the world, if you so much as asked." He laughed. You 2 had been playing games together, but took a break to grab snacks. "So yeah, I’m pretty much fucked."

This was the first time he's ever sworn in front of you. You stared at him, open mouthed.

"I mean, I haven’t been in love with someone before but I’m pretty sure this is what being in love feels like, right?" He chuckles, looking at you. "I just really enjoy spending time with you and you really have become someone very special to me and-"

You kiss him. It was a little hard due to his height, but he was quick to help out, setting you on the counter.

"I want compensation for the mere fact that I fell way too hard for you." You laugh. He snorts at your comment. "Some bones were definitely broken on the way down."

[frogs00]

rejanis cuddle fluff- regina being over the top with short comments and janis gets pissed

I'm not that short!

Summary: Request basically. Warnings: fluff, swearing, Janis worrying a bit but nothing much. Pairings: Janis + Regina

Janis hummed to the music blasting in here ears through her headphones. She caught sight of her girl, Regina George. How exactly did she bag that?

They were polar opposites, everything about them different yet they just clicked. Free a lot of forgiveness on both ends that is.

She hadn’t realized she was smiling till Regina approached her, smirking, “Hey, why are you so happy?”

She had a gleam if familiar mischief in her eye that Janis didn't miss, she was going to be annoying, but as long as it was her it was fine.

“Just thinking; everything about us is polar opposite. I mean we're similar but like; you wear pink, It's my least favorite color. I do art, you do whatever you do. You-"

"You're a midget and I'm not." Regina interrupted smugly.

"Uh, rude, I was trying to be cute, bitch!" Janis squawked defensively, but she was smiling wide, a dead give away she found her funny.

She always found Regina funny. It pissed her off

"Oh, no, please continue! I'm so sorry..."

"Thank you." Janis crossed her arm smugly, like she won.

"That you're so short, that must really burden you." Regina finished leaning in slightly and tapping her nose.

Damnit, she didn't win, well...

Janis pushed past her, "Blah blah," she mocked playfully, "I'm not even that short!" she was yelling a bit but she really could care less.

"Lies" Regina snorted, Janis stuck out her tongue.

"Bye, see you later." she blew her a bratty kiss and turned the corner quickly. Leaving Regina to wallow in her absence.

Which she definitely wouldn't do but still, her punishment for being a dummy.

--

The rest of Janus day was dull as ever, but she was still in an excellent mood. She'd get to see her girlfriend after school today and there wasn't any homework for math.

Which was great she hated math. (Don't tell Cady.)

She doodled mindlessly, waiting for the final bell of the day to ring, not paying much attention to this history lesson. She liked history but she was much to giddy to care.

The bell rung and she practically sprinted if out class, she wouldn't have been surprised if she left an artist shaped hole in the wall.

She beat Regina to the Jeep, leaning on it and grinning as she approached, "Hey, babe!"

"Hey, you look even tinier from here," she called from a ways away, smug as usual.

"This again? I'm crushed." Janis fake pouted and smiled and squinted when Regina was at her side and ruffled her hair.

"I could definitely crush you when you have the height of a Smurf." she clicked her tongue, this made Janis roll her eyes.

Growing a tad bit annoyed, but still, it was just their friendly teasing.

"Okay, anyways, let's get Taco Bell on the way?" she changed the subject, bouncing in place a bit happily.

Regina smiled down at her, "Sure," she paused, still in the mood to tease her it seemed, "You're ao cute, sucks you're shorter than a base board though."

This made Janis excitement fade slightly.

What is that supposed to mean? Does my height take away from my appearance?

She knew that isn't what the meant, but what if she genuinely found her height annoying or unattractive?

She pushed it away for now, "Okay, whatever, let's go." she forced a smile back onto her face and got into the passenger side.

Clicking her seatbelt in, Regina started the car. Janis fidgeted with the rings she had on her fingers, staring at her feet in thought.

Regina didn't notice this change in behavior, even as she said she didn't want a slushy from Taco Bell.

(Which should've been a dead giveaway, she always got one.)

As they pulled into Regina's driveway, narrowly avoiding a confrontation with Juna, Regina's mom, Janis felt obliged to ask.

She plopped down on Regina's bed, then blurted, "Do you not like my height? Do you think it's unattractive? It's a dumb question but-"

Janis stopped when she saw Regina's features twist into a frown and she stopped what she was doing.

The blonde bit her lip; almost looking guilty.

"Shit, no, sorry," Regina laughed nervously, "I don't, honey, I live your height. It's adorable, I just like teasing you." She joined Janis on the bed and offered a soft smile.

(Or attempt at one, she looked more weird or weirded out than anything.)

"It's fine, it was silly." Janis laughed and placed her chin on Regina shoulders and then proceeded to bite it gently. Almost to reassure her she was good.

Regina smiled a genuine, goofy, smile at this.

They were quiet for a moment, just looking at each other with googly eyes.

"You owe me a kiss though." Janis batted her eyes and Regina pushed her off her shoulder laughing.

Pinning her beneath her on the bed and then proceeded to attack her face with kisses. Making them both giggle and Janis beg her to stop.

"God damn! I wanted A kiss not this!" she squirmed beneath her trying to get free of her attack.

"Yeah, but..." Regina hummed while sliwly stopping her assault.

"But?" Janis laughed, mimicking her tone.

"Cuteness agression. It's your fault for being annoyingly cute. It's very annoying. Super annoying."

She pressed one more aggressive kiss to her cheek then lay her head on her stomach, looking up at a still laughing Janis.

Regina smirked at how many light lipstick stains she had on her face. But said nothing, she'd see them later, they were comfy.

Janis scratched her scalp, humming softly as they both cuddled comfortably.

This isn't very long (it's pretty short more like a drabble) or good but I felt silly snd wanted to write (even though I'm camping and should be sleeping)

[softshrimpy]

How To Woo A Hot Principal

Step 13: Reconciliation

Summary: Working at the Weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-workers. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came to Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

This ones a lil short but things get discussed which is importante. 🦐✨

Tags: @variant-2402 @the-bagel24 @eveymay @kimiinou @muffintopxs @h-doodles @bbykens @lilfartbox1 @bigolgay @winterfireblond @gela123 @i-like-reading @hopelessly-sapphic @alder-saan

(pls let me know if you want to be tagged/ I missed you!)

Chapter 12

Cross Posted on AO3 Here

HWTAHP Masterlist

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

You really should get up. You had been lying on the floor for way too long. You really wanted to get up, really you did. It’s just that you felt so gross and the floor was so cold and so soothing. So really who could blame you?

You were wallowing in your misery rather spectacularly when you heard a sharp knock on your door. It wasn’t Vlad, you had heard him knock earlier and he knocked a lot louder and less sharply. You stayed with your face pressed against the cool floor, hoping whoever it was would just go away. You close your eyes against the nausea and relish in the sweet relief of the tiled floor.

You’re broken from your moment of relief filled wallowing by the sound of the door unlocking and opening, followed by the distinct sound of hurried heeled footsteps against your floor. You hear whoever it is stop in the bathroom doorway. You faintly smell Larissa’s perfume and despite the heartache thoughts of her usually bring, somehow it makes you feel so much better. Gods you wish she were here. She would wrap you in her gorgeous long arms and make you feel safe and okay. You missed her so much.

“Oh darling…” you hear from somewhere above you.

You really weren’t doing well, you were now hallucinating Larissa’s voice. At least it was just her voice though, you would really start to worry if you were hallucinating her touch or-

“Darling? Are you okay? What happened?” The hallucination of Larissa asks as she gently presses the back of her hand to your forehead.

Okay, maybe you’re dying. That’s the obvious answer. Because Larissa would definitely not be here checking up on you. She barely acknowledged your existence so why would she-

“Can you sit up for me honey?” She asks, and really who are you to deny hallucination Larissa?

So you sit up, groaning as you do so and the world spins a little. When you properly blink open your eyes there Larissa is above you, still looking holy and ethereal and wow she’s so pretty. Has she somehow gotten prettier since the last time she was this close to you?

“Was it something you ate darling? What’re you feeling?” She asks, eyes darting around your face.

“I’m fine. It’s just- I’m just nauseous you don’t have to worry it’s fine-“ you try to reassure her.

She frowns at that, stepping out of your vision to fetch a wet cloth. You hear her wetting a towel and then she reappears in front of you, dabbing your forehead gently. You hum, closing your eyes and hoping to stay in this fever dream for a little longer.

“Darling…” she starts, glancing at something you can’t see, “I don’t suppose you took any of those uh…vampire apatite suppressants?”

You groan, opting to cover your face as embarrassment decides to join the emotional cocktail you’ve got going on. You blink away the tears gathering in your eyes, trying and failing to not feel like a complete idiot. You sniff, shrinking further into yourself.

“Darling I’m not upset, I just want to know what’s going on…” she soothes, gently rubbing your arm.

“I-yeah…” you mumble.

“May I ask why? Are you getting enough blood? I can organize-“ she asks.

“No I-everything’s… everything has been great really. Vlad’s been taking good care of me and making sure I'm taking care of myself properly and recovering and all that.” You explain dropping your hands to your knees but still not looking at Larissa.

“Then…why did you-“

“Because I just- I wanted-“ you start, your voice wobbling far more than you’d like it to. “I thought maybe if-if I could just go back to what I was like before then maybe- maybe-“

“Maybe?” She prompts, her heart aching at seeing you so small and insecure.

“Maybe things could go back to how they were. And you- maybe you wouldn’t hate me anymore…” you manage, frustrated at the tears running down your face and the wateriness in your voice.

The bathroom goes silent after that and you feel your heart drop further into your stomach. You shouldn’t have said anything. You were so stupid she obviously didn’t want to talk about it, that’s why she had been avoiding you as long as she had. She didn’t want to be here, she was probably only here because Vlad sent her. She didn’t want anything to do with y-

“Let’s get you somewhere a bit more comfortable alright?” She murmurs, suddenly looking anywhere but at you.

You nod, letting her help you stand as you mentally prepare to lay on your bed and cry for the next five years. She helps you not fall the fuck over as she guides you to the bed. You do your best not to relish the feeling of her arm around your waist(you fail miserably) and try not to breathe so you don’t smell her perfume and burst into tears(you don’t burst into tears but do feel your heart ache like a bitch).

She sits you on your bed, watching as you rather inelegantly shuffle to rest against your pillows, holding your soft bunny to your chest. You mumble a thank you to her, fully expecting her to leave now that she knows you’re fine, just stupid. You squeeze your eyes closed when she turns, cursing your silly little heart for aching so fucking much.

You jump when you feel her sit down on the side of your bed next to you. She sits with her back to you, and you watch as her shoulders drop as she lets out a shaky breath.

“I don’t hate you.” She murmurs, “I could never hate you.”

She shuffles, you guess she’s playing with the rings on her fingers.

“I-God I don’t even know where to start.” She sighs. “I-I was so awful to you that night. The things I said to you, about you. Things I- things that are unforgivable and cruel. I hurt you, terribly so after all you had done for me. You were- you are so lovely and kind and you were everything I’ve ever dreamed of. And I-I threw everything back in your face..”

“And then you-“ she stops, her voice cracking as she bites back a sob, “you were attacked and I didn’t- I thought you were going to die. And the-the last thing I was going to have said to you was- was that you’re a monster.”

“You weren’t that far off…” you mumble.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Larissa asks, turning to face you.

“No I mean- it’s not cause I’m a vampire or anything, I mean I wouldn’t consider Yoko or Vlad a monster but I…I bit you. At the hospital. And I could’ve…I hurt you…” you explain.

Her severe, guarded expression softens at that, her hand coming to rest on your knee before squeezing it.

“That wasn’t your fault darling.”

“But I still hurt you. And I-we don’t know it won’t happen again so I-I am dangerous like you-“

“No,” she stops you, shaking her head, “No that’s not true. Firstly, what happened at the hospital was an accident. And secondly, it only happened because your body had been deprived of blood for a very very long time.”

“How do you know for sure though?” You murmur.

“Do you feel the need to launch yourself at me and bite my neck currently?” She asks.

“Not any more than I used to,” you shrug, “I’m sorry that was- that was inappropriate I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. Nothing.” She presses.

“Then…why were you avoiding me?” You ask.

You watch as her soft, caring expression falters, a look of deep guilt and shame taking its place. She withdraws her hand from your knee, dropping it to her lap. She dips her head, sniffing before she speaks.

“I thought…well I believed that-that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me after how I treated you,” she manages. “With how awful I was to you that night and then how overbearing I had been at the hospital I thought you’d much prefer if I…stayed away.”

You sigh, shuffling to sit next to her on the side of the bed. You’re sitting close enough that your thighs are touching, the little bit of contact enough to calm your nerves and lingering nausea somewhat.

“Look I won’t pretend what you said didn’t hurt. That wouldn’t be fair to either of us. And I- it still hurts when I think about it, that you thought so little of me…” you start, “But…I mean even Wednesday thought I was suspicious, miss detective extraordinaire.”

She huffs at that, a watery sound that makes your heartache.

“But I don’t want to lose you Larissa,” you press, “I-things won’t be what they were, they can’t be. But we can work on it- on us I-if that’s something you want of course.”

“I don’t deserve another chance,” She whispers.

“Well, I think you do. So please don’t break my heart just because you don’t think you deserve a chance to fix it.”

Silence settles over the two of you. You can’t bring yourself to look at Larissa, afraid you’ve pushed this too far and shoved your foot in your mouth. That’s not to say you regret saying what you did, it had to be said. You’re just scared because you don’t know what she’s feeling or what she’ll do now. You glance at her out of the corner of your eye. She’s clenching her fists rather tightly in her lap, her hands flexing and relaxing every few seconds.

You’re startled when she stands abruptly. She takes a step towards your door and you resign yourself to her leaving. You fight the fresh wave of tears threatening to shed at the thought of everything between you two being over.

But then she turns and she stares down at you with her tear-brimmed, sad eyes and trembling lower lip. And she sinks to her knees in front of you and holds your hands in her shaking ones. You stare down at her with wide eyes.

“I…” she starts, pausing to clear the lump in her throat, “I’m not sure I believe I deserve a second chance. But if-if you are willing to give me another chance I-I would- if you would let me try and fix what I did I-“

She starts crying in earnest at that, pressing her head against your legs. Her shoulders shake with her sobs. You squeeze her hands which are still in yours and you slip off the bed and onto the floor with her.  You wrap your arms around her burying your face in her chest as you cry. Being in her arms still feels like coming home, like safety. She still smelled of jasmine and comfort and home.

And you know in that moment that while things aren’t going to be easy, everything will be okay.

[lighthouseshepard]

dollins prompt here goes.

so i've always imagined that noel wouldn't want to be called charlie because that's who he was before (gestures vaguely) all the shit went down. could you write him + collins talking about that??? prefereably in a gay manner???

if you do i'll send you more doodles 🤭🤭🤭

HI HELLO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SOME TIME this is the first dollins thing ive written so. hopefully you enjoy it (: (not sure if it fits the bounds of the prompt exactly but!! its where my brain went!!)

"So," Dennis says with an anticipatory lilt to his tone that Noel inmediately doesn't care for in the slightest. "Charlie, huh?"

The name is said so casually, Noel almost doesn't process it. He glances sharply up from where his gaze had been fixated absently at a point beyond the other's left shoulder, attention lost somewhere in the smooth curve of the bathroom sink's porcelain.

"What?" he stutters out, "did you just call me?"

Dennis doesn't even flinch. He pauses in his meticulous work, the razor held inches away from Noel's stubble-covered jaw.

"Charlie?" he says again. "That is your name, isn't it, sweetheart?"

Noel's voice smooths out into a tone he hopes is calm, ignoring the way his fist curls up into a tight ball against his leg. Years had passed since he last heard those two syllables uttered in his presence. Encountering them here of all places was jarring to say the least. "Where did you hear that from?"

Dennis shrugs. "Little birdy told me."

"Collins."

"Ah, come on now," Dennis protests, grinning. "We aren't on a first name basis, detective? I woulda thought givin' you a nice shave so late at night would earn me something."

"Charlie is not my first name," he grinds out through half gritted teeth. "And you offered to do this, if you'll remember."

Dennis pauses to step back, flipping on the sink long enough to rinse the razor clean for another go. "Well, I felt bad," he admits, turning back to face Noel with a wink. "Considering you kinda can't and all."

"Who's fault would that be?" Noel huffs.

"I didn't ask ya to smuggle me out of the station," Dennis remarks. "You did that on your own."

"You shouldn't have come up to see me mid-day! I signed those release papers, yes, but it doesn't absolve you from everything you did after."

"I missed you, alright? Jesus, lad, let an old man be sentimental for once."

He takes a step closer, eyes flicking down to Noel's bandaged hand resting in his lap. From where he's perched on the edge of the bathtub, there's a tinge of guilt visible in Dennis's quiet expression Noel doesn't know what to make of. He feels it as a barbed flutter somewhere along his chest, twisting pleasurably in and out of the bones of his ribs. Dennis reaches down with the hand not currently holding the razor, but Noel shifts imperceptibly away from him.

"At least let me have a proper look at it," Dennis pleads.

"No."

"Come on, Charlie, like I said. I feel bad. I don't even know how ya managed to break it on the way out."

"Yeah, well I don't know either," mutters Noel, ignoring the name again. "Maybe somewhere along trying to shove you out the fire escape?"

Another shrug. "Maybe. I, uh... look, I won't come visit anymore if you don't want me to, you know. Didn't mean ta get you all in a twist."

Noel sighs heavily, a smile he wants to regret but finds himself fully incapable of curving the corners of his mouth. "Now I didn't say that exactly, did I?"

Dennis hums, a few notes of a song Noel had come to know well by now just from being in the other's company. The tune did not so much as haunt the Butcher as it accompanied him through every waking moment like a dog at his heels, often whining, usually content to leave him be so long as he fed it scraps of acknowledgement every once in a while. Not for the first time Noel wondered in objective fascination what went on behind those blue eyes, what kind of subtle symphony played out while his hands twisted around a spool of bloody piano wire. Or, more pressing, what he may have been thinking while he held a razor delicately to Noel's throat.

"I could have done this myself," he protests not for the first time without much merit. "Doesn't take two hands to shave."

Dennis merely smiles again, not deigning to give him an answer. The blade scrapes against day old stubble effortlessly, sharp enough to cut if he moved without warning.

"You sure are puttin' a lot of trust in me here," Dennis reminds him, "holdin this blade to you, Charlie."

"Oh would you - ow!"

He winces, reaching up to dab at the tiny bead of blood on his neck as the razor slips. Dennis frowns.

"See? That's what I mean. A lot of trust. You gotta keep still, lad. We can't have this pretty face of yours all bloodied up, now can we?”

Noel watches him raise a soft towel snagged off the countertop to the side of his neck, dabbing at the spot he nicked. Curious, how hands more familiar with the cold unforgiving angles of a gun or the resolute handle of a knife could touch him so gently. 

"Alright, out with it," Noel sighs. "Where did you hear that name, Dennis?"

"Like I said-"

"No, don't bullshit me. We're both too smart and too old for that. Just tell me."

"I, uh..." he trails off. "I looked inta ya."

"The criminal looking into the detective?" he scoffs, shifting on the edge of the tub, unable to keep from leaning into Dennis's touch even if he wanted to. "The irony is unparalleled."

"Had to know who was chasin' me, didn't I? It was a long while ago, back before I knew you.”

“You don't know me,” Noel mutters, his deflection falling short of convincing.

The towel lifts from his face with an accompanying chuckle so soft it seems to float, filling the single foot of space left between them. Fingers trail down the edge of his jaw that had already been shaved clean, dipping lower to trace the scar along the side of his neck. 

“Aye, I know you, alright,” Dennis says quietly. “Just like you know me, detective. We're opposite sides of the same coin. You could look in a mirror and see me as easily as you'd see yourself.”

“Dennis,” he starts helplessly, but he's interrupted before he has an opportunity to continue searching about maddeningly for the right word.

“Besides, do you really need to hear where I got that name from? Would it change anything? We might be the only two alive to know who it belongs to.”

“Yes,” Noel says pointedly. “I do, goddammit.” 

“Hmm,” Dennis mumbles. “Maybe if you keep perfectly still while I fix up the other side of you here, I'll tell ya.” 

His hand falls back to his side. Noel feels the scrape of the razor once more, drawing a path down by his temple. He isn't certain necessarily if trust was what allowed him to hold himself in this fragile position, or if a bizarre fascination was responsible. Perhaps he was growing soft as the years went by, he thinks. Perhaps he was simply too stupid by his own choosing to fully comprehend what he had fallen into. 

“Charlie’s dead,” Noel murmurs, lifting his chin so Dennis could get a better angle. “I killed him two and a half years ago.”

“I killed a lot of people and their ghosts still stick around,” Dennis says contemplatively. “Addin’ their notes to the music. Charlie’s a nice name. You get real pink every time I say it.”

“Is that a confession?” Noel drawls. “I could have you arrested for that, you know.”

“You could, sure. You could lend me a kiss for all my hard work here keepin’ you presentable, too.”

“You’re awfully demanding for someone I should rightfully have in handcuffs, you know that?” Noel mutters, but as gray eyes find blue, he lets the shift in an atmosphere suddenly charged through with subtle electricity wash willfully over him. 

Dennis grins, the razor halted, his lips an inch away. “Don't make promises you can't keep."

[chuckeroo777]

Dungeon Meshi Volume 14 Part 2

The worst is well and truly behind us! Let's enjoy the end of Dungeon Meshi!

It's the mad lad himself! (And a bonus Tade)

I genuinely have to question how good Yaad would be at this. He was born after the start of the curse, so he's had zero contact with the outside world. Presumably, Delgal remained in charge until he left, so Yaad only has like six years experience ruling, and that was only over a peaceful rural community with basically no conflict other than Thistle. And even if Delgal did teach him everything about being a king, that advice is a thousand years out of date.

It's everything I ever wanted!

...

Now what?

How about we make you the royal orcish liaison and call it a day.

Chilchuck. What the hell is that fit? You look straight out of one of the daydream hour modern AU doodles.

Um, that IS what he wants to do.

"Uh, guys, why does it say attempted murder? I totally blew Mithrun's face off."

"He got better."

Oh god, Marcille! Your eyes! The lion is back! But seriously, Marcille is a complete emotional wreak, and I love her for it.

So, does Izutsumi actually know who did this to her, or does she just want to go on a vague quest to try and find them? As of the post canon, she seems pretty content to live at the castle, doing cat things.

Always keep expectations low. Then you can really blow them away.

Luckily, Laios has picked up some tricks from Chilchuck for when being coddled.

Do you think Kui added the last-minute wolf head just so Laios could have a sick-ass wolf cape?

Most of these titles are great, but I honestly can't remember why this random elf would think Laios is pervy.

I totally think Chilchuck should be one of Laios' advisors, but I understand if he wants to do other stuff.

It took this long, but Toshiro has finally embraced the Meshi.

Good news! The literal opposite is going to happen! Now eat your food and stop complaining.

They're such good friends you guys.

Just as Steven Universe collects moms, Chilchuck collects daughters.

Mithrun continues to not give a fuck. Good for him. You eat that kebab.

There's a whole ass story here we don't get to hear. She totally ate out a naga, didn't she.

I love this manga. Even in the most poignant scenes, it always makes me laugh.

How do you think Kahka Brud is gonna feel about you stealing all the coastline?

Just one chapter to go, and then the MMT epilogue! See you guys in a little for the finale!

[writingforatwistedworld]

Okay okay request tiem!! So like, first of all, hope you're doing well fjkebd-- second of all, how would vil, jamil and idia react to a mc in the self aware au (already in their universe) drawing and or painting them, telling the constant compliment over how pretty or nice they are to draw, doodle them in their notebooks when taking notes and so on.

Idk it's like a thing I do with my friends, so I wanna know what they'd do n all, fbnebd thank u!! <3<3<3<3<3

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsebility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, stalking, obsession, unhealthy relationship, manipulation, isolation

Jamil Viper/Vil Schoenheit/Idia Shroud-Player draws and constantly tells them compliments

Ok, so we are throwing away our independance today (not something I would recommend but you do you)

Jamil is used to stand in the shadow of Kalim, heck, even his own parents thought that the future sultan was more important than their son

When you were suddenly standing in front of him he was already shoked enough, almost dropping the tray filled with food for his employer

Let us just say that Scarabia is in constant danger of going up in flames after that

Oh why? Well he just, more or less, quit without handing in the piece of paper that usually says “Mhm sorry bro but I’m leaving. The pay was never good tbh”

Yes, he is still employed but the person he is serving in truth is you, leaving Kalim alone with the stove

And since most of the people reading this probably don’t have a butler we are of course impressed by his skills

No wonder Al-Asim can’t do stuff on his own, Jamil is spoiling you into dependance!

So what do you do when you are impressed? You compliment whoever had that affect on you

That is already bad enough in itself but now you are also drawing him? Doodeling him into your notebooks? (He defenitely checks them)

Did you want him to be your 24/7 caretaker who takes your freedom away or what?

Somehow it is possible that those actions are making him even more focused on taking care of you

Has defenitely taken one of the paintings and hid it just for him to see

But please lay the mop down. He is here to take care of the dorm and you just need to live a comfortable life

What do you mean he does everything? Just rely on him and don’t meet with others, they just get your clothes dirty and make scratches in the freshly waxed floor boards

Also, isn’t he here? Why would you need anyone else? Uh… sorry there is something in his eyes. Could you take a look?

Vil is pretty used to compliments and also has defenitley gotten fanart before

But if it’s you? The hecking Mona Lisa in his eyes

So how did he get close enough to you to recieve such things?

Two words, one meaning: overall care

Like this man is polishing you like his life depends on it

It’s already bad enough that you are living in that dirty place but you can’t even afford simple self care! (We ignore for now that his defenition of “simple” is worth the rent of an ordinary person)

But the man wants- no, is determined to scrub the dust of the ruin away and uncover the shining diamond under all that filth

And since we all are bound by social beauty standarts (and don’t want skin deseases connected to dirt) we are (most likely) very thankful for his hard work

So one day he came into your room, a bottle of hand lotion in his perfectly manicured clutches, and ran straight into your mirror

Oh you are curious why? Well you just threw a compliment and “thanks” at his head

But it’s probably you more freaked out because whilst he did get a scratch on his face he didn’t even care

Once you start do NOT stop!

If you do he will think that you have found someone else whom you consider better company

And remember that huge green house they have? There is probably something in there capable to make you… uh… “stay close to him”

Also, those third years you have asked for the way to your next classroom have been found “with their red paint outside their bodies” and their hearts missing, suspicious arrows sticking out of them

But what did you expect? The Fairest Queen was also pretty possessive of her status as the “most beautiful” and what is there to stop him in following her footsteps? Just maybe not with beauty…

So either you wanted to roast marmellows in a very extreme way or you wanted to burn the whole building down

But here he is, probably already having reached the melting point of stone and still staring at you

Are you seriously suprised? This is Idia we are talking about

You are a God to Idia, a flawed one but still higher than even Hades… that guy is literally death

And he also thinks that he is very unattractive so you might as well tell Lilia to leave his iron sticks away unless he wants to rshape them

How are you still alive standing in thnis heat??!

It is already hard enough to just get in contact with him but somehow you did

Idia is not used to get paintings drawn of him and only Ortho would be able to convince him to get a picture done of him

But now here you are, telling him that you admire his skills with electronics

I hope you brought your marmellows because I forgot mine at home

When he was just creepely looking at you from time to time then say goodbye to privacy after this

You see, strays also come back to you if you fed them once and Idia is just as starved for attention as a stray is for food

But what exactly is he supposed to do? Well…

You remember that phone Crowley gave us over the winter holidays? He never took that one back

Even though Idia knows he shouldn’t do this and feels bad he just can’t stop

Stop looking at you, stop watchig you, stop craving the warmth you gave him on that fatefull day

[oldhalloweentape]

🪨Venture (OW II) x (gn) reader ⛏️

(Incapacitated Reader Edition!)

CW: Mention of puking!

(Picture’s not mine!)

(Request here! Hey guys, I know this request was simple enough but uh… On top of experiencing rather life changing things, I’m a professional procrastinator. But! I seriously needed to do something to get my head out of the hazy place it’s been the last few weeks. So. Hope you enjoy this guys :])

- So in a particular scenario where you guys go to some party and you leave high or drunk, to the point where you might stumble into things Venture’s quick to help you get steady and get you home.

- If you want something, you’ll get it, food, drinks, you name it’s going to be given to you post haste with a head kiss or two.

- Though I can imagine them being so set on making sure they do right by you they might fumble a bit, like cutting you up some watermelon only to realize you already had some cut up in a bowl in your fridge.

- Just so harmless and well meaning but they get it most of the time to the point where you feel safe to get drunk/high.

- They’re just one of the best people in Overwatch to trust to keep you company and care for you.

- When you voice or show them you’re high/drunk to a degree they keep an eye on you, especially during the party, can’t be too safe you know?

- Too out of it to walk around? Can and will pick you up while saying something like “Don’t worry mi vida you don’t have to move a muscle while I’m here! :D”

- I think they’re very keen to show themselves to be competent when it comes to caring for you because they know it takes a lot of trust, even if you don’t think so.

- They know that you would do the same for them, so, why not?

- Would definitely let you sleep against them, on the bed, couch, or even when they’re driving you home.

- As silly as they may be your safety is main priority, especially when you’re in a vulnerable state like that.

- If you get to the point where puking is going to happen more than once (if you’re drunk) they’ll make sure you have some bucket with you if you’re too far away from the toilet, holding your hair back gently with one hand and rubbing the side of your head to comfort you as you hurl.

- Helps you with rubbing away any remaining vomit from your face and brushing your teeth to get that nasty taste out of your mouth afterwards.

- If you’re overly hungry (if you’re high) they definitely get you what you want and beyond, you will probably eat the kitchen out and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

- Even if you ask for weird shit like cheese doodles dipped in pickle juice they’ll get it for you, but will definitely bring it up later when you’re sober to tease you.

- Will also you tease you if you happen to knock against the walls/furniture before making sure you were ok because… Let’s be honest it gave them a small heart attack when they heard the big ass bang while trying to get you some ice cream.

- Watching a movie or two if you don’t pass out right when you guys get home is a must, makes joke after joke about it to you if you’re easily amused in that state.

- They love making you laugh, and if you compliment them with a slurred yet sweet voice it makes them snort and laugh softly before they reciprocate.

- When you inevitably start getting groggy it doesn’t take them long to figure it out and deal with it accordingly, helping you into your comfortable pajamas and easing through your night routine.

- Everything ends with them sending you to bed and cuddling with you till you pass out, with them following soon after.

(Alright!! Done!!!! Hope y’all like this, love you all!)

[hauntingkiki]

would you be able to write some venture fluff with a translator reader? language doesn’t matter, but i would prefer not spanish so they don’t speak it ^-^

omg that’s a good idea!!

yall are so creative omg i love it😭

Ihr persönlicher Übersetzer, Liebes

Venture x German! Reader

Overwatch

2nd POV

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

note: all german text will be shown like this -> hello!

~~

eichenwalde.

a beautiful, rundown place in germany, which was home to the battle of eichenwalde which reinhardt was apart of.

winston had decided to have a match here in germany, and rein took the initiative to go a few days earlier to reminisce, and a few of overwatch’s heroes decided to tag along to get a first hand tour around town.

and, of course, sloan wouldn’t dare to decline such an offer.

that’s where you all were, mindlessly walking about the stone streets of eichenwalde as rein talked about the battle, talked about each placed that was in the town because everything had a story for him, and he was more than happy to share them.

as the warrior continued his lesson- well, it was more of a ramble than anything- in one of the bars that he visited, sloan could hardly keep it together.

notebook in hand, they wrote down notes of all the things rein was talking about, sketching small drawings of the different places and random objects that caught their eye.

“-and with beer in hand, i stood up whist raising my glass.” rein grabbed a old, wooden cup, pushing himself away from the bar and throwing the cup into the air. “and i said; if i die, you all can say i died with glory!” he let out a laugh, the small group of you cheering with a small applause.

sloan slowly leaned over to angela, holding out the book and pencil for her to write the german dialogue with the english meaning.

“hun.” you called softly, placing a hand on sloan’s forearm which caught their attention. your eyes bounced from their face and to their notebook, quick doodles of you filled the empty spaces. “maybe you should put that way…you’re very distracted right now.”

sloan slowly closed the book, their pencil slipping into in between the pages as they adjusted their seated position, their left elbow propped onto the table you of two, plus some of the others, were sitting at. “i will, i will, it’s just…” they sighed, a callous hand running through their hair as they spoke, glancing off to the side before opening their notebook again, flipping through the pages. “i’ve just been struggling with what this says. i don’t want to bother angela and rein cause they’re having a great time talking to each other, but i don’t know who else to ask?” they stopped on a page that had a sentence in german, question marks surrounding the words with small notes like, ‘what does this mean?’, ‘is it a warning about the war?’ and other conspiracy theories that flooded their head.

you hummed as you leaned your head on their shoulder, reading over the letters a few dozen times before letting out a small gasp with a faint chuckle. “that says ‘here lies n/n l/n. pardon me for not rising’.” you gigged out, peeling your head away from their shoulder and looking them in their eyes.

their jaw dropped slightly, their eyes vast as they stutter out random syllables. their attention darted from the writing and back to you for a few seconds, their mouth opening and closing as they tried to find the right words. “you-you uh…you know german?” they managed to croak out, their face twisting in different expressions, it was hard to tell what they were feeling in the moment.

you slowly nodded, gulping as you glanced off to the side then back to sloan, their eyes practically stars from how much they’re sparkling. “uhhh…yeah…?.” you held out, chuckling awkwardly as you scratched your cheek. “i’m fully german and fluent in it.”

their finger pressed against the page, tapping it a few times as they spoke. “and…and you wrote this?” they gasped, their cheeks pink as a small smile cracked at their lips.

you nodded again, humming in agreement as you fiddled with your thumbs, picking at the skin that surrounded your nail beds. “yeah, when i was like nine; i was stupid when i was younger.” you whined, rubbing your forehand with your hand before running it through your hair. “my mom sent me to the library since i was failing my classes and she wanted me to study.” you waved your free hand around vaguely, cringing as the vivid memory popped into your mind.

sloan smiled brightly, jumping out of their seat with your hand locked into their left one while their right held their notebook. “tell me EVERYTHING from your childhood!” they laughed, excusing the two of you from the group as they dragged you out of the bar.

you laughed as you stumbled after them, catching yourself before chasing after them. “fine, fine!” you caved in, waving your free hand around as sloan cheered excitedly. “i’m not the best teacher, so, my apologies.” you scratched the back of your head, the two of you slowing your pace into a comfortable walk.

sloan gently kissed your temple, a small squeeze came from their left hand. “i’m sure you’d be fantastic, mi amor.” they gushed, smiling as the pecked your lips before dragging you back to the library where your carving was.

•••

“no, no no no.” you giggled, scooting closer to your partner as you bright a finger up towards your lips, slowing down the pronunciation. “my…name…is…” you held out, smiling faintly.

“my…name…is…” sloan dragged out with you, their mouth moving funny as they spoke in your native tongue. “sloan…camron.”

you sucked in a breath, laughing loudly as you tacked them into a hug, the two of you falling over, sloan on their back with you on their chest. “THERE YOU GO!!” you beamed through your fits of laughter.

sloan laughed along with you, their face burrowing into your neck as they softly peppered kisses along your neck and up to your jaw until they met at your lips. “see? you are a fantastic teacher.” they teased, gently pushing you up before sitting up immediately afterwards. they gently jabbed their elbow into your side, making you pinch their cheek playfully.

your hands cupped together in your lap, your eyes watching as your thumbs twirled around one another. “ah, it’s nothing.” you shrugged the compliment off, glancing at them before turning back to your lap. “that’s considered ‘easy’ german. wait until you get into the other conversation starters.”

sloan gulped at the sentence, giggling nervously as a hand shot up to their neck. “maybe i’ll just stick to spanish.” they joked, making you huff a small laugh. they wrapped their right arm around your shoulders, their fingers brushing against your shoulder blade in a comforting manner. “hey, but thank you for teaching me. it may seem stupid, but it’s really sweet of you.”

your face flushed a soft pink, rolling your eyes playfully as you leaded into your partner, your eyes fluttering close. “ah, don’t sweat it, love.” you grinned, looking up at them through your lashes. “hey, i’ll even be your personal translator for when you have explorations up here in germany!” you pinched at their side, earning a ‘aye!’ from your lover.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

idk why but i feel like i struggled writing this😓 like i had all of my ideas for this but i wouldn’t thread them together😭

BUT! i hope you enjoyed nonetheless!:)

[dopscratch]

ok well it looks like there's a little more than five of you

so uh

i started writing a little bit and yknow when i said laios is literally me?

yeah i think i was born to write him

anyway here's a treat for you all, the very first draft of the first few paragraphs of A Culinary Guide to the Barbaric Archipelago

feedback is much appreciated this will probably look fairly different once i end up actually publishing :)

also keep in mind i've only watched the show so if anything seems inaccurate just tell me (preferably spoiler-free/spoiler-light) ___

Laios had no idea what these monsters were, and the thought only excited him. They had shown up as he and his party were traversing a high-ceilinged region in the fifth floor, and everyone was fumbling to fend them off. They were large, frighteningly fast, and were constantly in motion, enough that they were nothing but a near-indecipherable blur as they screeched through the air. 

Marcille had tried exploding them to no avail, the spells hitting nothing but a crumbling wall. Not a single swing of Kensuke had managed to so much as clip them, and fabric shreds floated through the air like autumn leaves as they tore through the party’s items with their talons. Chilchuck was screaming as he ducked and weaved, dodging the masses with some success. Meanwhile, Senshi busied himself trying to recover all of his fallen ingredients after one of the creature’s claws had torn off his pot and ripped open his supply bag, scattering its contents among the bricks. He didn’t even flinch when one sent sparks flying from his helmet. The only things that Laios could make out through the streaks were shimmering scales and sharp talons—either a reptilian or bird-type monster. Well, he’d read once that birds technically were reptiles anyway, but that was certainly besides the point, plus, monsters of either type generally still had their differences...though now that he thought about it, they often were encountered together—Basilisks, Cockatrices, and Coatuls were all combinations of snakes and birds, and white dragons had bird wings—wait, maybe that was why Falin had feathers! He’d thought it greedy at first, to have so many cool features together, but when he really considered it, regular birds had always had scales, on their legs at least! So then, maybe the feathers were just a natural part of it after all! Maybe...

“Maybe dragons aren’t just reptilian monsters, but a special type of bird monster!” Laios didn’t even realize he’d said anything aloud until Chilchuck turned his ire to him.

“What? How does that even matter!? Get a grip, Laios! We need to get the hell out of here!” the half-foot yelled. He grabbed onto Laios’s arm, but before he could try to tug the larger man away, he ducked to avoid an incoming blur. Marcille was having similar issues.

“Forget the food, we need to go!” She shrieked, trying to dissuade Senshi from the Sisyphean task that was collecting his things. Every time he made any sort of progress, a passing monster would swoop in to take a swipe at him, the passing wind sending everything flying once more.

__

first person to guess which httyd dragon is harassing them gets a doodle of your choice from me :)

ALSO, i am debating when in the books i want to set it. on one hand, setting it after the events of all the books could create some interesting dynamics with the main httyd gang and the touden party, though on the other hand that'd make it a lot less accessible for non-httyd readers and also just a massive spoiler fest. so i think setting it sometime before book 8 would also be fun and be able to accomplish what i want it to. and maybe even setting it before/during book 1 could be cool so i could play off of the interactions with the green death, though of course that would also be sacrificing the other httyd characters's development.

either way i think the main plot is that the touden party eats their way across the barbaric archipelago and hiccup horrendous haddock the third the hope and heir to the tribe of hairy hooligans just wants to find out why all the wild dragons are getting so agressive

also ziggerastica is just having a fit

[anaer]

wip wednesday (july 10 24)

even more time travel fix it fuck it up fic in which gojo ends up back in time and decides its time for a hostile takeover sukugo/stsg, rating: its true love actually

It was, as Gojo had established multiple times this morning with Suguru, September. Sure, Sukuna didn’t know him yet, but that didn’t mean everything was lost. He was ready this time. Yuji would eat the finger in June. That meant he had nine whole months to plan, and everything was going to be perfect. None of this getting sealed bullshit, no letting his second favourite sweets café get destroyed with Shibuya, but most importantly: he was going to impress Sukuna before Sukuna killed him.

Gojo decided then and there: he would stop at nothing to get into Ryoumen Sukuna’s pants.

Well. Maybe he’d stop at the destruction of all society; he had some limits.

Maybe.

First things first: Gojo still wasn’t entirely sure of everything that had led to the end. He needed to sort that out. The empty space on the back wall looked perfect for his needs. With a grin, he fired off a quick message to Ijichi with his requests. The hapless manager stumbled in some time later with an armful of Daiso bags and confusion written over his face.

“What took you so long?” Gojo demanded, taking all the bags from him to dump everything out on the floor. “Do you know how long ago I sent you that list? The world could have ended because you took your time.”

“I didn’t take my time!” Ijichi protested. “I only took half an hour—”

Gojo stopped rifling through craft supplies to point a finger at the manager. “Don’t talk back when I’m scolding you.”

Ijichi made a tiny, terrified noise. Irritating, but predictable. He pulled out the giant index cards from the pile and a red marker (the color of Sukuna’s eyes) and got to work. He scribbled furiously, a card for every event he remembered, from the most recent (‘Sukuna kills me’ with a heart drawn around it) to the most impactful (a very cute illustration of Yuuji eating the finger) to the closest in time to now (‘Suguru’s a dumbass’ and a purposely bad doodle of him shooting red at Suguru’s dumb body).

While he was in the middle of drawing a brain sawing open Suguru’s tiny head, Ijichi cleared his throat. “Umm…Gojo-san…what are you doing…?”

Gojo looked at him like he was stupid. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he said. “I’ve got nine months until Sukuna’s back, if everything goes right, and a little over a year until he kills me. I’m making a timeline.”

Ijichi cleared his throat. “Uh…right.”

His timeline finished, Gojo moved onto the next most important thing. It would take some time to figure out what he needed to change and what he should keep the same, but the most important goal, he wrote in large, bright purple print:

FUCK SUKUNA.

Gojo grinned to himself and added in a little penis. “Anyway, Japan also gets destroyed next year, and I’d like to avoid that, if possible.”

“You just wrote,” Ijichi cleared his throat again, fidgeting nervously, voice going up in pitch with each word, “fuck Sukuna on a card labelled...goals?”

This time, he glared at Ijichi, obvious even through the cloth wrapped around his eyes. “I can multitask.”

“Yes, definitely. Of course you can!” he hurried to agree. “Just…Sukuna as in…Ryoumen Sukuna?”

Why was this so hard for Ijichi to wrap his mind around? Gojo had been very clear talking to him this morning. “Yes, obviously.”

“Who died a thousand years ago? And is just…fingers now?”

“Is there another Sukuna you know of?”

Ijichi adjusted his glasses, face pale like he was two steps away from fainting. “No,” he said. “Just…clarifying.” He took two shaky steps back. “I have to…uh…I needed to…talk to Ieiri-san about…” A quick bow, and he exited the room without saying anything else.

God, Ijichi was so fucking weird sometimes. He pulled out another card, stuck his tongue out as he contemplated what else he knew he wanted to do for certain, and then cackled loudly as he scrawled ‘Kill the Higher Ups’ with a flair. And a smiley face. Even if it wouldn’t impress Sukuna, it would make him happy. It had last time.