#fucking ugly horrible boot

[g1rlwifetags]

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[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Lion's Pride [PART 1]

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: You fall into a hole. There is something in the hole. Something with teeth, and claws, and a garbage attitude to boot. Today is not your day.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

Let it be known, that of all the ways you could have died in your miserable and unlucky life, falling into a pit trap had not been on the list. Or, well, if it was, it hadn’t even managed to crack the top ten. And that was what was making this whole ‘sudden demise’ thing feel really pathetic.

On top it also being an uncovered pit trap. No subterfuge or class to speak of. Just a big ol’ hole in the ground that you had waltzed straight into. Ace would keel over dead laughing if he ever found out.

It was a pretty nice trap all things considered. The walls were dug into some strange sort of stone rather than just packed earth, and rings of fresh talismans curled along its sides like hundreds of ugly finger paintings. Certainly something so impressive had not been built to catch some lowly, little, idiot such as yourself. But you were here now, so that was your captor’s problem.

You were wandering aimlessly around your new prison when you stepped on something weird, and long, and thin. You paused, brow furrowing in confusion, and glanced down at whatever had found itself wedged under your heel. And, hey. That was odd. It sort of looked like a—

There was a horrible, screeching, snarl, and you wheeled back in hysterical panic as an honest-to-god lion lunged from the shadows—jerking its tail out from beneath your boot and swatting at you with its absolutely massive claws that could definitely take your eyes out. And half of your face. And probably your brain too. You fell backwards on your ass in an ungraceful heap and immediately scurried back towards the opposite wall as fast as you could. You were one-hundred-percent ready for the lion to just follow you into your little corner and murder you dead, but instead, it just stood its ground—growling, and spitting, and whipping its tail back and forth like a rattlesnake.

The thing was absolutely massive—bigger than you thought a lion was supposed to be, at least. Weren’t they just, I don’t know, like the cat equivalent of wolves? Because you’d seen plenty of wolves before on the road, and they’d never been so… looming, in themselves. And size aside, the beast was just weird looking. With thick, ash-brown, fur cut through with strange, almost geometrical, whorls of black. Now, you didn’t know much about lions (they weren’t exactly native to your little, forested, corner of the continent, after all), but weren’t they supposed to be regal? Or something? With lush, red, manes and tan hides that glowed majestically under the sun’s light? Not some… scraggly looking monstrosity with too-large canines and limbs stained in black like it’d taken a hike through a field of ash.

Its eyes were the strangest part of all of it—a sharp, emerald, green that cut through the gloom of the pit with all the efficiency of a dagger. One of them was bisected with a thin scar that ran crookedly from brow-to-jaw. They were eyes that spoke of an intelligence that no animal ought to possess, let alone one that was perfectly capable of mauling you to death without the aid of functional brain cells.  

You continued your silent inspection of your new nemesis, and when your gaze hesitantly fell to its hind legs, you jolted in surprise.

Iron shackles.

Or, more specifically and horribly, a spike trap. A grim, metal, contraption that would snap into its victim like a vice, and then unfurl row upon row of jagged barbs—tangling them up like an unfortunate bug caught within the web of some really fucked up, sociopathic, spider.

You winced in sympathy, out of habitual concern for your fellow down-and-trodden if nothing else. The lion, with all its eerie intelligence, seemed to notice the pity flickering across your expression and put every single one of its too-sharp teeth on display. As if to say ‘how dare you?’  You held up your hands in surrender, hoping it looked placating and not threatening, and smooshed yourself even harder up against the wall.

After a few more moments of grumbly glaring, the beast dropped back down to the ground with a pissy huff and closed its eyes. Clearly, you weren’t worth the trouble—which was perfectly fine with you.

You gave yourself the rest of the evening to just lie around like a sad little slug and lick your wounds. Falling all that way had hurt, okay? And while the adrenaline rush of ‘oh shit, I’m going to be lunch’ had helped push away some of that initial pain, now that it was fading you could feel every twinge in your ribs, all the bruises climbing your back and the cuts littering your hands.

When the sun rose once more over the mouth of your prison, you stretched as best you could and prepared to make your escape.

Scaling the slippery, stone, walls had proved to be an instant failure. The rope in your pack wasn’t long enough to reach the top, and you smacked yourself in the face with the thing more times than you would like to admit. Trying to find grippy-bits to just crawl your way up the side like a bug hadn’t worked either. The first talisman you touched didn’t spark or bite at your fingers, but it had been seared into the stone with some sort of magic that made it slide like oil beneath your palms. And you’d plummeted back to the bottom with a lackluster thump. The lion had made some kind of huffing noise from its place in the corner, like it was laughing at you. And you fought the insane urge to flip off a creature that could just eat your entire hand in retaliation.

Next you rifled around in your pack, hoping for a miracle. You were pretty decent at throwing together little bits and bobs to create a cheap but generally functional solution. Like the time you’d rigged Deuce’s bow to spit stink bombs as it shot through the air, or when you’d managed to scrounge together a decent fishing-line trap out of Ace’s shoelaces to lure out a rogue pixie that had been cannibalizing your vegetable garden. But you’d only been heading into town for your monthly grocery trip, so the most you had on you were genuinely practical things. An emergency medical kit, a dagger, lock picks, some rations that lived at the bottom of your bag no matter where you went. Nothing nonsensical, and therefore nothing useful.

Your stomach gurgled irritably, and, well, maybe you had something useful after all.

You fished out some neatly wrapped bits of cured meats, and cheeses, and bread. You made yourself a tasty, little, sandwich, and hey? You know what? How many other Hole Prisoners could claim to have such phenomenal catering? Probably not many. You’d take that win, at least.

You were just about to take your first bite when your eyes guiltily swung towards the lion curled up and sleeping at the opposite end of your makeshift cell. It hadn’t even flicked its ears your way when you’d started to loudly rustle around in your bag. And it certainly hadn’t sniffed at the air or anything else dramatic like that when you’d unearthed your packed lunch. Which was… didn’t animals usually go nuts for tasty treats like this? The foxes that snuck around behind your cottage would scream like banshees if you didn’t toss them your leftovers. Even the bunnies that lived in the hole in the wall by your cellar had some food aggression issues.

You tore off a chunk of your sandwich and palmed it nervously.

Maybe if you fed it, it wouldn’t eat you quite so quickly.

You cautiously pushed the stack of toasty breads, and meats, and home-made cheese, towards the beast with the toe of your boot. When it didn’t move, you scooched the offering a smidge further, until it was nudging up against a paw.

The Lion lifted its great, dark, head to bare its teeth at you with a lazy twitch of the lip. You scuttled back as quick as you could, and once you were a fair distance away, it stopped glaring at you long enough to observe whatever you’d just shoved at it.

It nosed at the food with a level of apathy you didn’t think was even possible, before reaching out with a heavy, black, foot, to smoosh it ungratefully into the dirt.

“Hey!” you gasped, genuinely offended. Because you were just trying to be a polite cellmate, okay! Was that really so terrible?!

With a sharp little twist of its paw that looked far too dexterous for something its size, it speared through the meat with one of its curling claws, and raised that from the dejected pile of mush. It popped the chunk of cured ham into its mouth with a satisfied little grumble, and you felt your completely rational and not at all ridiculous discontentment ease. It lifted its head a little higher and its tail swished—not in the whipping, angry, way it had been the other day when you’d squashed it, but the gentle twitch of something closer to a cat lazing about contentedly in a windowsill. The lion kept looking at you then, with those too-cognizant eyes. You pulled another bit of meat from your sandwich and tossed it over. It caught it easily in its massive jaws with that same, contented, rumbling.

“I made that,” you beamed. Because you had. And it had taken you ages to balance out the perfect spice-salt-sugar combination for a proper cure.

The lion looked entirely unimpressed.

You sighed and sat back against the wall with a string of irritable mutterings. The lion made another one of those huffing noises, like it had earlier when you swore the thing was snickering at you. And then it closed its glowing, emerald, eyes and slipped back into its seemingly never-ending nap.

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in relative peace. Despite its lackluster (read: fucking rude) response to your earlier offering, come dinner time, you still slid the beast a makeshift plate stacked high with meat. It ate the food without complaint, which was better than outright scoffing at you, you supposed. You started to hum some nonsense under your breath, just for something to do, and the lion made a noise like you were physically torturing it. So instead you shifted to folding and refolding the scrap bits of parchment paper from your wrapped rations into ugly, veritably unidentifiable, origami shapes. This was apparently deemed acceptable, as the lion just sighed and rolled over to make itself comfortable for the night. Irritably, you flicked one of the little flowers you’d made at its dumb face. But it shot wide and landed somewhere off by its paws. The beast didn’t even bother to twitch its ear at you.  

The next morning came with little fanfare, and you stared longingly up at the warm light of the dawn.

Your eyes once more roved across the spiraling talismans dripping from the walls, and the great, iron, trap that certainly wouldn’t have belonged to any ordinary sort of hunter.

“You’re not a real lion, are you?” you asked, and the thing had the nerve to roll its eyes at you. You bristled and again had to tamp down the urge to do something very, very, stupid, and which would no doubt end in your immediate disembowelment. “Yes, yes. Laugh it up. I only mean that because—I mean, you can understand me, can’t you?”

Another long, slow, eye roll. Like it was making damn well sure you could see.

It was a lot harder to bite down your anxious ticks and ramblings when you knew you were speaking to something that could maybe speak back, rather than just a wild animal trapped at the bottom of a hole (there was a very good reason you lived in a quaint little cottage in the middle of fucking nowhere), but you grit your teeth and soldiered on.

“Alright then. Fine. I just wanted to say then. Well. I mean—I could… You know.”

When you held out the lockpicks from your bag, the beast’s eyes lit with genuine interest for the first time in this entire nightmare situation, and a teeny bit of your nerves eased.

You gestured to the spike trap entangling its legs and the lion turned to sneer at the mess of sharp ends with a genuinely bone chilling snarl.

“I can probably get that off—unlock the mechanisms, I mean,” you explained. “But you have to, you know—” You made a theatrical imitation of gnashing teeth over the meat of your forearm, “—not eat me.”

The Lion sat up on its haunches and its tail twitched restlessly at its side. After a long moment where you were genuinely concerned that the thing would rather eventually justbleed out and die in its trap rather than let you touch it, the lion raised its head and perked its ears in an imperious sort of way. And then it dipped its chin—a nod.

You scooched forward cautiously, pausing every few feet or so to make sure the thing wasn’t going to change its mind and maul you. The Lion just huffed at you, and shifted to give you better access to the horrible agglomeration of cold metal twisted around its limbs. You reached out carefully, the picks a light, familiar, weight in your hands. It was certainly a complicated looking contraption, but you’d yet to encounter something you weren’t able to break with enough force of will and sheer, dumb, luck. So you grit your teeth and got to work.

After a few minutes of poking, the first spiral of jagged spikes loosed with a rusty groan and the lion noticeably perked up—like it was shocked you’d managed anything at all. You decided very resolutely that you weren’t going to allow yourself to be offended by the implied emotions on the face of an animal, and continued your work. Your tongue poked out of the corner of your mouth as you focused, intent, and slowly—steadily—the barbed monstrosity gave way beneath your gentle fiddling. Every now and again, one of the spikes would ease itself from the lion’s hide, and you had to fight the urge to fuss over the oozing, painful, wounds that were exposed. You were almost there, you reminded yourself feverishly. Just a little more, and—

The last of the iron fell away with an echoing clatter, and immediately the lion reared up with a roar. But instead of lunging at you and your very accessible throat like you feared, it crouched back on its battered hind limbs and craned its head towards the open hole above your heads, and the blue, sunny, sky beyond. A swirl of strange, sandy, magic began to seep from the beast’s mane. The green of its eyes glowed hot and bright amidst the outpour of arcane energy, like the sole light in a storm. And then its fur was fading, its limbs cracking and groaning as they folded in on themselves into something more contained—more bipedal. The strange, geometric, patterns along its coat rippled like living things. They expanded and contracted as the creature did, before eventually settling into some new pattern that you hadn’t seen before.

And there, standing before you now, was a man. Tall, and lithe, and tan. With a head full of thick, dark, hair that looked startling like the mane that had just poofed from existence—except now it was twisted through with braids, and precious gems, and the occasional patchwork of beads and leather. The inky shapes settled themselves along his biceps, curling into the skin contentedly as if they’d lived there all along. There was still a pair of tufted, feline, ears atop his head, and a long, thin, tail whipping back and forth at his rear. His teeth were still much too sharp, and those eyes of his much too feral. He observed his clawed limbs with distaste, letting out a sigh that seemed to rattle his bones.

“Of course it’s still fucked,” he grumbled. His voice was deeper than you were expecting—smoother, too. Like it was meant to belong to someone regal and powerful, someone doling out orders and ruling nations. Not a sad, little, half-man-half-lion trapped at the bottom of a pit with an ever sadder, littler, human.

After a minute or two of what was clearly some very displeased inner reflection, he raised his hands over his head. A pale, dusty, magic swirled along his fingers, not dissimilar to the stuff that had coiled out from his furs. You watched in awe as one by one, the talismans began to burn away—disintegrated into nothing.

Once he had finished utterly decimating what had once been a nearly foolproof trap, he turned and looked down at you for a long, tense, moment with an expression that you couldn’t quite place.

And then he was leaping out of the hole with all the grace of a hurricane—tearing through stone and dousing you in waves of dust and debris as he went. His claws tore into the sides of his prison like it was made of paper, leaving deep, jagged, gashes in their wake. Some of the wall seemed to melt beneath his attacks—collapsing into a thin, sandy, mess beneath the weight of his irritation. With one, final, swipe that shook the pit from base to rim, he leapt out of the dug-in prison cell entirely and vanished from your line of sight. Lo, the Angry Lion Man was free at least. And you? Well—

“Hey!” you shouted after him, enraged. “Thanks for nothing, asshole!”

And so, despite all your hardships and good deeds, you were still stuck at the bottom of a fucking hole.

You stomped around for a bit, kicking at rocks and ranting at nothing. Once you’d tired yourself out enough to think a bit more rationally, you sat back and took stock of your continuing predicament. With the talismans burnt out, you might be able to try climbing out again without slipping down in the messy remnants of gooey, protective, spells. And actually, the guy had destroyed quite a bit of the stone in his rampage. There were enough tall heaps of fresh rubble that you’d probably have plenty of leverage to try and use your rope again.

So you went around collecting all your little scraps of paper, your meager personal items, and any bits of fabric that had been scraped off in the initial tumble. With traps as intricate and expensive as this, it was better not to leave behind any traces of one’s presence. Just in case the owner of said trap tried to go sniffing around for his lost quarry.

The rope ended up being a resounding success, and you hauled yourself out of the pit with a surprising amount of ease.

Once you were out, you breathed in the clean, crisp, air and looked around. Absolutely no sign of Mister Lion-Shifter to speak of. Or, well, there was a clear trail of dusty destruction leading towards the forest, so you would assume he’d run off somewhere in that direction. But you were well and truly alone again.

You shook your fist at the tree line for good measure, before turning around and starting the miserable trek back home.

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Everything was as it had been when you left. Your chickens were quite happy to see you, happier yet obviously to be fed. You greeted the various other woodland residents that had taken to living out of your ramshackle little home (the foxes in particular were quite happy to nibble on the remaining scraps of bread and cheese in your bag). Your garden looked a little munched on, but nothing too terrible. All and all, things were… fine. It was honestly a bit underwhelming.

Later that afternoon when you were dumping out your bag to give it a good clean and restock, a dozen little, horrible, paper creations fluttered down to your kitchen table. You decided you would keep them, ugly as they were, as a kind of trophy for making it out of the Hole in one piece. Look at me, world. I—nothing more than a humble idiot—managed to survive in a Pit Trap alongside some sort of Skin Changing, lion, man. Who only almost mauled me twice. And here are the paper blobs to prove it.

Except—huh. That was a bit strange. You’d made a nice little flower too, hadn’t you? The one that you had tried (and failed) to shoot into the lion’s face. It had been the only piece that looked even halfway like it was supposed to. You’d checked every bit of the hole pretty thoroughly before you’d escaped, so certainly you would have scooped it up. After a moment of silent fretting, you shrugged and deposited the others into a nice, glass, jar. It had probably just been buried beneath the rubble or something.

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Something had spooked your birds. You frowned out the window and into the rain. It was a gloomy, grey, day, and normally all your little farm friends would hunker down in their wooden huts to avoid the drizzle. But you could hear the geese honking and the chickens squawking in that indignant way of theirs as they flapped around and made a general nuisance of themselves.

There was a hard knock at your front door—a heavy, sharp, rap-tap-tap against the aged frame that sounded entirely unfriendly. You snuck a glance through the little, round, porthole and nearly doubled over in shock. You yanked the door open before you could think better of it, and there on your front porch, looking half-drowned and wholly grouchy, was the Lion Man.

His emerald gaze settled on you like a tangible thing that you could feel digging along your shoulders. His lips quirked up into a loose smirk that was entirely feline in its smug satisfaction and unfairly attractive. Especially considering he looked like someone had dunked him in a lake. His round, tufted, ears flicked irritably beneath each drop of rain.

Your brain whirled into overdrive, coughing up wave after wave of scenarios—each more outlandish than the next. Maybe he had come to eat you, to get rid of any witnesses. Or maybe this was the start of some epic quest, like you’d managed to save some Skin Changer Prince or something and were now due to be swept up in some wildly entertaining political drama. Or maybe he had come to thank you finally, after abandoning you so outright. To grovel and apologize for leaving the person who had so selflessly rescued him.

“Well, herbivore?” he huffed instead, crossing his arms irritably over his chest and rolling his eyes at you in a way that was far too familiar. “Aren’t you going to invite me in? It’s wet out here.”

You smiled—perfectly, utterly, serene. And slammed the door in his face.

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[impala-dreamer]

Meet Me At The Beach

A Supernatural Story

~ Texting and emails can feel so impersonal. There's nothing quite like exchanging tangible, handwritten letters with someone you love...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader, Sam Winchester

4,025 Words

Warnings: Bittersweet Angst. SFW. 

A/N: This is for @jacklesversebingo "Writing Letters To Each Other" was the prompt. I hope you enjoy...

June 2

Dear Dean, 

This feels so weird. Do people really write letters anymore? Am I going to get strange looks at the post office when I go to buy a stamp? Will they even know what to do with this tiny envelope and folded piece of loose-leaf paper? I almost don’t know how to write anymore. My script looks kinda like chicken scratch, huh? Hopefully it’ll get better. It is weird not typing though. But emails just seem like work. Impersonal, ya know? Besides, it gives us something to look forward to when we hit the mailbox. Nice to open something that’s not a delinquent credit card bill, huh? 

Speaking of which- how the fuck do you do it? I just got another card canceled. My credit is non-existent. Fuck, I need to get a job. Could you imagine me in an office? High heels and panty hose and my hair tucked into a neat, matronly bun? I shudder to think! 

OK, this is weird. I just wanted to write “LOL” but it’s not an email. Or a text. Why are we doing this again? Oh, yeah, see above. 

Anyhoo- - - - I don’t even know what to say! Umm… I’m in New Orleans for a bit. Not working, just hanging out. My friend Emily from high school tracked me down online and we’ve been chatty. She’s in a band. They’re not bad. Not great, but not bad. So yeah, I took a drive down to see a show and I’m just lingering. Drinking too much, sleeping past noon. It’s fun. Nice little vacation. 

Which - ahem - you should be taking. When are you gonna get your ass out of that dusty old bunker and stick your toes in the sand? I already told you I’d meet you in Pensacola with sunscreen and a cooler of beer. You know you want to. Or are you just scared to show off your ugly toes in flip flops? Your boots might actually cry if you ever took them off, so I guess it’s just as well. 

Hey, do you remember that night in Richmond when it started pouring and your boots sank into the mud puddle? God, that was a mess. We were soaked to the bone. Nice way to warm up, though - cuddled in the back of the Impala. I miss that car. Sometimes, I think I can hear it at night when the world is quiet and the wind is still. It’s like the engine roars in the back of my mind and I start thinking about all our adventures, all the time we spent driving into the sunset. 

I miss you. Is that wrong? I probably shouldn’t. Or at least, I shouldn’t tell you that I do. But I do. I miss you so bad sometimes that it hurts. Like someone has punched me right in the chest. Maybe we can end up in the same town soon. Grab some tacos and sit on the hood. Make a mess. I’d like that. 

OK, before I get too emotional and start asking you to run away with me, I think I’ll end this ranting scribble of horrid handwriting. 

Write me back soon.

Love, Y/N

June 21 

Y/N- 

Your handwriting does not look like chicken scratch. I like it. Mine is like some toddler just learning his letters. Whatever. I never learned that fancy shit. I can sign my name and make a grocery list. That’s all I need. 

This is weird, yeah. But it’s kinda nice. Feels more… like you’re here. Does that make sense? Like seeing your handwriting, the dents in the paper- I don’t know. Just feels more real. Like you’re not just some computer talking back at me. Also there’s something strange about answering questions weeks later. I meant to write this sooner, but I got a little distracted. There was a Kung Fu marathon on and I just lost track of time. Too much pizza, not enough Carradine. Ya know? You know. 

Remember that horrible motel in Raleigh when we both caught that nasty stomach bug and stayed up all night watching old tv shows? Saltines and Little House. I’ll never forget it. You were so sick that day. Shit, I was sure I was gonna end up taking you to the hospital. Sure, I was puking too, but you looked like death. I hated that. Hated that I couldn’t help you, make you feel better. I did cook up a mean chicken noodle soup though, didn’t I? Not that it stayed down for long. 

Thank god for that yellow Gatorade. And yes- it’s fucking yellow. Not green. 

Anyway- I miss you too. I try not to, I really do. Not all the time, no offense, but sometimes I’m just fucking insane with shit going on. But at night, especially, I miss having you beside me. I miss rolling over and seeing you there, or hearing you snore. I miss feeling your freezing feet under the blanket. I don’t know, I just- 

What can I say? I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I’m the biggest piece of shit in the universe. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. 

Can’t change the past. Just gotta move on. 

Maybe someday you’ll forgive me. I hope so anyway. 

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dump that all out in a letter. I almost ripped this all up and started over. I actually let it sit for a day before I came back to it. But, fuck it- we said we were gonna write to each other and be honest, and here I am, being honest. 

Fuck, I’m so tired. That kinda tired when sleeping for ten days wouldn’t even put a dent in it. Yeah, OK, so things are getting a little better. Chuck’s gone for good this time. Jack’s got things back in place, even made a few improvements. Sam’s- well, he’s Sam. He’s fine, doing his thing. The dog is- did I tell you we have a dog now? Yeah, I know. Me and a dog- yeah right. But we do. Miracle. He’s a good boy. I’ll send you a picture soon. 

Never thought I could slow down like this. Feels like for the first time we can just - work. I mean, I’m never gonna give up hunting, not totally, but- feels like I could just ease back a bit. Been looking at some jobs in town- nothing crazy, fixing engines and stuff like that. Don’t know if you remember, but I’m pretty good with my hands. 

Did you blush? 

You did. 

OK. I guess- that’s it for now. I have no fucking idea how to end this so - bye?

~ Dean

P.S.  I’ll meet you at the beach soon. I promise.

Fifteenth of July 

To Whom It May Concern:

Re: Beach Vacation

Dear Mr. Winchester, 

I am very pleased to hear that you are agreeable to meeting me at the beach. It should be delightful fun to run through the surf and hunt for sea glass with you.

Oh shit! Do you remember that new age shop in… where the fuck was that? With the sea glass necklaces in the window that I said were so pretty and the witch inside said they were blessed to give the wearer riches or some shit like that. Where was that? Who knows.

Feels like we’ve been all over the world together. Well, this country at least. Lord knows I could never get you on an airplane. If only you could drive to Paris. Did I ever tell you about my trip to France? God, it was beautiful. Rained the whole time, but it was this beautiful, warm spring rain that made everything smell like dust and petals. Not rose petals, but those little white ones that grow on trees, ya know? It was so beautiful. Fuck it. I’m taking you one day. You need to see more than the dash of your car and the backroads of America. Time to travel!

Speaking of- I’m glad you’re slowing down a bit. I know that won’t be easy for you but if you think about it, you’ve spent the last forty years running from problem to problem like a damned bomb-sniffing dog. 

A DOG?! Dean Winchester, I never thought the day would come. I can’t wait to see a picture. Don’t forget it next time. 

I think you’d be a great mechanic. It was always very hot seeing you covered in sweat and grease especially if you had those damned coveralls on. I mean… what? I don’t think about you like that anymore, you know. It’s over and done with and we’re just friends. We are friends, aren’t we? Maybe something more than friends, I guess. Ex lovers? Ew. I hate that word. Lovers. So gross. Well, then what are we? Just two souls swimming in a fish bowl…

Year after year. Day after day. Do you know that I put nearly a hundred thousand miles on my poor truck this year? Back and forth, up and down the country. I don’t have to tell you how exhausting it is. Fun, but exhausting. Rewarding, but not. I wonder how many people remember me after I leave? Does that family in New Haven think about me whenever they go into the basement and it’s no longer haunted? Is there a photo of me on a fridge in Wilmington where I saved that guy’s fiance from the vamp nest? Probably not. I’m sure people remember you - The Great Dean Winchester. The sexy hunter with the green eyes and the giant black car. You’re hard to forget. Also, you hang out with a giant. Tell Sam I said hi. 

I do remember that puke fest! And it’s green. It’s literally neon green. Fight me. 

We could probably write a book, you and me. ‘Winchester & Y/L/N Do America’. It’s a coffee table book with pictures of random diner signs and gas station bathrooms. Maybe a list of the country’s best french fry places. Shit like that. Let’s do it. I’ll call my literary agent in the morning. Ha!

SPARTA!! That’s where that damned sea glass shop was. It just hit me! Stupid brain. I swear, I’ve been hit in the head way too many times. Broken too many bones. I’m getting too old for this shit. Did you know that my left knee pops whenever I stand up now? Like, how old am I?? I can’t stand it. I need a month at a spa somewhere in the desert. That’d be nice. 

Damnit. I just got a call from Vinnie Alverez. Do you know him? Hunter out of Pittsburg. Anyway- he needs help on a job. Guess I’ll cut this letter short. Hopefully I’ll find a box to drop this in on the way to PA! 

Miss you. 

Sincerely yours, 

Y/N

P.S. - I do forgive you, Dean. Of course I do. Things were just too hard back then. Life didn’t want to cooperate for us. It’s not your fault. Not my fault. It just was. Please don’t carry that guilt in your heart. You deserve better than that. 

August 2

Dear Y/N- 

You’re a real character, you know that? Love the corporate letter. I’m in for the book by the way. Could be awesome. We do need a full chapter on onion rings though. Make a note. 

I heard about your hunt in Pittsburgh. Came through the grapevine that you kicked some serious wolf ass. Nice job, kid. Hope you’re being careful. I know how bullheaded and impulsive you can get when you’re in the zone. Just watch your back, OK? Promise me. Last thing I wanna hear is that you got your heart clawed out or you’re walking around with a demon in your ass. 

Demons. Haven’t seen so many running around lately. Queen Rowena’s been keeping them in check. So fucking weird that she’s in charge now. Not that I’m surprised- she’s a badass bitch. If I had a nickel for every ruler of hell I was friends with, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. The kids still say that, don’t they? See, I’m not old. I keep up with pop culture and shit. Started watching the tik toks. I still don’t get it, but I like the woodturning stuff. Thinking about taking up whittling. Maybe carve you a keychain so you stop losing them. 

I got a call for a job interview. Chickened out though. I don’t know if I’m ready to start all that, ya know? Start a real life in the real world- just seems- I don’t know, scary. Yeah, I’ve faced every deadly thing on this and other worlds but the idea of getting a 9 to 5 civilian job scares me. I’m some kinda fucked up, huh? 

I think about it a lot though. Getting a job, finding a little house somewhere, settling down. A little fenced in yard so Miracle can run around and dig up dirt. Might put a rocking chair on the porch and watch the clouds, some shit like that. Would you come visit me in my Barbie dream house? I’ll cook you breakfast every morning and you can rub my feet at night. Real cozy couple stuff. 

OK, so maybe I’m thinking about you more and more these days. Maybe I’m regretting leaving. Maybe I’m just an idiot daydreaming about meeting you somewhere in the middle and sweeping you off your feet. One of those running hugs that hurts when you collide but ends in a kiss that makes everything feel better. I’m a real romantic fuck, huh? I was digging through my drawers yesterday and I found a pair of your socks. Those tiny ones that barely covered your ankle. I don’t know why they were stuffed in the back of the dresser, but there they were. Dingy white socks with the pink threads on the toes. I’ll bring them to the beach when we meet up. 

Oh, Sam says hi and he hopes you’re good and he wants you to shoot him a text when you can. You can do what you want, but you better not mail him a letter. That’s just for me. God, my hand is cramping up. I’m not used to this. Oh, and you’re not alone. My knee creaks like a haunted house when I go up stairs now. And my right wrist pops, and my neck makes this weird almost squeaking sound, and my ass- well, I could go on, but just know you’re not alone. Kinda weird to think that we lived long enough to be this old, ain’t it? I never thought I’d live to be thirty and here I am staring down 42. Forty Fucking Two. Can you believe that shit? Goddamnit I got old. Let’s go find a nursing home together. Maybe we can get a double room- or a king sized bed?

Think about it. We could be cranky old people together. Losing our memories and shuffling around with walkers and shit. You’d look cute with white hair. And fuck, my beard’s already going gray. Should I grow out my beard? 

Write back soon. I really like seeing your letters in the box. 

Dean  x

My dearest Dean Winchester, it is with great happiness that I write this letter to you and I do hope that it finds you well and happy and all good things and I can’t keep this formal shit up. Ha!

Anyway- but yeah, things are good. I know it’s been a while since I’ve written, but I was on a little trip around the continent. Headed up to Montreal for a bit. Killed some nasties, salted some bones, generally fucked around. My beloved truck crapped out in Burlington, Vermont, so I had to hang out there for a while and gather my resources to get a new vehicle. I think you’d like her. Green Ford Explorer from ‘94. OK, she’s not as sexy as the Impala, but she gets me where I need to go. Which, apparently, was Maine! I met up with some friends in Greenville. Cute little town full of witchcraft. So much fun. Also had a lobster roll on a pier… I swear to god, they plucked this thing right out of the water and slapped it on a buttered roll. You’d LOVE it. I’m gonna take you there someday. 

Speaking of- We need to make plans for Florida. I picked up a little bikini on my travels and I think I really need to show it off. Maybe you could be my bodyguard and keep the creeps away while I’m sunbathing? To repay you for your services, I’ll gladly let you take it off me at night…

Oh, and I’ve thought about this extensively, and I believe that you should, in fact, grow your beard out. Like, full on, bushy lumberjack beard. I can’t wait to see all that gray. You know I have a thing for older men… and you’ll always be older than me, Dean Winchester and don’t you forget it!

And for your information, I don’t lose my keys anymore! I got one of those… apple taggy things. Now I know where they are at all times. Can’t find my phone to find them sometimes, but that’s another issue. 

Two weeks later, I’m picking up my pen again. Sorry this is taking forever. Things are stupid busy. I wish I could just… put this fucking gun down and go live with you on a farm somewhere. Not a working farm, we wouldn’t keep pigs or anything because gross, but a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Big white house with a giant tree in the yard and a tire swing and a picket fence and a kid chasing the dog around and - 

Shit. Do you ever think about it? I do. A lot. More than I’d like to and it fucking cuts me up inside every time. I know we could never have kept it, and life- I mean- it just wasn’t meant to be. But I do think about it sometimes. Imagine if we’d just walked away from the life and tried to be a family? Impossible, I know. Maybe in another life. 

Shit, I’m sorry. Fuck. Ignore me. I haven’t slept in a while and I just

I want to see you. Can we meet somewhere? Wherever you want. I’ll come to you. 

~ Y/N 

Dear Dean, 

This is my second attempt at writing this. Crumpled up the first one because I’m an idiot. Am I an idiot? Did I piss you off with the last letter? I honestly didn’t mean to. I just- we said we’d be honest, and you’ve been so open in your letters that I thought it was ok to talk about, but I guess not. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have dug that stuff up. 

I’m so tired and stressed and I miss you so much. Since we’ve been writing back and forth it’s almost like I can’t stop thinking about you. I get so fucking excited to check the mail whenever I roll back into town. It’s like… I don’t know, it’s like Christmas every time I see your handwriting in my box. Remember the time you wrote your name on my thigh in Sharpie? That stayed on for like a week. I shoulda gotten it inked on. That’d be something, huh? Branded by a Winchester. 

Fuck, Dean, I really hope you’re not mad at me. I really want to call you, but we said we wouldn’t. Just write me back, please. 

I’ll be in your neck of the woods next week. Got turned onto a haunting up in Abilene. Maybe we can meet on the road somewhere? Please? 

Hey, did you know there’s a Hunter, Kansas? Wonder why they didn’t build the bunker there. I don’t know, made me laugh when I was looking at the map. 

Anyway- Please write me back. Or call. Or text. Or send a damned pigeon with a tiny letter taped to its foot. I don’t care, how, just do it please. Even if you’re mad at me and don’t want to talk anymore, I get it. But please. Just let me know, OK?

I’m sorry. 

Love, Y/N

Dear Y/N,

I didn’t know you and my brother were writing to each other like this, but I found your last few letters to him in his private P.O. Box. I didn’t even know he had one of his own, but I guess we all keep secrets from those we love. I hope you don’t mind that I read your letters. Not all of them, but the last two that came through. Please know that Dean would have responded if he could have, I know he would have. He talked about you a lot recently. Said you two were in contact and that he was hoping to find some time to meet you for a vacation. I don’t know where you guys were planning on going, but I found a new Hawiian shirt in his closet with the tags still on it. 

I know we spoke on the phone after he passed, but I wanted to send this to you. I was cleaning up his stuff and found his notepad. Looks like he’d started a letter before we left for Canton. I think he’d want you to have it. 

I’m closing up the Bunker soon. I don’t really know where I’ll go, but I can’t be here right now. Not without my brother. 

I’ll always be around if you need anything or want to talk. I’ll always answer the phone for you, Y/N. 

Be well,

Sam Winchester

Y/N/N, 

If I could take it back I would. Every fucking word. I think about it now and I know we made the wrong choice. I know we could have made it work if we tried. But we are both total fuck ups who can’t be normal. We just can’t. 

Forgive me

That’s dog slobber up there, not tears. Just fyi. Definitely not tears. I think I might have been a little drunk when I started writing and then well-

Anyway- Maine sounds awesome. We were there once but no time for lobster rolls. Guess I missed out. 

Not much to report since the last letter. Been kinda quiet here. But… I did apply for a job. Well, I filled out the application. Well, I started filling it out. It’s actually underneath this notepad right now. I’ll get to it. I will. I just need a good kick in the ass. Or maybe a pinch… wink wink

I absolutely think we need to get together. Pick some place stupid like the World’s Largest Frying Pan or South of The Border. I’ll meet you. Just say when. 

Guess this letter will take a little longer to finish. We’re leaving for Ohio in a little bit. There’s a buncha vampire dicks making a mess. Gonna take ‘em to batting practice. Show them my machete swing. I’ll give a full report when we’re back home

Dean Dean, 

I made it to the beach. It’s hot, like stupid hot. Had to stand in the water just to keep my toes from burning. I’ve been sitting here for hours trying to think of something to say, but all I can say is I love you. I miss you. I wish you were here with me. I wish things had been different. I wish and wish and wish. 

If I throw this into the ocean will it get to you somehow or will my words just wash away like the sand? 

I’ll see you again someday. I hope so, anyway. Let’s just pretend I’m destined for Heaven. I know you’re up there. You were too good not to be. You sacrificed so much, cared so much, saved so many people. I know you made it. If there’s any mercy in this universe, I’ll be up there someday too. Just don’t have too much fun without me. 

I love you, Dean. Always. 

Y/N

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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[charliedawn]

Okay Charlie hear me out on something, and I’ve been thinking about this for a while, it’s not a request it’s more of an idea or thought. (It might be dark idk)

Let’s say the nurse went to a different sanitarium, and the patients she treated were horrible towards her, what do I mean? I mean like they were all a group. Each and every one of them broke her down and she just accepted it. They played around with her like a doll didn’t care about her, they used her for anything and she accepted it. It took a lot for her to leave all of that toxicity leaving mainly scars on her back. Once she came to St. Louis (if I spelled it wrong correct me)

Obviously, she thought the same thing would happen, until the slashers actually started to like her and treated her differently. Sometimes she’ll flinch thinking they’ll hurt her like the others did but will play it off, until maybe…idk pennywise or anyone else who has mind powers finally goes in her head to see what happened, or maybe one of them catch her with the scars on her back. like when she first arrived she was all stone cold until she slowly opened up a little more. She promised herself to never cry in front of people but them confronting her about it just made her emotional since she felt worthless and used at that time and knowing they care means a lot

Like I said just a thought I had and would see what you’d like about it.

The slashers knew that you had transferred from another mental hospital before coming to St Louis. They just didn’t know how bad it was until one day…The scars showed and some of the staff members started gossiping about it. Soon, all the patients knew of what had happened, and they decided to try and see the scars for themselves…Not expecting how bad they were.

Jason saw them when he asked you to give him a bath. You rolled up your sleeves and he noticed familiar marks on your body.

But, you weren’t the only one being exposed.

Jason normally never showed his scars to anyone but his mother. But once in the bath, you eyes traveled along his scars. There were ugly red angry scars. He was covered in them.

You didn’t say anything, he didn’t either.

You just kept washing his hair and he stared at the ceiling—barely giving you a few glances from time to time. He could see that the scars weren’t only on your arms. He could see they were going far beyond what he could see.

When you were about to leave, he surprised you by grabbing the hem of your shirt and looking at you with pleading eyes.

You knew what he was asking for. Your eyes stayed locked and even though he didn’t utter a word, you had learned to understand him without the need for him to speak.

You sighed before wordlessly raising your shaking hands to your collar as you started unbuttoning your shirt. As you went along, his eyes stayed glued on you—watching intently as each scar was revealed to him.

He was actually surprised to find that you had almost as many as him. But unlike him…His eyes lowered a little…You weren’t even a killer.

He wanted to speak. It was the first time he wished he could actually speak and find the words to make it all alright. But the moment he looked up, you were already gone…

Freddy Krueger :

"…You don’t need to hide them."

You stopped dead in your tracks before turning around to face Freddy with a slight frown of incomprehension.

"…What ?"

He tilted his head and for the first time, Freddy wasn’t smiling. He eyed your body up and down and leaned forward.

"You can try to cover them up all ya want, sweetheart. The scars ain’t gonna poof out of existence just cause ya want them gone. Believe me from experience. So, if ya wanna hear my advice ?" He crossed his arms over the table and laid his chin on them before looking straight at you. "…Be proud of them. Wear them like a fucking flag and make fuckers shake in their boots cause ya too damn badass for them to break ya."

You stayed silent as you kept looking at Freddy and you smiled—your eyes softening as you realised that Freddy was trying to make you feel better.

"Thanks, Freddy. You’re pretty badass too."

He huffed a laugh—but his eyes showed more than his smile as he replied.

"Yeah. Right. Be grateful you can hide the scars and don’t look like an overused chewing gum…" He grins. "Besides, haven’t ya heard ? Scars is the new sexy."

You laughed and shook your head.

"Right. Then you must be the god of sexy."

He smirked.

"Oh, honey…~Of course I am."

Brahms Heelshire :

You were playing dress up. Brahms had insisted you play with him and wanted to dress you up with some of the dresses Barry had made.

He waited for you to change, but he couldn’t help to take a sneak peek at you—an old habit from his days hidden in the walls of his old house.

But, he didn’t expect to see the subtle rivers of red scars running down your back. He stayed shocked for a few seconds and it gave you enough time to notice his reflection in the mirror.

You quickly turned around and he could see it in your face. You were upset.

"Brahms ! I said not to look ! Bad boy !"

In normal circumstances, that last part would have made him whimper and beg for your forgiveness. But, not this time. This time…Brahms seemed to realise that you had a past he knew nothing about and suffering he would probably never be able to understand.

He came in and hugged you tightly.

You were about to speak up when he beat you to it.

"You look really pretty…"

Your eyes widened at the compliment and you didn’t know what to say. You knew he was talking about the dress and how it looked on you—but you still started crying. You embraced him back and for once, Brahms was the one to comfort you as he held you in his arms and couldn’t seem to find any other way to reassure you but to keep complimenting you and hoping that if he said it enough, you would end up believing it…

Michael Myers :

Michael noticed the bandages around your wrists and the fact that you seemed to hide your body with sweaters and jackets…He knew.

Of course he knew.

But, he didn’t ask at the beginning because well…He didn’t care enough to ask. And then, he started to care. And that made him afraid. Because Michael Myers always kills the people he cares about. And he didn’t want to kill you.

But, he could see your suffering and the fact that nobody else seemed to understand or even notice your pain was driving him insane. Until, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He grabbed your wrist and as you were about to ask what was going on, he dragged you back to a room. Once you were alone, he wrapped his arms around your waist and whispered.

"Show…me."

You didn’t understand at first, not until he started pulling on your sweater and lift it just enough for his hands to touch the scars.

Your eyes widened in shock and fear as you tried to push him away.

"No, Michael ! No !"

But, he didn’t listen. He would see them. He would feel them. And he would heal them…Because that’s what you were doing for the slashers on a regular basis. And he would drop dead before letting you think he didn’t see you…

He laid his hands flat on your back as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"…I…care." He buried his face in your neck. "I care…"

You were so shocked about hearing him speak that you actually stopped struggling and started crying instead—finally hugging him back.

"I know, Michael. I know…"

Bo Sinclair :

"…Look at that. We got matchin’ friendship bracelets, darls’. If that ain’t a sign ? Then I dunno what is."

Bo noticed your wrists and the familiar binding scars. He had the same damn scars around his wrists. He knew what they meant. He knew torture and pain.

It was even worse when it came from people you thought cared about you. He thought for a long time that his ma and pa had a good reason to attach him and force feed him. He always thought they loved him…But it was only an illusion.

Your older patients…You surely cared for them—or you tried to. But, the scars were proof enough that this care was one-sided and that at the end, they had taken more from you than they had ever given you.

Bo stroked the scars on your wrists and offered you a sad smile.

"…They may not have loved you, nurse. But you can be sure that we’ll love ya bette’ for it," He looked up at you and "You’ll be a’right. I’ll make sure of it."

He grabbed your forearm and pressed his own scars against your own before pressing his forehead against yours.

"…We gonna be a’right. You and I. We gonna be a’right. I promise."

Your eyes filled with tears as you squeezed his forearm back.

"Yeah, Bo. We’re going to be alright."

Penny :

It was in your bedroom when Penny first saw them. He was hiding underneath your bed and was waiting to jump scare you when you started undressing and his eyes widened when he saw your damaged back.

He kept staring before you were asleep in bed and then, he slowly crept up your bed until his face was right above your sleeping face.

He started sniffing your scars and growled lowly when he realised where you had gotten them from. They had hurt you…

He then slowly opened his mouth to lick your back—trying to soothe the pain. Some of them even healed up a little as he tried to make them disappear. He didn’t like to see you hurt.

Not a lot of people knew of Penny’s healing abilities. Especially since he didn’t like to use it on just anybody. But for you ? He’d make an exception…

When you stirred in your sleep, he had no choice but to stop. But, he still raised his hand to slowly caress your face and giggled quietly.

"…Brave, nursy."

He whispered as you kept your eyes closed and Penny sighed before nuzzling your face.

"…They will pay. They will pay. I will devour their stupid souls and eat them whole. I’ll make them regret every hurting you, my little nurse…"

He then kissed your cheek.

Your eyes suddenly opened—but he was gone.

Pennywise :

Pennywise sat down next to you as you were having your break. He didn’t speak at first. You glanced at him curiously, but you didn’t try to break the silence.

You were starting to wonder if whether or not you should say something or leave when he finally spoke up.

"I saw many people with scars. Even Penny. I saw men, women and children try to hide their physical scars in fear or shame but…" Pennywise slowly removed one of his gloves and your eyes widened in shock when he actually laid his hand flat on yours. "…I don’t think so."

You stared at his hand on top of yours and were speechless for a second. Pennywise didn’t like to be touched. And the fact that he was now holding your hand was a real shock.

"Pennywise…You do not have to…" You tried to tell him.

He looked at you and smiled.

"It won’t bother me as much if I know it is for you…"

He tried to sound nonchalant, but his hand was shaking. He was forcing himself to stay still and make you feel better.

Finally, he retreated his hand, but the fact that he had actually succeeded in holding on as long as he did was a huge progress.

You smiled to yourself before looking at him.

"Thank you, Pennywise."

He smiled back.

"You’re welcome, sugar."

Dennis :

You were washing the dishes with Dennis when his eyes spotted the little red scars on your arms. You followed his gaze and sighed before lowering your sleeves a little. Dennis looked up at your annoyed expression and wordlessly finished washing the dishes with you.

As you were leaving to get to your office however, he grabbed your hand. You frowned and looked back at him and he opened his mouth. He was silent for a few seconds before finally telling you:

"…The Horde expected me to protect them, so I did…But nobody came to help me when I needed protecting. So, I know how it feels. And that if you ever need protection ? I am here. And I…understand."

As you weren’t reacting, he thought you might find his words inappropriate or odd. He sighed and released your hand.

"…Just wanted to let you know."

He then turned around to leave.

But, you caught his hand before he could walk away and Dennis was momentarily stunned before he looked back at you and his astonishment turned to worry when he saw that you were crying.

But, his eyes widened when he felt you squeeze his hand and you offered his a small smile.

"…Thank you, Dennis."

He looked back down at your hand holding his and gulped before squeezing it back with a small smile of his own.

"…You’re welcome."

Norman Bates :

"…Y/N…" His voice was weak. It was the first time Norman seemed so upset. He stared at your naked back and the angry red scars. They were so deep and some looked like the red feathers of imprinted wings.

He was speechless. When you tried to cover up, he stepped forward and held you closely—kissing the scars on your back gently.

"…I am so sorry, darling. I should have been here. I should have…" Norman felt so ashamed. He knew you from far before any of the slashers met you. But he had never really realised how bad it was.

"You couldn’t have. You didn’t know." You tried to reassure him, but he only held you tighter.

"I should have. Forgive me, my darling. Forgive me." He pleaded and his eyes filled with tears as he embraced you tightly and kept kissing your scars.

He wanted the pain to be gone.

Why hadn’t you said anything ? Why hadn’t you told him the truth ? Why hadn’t you given him the opportunity to avenge you ?

He felt anger bubbling in his chest.

…People were going to die tonight…

[harostar]

So uh...

Apparently going away for the weekend equals things absolutely fucking exploding.

I’m sure everyone has, by this point, heard SOMETHING regarding Rooster Teeth and its latest controversies. 

Namely, multiple former employees speaking up about their horrendous experiences with the company. Wage Theft, Underpaying, just flat out NOT PAYING PEOPLE, extreme Crunches, toxic bro culture, homophobia, transphobia, racism, sexism, ect ect ect.

I’m trying to gather some of the main points, so excuse my brain still going ??????????

Long-time employee Matt is given the boot, with his position “dissolved” in the latest rounds of corporate layoffs.

Kdin issues a statement regarding Hostile Environment, Abusive working conditions, and considerable amount of unpaid work/medical bills.

The floodgates open.

Others speak up either confirming Kdin’s experiences and/or adding their own experiences. 

HR being more than useless. Higher Management being abusive and out-right not paying employees in every way possible. 

Barbara (Yang) removes all mention of RT from her twitter profile.

Arryn (Blake) and Sam (Nora) reveal that someone at the top that isn’t at the company anymore had threatened to recast their roles, when they raised concerns re: payment. 

Jen (Pyrrha) talks about issues with being paid and further confirms the other ugliness going on.

Michael Jones (AH, Sun) confirms his part in Kdin’s mistreatment, issues a public apology that was accepted by Kdin. I’m not diving into that, since I don’t feel comfortable speaking over the actual parties re: where they are now versus where they were then.

Others issue apologies to Kdin, which are....uh.....not graciously accepted. 

RT issues a very by-the-numbers statement, which is worthless. 

More former employees talk about having horrible experiences with over-work, issues with being paid, and general abusive environment. 

CRWBY showrunners have for the most point not issued statements, likely because they are in a tricky position re: the corporate overlords. Some people have been noting the statements they are Liking or otherwise supporting. 

Several people reveal that RT employees that do voice work have been getting cheated out of being PAID for this extra work. Because “you’re already an employee” kind of nonsense.

Everyone speaking out has basically stated the problem is Corporate and the Top Brass of the company. Asking people to please remember that the showrunners, writers, animators, voice actors, and other creative talent are all potentially victims of the same horrible stuff. 

Basically, a huge fucking dumpster fire.

[memyselfandmya]

RAW REACTIONS TO JWCT

Spoilers below the cut, and warning it's long. My thoughts are all over the place rn so you'll get more organized posts tomorrow

Ep. 1

“Just the one.” FML

Darius you’re such a funny little guy

“I’m not talking about the island I’m talking about what happened after.” AHHHHHHH. The way this line was delivered and animated.

The family photos on the wall feel so symbolic. 

It’s sad how Darius has to go through this process of grief again.

What’s Brand doing to get himself into trouble?

*soft music plays* “And here with me live are the improbable survivors of the Jurassic World incident, the Nublar Six” CAN YOU HEAR ME FUCKING SOBBING.

Ben scrunched over that little compute please I can’t 😭

What’s especially sad about Darius’ grief is that he’s not just sad and depressed as if he’s accepted her death, it’s that he pushed himself into a sort of state of almost denial where he’s still calling her and stuff.

These raptors are freaky

1st episode over yayyyy

Ep. 2

Not the keys Darius 

The tensionnn

Ben and his driving skills 

Ben’s poor van

Ben still being the well prepared man he is

Ben…I’m concerned what is that board you have going on there

Why are these grown ass men living such horrible lives? Eating canned cheese out of a dirty mug? A spoon in a boot that makes sloshing noise?

Ben back at it w the shaving cream/ whipped cream. 

Darius is so unconvinced

BEN throwing Darius phone out like it was nothing plssss and his reaction 

BROOKLYNN I MISS YOU 

She’s so pretty though

Very ominous great way to emphasize Ben’s paranoia 

These poor traumatized kids

“Is your friend okay?” “No.” PLSS I’m glad he knows it

THE FUCKING FORESHADOWING 

OH THE SUSPENSE 

Ep. 3

Sammy’s ranch is so cuteeee

SAMMY MI AMOR THEIR REUNION IS JUST SO PRECIOUS 

The locs thing omg 

“Have you seen my pitchfork” she asks casually as if she’s a witch hunter during the Salem witch trials 

What do you mean Sammy isn’t talking to her parents 

Their reunion is soooo cute 

Sammy you are a queen and I love you.

FUCK YOU CARL

I forgot we were in Texas lmao

OH MY FUCKING GOD IT’S SAMMY SEEING BROOKLYNN FOR ME 😭 now it’s definitely for sure that Sammy died her hair in honor of B. Brooklynn’s jacket 😭

SAMMY 😭😭😭 “or Yaz pulling away from me”

FUCK OH MY GOD CARLS DEAD

Got me ugly crying 

Ep. 4

Darius’ humor is immaculate 

Everybody’s calling Ben by his full name and I love it

WHAT? GIRLFRIEND??

Nooo the brothers are fighting

Kenji has… downgraded

Oop- no the money loss

Sammy that kick was awesome marry me plz wait no u have Yaz marry her and then marry me

I knew they were fighting but god damn he rlly just shut the door or Darius like that

Kenji I love you dude but take this seriously 

Ooh the tension

Ouch, brooklynns death

Double ouch, Kenji blames Darius. Of course 

OH MY GOD HE’S OUT OF PRISON

“Once you lose my trust, you lose it. Forever.” Damn. Hang on let me go check off Kenji and his daddy issues off my bingo card rq

The girlies aren’t in a good place 😭😭 “why did she say something?” Plssss

I love how Sammy car jacked Ben by tickling him for his keys

Them abandoning Darius with Kenji 💀

I  love the rock climbing scene 

“where were you the night Brooklynn died?” Oop- we’re doing up this now?

OH!? oh

Awww fuckkkkkk 😭

That’s another mark on my card

YAY BROOKENJI IS OVER

but also damn… poor Kenji 

“Wait how do I get back down?” You’re so real Darius 

Aww bumpy noooo

Ep. 5

DANG THAT COMPY GOT SWEPT UP

“Hey that song kinda reminds me of that” *turns music off* oh

“Not taking family advice from a kid who hasn’t called his own mother in over a month.” OH. WERE YOU SILENT OR WERE YOU SILENCED. THE BOYS ARE TAKING SHOTS AT EACH OTHER 

YASAMMY

“Oh yeah, Darius warned me. LMFAO

Ohh she told you Benjamin. No more carob. 

The gyrosphereeeee

Oh fuck this guy whoever you are.

“Free the Dino’s.” YESSSSSSSS 

I had a feeling we’d see kenjis dad

“Did you have Brooklynn killed?” Oh going in hot ig

Oh shit- DAMN BEN AFTER ALL THIS TIME

OK, I feel bad for Sammy because even after all of these years, she makes one mistake by spying for mantah corp and people still kind of hold it over her head, even her best friends. that must suck 

Ooh the tension

“Don’t do the Japanese thing. You know I don’t speak it.” Ooh we’re bringing the culture too! JW ain’t playing 

Oh shit-

YOU DONT MANIPULATE MY SON ANYMORE OH SHITTTTTT

AHHH SAMMMYYYYYYYY

I love how Ben and Sammy take down a Dino abuser just as a little side quest

Aww they’re so cute  OH MY GOD WTF HE’S THE “WEVE GOT A PROBLEM DUDE”???

Poor kenji THATS RIGHT YOU STAND UP TO HIM KENJI FUCK YOU DANIEL

“Im not afraid to get my hands dirty” oh shit-

OH FUCK CAN THEY CAMOUFLAGE??

OHH SHIT

WHO TF IS THAT SHE LOOK LIKE A FUCKING DOLL I WANT MY MOM HELP

FUCK OH MY GOD FUCK WHAT THE HELL

POOR KENJI

THAT CANT BE A FUCKING REAL PERSON

WHO TF IS THAT IN THE CAR??

AWWWWWWWW FUCK KENJI IM SO SORRY

Ep.6

YAZ MY SWEET GIRLY HIIII AWW POOR GIRLY DAMN NOT EVEN A FULL MINUTE IN AND WERE ALREADY BRUNGING IN THE TRAUMA

she’s so pretty thoughhhh

Aww brooklynnn 

AWW THE BABY TALK

Aww the trauma poor baby I just wanna give her a hug

“Any particular reason I’m here and not Sammy?” Ooohh

Awwwww

Yaz I love you. You’re so pretty, and cool, and just a bunch of good things

OH MU GOD THAT PIC OF THEM IS SO CUTE

Are you gonna answer the phone Yaz?

YAYYYY SHE PICKED UP

MY GIRLIES I LOVE THEM

“Wait you’re coming here?” You can hear the panic in her voice.

IM SO GLAD TO SEE YOU YAZ

Yaz is definitely suspicious. 

AHHH THEY SAID THE L WORD

I love this episode already

It’s so amazing that they’re actually addressing their mental health. I don’t think I’ve ever heard children’s shows say the words  traumatizing and ptsd.

Oop. So this is where you live Yaz?

Awwwwww she’s waiting for them AWWWWWWWWWWWW (MORE LIKE A SHRILL SHRIEK) THEYRE REUNITED 

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH IM CRYING 

Awww I love Ben and Yazs friendship so much

Ooh time to drop the news

This place is so pretty and nice and Yaz genuinely seems to be happy. Also she knows people :)

“Benny Boy.” Aww

Sammy is not enjoying this place lmao

“You’re favorite.” Oop-

UH OH IM SCARED I DONT WANT TO SEE THEM FIGHT I THOUGHT I WAS READY BUT I DONT KNOW

WE GIT THE SCENE

BEN GET YIUR GOOFY ASS OFF THE GROUND

IM SCAREDDDDD 

Oh shit

AHHHHH 

OH FUCK FUCK I DONT WANT TO SEE THEM AGRUE DIDNT WE HAVE ENOUGH OF THAT IN CAMP CRETACEOUS 

I love that Sammy is trying to protect Yaz but she is taking it a little too far. Ben is me, I can’t see I’m blinddddd blinddddd blindddd

But also Yaz you didn’t keep in contact?? 

Oh shit Yaz has a point though *shrieking*

Not the fucking time Ben 

I take it back this isn’t my favorite episode I don’t love this episode

Ben struggling to give advice plssss. I love you dude

I love Yaz and Ben’s friendship so much though

“When me and my girlfriend—“ the swoop up, like right Yaz. “I’m sorry girlfriend?” Right. That’s what we’re all wondering

“Why does everyone act so surprised when I say that?” BECAUSE YOU’RE GAY??

OH FUCK OH FUCK PEOPLE ARE DYING OH FUCK RICH DIED

I DONT KNOW WHO HE IS BUT HE IS DEWD. EATEN. GONE OH SHIT POOR YAZ

aww poor Sammy I just thinks Yaz needs some great room. 

Sammy was definitely abt to say “how the hell”

WE GOT THE OTHER SCENE

The little side eye Ben gives Yaz after “big Ben’s got moves” <3<3

OH FUCK THEY ARE TRAPPEDOh dpw is here they got it

the little hand hold <3<3

OH FUCK THE DPW IS NOT THERE THEY DONT GOT IT THE DPW IS MAKING IT WORSE FUCK I HAD A FEELING 

OH FUCK THEYRE FAKLING IN THE WATER

OH MY GOD WTF

Ep. 7

Oh they are under under.

My worst fear lowkey

oh shit…

OH SHIT THEY ARE SO CUTE AWWWW

poor kenji… awww fuck this is so sad. 

Who is this guy??

Uh oh… the dpw

Kenji poor baby

WHAT ARE YALL JUST DOUING SITTING THERE???

Ben really? Ductape

That’s my strong girls 

Nah this shit is terrifying 

Oh thank god 

Oh shit we’re finding out what happened 

Aww a little girl 

Oop corruption… but for a good cause?

Oh shit

How tf did Brooklynn not feel those footsteps?

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

Is Brooklynn actually dead? Moment of truth.

Awww no no no no 😭 Darius fuckkkkk 😢

I can’t believe they actually showed a pool if blood. Brooklynns pool of blood

Wait so they saw her dead body? So she’s actually dead? Or what?

Oh fuckkkkkklk 😖 

STOP 😭

AWWW YASAMMY IS SO FUCKING CUTW AWWWWv

Not the random Italian 😭

OOH FUCK NOT THE PASSWORD UH OH

STFU DUDE

Ben was WAITING to throw those phones

Yaz I love you. “I am so going to haunt them from beyond the grave.”

I KNEW THE ROOM WE SAW WAS BROOKLYNN’S PLACE

Her house is so cuteeee

Please Sammy your voicemail 😭 I love how we’re getting to hear everyone’s voicemail

Awww

Oooh the plot thickens

Oh shitttt BROOKLYNN WTF ARE U DOING?

A FEW MILLION?? PASS THAT ON OVER RIGHT OVER HERE

OH SHIT

Ep. 8

WTF ARE YALL DOING WHY ARE YOU DIRECTLY IN THE CAGE WITH THE DINO ARE YOU ACTUALLY INSANE ATP YOU’RE GIVING IT A FREE MEAL YAZ WTF ARE YOU DOING YALL ARE TESTING FATE RN

KENJI YOU CANT BE SCREAMING LIKE THAT ALSO WTF WAS THAT SCREAM but also I can’t judge that’s me when I see a spider 

Oh I forgot abt all of those voicemails Darius sent

Aw lowkey poor dinosaurs

Who is he?

Kenji you’re such a goofball. Eew no I take it back gagging barfing gross wtf 

No Brooklynn what’d we say abt the baby talk pls no

Yes, Darius I am sufficiently uncomfortable 

Uh oh the boys are tussling I’m getting flashbacks to Ben and Darius 

Awww dariusssss 😭

Camp fam try not to get recognized by strangers challenge quick, start

Damnnn Sammy that was smooth. 

Darius… why are you in that gross ass tub

Camp fam boys try not to be gross challenge 

WHATTT

HANDS TO MY MOUTH IM ACTUALLY SHOOK RN

WDYM “I WAS IN LOVE WITH BROOKLYNN”

I DIDNT THINK THERED BE DINOSTAR WTF

OMG

Please get out of the fucking tub

You don’t know what’s been done in there

Are we just abandoning all self respect we have 

HOLY SHIT

oh is it the video? The video of her death?

Bumpyyyy

Oh fuck… 

YAZ 😭😭😭 “boo.” Please I love youuu

Right, that’s my reaction lmao

Oop Brooklynns mad

Nah cause she stared at that dinosaur for 3 straight up seconds girl has your time on numblar taught you anything??

In my Abby Lee voice: “BROOKLYNN HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING?!”

no wonder your ass got ate

I’m sorry that’s mean.

I love you girly

Oh fuck.

Girly is dead

😭😭😭

“You and me, we’re brothers right?” STOP YOURE BREAKING MY HEART 😭😭😭😭😭

Stoppppp

Will we ever find out why Darius wasn’t there??

Oop dinosaurs 

What’s wrong with bumpy??

AHHHH SHE SAID IT SHE SAID THE CHAOS LINE “maybe not”

“What are you looking at?” Pftttt

Uh oh. He’s dead…

Oh well

Oh now they’re really looking 

“Yeah I don’t like that at all.” Yeah but I loveeee you Sammy 

Ep. 9

Poor Sammy but girl you need to chill

Bumpy???

Awww. I love yasammy and seeing them work through the it issues. ASWWWWWWW

OOH the gangs all here

How tf did Darius and Kenji scale that fence

Oh shit,

Miss ma’am you are too pretty to be participating in nefarious acts like this 

Lmfao “okay we get it you’re a climber”

What did I tell you girl? Way too pretty to be doing this shit

Come on Kenji put those protein drinks to work

Yaz wearing a crop top 🥰

Awww bunny nooo fuck fuck

Awww Ben 💔

Oh fuck no I would not be climbing up there 

the gangs all here

Okay kenji 

Damn Sammy you stay trying to knock kenji out I love you ❤️ 

Also the part where Yaz is covering both their mouths? So badass

Awww reunion how sweet

PFTTT DARIUS 

BUMPY NOOOO 😭

Oh so when they said international they meant international 

Oh shit…fuck… Brooklynn :(

LMFAO BEN

Oh…Ben 

Bumpy…

OH SHIT BUMPY IS SHE HAVING…

OH WAIT SAMMY’S SO PRETTY

FUCK WAIT BUMPY

NOOOOOOOO WTF

OH WAIT WTF

SAMMMYYYY 

STOP FOOLING US

YALL R SO WROMG FOR THAT

LMFA “DON’T THINK ABT IT BUD” 

cmon did you rlly have to ruin the happy moment?

Ep. 10

HOLY SHIT LAST EPISODE 

Oh the plot THICKENS 

SAMMY I LOVE YOU

OKAY BIG BEN OH SHIT BIG BENS DOWN

SAMMY I FUCKING LOVE YOU

OH SHIT OH SHIT THE TENSION IS INCREASING

NOOONOT HER SHE SCARES ME

AHHH I WANNA GO HOME

SHE CANT BE FUCKING REAL 

oh shit…

WAIT so it was the atrociraptors that killed Brooklynn???

OH FUCK HOW IS THIS A KIDS SHOW

YOU KNOW WHERE WHAT!?!?

OH FUCK

OH FUCK IT SMELLS THEM

OH SHIT

OH FUCK?

what if it’s Ronnie?

Oh it’s Mateo okay. 

TORO??

Aww yasammy

DAMN THAT SHOT WAS COOL THE TREX AND THE EXPLOSION 

HE PUNCHED IT 

AHHHHHH YAZ SAMMY YASAMMY OH MY GOD “MY GIRL” OH MY FUCKING GODDDD

NOW THAT WAS A SHOT STRAIGHT FROM TEXAS

THE KICK!?.

OH MY GODDDD HES ABOUT TO DO THE THING 

HES DOING THE THING OH MY GOD THE PARALLELS 

HOLY SHIT THIS SCENE IS INCREDIBLE 

THAT FUCKING ROAR

Oh?? The Broker??

HAHAHA THATS WHAT YOU GET 

WHY IS THIS BITCH STILL ALIVE AND HERE?

OH FUCK BYE BITCH WITH THAT UGLY ASS HAIRCUT 

Lmfao not them shitting on kenjis camper

Are they going to Brooklynn’s apartment?? Abroad?? 

THE LOOKS OF SHOCK ON THEIR FSCES RIGHT BEN THAT WAS MY REACTION 

AWWW NOT THE UNREQUITED LOVE TROPE

AWW FUCK :( :(

YAY WERE GOING ON AN ABROAD JOURNEY 

JESUS FUCK MATTEO 

OH MY GODDDD WERE GOING ON A TRIP IN OUR FAVORITE CARGOSHIP 

RONNIEEEEEE HI DARLING

OH WAIT WTF RONNIE WHATE R U DOING DONT TELL ME…

wait…… is she texting…

Wait wait wait this could be either good or bad but I’m thinking good

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HOLY FUCKING SHIT I WAS RIGHT WE WERE RIGHT RUGHT 

OH MY FUCKING GOD OH MY GODDDDDDDD WE WERE RIGHT 

OH MY GOD SHES ALIVE AND SHE LOOKS SO BADASSS

[popawritter12]

Hello! I was wondering if you could do an Enduring Sword Talon x female reader? His skin lore is so fascinating but I haven't found a fiction for it just yet 🥹🫶 Take your time!

I love you and your writings 💕

Author's nothes: YEAH FUCKING BITCHES, GUESS WHO COME BACK AGAIN???

(This days were horrible guys, please be patient bcs the writer Popiña in me is dying 😞)

Also, LESSS GOOO A TALON REQUEST

Yandere! Enduring Sword Talon x Fem! reader

Yandere character: Talon Du Couteau

From the videogame/movie/serie/manga/anime: League Of Legends

Case: Kidnapping, relation of god x reader and nothing more.

Part: 1 of 1.

It was inevitable for her to be something more than human, since she could barely be anything more than a filthy, senseless, peasant donkey who even understood the alphabet, a woman who is broken, wounded, almost dead in the eyes of the gods.

But maybe that was why he chased her so much, maybe if she wasn't there he would never have returned, she would never have suffered what she had to go through.

It was still painful to remember that day, a cold autumn evening in which the leaves danced to the sound of the wind, the smell of freshly cooked food that approached from the town and spread throughout the forest, the sound of the footsteps of his boots against all the hard and brittle leaves under his feet.

It was an unthinkable and terrifying moment to wait for that pathetic day, after an ugly harvest and a terrifying dryness in the land, which would completely change her life and transform her from being a woman who was looking for meaning in her life. putrid life to a simple object, a simple thing which belonged to a ruthless God, who is selfish as a spoiled child with his toys, as sick as a patient in a psychiatric hospital after years of confinement, and as obsessed as a chess player knowing the position of each piece on his board.

Warm was the memory of her when she had first seen him; He was looking for a place to stay, since he didn't have many options since he had arrived in the mortal realm and the people, not to mention that they were not very kind to him. Therefore she decided, for the first time in her life, to give him the benefit of the doubt and give him shelter in her house.

It was painful to think that there was the option of seeing everything, of not giving him a space in her life, and especially, in her heart; She must have noticed in those grayish eyes that hint of evil, that hint of cruelty, obsessed with a bit of selfishness. And now for the first time, that she had managed to have even a hint of desire to live, everything had been taken away from her.

—Then what would you ask me here? —She asked, her hands playing with her fingers, and a feeling of doubt in the air.

He didn't respond instantly; His gaze had been fixed on the horizon, but soon, he turned to see his beloved. In his eyes, dimmed by a soft look, the feeling of security is observed.

—There is something I have always wanted to tell you—He begins his explanation—, and I think that if I don't tell you now, I will never have an opportunity like that again.

He gasped, feeling how his entire body began to have an unbearable weight, as if his mere existence were an enormous weight for a human being.

The only difference was that he was not a human being.

With a gentle touch on the woman's fingers, a grip on her palm, and a few caresses on her cracked, dry skin, he took his heart in his hands, and with a sweet but grim tone, he set his eyes on the woman's, gently parting his lips, with a slowness never seen before.

—(Name)... I have to say that, with all the time that has passed, and all the times that you have offered me your help, I can say, with complete certainty —He whispered, trying to extend his words, proving that It could sound so sweet with her —, that you, the first person who supported me from the beginning, has managed to...

But before his unmistakable but tenacious act of confession was about to come to a close, with a separation of her hands from his, the woman spoke;

—I am married.

As rough as sandpaper running over someone's arm and as hard as a slap to the face, it was as if, for the first time in his long, undaunted life, something worse was in store for him; something up to three times worse than a life as a mortal. And that was, without a doubt, an entire life without her, a life, whether mortal or immortal, without someone who had appreciated him and brought about her redemption.

Nothing came from his lips, the wind gently moved his white hair loose and free before the world, the consolation of nature was so soft that it resembled the pity it offered to the poor man, and the little emotion—which until this moment moment was the security he felt about that woman's feelings—faded, or rather, mutated, mutated into a great, disgusting beast, into a rotten, ugly feeling so strong that its soft grip became more cruel, more subduing and that carried a bitter taste in the air that could be felt for miles.

That was the taste of rejection, and, more than anything, the feeling of hate. At this, he just sighed, his heart trying to adjust to the feeling of desolation stuck in his soul.

—So… married. —He whispered, his heart weighing even more.

He let go of her hand, her gaze was now lost, she was so empty, as if she had lost all meaning, as if her entire life had reduced all of her importance to this moment.

—Yeah… —She responded, her voice so rough and dry that it seemed like the sand was staying in his throat —..., I'm sorry.

That low, timid tone, sheltered in a shadow of horrendous chills, that scared look like that of a mouse begging a human for a piece of meat, god…. It was so tempting, so beautiful, so fucking tempting, that he had to gasp heavily, beating down the longing for her, screaming down that gross desire.

—You don't have to apologize —He said, —, I just hope you're happy.

He took her hand again, more gently now, carefully separating each finger. He leaned gently, and with a falseness incompatible with his current state, his lips touched the skin of her palm, pressing gently to give her the sensation of love that he so repressed in his heart, softened and rotten by such a level of sentimental illness, and when he walked away, a grimace of ill-painted happiness formed on his face.

—I hope thaat person give you the happiness you deserve... —He gasped for a second, erasing the word of possessiveness, without letting go of her hand —, dear (Name).

That afternoon he withdrew from her life, that fall was going to be trapped forever as the memory of her downfall, as the only fact that was really going to differentiate her life from that of any other human.

And that was her awakening; only when the season of orange dyes came to an end, the silk as sweet as a ripe dessert fruit accompanied by a funny company, the smell so pure that it would make any mortal sick, and a brilliant white that cleared the view so much that it resembled to be under the same sunlight. The bourgeois air that overflowed from the rustic, whitish-colored decoration seemed to make the new woman in the kingdom sick, and only at the moment of the man's accelerated footsteps outside the room did she decide to lie back on the bed, snuggling her head against pillow.

Not even the door was touched when he entered, and with a few silent steps, he leaned his lower body against the bed; the feeling of sweetness in his soul basked in glory at seeing her so rested, so immovable, so... sensitive to any look daring enough to rest on a figure so well structured, but so poorly cared for.

A smile spreads across his face, the smell of smoke and the uncontrollable heat of the fire still overwhelming him, even with all the hours that had passed.

But all those airs of pain, desperation and crude attempts to escape dissipated like a blizzard at the sight of the glimpsed body of such a peasant girl.

—So sweet... —He whispered, grabbing a stray strand of hair —.., and so sensitive.

He looked as enchanted as a bee on a flower, as addicted as a king to accumulating wealth, and as attached to that tenacious feeling as a womanizer is to flirting with any woman.

—I hope you wake up soon, my sweet (Name) —He gasped, tucking the lady's hair behind her ear —, you will enjoy life away from that town, and from... —Talon didn't continue, he just gasped with more heaviness —..., that useless one.

A few seconds later, aggressive footsteps, echoing from the cue crashing violently against the ground, and irregular panting accompanied by exasperating screams of complaints are heard outside.

—This damn idiot! —The goddess complained, her steps still sounding aggressive —, next time I won't let Morgana take that sword.

Hateful, that's how he could describe that woman who, just once, had managed to take everything from him.

The man looked so calm that such peace seemed inconceivable, and even a certain happiness was appeased in his soul, as if the approach of that woman meant a new objective for the man; a new way to show again to his beloved peasant how much he loved her, and even, if it were not for his current situation of having just returned to the kingdom of immortality, he would try to cut off the head of that goddess, solely and exclusively to remind her to (Name) the need for possession he had over her soul, and the power that existed between him and her.

Some aggressive knocks are heard outside the whitish room.

—I'll go take care of her, so you don't have to pretend to be asleep, okay? —He whispered, a kind smile trying to show her how much favoritism he had over her —. Make sure you don't make noise, my beautiful peasant.

Talon's body leaves the bed, and within a few seconds, the entire room; A new trial was about to begin, and now, there was great justification for it.

Bruh, I loved giving this guy a little story, I love him so much....

(He is literally my salvation from this horrible world, but he doesn't know it yet<3)

[wynnyfryd]

44 for the dialogue prompt <3

44.  “There really is a thin line between love and hate, huh?”

Eddie needs a cigarette. 

Nevermind the fact that he’s actively smoking one. He needs more. Like— like twelve more. Yeah. Twelve more cigs all lit up at once and crammed into his dumb mouth so no one can see how his jaw is hanging slack and fucking stupid over Steve Harrington and his horrible rodeo clown outfit.

Two days ago, Steve called Eddie up and explained that he had volunteered to chaperone the kids’ Sadie Hawkins dance on Friday night, but his car was in the shop and could Eddie pleeeease give him a ride? 

And Eddie, being a goddamn moron and assuming that “chaperoning” meant “wearing my usual polos and jeans combination that you have learned to stop drooling over,” agreed. Smiled real big into the receiver and said ‘No problem, Harrington, I’ll see you then.’

And now. Now, it’s a problem. 

A Problem, because Steve really went all out with the school spirit, dressed himself up like Dolly Parton’s biggest fan (red neckerchief, denim button-down with rivets all over, chunky belt buckle and worn leather cowboy boots) and then left Eddie to stew about it in the parking lot all night. 

He’s been loitering out here for almost two hours now, a little stoned and chain-smoking against the side of his van and wondering how the hell he’s supposed to drive all the way back across town with this guy in his car without spontaneously combusting or trying to suck the dude's dick. 

And like—

Like, yeah, sure, they made out at that party last month when they were both smashed and now Steve keeps calling him out of the blue, but that doesn’t mean he’d let Eddie grab him by his denim lapels and maul him against the side of his van in a high school parking lot. Which is really all Eddie can think about doing at the moment.

He takes a long, shaky drag.

“Hey, Eddie!”

Eddie’s head snaps up, and he spots Steve waving at him, doing a graceful half-jog across the lot toward Eddie’s van.

Eddie stamps the cig out beneath his boot — regrets it immediately, because what the fuck is he supposed to do with his hands? But he can’t focus on that right now. Not when Steve is coming to an easy stop right in front of him, smiling like an eager, windswept puppy who just ran laps around the park. Steve sweeps a hand through his perfect hair and pokes his tongue between his teeth and says, “Howdy.” 

Howdy. With a little wink and everything, so like. Just kill him now, honestly. Kill ‘em both, for both their sakes.

Eddie fishes for another cigarette. Finds the pack empty, fucking shit. His eyes rake over Steve and the ridiculous outfit that he can already tell is going to haunt his hottest dreams for weeks. “There really is a thin line between love and hate, huh?” he mutters under his breath. 

“Yeah?” Steve adjusts the bandana at his throat, shoots Eddie a cocky grin and steps into his space. Presses him against the side of the van and brushes a curl behind his ear. “Which side are you leaning toward, cowboy?”

And it’s like all at once the spell breaks. Eddie gags, sputters, “Oh, god, Stevie, hate! Complete and utter hatred; that was awful!” 

He spits at the ground like he’s trying to get the taste of Steve’s terrible pick-up line out of his mouth, and Steve throws his head back and barks out a laugh, all his pretty moles on display under his stupid denim collar.

Eddie laughs, too. Laughs hard, can’t tell if he’s laughing at how pleased Steve seems to be with himself, or how ugly Steve’s shirt is, or how the ugliness isn’t really lessening Eddie’s desire to fuck him while he’s wearing it.

“God,” Eddie sighs around a smile. “You’re the worst.”

“I know,” Steve smiles back. His expression softens then, goes hesitant around the edges. “But, um. I think, like…” 

His eyes drift to Eddie’s lips. Back again, looking up through long, pretty lashes. “I think you might want to kiss me anyway?”

Eddie leans in. Nose to nose, sharing breath. Their lips brush. “Think you might be right.”

---

send me prompts!

[thepunkmuppet]

struggling so much with ouat season 5 because dark emma and dark hook are both complete bullshit storylines and characterisations

BUT the difference is that jennifer morrison talks with a weird voice and was given a horrible ugly ass costume and terrible writing, whereas colin o’donohugh SLAYED THE HOUSE DOWN BOOTS and is SO FUCKING HOT

how am I supposed to be a hater in these conditions 😔

[blorbologist]

Caaaan I be cheeky and go Trick Trick Treat (to the beat of Duck Duck Goose) and As Many De Rolos As You Feel Like Including?

Not sure if I quite pulled that off, but that'll be your call to make ;3

--

“Ow! Fuck! What the hell - stop fucking - ow - Ollie!!”

“Language,” Vesper chides, poking at Whitney’s ankles with her cane without breaking her stride. “And stop fucking pulling her hair, Oliver.”

“You swore too! I’m gonna tell mum!” Littlest Cassandra - a knight this year - giggles, tidying Whitney’s fairy pigtails.

Oliver sulks, jack-o-lantern basket swinging as he stomps a few paces ahead. There’s chatter as the three slightly more well behaved kids chatter, discussing classmates’ costumes and candy hauls and optimal routes, before Oliver eventually can’t resist and slows to join them.

Julius is perfectly content to let his sister handle the siblings. He and Vesper are definitely too old for trick-or-treating, but once the littles are tuckered out, they can drop them on the doorstep and take off to the nearest Halloween rager. Not like he hasn’t been pregaming it - his jack-o-lantern has a smile of brown glass and slooshes like it’s about to vomit. 

Oh, he could be there now - already - swimming in a sea of sexy nurses and sexy lady CEOs and sexy sexy sexy, while Vesper and her friends binged old Halloween classics. If not for his wonderful middle brother.

Percival ‘too old for Halloween’ de Rolo got to skip out on this delight of being an older sibling by citing a project due tomorrow in his morning class. For the record, the nerd never leaves anything to the last minute. It was deliberate, Julius would swear on it.

Vesper thwacks his ankle. Julius glances up - it didn’t hurt thanks to the fireman boots - to see her frowning. 

“Where are we?”

A quick glance at the streetsigns answers him - though understandable Vesper can’t read them with her black shades. It’s getting awfully dark, and more lamps are unlit than not for the Halloween atmosphere. “Academy Lane? The Soltryce is at the one end. Dad has a lot of friends that live here.”

It’s definitely the sort of neighborhood Julius is familiar with - gated snaking driveways, walls mimicking castle architecture, the self-importance of the nouveau-riche. 

Nothing can beat an actual fucking castle, though.

Vesper frowns, adjusts her tie. “Mhm. I don’t see many pumpkins out. We should turn back.”

“One more and we’ll get to the car,” Julius promises. Cass is flagging anyways, not helped by all that aluminum platemail. She’ll be begging for bedtime soon. 

But there is a pumpkin on this porch - two, actually, a horribly ugly pair - so Julius ducks past the toothy open gate and keeps an eye on the hooligans. At least they’re having fun.

Never would he admit it, but Vesper has a bit of a point. It’s creepy - the tamed and trimmed trees look like manicured hands, backlit by faint light from the road and sick pale gold from the mansion. Despite how well-kept the place is, it’s crawling with vines. Trying to pick a late-season flower from one is a mistake - Vesper turns when he yelps.

“Just a thorn,” says Julius. When she’s not looking he presses his thumb to his lips, to swipe off the blood.

He and Vesper pause two-thirds the way to the house just as Cass reaches the front steps, Ludwig hushing the twins so she can catch up and be ready to yell with them. Whitney insists on ringing the bell - echoed down the drive, the sound makes Julius shiver. It’s getting cold.

The door swings open, delighted to see them, and the children just as delighted.

“Trick or treat!” hollers the host of little monsters. Everything looks less scary by the light: Cass is a little knight, and the imposing owners of the home are familiar faces with candy at hand.

“Oh, Lady Briarwood!” Julius calls, relieved. “What a surprise!” 

Her smile glows just as the jack-o-lantern’s does. “What a pleasant surprise indeed.”

🎃Trick or Treat! Send me an ask and you'll get a trick (angst) or treat (fluff) ficlet in return! 🎃

[vidma-kazhe]

What makes me so disgusted about Netlix santizing the ever-loving fuck of the ATLA story ("Oooh we toned toned the sexism", "Oooh, Aang is more serious now") is because they're just showing they're fucking cowards making content for audience that wants to consume but not to think.

Despite it's light-hearted tone and well-balanced moments of humor and teenage goofiness, ATLA managed to convey one simple truth: war is ugly.

War changes you. War distorts you. Even if you're not at the frontline and in a relative safety, you're still affected and it's not supposed to look good.

With Sokka and Katara they barely scratched the surface: despite Sokka saying some stuff about girls because of his own insecurity and feeling he had big boots to fill and Katara having never recovered from the anger of being unable to save her mom, they were nice and kind to everyone, included Fire Nation civillians, because they could afford being kind. Because of Aang. Who gave them hope. Who was a promise that this war can end and they can all be saved. They had a promise of tomorrow and a future - and so no matter what they had seen, they held on to that. And even with this, they still had their scars. They just got to address them instead of having them fester.

For comparsion, we had characters like Jet - who never had such hope in the first place and thus was capable of much more cruel decisions, caring not for a single life of a Fire Nation civillian (not that I blame him) because he experienced the brutality of invasion with nobody around to protect him.

We had characters like Hama -- a waterbender stolen from her tribe, imprisoned and tortured, stuck in the enemy's land unable to trust anyone; growing old and alone, having to watch Fire Nation people enjoy they lives ignorant of the destruction their empire was bringing to others and wanting make them suffer as much as she did. Wanting to make them know fear and desperation and the horror of being locked away to rot.

And the only reason why Katara wasn't Hama, was Katara's mom sacrifice. Not because Katara was different, kinder or more merciful. Because someone gave her life away to protect her life.

We had a society like Southern Tribe, where women were forbidden from practicing combat waterbending and only allowed to do healing -- because Fire Nation wasn't above committing genocide and keeping women from fighting seemed like a measure to keep them safe. It was a flawed logic, but the show pointed out how being stuck in the old ways and clinging to the illusion of safety can bite you in the ass.

Sokka and Katara didn't remain good people because of some inner goodness they had at birth -- it became possible, because of Aang. Otherwise, in time, they too would have grown more bitter, more cynical, clinging to whatever coping mechanisms available just to survive. In time, they would have approved of Jet's ideas -- because nothing is fair in this world, there is no miracle, and if resisting genocide and colonization means being violent, then so be it.

War is horrible because it ruins your life and takes away the parts of you that you may never claim back.

But I won't expect modern show writers to ever understand it or even to be willing to get out from their comfort zone and explore it.

[chaifootsteps]

Can someone explain for me why Twitter of all apps is the one that likes to lick Vivzie boots the most? The always defend her on EVRYTHING, and anybody who question her actions is inmediately invaded by the "you just hate her for no reason" crowd.

And its weird, because twitter is know as the "app where everyone gets cancelled" yet this transphobe, abusive asshole that constantly acts childish on her social media is defended from all criticism???

For example, some minutes ago i saw someone calling out Vivzie foe liking that one shitty tweet saying that indie creators should thank her for being a pioner on indie animation. And i got happy at first, because i was thinking "finally, people are realising how horrible she is" until i saw the comments and most were like "um i dont see anything wrong 🙄 you just hating for no reason". Yeah guys supporting your fans giving you credit for something you didnt did and minimizing the work of others is nothing bad at all/s

And months ago, when it got leaked the discord conversation where a worker on helluva said that others proyects should "suck a dick", everyone in the comments was like "c'mon guys is just a joke dont take it seriously".

Its always "there is no proof", "it was years ago", "i dont see anything bad", im tried of these people.

And its fucking weird because i remember months ago hating Vivziepop was the norm, back when Lucifer design was revealed everyone was trashing it and Vivzie. Nowdays, she could throw a baby out of the window and twitter would laugh it off saying "oh i dont get the new Vivziepop controversy 🤣 she did nothing wrong" while harrassing those who said she was kinda mean for that.

Its really crazy watching how some smaller artists gets into worse controversy over smaller things and Vivzie is just there untochable.

Yesterday i saw some controversy over some artist who did a "drawing "ugly" features as beautiful" and its funny how they where getting so mad over what was clearly a mistake by someone with good intentions, yet they where attacking that poor artists as if they said a slur.

But Vivziepop has people who worked with her talking about her abuse and people think she is "hated for no reason"?!?!?!

I dont get that goddamn app. Hope Elon Musk destroys it and every Vivzie fan loses access to internet forever.

Average conversation about Vivzie on twitter:

Person: Vivzie threw a baby out the window and it happened on live TV.

Twitter: That was debunked. I don't like Vivzie either but this is just a nothing burger. Go out and touch grass.

Things are better than they were -- you used to get no one at all listening on Twitter -- but there's a reason I can only take so much Twitter.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Updating by writing you guys this huge post. I mean it, it's really long xD

Heeey-ho!

I know, I know, I couldn't keep my Halloween promise T-T

Tha Halloween gods are now shouting at me "HOW COULD YOU?!"

Die Halloween gods, slowly coming after me - black and white edition

As it has happened before, I'll be posting both Dante and Vergil's part during november. I'm still working on them, so it might take a while. Do apologise.

They will be here, just with a little delay. I do think Halloween should last more than just a few days, so screw it, until Christmas, it's still legal to celebrate Halloween at the Bibliothéque \o/

Now, now, for those who don't like too much talking, I'll be explaining a little bit below why I'm taking so long. Feel free to skip it if you don't want to read it, no worries ;)

(There's a "conclusion and TL;DR for those who don't want to read this whole novel" in pink down there if you want to scroll down to that point!)

As *not* expected, my health took a crazy downturn. I know I say it all the time, but hell, I've no idea what gives this time. I literally stopped everything. I spend most of the day in pain and the rest of it sleeping. That's it.

I have an appointment with my doctor next week, but I'm not too much hopeful. Last exams showed I have two ulcers - which means scarring and bleeding in the stomach - that can be literally anything.

Not gonna lie, I'm pretty worried it can be something worse than I was expecting, although it never even appeared to exist before, but well... My anxiety isn't exactly logic.

Secondly, as you guys might not know, I'm graduated in Law, worked as a lawyer for 5+ years before having a burnout and all those health issues (yeah, yeah, don't do what I've done, all that sort of thing). But something you don't know, and honestly probably only my close family knows and cares about, is that my graduation thesis was "The Conflict of Israel x Palestine and International Law".

I researched it for 3 years before defending my thesis, got a college prize for it, the professor who mentored me made a huge speech on how I proved "we women can do it on academia and research" and that my work was really nice. I'm not saying all this 'cause I'm boasting, I'm just saying I know what I'm talking about (because you know, who has never met a man who thinks their opinion is better than yours "just because" while you have a fucking huge CV on research and graduated with honors on the same matter but, somehow, you can't beat the opinion he just pulls out of his ass?).

All of this to say, I'm devastated by what's going on. This is more than politics to me. This was my thing, you know? I had a dream, stupid ~promising young woman~ dream of doing something with my intelligence to actually help people. To actually stop massacres of happening. I wanted to work at the UN, I wanted to speak with world leaders, to show people how much I can research and how much basic human rights matter so horrid things cannot happen ever again.

When the war broke and the bombings started, I followed the news. And then the news weren't reliable anymore. I started digging to find the truth - and hells, the truth is ugly and bloody. I think that's when all those last shards of dreams came crashing down. I thought I could do something, you know? Actually do something. But in the end, my parents were broke, I had to work to help at home, I kept sending my CV to the UN but I was never enough, and I just wasted my energy and health under the boots of someone who had more power and influence than me to break me and kill my career before it even started.

I felt so horribly powerless. So horribly broken. It seems stupid, but everything that is going on out there fells personal to me, I have history with it. And it broke me. Completely. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't force myself to at least watch the horrible things going on and try to like/share so the algorithm can make it reach other people.

That's all I can do.

You know, I have a lot of Vergil in me. For the things I wrote, I think you all can see I have a thing of "I never want to feel pain again and I want power so no one can never hurt me again" - that's why I think I want to kick his ass every time I see this fucking man being so emotionally constipated and ruthless because of his trauma. It's a way to protect himself, burning every path so he never feels powerless again - and I guess we all HATE to see the parts of our own personalities we hate the most in someone elese

So yeah. I know things took a dark turn on this one, but I decided to be honest with you guys - since I'm owing so many updates: the 2 Halloween fics, Nemesis and Survivor's Blood. I'm not really well currently, and only the gods know how much effort I'm making to keep it together... At least a little bit.

Physically, I'm like V. And I'm not even trying to be funny, every time I see that lil' goth twink I want to yeet him away because, hell, I'm MAD I see myself in him (mind you, I used to be more on Dante's side of the fitness spectre xD) - and not only regarding fitness, but tiredness. Falling apart. It's so... Harrowing. I think that's the word that fits the feeling better.

Mentally, I'm Vergil. I don't want to, I want to beat him with a stick, I want to yell at his face and kick his stupid ass, but damn. I get it. That crippling fear of not wanting to feel powerless again, to have people abuse you? The feeling you're trapped in your own body? The "feelings bring only pain and suffering"? The terrifying dread of discovering you failed at everything even with all your talents and never wanting to admit it? Check all of those. I hate you Vergil, but I get you.

I'm trying, though. I use writing as a coping mechanism and as a way to resolve many things mentally, but the last months have felt SO overwhelming I went back to my paralysed state of not being able to do anything and running away from things that remind me of all THAT.

You guys might be alarmed, but there's no reason to be, though. This is a ~moment~ I'm going through and I just need to sort it all out. I'm starting to get some warning signs of numbness, vivid nightmares of past issues, the paralysis, avoidance - but I've been there before. I just haven't figured out a way to pull myself together and I don't even remember how I did that once, so it might take me some time.

I don't know why, I had some sort of weird ~boost~ while thinking in the shower today, and I might know how to give the small steps to start getting back on track and gaining that momentum I need. This weekend I had to convince my mom to celebrate her birthday 'cause she's my Samwise Gamgee carrying me up Mount Doom and she wasn't in a mood to do so - therefore on monday, I have some things in mind to discuss with her and, hopefully, things will slowly go back to their place.

Conclusion and TL;DR for those who don't want to read this whole novel hahaha

THAT BEING SAID: I'm really sorry I can't deliver everything I wanted to you, guys. I didn't expect life to get so much more fucked up than it already was, but here we are. I just have to get used to the new pace of things, but it might take a while. My output of writing will be slow, but hey, after I can get out of that paralysis phase, I'll probably be writing more and posting more - 'cause I really, really love this. With all my heart.

(also, if you people see me active on my drawing thing, posting a bunch of things, it's 'cause I'm finally getting to look at all the art I've done but never posted and actually updating it and putting my art blog to some use I haven't in a while - I won't be creating new stuff. All old stuff I procrastinated as HELL and those will be some of my small steps to get out of this rut)

Now, as a last thing, I intend to use a video from a guy I always watch on youtube as some sort of guiding light in these trying times hahahaha but seriously, he has some really sound advice and he is so down to earth. Maybe someone who's going through some fucked up times can use his advice as well and unfuck their life too :)

That's it. I felt like I needed some raw honesty today. Like I said, small steps. This is part of it hahahaha

I hope you guys understand. There's nothing I love more than writing, creating something for people - and all of this, everyone I met here and every single person that uses their time, which is the most precious thing we have, to read something I wrote gives me the greatest gift I can be given. You guys have no idea how much I appreciate you and how much I don't want to disappoint you.

So thank you. I will work slowly and I will need some time to get my shit together, but I'll always be here. I'll update everything I need and won't leave you hanging but you know... It's like Dracula Daily. It starts in April and finishes by the end of the year, taking time to put the letters together.

Aaaaand, if you read Lord of the Rings, the whole adventure takes a year. We are very much conditioned to be given content constantly to keep algorithms happy, but I do have a view that humans (and art for that matter) can't keep up with being content.

Zygmunt Bauman said we live in liquid times, and made the theory that everything is liquid nowadays (for people who like sociology and philosophy, I highly recommend his books, I love him with all my heart), so we're not really used to things that are a little more... Constant. Earthy, perhaps. Slow, stable, never leaving.

I try my best to be like that, not like a liquid, inconstant, fleeting presence. I want the things I do to be part of something that will stay, and I like being someone that stays - and doesn't just flow away because everything has to be fast and ever moving nowadays. The Bibliothéque is to be like that, I think, a place that no matter what, you can come back after ten months and you'll still find me here, drinking some tea and writing stuff. And I'll be happy to see you again, for as much as you can or would like to stay :)

kinda like Dante in his lil' shop :')

That's it. Thank you for reading me mumbling nonsensically in order to tell you I will keep updating my fanfiction, even if at a slow pace HAHAHAHAHAHA

Hope you guys have a fine weekend and a good next week! I'll be always lurking around, but the creation process will be a bit slow.

Will still be here to mumble randomly about DMC and scream random things in the void though :D

*me getting ready to tackle life for the next months, going like "still heeeeeeeeere bitch!!"*

***

And I'd like to add that I searched for "Obi Wan" on GIFs to find some sassy defying mood too add here and one of the first hits was this:

I'll leave you guys on this note 'cause I'm still wheezing about it, it's so friggin' on point I can't EVEN

[the-teddy-bear-butch]

5 for the prompts

Ask and ye shall receive!

Vecna was dead.

After weeks of anxiety filled planning, sleepless nights, and holding each other through the nightmares, Vecna was dead.

Robin used her boot to hold a dead demodog down as she pulled the nail bat from its flesh. Her chest was aching as she caught her breath and ran a hand through her grime filled hair. Steve was off to the side, leaning against the battered remnants of the house’s wall, nursing a gash in his arm. El was in Max’s arms, while Lucas looked over them, and Dustin, Will, and Mike were going around, checking on everyone. Nancy was alone, standing away from the others, still holding her gun, and soaked in blood that wasn’t her own.

It was hard to believe it was over.

Robin turned to approach Nancy, still standing over what the smoking remains of Vecna’s form. She placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder, turning Nancy and pulling her into a tight hug.

Nancy choked out something half gasp and half sob, the shotgun falling to the ground with a clatter. She was shaking violently, her grip weak around Robin’s waist.

“We did it,” Robin rasped. She kissed Nancy’s forehead, and the girl leaned more heavily into her.

“We did,” Wheeler agreed. She didn’t sound like herself. She sounded small. Distant, almost.

Robin held Nancy more tightly, wishing more than anything that she could take away her pain and her fear. She would do anything to make things better for her.

When they finally parted and began to the trek back, Nancy hung back, and of course, Robin stayed with her, the shotgun now slung over her own shoulder. The freckled girl kept careful eyes on Nancy’s pale face, the sweat beading at her brow, the carefully neutral expression she held—something hidden, secretive.

Something was wrong. Robin reached out a hand and Nancy took it—her skin felt clammy. Almost cold.

“Nance?” she murmured.

Nancy shook her head, but as they slowed, she was stumbling, swaying suddenly. Robin caught her readily, staring at Nancy’s face.

“I’m fine,” the girl grumbled, weakly trying to shove Robin away. Her trembling and lack of strength said otherwise.

Nancy’s weight suddenly seemed a lot heavier.

“Nance?” she asked softly, barely suppressing panic, but the girl’s legs gave out and she slumped against Robin.

“Shit,” Nancy breathed, the word drawing a whine out at the end of it. Robin knelt to lower her to the ground, frantic eyes searching Nancy’s body. It was hard to find any wounds given how much other crimson ichor covered her, but—

There.

A rip in Nancy’s coat revealed a deep, ugly set of gashes in her torso, angry at the edges and bleeding freely, staining the ground where she fell a horrible shade of crimson. The demogorgon must have gotten her when they weren’t looking. Robin stared at it in shock, before adrenaline kicked her into action. She ripped at her own shirt, pressing the fabric to the wound. Nancy groaned, her eyes rolling back.

“Hey, hey stay with me, Nance, stay with me,” Robin stammered, tripping over her words in her panic.

“Fuck, Rob, that hurts,” Nancy whined, curling away on instinct. Robin pulled her back, steadying the girl by using her free hand to grip Nancy’s. She kissed the back of Nancy’s hand, tasting blood but not caring.

Robin looked over at the rest of the group, now looking at her in horror. Mike in particular looked shocked—she supposed he hadn’t seen Nancy be anything but strong before. Really only Robin had seen her weaker side.

This was something altogether new and far more terrifying.

“Steve!” she called. The man looked up, blinking slowly as if in shock. Still he came over, and he instantly paled at the sight of Nancy’s state.

“Rob,” he breathed. She shook her head.

“We need to get her out of here.” Her voice was hoarse, tight with panic.

Steve moved to pick up Nancy, but Robin shot him a glare. He was injured anyway, but she had escaped relatively unscathed. Robin handed off the nail bat and gently scooped Nancy into a bridal carry. The girl curled into her, one arm around Robin’s shoulder and the other clutching at her vest. She was breathing heavily, eyebrows furrowed.

“We’re going get you home,” Robin whispered, wanting to kiss away the knot between her brows. Nancy breathed a long, tired sigh.

“I know,” she murmured, slurring. She buried her face in Robin’s chest, and Robin’s heart ached at how broken she looked. It was if all of the fight had bled out of her. “‘M just so tired.”

“I know. You can rest when we’re home, okay?” Robin whispered, voice cracking. She realized then that she was crying, tears rolling down her cheeks and leaving trails in the blood and grime that covered her. Nancy didn’t respond, but her grip on Robin’s vest tightened. “But for now I need you to keep fighting,” she begged.

Robin wanted to scream. She wanted to wail the words into the night sky and throw things and launch herself into the quarry if it would save Nancy, as she looked at the way Nancy’s sweat slicked curls framed her sickly pale face. They barely had time to become friends. They barely had time to sneak moments together in the quiet of the night, holding each other through flashbacks and sharing their deepest secrets.

But there was one secret Robin had yet to share, and it was a raging inferno within her, burning an ugly hole in her chest more and more every day, something fond and unbearably fucking warm and fierce. She knew exactly what it was. She didn’t know how to say it, but it was clawing it’s way up her throat every time she looked at Nancy. The words danced at the end of her tongue now, begging, begging to be spoken aloud.

She just needed a little more time.

“Just a little bit longer, okay? Just hold on a little bit longer,” she begged Nancy’s quiet form. “Keep fighting. For me.” She breathed a long sigh. “For us.”

[charmixpower]

I hate that shade of blue with that shade of pink so much it looks so fucking ugly. Also apparently men don't experience the cold because they're just in their normal ass outfits XD

Daphne looks the cutest, like these colors are still awful, but I love the use of fur on her outfit

Tecna's look is my second favorite. Her horrible fur boots, her giant gloves, and poncho are so funny and I love her

Stella's hat is cute and I love it, the rest of the outfit doesn't exist

Aisha's little hair stand is so so cute!!

Flora's top isn't killing me to death

Bloom...I hate it

Why didn't they give Musa a actual jacket like everyone else??? Her outfit is so under designed compared to everyone else??? Why does this season hate Musa so much

[gutsybitsies]

what's love got to do wi' it

from this post, also shoutout to @kingburu for my first glimpse into pipianca and now here we are.

-------

Two dames in dark bar croon out a lovely jazz duet, as the band behind them thump out a funky beat.

Piper swirls a glass of red wine, the nicest the one this dingy hole has to offer, as she waits for her date to slither in. She's dressed up for this occasion, wearing her nicest boots and cleanest shirt and jeans combo. She borrowed Jason's old glasses and took out his prescription lenses, so that the golden frame brought out her kaleidoscope eyes. Her hair is no longer the choppy waves it was in her teens, and she'd managed to put it in an "elegant but effortless" bun. 

He's late. She frowns at the taste of the wine.

Someone smoothly slides into the seat next to her, but he's not who Piper is waiting for.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing here? Let me buy you something stronger, sweetheart," he croons disgustingly. He looks likes if a scientist did a horrible experiment with a potato and created a man whose blandness was offset by his inherent creep factor. 

"Not interested, leave me alone," her dark hooded eyes give him an unimpressed lookover and return to gazing inside her wineglass. Bubblegum pink lipgloss kissed the rim of the glass. 

"Let me show you a good time, I promise I'd make it worth your while-" the man was inching his arm around Piper, but before she could kick him where the sun don't shine, a hand reaches out to push him back and a figure shoves himself between her and the asshole.

"Hey," he says dangerously, his dark eyes glinting with madness, "What do you think you're doing, moving on my girl?"

Piper grimaces, but lets the charade play out. Nico looks crazy and creepy, and if that kept more guys off her back, then so be it. His hair is a greasy mess, and his leather jacket has obvious tears in it. Piper doesn't want to be racist, but what's the point of fake dating an Italian if he doesn't even put in the effort to dress up? If she can put on mascara and lipgloss for him, he can at least wash his hair and shave his five o clock shadow. 

Nico moves in on the asshole, his small frame pushing up against him as he dares the other guy to make any kind of move so that he can unleash hell.

"What the fuck man-whatever, who'd want an ugly bitch like that?" the guy slinks away in shame, huffing.

Nico scoffs and slithers into the seat that the asshole vacated. "Pussy," he says.

"That's sexist," Piper reproaches him. She downs the glass of wine and nudges him to get her another glass. "You owe me."

"Yeah, yeah," he orders two shots of whiskey for them both, and the two of them pretend that they're on a nice and interesting date for half an hour for the very obvious paparazzi lurking behind them trying to take a shot of Piper, before Nico slides his arm around her and they leave the bar,  tripping over their feet as Piper hails a cab to take them to Nico's place. 

Nico's hand is dangerously low on her back, so Piper takes the initiative to slap his ass. They see a flash out of the corner of their eyes.

He glares at her.

"The cake is a lie," she whispers in his ear. "Someone needs to do more squats."

They don't let up in the cab, pretending to giggle at each other while playing with the other person's hair. They fool around all the way till they reach the front of Nico's house, where he fumbles around with his keys and unlock the front door, before picking Piper up and carrying her through his door.

The moment he kicks his front door closed, he unceremoniously dumps her on the couch and goes to the kitchen to pull out his dinner that's being kept warm in the oven.

"Hazel came over to use my kitchen and left lasagna," Nico explains, giving Piper a plate before digging in. "She's been stress cooking a lot recently."

"Poor Hazel, is she worried that much about her debut?" Piper asks, "She can keep stress cooking though, this is divine."

"Yeah, her boyfriend has no idea about our family, he thinks she's a struggling graphic designer instead of, y’know, this," Nico gestures around his opulent home. "Guy doesn't even have a range hood or a gas stove. Whatever, here's the files you asked for."

He throws a USB at Piper, who catches it in one hand. She grins in excitement. "I knew you'd come through!"

"Yeah, yeah, don't know if it can hold up in court though," he says. "Your dad, he's doing better?"

Piper's smile fades a little, "He's still booking roles, but he doesn't listen to me when I try to tell him about all the shady financial dealings the production companies and his agent is involved in."

"You're the only one who believes me," Piper continues forlornly. "Even Jason thinks that I'm overthinking."

"That’s because Jason is a cop bastard," Nico shrugs. "I don't know what's so difficult to believe about a production company partnering up with shell corporations to use hundreds of millions of dollars in film making to launder money for various arms dealers and drug smugglers. At least now you can make headway," he nods at the file that Piper's clutching in her hands.

Nico looks Piper up and down, "By the way, you said you were going to meet me in your nicest 

outfit."

Piper looks at herself, "I look nice in this outfit."

"Aren’t you a private investigator? Don’t you have a closet full of disguises? You couldn’t pick the nicest one? You're going to look better at our engagement party, right?" Nico asks, because he's a little shit.

Piper rolls her eyes, and doesn't argue because he's done her a huge favor. “Got it, promise I’ll look like the perfect trophy wife. Then I'll come in you can announce me to your family and business acquaintances, and I'd simp over your every word, and laugh at all your jokes."

"Good," Nico replies, not catching on to her sarcasm. "When I take control over the company, I'll be able to help you a lot more."

"Why doesn't Bianca have to be engaged to take control of her shares?" Piper asks. "You said that she's been in shareholder meetings ever since she turned 18."

Nico groans, "I know, it's not fair! She's father's chosen successor. I have to fight for scraps and dignity. You'd meet her at the family dinner next Friday, try not to be put off by how stuck up she's becoming."

Piper showers and changes into the fresh pajamas that Nico keeps in his place, before climbing into his spacious guest bedroom and sighing at the soft mattress and even softer pillows. When she’s in the liminal moment between wakefulness and sleep, she hears the front door being open and a rich female voice with a soft Italian lilt call out, “Nico? I know you’re awake.”

For some reason, the voice sent shivers down her body. She couldn’t make out more of what the woman is saying while she drifts off to sleep, but she lets the timber of what she could hear settle down into the most intimate part of her ears as she melts into the bed and passes into the land of slumber. 

When she wakes up, Nico is in the kitchen banging pots and pan together as he makes breakfast for the two of them.

“Change of fucking plans,” he says. “Forget meeting the family before the engagement, we’re announcing it this Saturday.” 

“This Saturday? Isn’t that-”

“Hazel’s debut? She doesn’t care, we’re taking over the headlines, I’m proposing to you in front of everyone. Fuck this shit, cazzo!” He curses as a drop of oil sizzles on his skin when he breaks the egg over the hot pan with more height than intended. “Fuckin’ Bianca, telling me what to do, she’s not my boss!” 

Piper’s seen Bianca in the various family photos that Nico had around his home, and occasionally she scrolled by pictures of her in the socialite news and on instagram, but she’s never seen Bianca in person before. “Did she come by last night?”

“She did, she said that this engagement is a bad idea, she wants me to meet a woman from another family. The Lawrences. She can’t tell me what to do, she hasn’t taken over yet!” Nico turns to Piper and points his spatula at her. “Mclean, I need you to be on point this Saturday. You need to be the most beautiful woman in the gala. Get someone to slap some makeup on your face and show off whatever straight men like. I don’t know, womanly shoulders? That’s what’s sexy right now right? Show off your shoulders.” 

Piper makes herself a cup of coffee as she watches Nico frantically make a mess of his kitchen.

“BOOBS!” He snaps his fingers in a eureka moment. “That’s what they like! Piper! I need you to-”

“Don’t say another word,” Piper smiles dangerously, and Nico sheepishly complies. “Nico, look at me.” 

He looks at her, and Piper brushes her hair away from her face as she flutters her lashes at him. Nico continues to look at her blankly, with a what am I supposed to be seeing expression on his face. 

“Ugh, you don’t understand how hot I am,” she complains. “Just trust me, I’ll knock everyone’s socks off for you.” 

She twirls a strand of her hair and blows a kiss at Nico, who raises an eyebrow and goes back to making the two of them a hearty breakfast. He shoots her a comeback, “Why aren’t you this good at flirting with women you’re actually attracted to?” Piper winces, that stings.  

Nico continues to hum as he moves around in the kitchen, and Piper focuses her eyes on the various photos that he has on his walls. She’s met Hazel before, her almost golden eyes and bright grin shine out from the frames. She’s never met Bianca, but she looks into her dark eyes as Bianca smiles gracefully into the camera, and Piper could almost hear her sultry voice in her head accompanying her dark gaze. 

“Breakfast is ready,” Nico interrupts her thoughts to place a huge plate of food in front of her. 

“You spoil me, future husband,” Piper blows a kiss and giggles as Nico pretends to shoo her kiss away. 

He plops down across from her with his own plate of food and begins to dig in.

Piper groans around the shakshuka that Nico made. He’s not a natural cook, but being the only boy with two sisters who demanded (Bianca demanded, Hazel asked politely) that he wait on them hand and foot meant that he could bake, cook, and clean with the best of them. 

“You’re going to make someone a very, very happy husband one day,” Piper reaches over to pinch his cheeks. 

“Not if those old assholes don’t die anytime soon,” he says. “If they start talking to you about kids, just tell them we plan on having three.” 

Piper chokes, “Three?! Nico!” 

“What’s one more lie?” Nico asks. 

“You’d drown with just one kid, you can’t deal with three.” 

The two of them bicker and eat as the morning light dapples them with softly shining kisses. The cool  breeze gently ruffles through their hair as they gather their dirty dishes and put them in the sink, before Piper attacks Nico and drags him to the bathroom to rinse water in his hair. 

“Why are you so strong?! Stop!” He tries in vain to struggle out of her grasp, but she has an iron grip on his neck. 

“You better stay still when I shave you later.” 

“You won’t dare!” Nico gasps. 

Piper waves a cheerful goodbye to a newly shampooed, blow dried, and shaved Nico, and he gives a wave back before slamming his front door in her face.  

She takes the bus back to her home, a condo she just moved into this year, and settled in front of her computers. Piper makes herself another cup of coffee and cracks her neck, she plugs in the USB file Nico gifted her, and goes to work. 

The files were a lot, it had all the dealings that Pom Corp, Nico’s family’s holdings, had with the Triumvirate holdings. 

Ledgers, mergers, deals, as well as pages and pages of email chains. She prints everything out and begins to sort through them before adding them to the other mountain of stacks of files she’s already compiled on the Triumvirate Holdings. Five cups of coffee later, she wakes from her bleary daze of concentration and notices that she ran out of her instant coffee mix. She debates cracking open the forbidden red bull, but her stuttering heartbeat tells her that it’s a bad idea. 

Piper yawns, and cracks open the window to let in fresh air, she leans a tired cheek against the cool ledge. The sun is already setting, how has time passed so fast? Piper gets up and leaves her task to take a quick trip in the kitchen, where she is disappointed by the lack of food in her refrigerator. Piper glares at its emptiness, and spares a glance at the luscious mini herb garden that’s flourishing on the windowsill. 

“Don’t mock me,” She says to them, like a normal person would to inanimate plants. In her imagination they wiggle back mockingly. Her condo was entirely full of plants whose purpose of existence was to mock her, plants that couldn’t be transported to Hylla’s home, ones that Piper begrudgingly potted and brought to her new condo after Reyna left their shared home. 

The first week she moved out, she imagines with viciousness Reyna’s taut expression when she eventually returns to her home to see a dead garden and even more dead houseplants. Eventually Nico nags at her enough that she takes it upon herself to divide Reyna’s various plant babies between her, Nico, and Hylla’s place. 

Piper would just have to live with  less schaudenfreude that comes from thinking about Reyna’s expression on seeing her house empty of plants instead. She glares at the shelf of orchids that Reyna used to fawn over when Piper lounged around their home in nothing but a thong and a bathrobe. One of their petals take this moment to slowly fall off its stem. Piper sticks her tongue out at it, another completely normal interaction between a normal human being and her ex-fiancee’s beloved houseplant. 

“She better come back from her worktrip soon and get these assholes out of my place,” Piper mumbles to herself as she pulls out her wallet and shoves it into her cargo shorts. She’s given up on cooking, there’s a Thai place nearby with good vegetarian options that she’d shove her face into. 

There’s a fancy pale green electronic vehicle parked right in front of Thai To-Go! when Piper leaves the store with her curry and Thai iced tea, but she doesn’t notice it until she’s barrelling into the owner who took that exact moment to come out of her car and make her way to the restaurant. 

Piper yelps as her curry spills out through its poorly packaged container, and as it splatters out of its plastic bag and onto the very expensive looking white blouse that the driver was wearing. 

“My curry!” She gives a look at the frowning woman with her dinner all over her clothes, she looks vaguely familiar but Piper couldn’t place her face at the moment. “And your shirt! I’m so sorry, are you okay? How hot is it?”

The woman gingerly pinches the shirt so that the worst parts of the spill isn’t touching her skin directly. “I’m fine, it certainly is quite hot. Smells nice, good to know the place Google picked is delicious,” She jokes, her dark eyes crinkle up in a smile. It’s only at this time that Piper notices how beautiful the woman she embarrassed herself in front of is. Her olive toned skin glinted in the waning sunlight, and her eyes were shaped like drooping black diamonds. She towered a few inches above Piper, and her voice was lulling with a slight accent. 

“I, um, I live above the restaurant,” Piper points at the direction of her place. “I have a spare shirt, let me make it up to you, I don’t want you to walk around with a spill like this because of me!:

The woman’s eyes brighten up, “Thank you, that would be very helpful.” 

She follows Piper up the stairs, walking a little bit closer to Piper than she was used to. Piper could almost feel her dark hair curling up against her own skin, as the strange mix of curry and what the other woman smelled like twisted together in the air. She recognized the scent as pomegranate scented perfume, it was very similar to the bottle that Nico had gifted her last Christmas. 

Piper leads the mystery woman into her condo, thanking the heavens that she didn’t have any time to create a mess since she last cleaned it up two days ago. The only mess was in the walkout alcove that doubled as a terrace in the summer and a greenhouse in the winter, it was what made Piper fall in love with this place. Currently it’s littered with Piper’s bookbinding projects and beadwork designs.  

“Feel free to take a shower,” Piper says, well, squeaks. It’s been so long since she was near someone who was her exact type that she’s forgotten how to emote properly. 

“Thank you,” the woman says again. “I wanted to ask, because I have a meeting in a while, but I was afraid it’d be awkward.” 

“No, not awkward at all!” Piper shoves a towel in her direction. “I’m going to get a shirt for you!” 

Piper rests her head against a wall and tells herself to get it together. Now is not the time to be attracted to mystery woman! She hears the shower in the bathroom start to run, and realize that she hasn’t given the woman a shirt yet, so Piper rushes to her room and rummage around her outrageously sized closet for a generic white blouse. She scrolls through her phone while she waits for the woman to finish showering, and texts Jason so he can receive her inner screaming. 

Piper: THERE’S A HOT WOMAN SHOWERING IN MY PLACE RIGHT NOW. 

Jason: Nice, good job! Knew you could do it! 

Piper: no :( she’s only here because i spilled curry on her. 

Jason: Oh that’s a real meetcute. But aren’t you and Nico “dating”? Is this the best time for hot women

Piper: nothing’s going to happen, she’s just borrowing my shower

Jason: Oh...is that a good sign or a bad sign...? 

Jason: Will Nico be at your place soon? I have to return the tupperware Hazel gave me. 

Piper: didn’t i already give you hazel’s number? 

Jason doesn’t reply for a while after Piper’s last text, which is just as well because it’s at this moment that the woman walks out of Piper’s shower looking like she was wearing nothing but a towel. 

Upon a second glance, Piper realizes that she was wearing her slacks and a bra underneath, but covering her shirtless top with the towel. 

Piper’s eyes locks onto her, the steam billows out from behind her. 

The woman’s eyes trace over Piper’s body, and the towel falls to the ground. 

“Oops,” she says, still looking at Piper. 

Piper slowly lets the blouse in her hand flutter down to the  ground as well. She sees that the woman’s waist had a tattoo wrapped around it, it was a scene of a hunt.  Under her ribcage on the right, a beautiful stag was rearing its hooves and attempting to escape the arrows of a huntress under the left side of her ribcage and closer to her abdomen. In the center of her chest, Piper sees a tattoo of a skeletal horse head. 

“Want to take a closer look?” the woman offers, and Piper walks closer as if mesmerized. 

“It’s beautiful,” Piper’s hand hovers over the designs before the woman gently guides fingers to trace the lines of her ink. 

“This is from when I was a teenager, it’s my first one.”

“It’s so intricate,” Piper feels her minty breath and breathes in the heady scent of her perfume- did she reapply her scent? It feels more overwhelming, she keeps moving closer to the woman who keeps backing away and beckoning Piper forward. “It must’ve hurt a lot, especially if it’s your first time.” 

Piper’s the one who’s backed the woman into the wall, yet she’s the one who feels trapped as the woman casually leans against the wall as she loosely circles her arms around Piper’s waist. Piper lifts up her face and is met with a kiss, her lips are soft and she tastes like how a beautiful moonlit evening in the spring feels. Her arms gather Piper closer, and Piper melts at the gentleness and circles her own arms around the woman’s neck. 

Their kisses don’t feel like a lust fuelled frenzy. Rather, they take their time, their kisses punctuated by little nips and cheeky tongue swipes. Piper feels the stranger’s hands come up, one cupping her face and the other placing a strong hold on the back of her neck. Whenever Piper gets a bit too excited, the woman squeezes her neck like she was an excitable kitten and Piper shamefully backs off, only to be met with more kisses and gentle nibbles against her throat. 

Just as Piper was finally about to take the bra off of her mystery seductress, a cellphone rings and breaks the two of them out of their reverie for each other. 

“Cazzo,” the woman curses adorably and in a slightly familiar way. “Sorry, I almost forgot about my meeting. What’s your name? I also forgot to ask.”

“Uh-” Piper’s still reeling from the haze of her first makeout session in years with someone who wasn’t Reyna. 

Her phone rings again, this time it sounds even louder. She walks briskly to the blouse that Piper dropped and puts it on, grabbing her phone in the meantime and takes out a business card. She winks at Piper and slides it inside Piper’s shirt.

How was Piper supposed to speak when something like that happens? 

“Ciao bella,” She walks away to the front door and finally answers the call. “Nico, calm down! I’m five minutes away, promise, be there soon.” 

The door shuts and slams Piper out of her brainfog. 

She looks down and clumsily takes out the business card that the woman handed her. 

Bianca di Angelo 

Shit.

A/N: if you liked this pls consider giving kudos on ao3 as well <3