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loverslantern · 4 months ago

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The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: To obtain a mystic gun capable of destroying the demon that killed their mother, the group must team up with John and face off against vampires.

Warnings: cannon violence and gore, John Winchester, arguing, girl kissing (not really a warning but), slightly jealous Dean??, reader being a nerd

Word Count: 8.5k

Dead Man's Blood

(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Outfit Board)

The cafe is quiet except for the distant chatter of conversations that melt together, the clinks of glasses and dishes, the clacking of a keyboard, and the shuffling of paper. So, maybe quiet isn’t the right word. Nevertheless, the steady background noise is peaceful. It brings me back to the days when I’d linger in cafes to study for an upcoming exam in both high school and college. Though, I suppose, looking through various obituaries and news articles to find our next hunt isn’t that different. “Well, man,” Dean starts, folding his newspaper. “Not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What’ve you got?”

I lean back in my seat, pushing away from the screen I’ve been looking out for God knows how long. “Nothing of note in Iowa, Kansas, or Missouri,” I announce, noting some of the states surrounding Nebraska. The various tabs open for each state are a little concerning. “Unless you count a woman in Iowa who managed to fall 10,000 feet from an airplane and survive.”

��Sounds more like ‘That’s Incredible’ than, uh, ‘Twilight Zone,’” Dean remarks.

“Yeah definitely weird but not that concerning,” I nod. It surely reeked of the supernatural because there was no human way to do that, but it also wasn’t a top-of-the-list concern when no one got hurt and it seemed like an isolated event.

“Hey, Sam, you know we could keep heading East. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh?” Dean suggests, smirking as he leans his elbows on the table. “Cool chick man, smokin’” he whistles. I shake my head, mentally grimacing. Yeah, she was attractive but to say it aloud and whistle about some girl your brother was clearly into? A little weird. “You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?”

“Yeah, I dunno, maybe someday,” he answers vaguely. “But in the meantime, we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that.”

“Yeah, alright,” Dean gives in.

“You get anything in the states you checked?” I ask Sam, knowing he had looked at Wyoming, Colorado, and South Dakota. More states that surround the state we currently reside in. “Yeah,” he exhales. “Uh, a man in Colorado. A local man named Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home.”

“That’s certainly one way to go,” I mumble.

“Elkins?” Dean echos. “I know that name.”

“You do?” I ask.

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Sam shakes his head.”Sounds like the police don’t know what to think,” he continues as his brother mumbles Elkins under his breath and pulls out their Dad’s journal. “At first they said it was some sort of bear attack and now, they’ve found some signs of robbery.”

“You know, sometimes it amazes me how the police solve anything,” I remark. Sure, if it’s supernatural related then they don’t have the upper hand of knowledge but seriously a bear attack and a robbery are two completely different things.

Dean hums absentmindedly in acknowledgment, flicking through the journal. “There, check it out,” he announces, flipping the book around for us to see. A phone number resides on the page right next to the name. “You think it’s the same Elkins?” Sam asks.

“It’s a Colorado area code,” Dean points out.

****

Sam kneels on the wooden porch, the flashlight illuminating his work with the lockpick. It’s not too long before the lock clicks, and the door creeps open with a turn and push.

“Looks like the maid didn’t come today,” Dean comments, looking over a table cluttered with books and papers. Otherwise, this room was pretty clean at least in terms of the crime. “Hey, there’s salt over here. Right beside the door,” Sam announces, lingering by the front door.

“You mean protection against demon salt or, ‘oops I spilled the popcorn’ salt?” Dean asks, his interest tuned into a journal he discovered on the desk.

My flashlight guides my eyes across the room. It didn’t happen in this room, it doesn’t seem like the perpetrator(s) came from the front door into the entryway. “It’s clearly a ring,” Sam clarifies. “You think this guy Elkins was a player?”

“Definitely,” he answers. I wander a little further into the house, the real mess lying in the next room over, the door knocked off its hinges. “That looks a hell of a lot like Dad’s,” Sam says. I look over my shoulder, and both boys are checking out the journal. “Yep, except this dates back to the 60s,” Dean responds.

I step into what looks to be an office, or what’s left of it. It’s pure destruction. If you told me a tornado came through this room I’d believe you. Broken and overturned furniture litter the floor, books and papers scattered about. I can barely see the floor, it's all covered. “Whoever this guy was, he put up a hell of a fight,” I comment as I carefully step further into the room, glass crunching beneath my shoe. Glass but no broken windows. “Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one,” Sam adds, looking up at the ceiling. I follow his gaze to the broken sunroof, the source of the glass.

Where did the police get a bear attack from even if he did have scratch marks on him? Did they think it fell into the sunroof? I could understand the robbery considering the mess, but a bear? Seriously? I shake my head at the thought, walking over to the cleared-off desk. Whatever was atop it was on the floor now. “Do you think whoever or whatever did this was looking for something?” I ask, taking in the mess again. Some of it was from fighting, but the desk's open draws, which were barely hanging on, suggests it may be more. It could be an added motive. “Maybe,” Sam answers before his attention turns over to his brother who is crouched down and examining the floor. “You got something?” Sam asks.

“I dunno,” he answers. “Some scratches on the floor.”

“Death throes maybe?” Sam suggests, referring to the last moments before the end.

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean says, grabbing a nearby notebook. He opens a page, placing it over the scratches before using a pencil to scratch over it revealing the marks better. “Or maybe a message.” He peels up the paper, some blood soaked into the back, but the markings are clear. “Look familiar?” He asks, holding it up.

“Three letters, six digits,” Sam answers. “The location and combination of a post office box. It’s a mail drop.” The message was an incredible feat to manage before death took him under. To be able to scatch it out…it must be more than important.

“Just the way Dad does it,” Dean adds.

****

A simple letter rests in Sam’s hand. The letter was found in the post office box. “‘J.W.’” Sam reads off the envelope, “You think that's John Winchester?”

“I mean your Dad clearly knew the guy,” I offer, his number is inside the journal. “Maybe he even learned this way of communicating from him.”

“Should we open it?” Dean asks, something uncertain yet insistent in his voice. But, no one gets to answer the question on each of our minds when, instead, there is a knock on the driver-side window. Dean gasps and flinches, his arm raised in defense. “Dad?” he breathes, his fist lowering. The door beside me opens then, hazel eyes looking at me expectantly. I raise my eyebrows with a tight-lipped smile as I scooch over. He takes my seat, closing the door behind him. “Dad, what are you doing here?” Sam asks. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he answers simply. He looks the same as the last time we saw him, with messy dark hair similar to Sam’s cut and a ragged beard. “I read the news about Daniel, I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three at his place.”

“Why didn’t you come in Dad?” Sam questions, his voice soft as if he knows the answer.

“You know why. Because I had to make sure you weren’t followed…by anyone or anything,” John responds. He sounds more paranoid than anything. It sounds like a sad excuse to avoid speaking and seeing his kids again, but I keep those thoughts to myself. “Nice job of covering your tracks by the way,” he compliments. And it’s like being buttered up before the roast— before you’re put right back on the fire that eats at you until you forget your self-worth.

“Yeah, well, we learned from the best,” Dean answers with a proud smile on his face as his chest puffs out a little bit.

“Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?” Sam points out.

“Yeah. He was... he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting,” he reveals. I guess I was somewhat right on my assumption. “Well, you never mentioned him to us,” Sam shrugs.

“We had a... we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years,” he explains, gesturing towards the envelope. “I should look at that.” Sam hands it over easily, and his father wastes no time in opening it. “'If you're reading this, I'm already dead',” he reads, trailing off. “That son of a bitch.”

“What is it?” Dean asks.

“He had it the whole time,” he answers vaguely as if we know what he's talking about. “Has what?” I ask. “When you searched the place, did you, did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?” He asks each question one right after the other almost frantically. “Uh, there was, there was an old case but it was empty,” Dean answers.

“They have it,” John announces.

“‘You mean whatever killed Elkins?” Dean asks. John opens the door, shifting to get out. “We gotta pick up the trail.” But before he can make it out of the vehicle Sam stops him, “Wait. ‘You want us to come with you?”

“If Elkins was telling the truth, we gotta find this gun,” he explains, doing that thing where he’s insanely unhelpful.

“The gun–why?” Sam pushes. “Because it's important, that's why,” he replies. I roll my eyes, for a guy who wasn’t very present he managed to be incredibly irritating. “Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet,” Sam reasons.

“They were what Daniel Elkins killed best: Vampires,” he reveals, finally being helpful. “Vampires? I thought there was no such thing,” Dean answers.

“You didn’t?” I ask, surprised.

“You did?” He throws right back with a just as surprised tone as mine.

“Yeah,” I say like it's obvious. “I took down a nest back in college.” It was the first and only time I had encountered a vampire let alone a vampiric hunt. Students started to go missing, seemingly picked off one by one, and like any school word had spread quickly. It was weird, yes, but with no bodies and only having gossip I had nothing to work with. No one saw anything, the picks were clean and concise. Well, that was until certain bodies did show up. Four out of nine bodies were found, two were located near or around campus grounds, and the others were left in the town that was a short drive from the school. I managed to pull some strings and cash in ‘I owe you’ to see the bodies firsthand. My initial thought was vampires but the thought was more of a joke than anything, I thought I was watching too much Buffy. But then some research made a joke no longer a joke. It was vampires and I had to kill them.

I can remember it still, the way the heads went flying and how blood caked my clothes. Buffy makes it look cleaner than what it is.

“You did?” John asks, his voice dripping in disbelief and sass. “Don’t sound so surprised,” I mumble, my distaste for him almost painfully clear in the curl of my lip. He has been here for less than five minutes and I’m already a little irritated. I’d like to think that I’m not a hateful person, that I don’t hold grudges or malice but when it comes to John Winchester suddenly I’m the biggest hater you’ve ever seen. “Well, I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and—“ he throws a glare at me. “And others had wiped them out. I was wrong.” “You were,” I agree, smiling a little at the slow turn of his head as he stares at me with daggers.

“Most vampire lore is crap,” he starts, his voice gruff, looking back at his boys. “A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late.”

“The way to kill them is decapitation,” I add. “Interestingly enough the story to get it right is a work of fiction, though, of course, you could argue that it was only presented that way and the author knew more than any normal person would. The final blow in Carmilla, written by some Irish guy, is her head being struck off. Before that was a stake through the heart but, it’s interesting that he would add the decapitation aspect especially when it’s the first ever Vampire novel so it’s not like he changed things to be different.”

“Are you done?” John remarks, unamused.

“Yeah, now I am,” I respond, equally unamused with him.

“Wake up! Come on,” a voice demands. I grumble something incoherent, my fingers softly curling into the warmth beneath my hand. The something beneath my hand rumbles with the “Mm-hmm,” that follows from its lips.

My eyes squint open, my hand resting on Dean's chest, fingers clutching his shirt, his arm resting around my waist. We didn’t fall asleep like this when John hated the very idea of us sharing a bed even though we’d done it before. I know John doesn’t trust me, even though I haven’t done anything to warrant such feelings. It’s more like he doesn’t trust who I am and he makes it known with every look and side comment. Yet, as much as he hated it, he didn’t want me in a separate room because it would “waste time and money.” So, we had slept back to back which felt so horribly unnatural.

I do not make a move to separate from him. He rubs his eyes and I want to bury my face into the pillow in a desperate attempt to grasp onto the remains of sleep but the sight of his messy short hair going every which way, and his eyes barely being held open from the sleep that clings to them keeps my attention. Even on interrupted sleep, he looks so good. “I picked up a police call,” John announces, the faint noise of radio static proving his statement.

“What happened?” Sam asks, his voice laced with sleep. Dean’s hand drops from his eyes going, instead, to my hand on his chest. He gives it a little squeeze and it would be so easy to just fall back into a sweet sleep with the butterflies that dance in my stomach. But, the harsh reality of, well, reality comes crashing back when John answers, “A couple called 911, ‘found a body in the street. Cops got there. Blood was missing. It's the vampires.”

“How do you know?” Sam asks logically. But, John is already halfway out the door forgoing explanations as he typically does. “Just follow me, okay?” he responds, shutting the door behind him.

“Huh, vampires,” Dean muses, his eyes still half open. “Gets funnier every time I hear it.”

****

The spin of red and blue lights shatters the atmosphere, a long cloth placed over a body in the middle of the road, yellow tape sanctioning off the area as cops work the scene, and a certain irritating Winchester talking to a cop as we are forced to wait by the Impala like kids waiting while their parent talks to an old friend and you just know you’re going to be waiting forever. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have gone over with him,” Sam complains, sulking slightly.

“Should’ve let us sleep,” I agree, mumbling. I don’t see the point in dragging us from bed just to put us on the back burner, but I guess that’s John for you.

“Oh, don’t tell me it’s already starting,” Dean responds. “What's starting?” he asks. But he doesn’t get his answer as their father approaches, Dean putting his focus there. “What have you got?” he asks his Dad.

“It was them alright,” John confirms. “Looks like they’re heading west. We’ll have to double back to get around that detour.”

“How can you be so sure?” Sam asks, arms crossed.

“Sam…” Dean warns.

“I just wanna know we're going in the right direction,” he snaps at his brother.

“We are,” John answers vaguely.

“How do you know?”

John hands something small to Dean, answering with “I found this.”

Dean cups the long and sharp tooth in the palm of his hand. “It’s a…” he tries to find the words, “a vampire fang.”

“It’s not necessarily a fang,” I correct. “An entire set of teeth that look just like that descends when they attack, covering the normal set of teeth.”

“Any more questions?” John asks, looking at Sam expectantly, a certain bite to his words. Sam remains quiet, his eyes flicking away—the kind of answer his father wants. No, an answer he expects. “Alright, let’s get out of here, we’re losing daylight,” John orders. He walks to his truck, a vehicle I suddenly love because he doesn’t have to be in the same car as us. “Hey, Dean why don’t you touch up your car before you get rust?” he throws back the comment, “I wouldn’t have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it.”

I look at Dean with widened eyes. His face drops. Drops. My heart might as well drop with it. I dig my nails into my palms in an attempt to control my mouth, my teeth clenched painfully to hold in my own comment. I should make him apologize. I should do more than that but I know it will only make it worse for them and that is the last thing I want. Yet, saying nothing feels worse so the word slips out before I can reel it back in. “Asshole,” I grumble beneath my breath, opening the back door to the Impala.

“What’d you say?” John asks, seemingly having super hearing, pausing short of his truck. The stiffness in his shoulder is familiar, or similar. So, I duck into the car with an, “I didn’t say anything.” I expect him to say something or for him to make some sort of move. I see the unamused look on his face even as I close the door behind me, creating a barrier between us. I half expect him to drag me from the car and make me answer him. Dad said I never knew how to hold my tongue or when to stop. And maybe he was right.

*****

The Impala rolls down the road, following John’s truck. “Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten,” Dean reads from the passenger seat. “Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks. I wonder if that’s what happened to that 911 couple.”

“I didn’t see the corpses well enough but it’s likely,” I answer, though I don’t know why John didn’t let us see the body or do any work.

“It’s probably what Dad's thinking. ‘Course it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks,” Sam grumbles, a certain furrow to his brow. “So it is starting,” Dean remarks.

“What?”

Well, this is my queue to keep my comments to myself and let them talk this out.

“Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year,” he explains. “Now we're not with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?”

“Hm. No. Look, I'm happy he's ok, alright?” he responds. “And I'm happy that we're all working together again.” “Well good.”

“It’s just the way he treats us like we’re children,” Sam adds, seemingly unable to help himself. But I’m here for the John bashing.

“Oh God,” Dean mumbles.

“He barks orders at us Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal.”

Sam’s not wrong. His vagueness is one of his worst traits which is saying something because he has a long list of horrible traits. He’s really the King of being as vague and unhelpful as possible for a reason I simply can’t discern. Maybe it makes him feel like he has some power or the upper hand.

“He does what he does for a reason,” Dean reasons. “What reason?” Sam pushes.

“Our job!” Dean snaps. “There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, alright? That's just the way the old man runs things.” “I’d argue that leaving you guys in the dark can lead to more error,” I comment, accidentally saying my inside thoughts out loud. Luckily, I’m pretty much annoyed as Sam challenges his brother. “Yeah well maybe that worked when we were kids but not anymore, alright. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line, and letting him run the whole show?”

A heavy silence fills the car as Dean stares at his brother like he’s trying to muster the right words. “If that’s what it takes.”

****

We drive for what feels like an eternity, though it must only have been a couple of hours, the sky falling to darkness. Dean is on the phone with his father, keeping in touch with him even as we follow after his car. “Yeah, Dad. Alright, got it,” he answers before hanging up. “Pull off at the next exit.”

“Why?” Sam asks with a certain edge or bite to his voice.

“Cause Dad thinks we’ve got the vampire’s trail,” Dean responds.

“How?”

“I don’t know; he didn’t say.”

Suddenly I’m pushed back into my seat as the Impala goes faster, fast enough to overtake Johns truck. The car swerves in front of it, my body jerking sideways and forward as the vehicle swerves again and slams to a stop. My heart stammers in my chest as I look out the window, John's truck nearly missing the side of the Impala. “What the frick, S–” I yell, my cursing cut off as Sam gets out of the car. “Oh crap here we go,” Dean mumbles, following him out of the vehicle. I sigh, rolling my eyes, as much as I expected an argument to break out this is a very dramatic and dangerous way to start it. Even so, I follow them out of the Impala as Dean calls out for his brother.

“What the hell was that?” John yells, stomping over to his son.

“We need to talk.”

John steps closer, getting face to face with him and I half expect him to grab Sam by the collar and shake some “sense” into him. “About what?”

“About everything. Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?”

“Sammy, come on, we can Q and A after we kill all the vampires,” Dean says.

“You’re brothers right, we don’t have time for this,” John adds. “Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now out of the blue, you need our help,” Sam yells. “Now obviously something big is going down, and we wanna know what!” “Get back in the car.” “No.” “I said get back in the damn car.” “Yeah. And I said no.”

“Okay, you made your point tough guy,” Dean tries again, hovering between his father and his brother. But, of course, his words are directed at his brother. “Look we're all tired, we can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on.” Dean grabs him, pushing him back toward the car. He gives in, allowing his brother to move him along even as he glares at his father, mumbling, “This is why I left in the first place.” “What’d you say?”

Sam steps forward, snapping back, “You heard me.”

“Yeah. You left. Your brother and me, we needed you. You walked away, Sam.”

“Sam…” Dean warns.

“You walked away!” John yells in his face.

“Come on, stop,” I urge, trying to push John back as Dean had tried with his brother. But he just shoves me off, forcing me back a couple of steps. “You're the one who said don't come back Dad, you closed that door, not me. You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!”

Dean jumps in the middle, forcing them apart. “Listen, stop it, stop it. Stop it!! That's enough!!” They don’t say another word; they just glare at each other over Dean’s head. “That means you too,” Dean adds, looking at his father. Despite the harsh words that linger in the air and the unspoken jabs that are begging to be said, they back off. Each step back into their vehicles. Dean sighs, the tension clear in his shoulders until he turns to me, brows furrowed as he half yells, “Are you okay?” The question is genuine despite how harsh they sound escaping his lips. There's a silence that falls between us; I don’t know why he asks me; it’s not like I was the one arguing. Perhaps it was because I stumbled back as his father shoved me or because he knows I do not like arguments. Either way, I nod silently, and he gives a single nod back, the stress soon returning to his face.

With the sun on our back and the tree line at our front, blocking us, I watch a beat-up Camaro pull up the old barn. A man in a t-shirt walks up to the car, shielding his eyes as he escorts the person inside and making a very good guess it’s likely they’re both vampires. “Son of a bitch,” Dean curses. “So they’re really not afraid of the sun?”

“Direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill ‘em is by beheading,” John answers and I roll my eyes at the repetition especially when half the information is something I already said. “And yeah, they sleep during the day—doesn’t mean they won’t wake up.”

“So I guess walking right in’s not our best option,” Dean remarks.

“Actually, that’s the plan,” John answers, immediately creeping from the treeline back to where the Impala and his truck are parked.

Weapons are handed out like candy on Halloween night, the machete's blade seeming to gleam as the sun hits it just right. Grasping the hilt reminds me of that day long ago, how my hand shook as I killed the first vampire. They look human, and the blood that falls is so human that it’s like killing one instead of a vampire. I had to remind myself they weren’t human and that they killed so many. Then, it was almost too easy.

“So, you really wanna know about this Colt?” John suddenly asks. “Yes sir,” Sam answers.

It's just “a story, a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter,” he starts. “Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo. They say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. ‘Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow Daniel got his hands on it. They say... they say this gun can kill anything.”

Something unsettling settles in my gut, something I don’t want to discern. We aren’t in the nest, and yet it’s like the fight-or-flight instinct has kicked in. “Kill anything like supernatural anything?” Dean asks. The same thought eats at my mind but where concern hits me surprise hits him.

“Like the demon,” Sam connects, and I feel foolish. Maybe it’s a survival instinct, or maybe it’s selfishness that makes me worry more about a weapon that can kill me rather than a gun that can kill the yellow-eyed demon. I don’t think I’ve ever been afraid of dying, at least not totally, especially when what I am makes it incredibly difficult to kill me, to begin with. But now I’m aware of something that can. It won’t be like a bullet wound you can maybe heal from; there won’t be hope—just death. Gone in the blink of an eye with no goodbye or warning.

“Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun -- we may have it,” John answers.

I want to be happy for them. I’m trying to be happy. I’m trying to push the fear away because isn’t it an irrational one? But I am scared. What if I don’t get a goodbye? What if it winds up in the wrong hands and I’m at the other end of it? Technically, right now it is in the wrong hands if the vampires do have it. “No offense, I'm glad this is an opportunity to get the damn thing,” I start, my fear turning into anger. “But did you, oh, I don't know, plan on informing us about this before we go into the place that has this gun, or was it Sam that convinced you?” I’m not an idiot; I am aware of the possibility that this could’ve been left out for God knows how long. “I mean, this could literally kill me, like end-end me, and you were just gonna, what, not mention it? ‘Cause it would’ve been a great warning.”

He doesn’t answer, and I’m not sure if he’s going to acknowledge me, which is answer enough. I move to try to get in his way. “You know, somehow I find a new reason to dislike you, which is kind of impressive.” I know I’m being mean as if a jab could heal the panic in my veins.

“You should be grateful I haven’t sent your ass back home,” he bites.

“Yeah well, this ass saved your life back with the Daeva’s.”

“Y/N,” Dean says, carefully touching my arm. But I step out of his hold, my shoulders going up as if trying to un-feel the touch, which is weird because I never do that with him. “No, Dean, this is serious,” I reason, my voice higher in an attempt to be louder, though it never nears a yell. I don’t dare look at him, weary of the hurt that might pass over his face.

“Were you going to say something if Sam hadn’t called you out?” I ask him again. But, I’m sure I know the answer. He pauses for a beat too long, and I feel foolish again. I’m arguing with a guy who couldn’t care less about what happens to me. The anger simmers in my gut, bubbling down until it’s replaced by shame. “You know what? Never mind,” I give up. “Let’s just go kill the vampires.” I shake my head, walking away from the group towards the run-down barn.

I creep between the trees, careful of where I step so that I don’t make a sound, even though I’m outside the barn. I take a couple of deep breaths as I walk; I need to have a clear head. This isn’t the kind of hunt you can be careless on; one wrong move and it all goes up in flames. I clear my head of any leftover anger or negative emotions; I need to lead with focus, not emotions.

I move closer to the barn, finding a window that looks easy to get into without making so much noise. That is key. I lift myself onto the thin windowsill, cautious as to not let my legs or any body part slam into the wall. And with the knowledge that the boys are close behind, I move into the barn. I move silently, first observing the layout and the countless hammocks filled with vampires as well as the occasional vamp that rests on the floor.

Ever so slowly, I move forward, careful to step over the beer bottles as I move as quietly as a mouse. Inch by inch, I lurk towards a random vampire in a hammock. A lone vampire, or at least one that’s farthest away from the others, even if far isn’t far at all.

I stand over his sleeping figure like a predator ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. Ever so carefully, I lift my blade, hovering it above its neck. With one quick motion, I know I am a hypocrite. Blood drips down its neck in waves like a relentless ocean; its eyes shoot open as the blade is plunged deeper. Its mouth parts in an attempt at a screech it can’t possibly make as its head is severed from its body. It did not get to warn the others. It did not get to say goodbye.

I pull my blade from the mess; blood seeps into the fabric of the hammock and drips to the floor. I sense the Winchesters enter the barn as I pick my next target. The goal is to get as many asleep so that should they wake, it’d be a slightly easier fight. Again, I take my stance over a vampire when I hear the faint clink of a glass bottle knocking over. I hold incredibly still, so still, I feel like the narrator in “Tell-Tale Heart.”

By luck alone, the vampire beneath my gaze does not stir, nor do any others. I turn my head slowly to where the noise originated, seeing Dean and Sam at the other end of the barn near each other. I swallow roughly, focusing in on the task at hand. Again, I drive my blade into the pale neck of the resting creature, blood spraying onto my cheek. I move to the next, stalking forth with my raised blade when an unearthly roar breaks the silence. The vampire beneath my gaze shoots up, clutching my wrist before I can lay the blade onto it. The machete vanishes from my hand, appearing in my other. I swing the blade; the cut is uncoordinated and messy in my non-dominant hand, slashing off its hand. My wrist is free as the limb goes flying, a horrible screech coming from the vampire as it clutches its wrist, blood spurting from where the hand used to be, bone exposed to the air. Glass shatters somewhere overhead, and I switch the weapon back to my dominant hand, unable to get another swing in when I dodge the lunging vampire.

“Run!” John yells from the same direction as the broken glass. I sidestep just in time, narrowly avoiding a swing from a vampire lunging at me. More of them surge toward me, their snarls filling the air. Reluctantly, I turn and run. My heart pounds in my chest, the sound almost drowning out the thudding of their footsteps behind me. I race toward the back of the barn, but there’s no clear exit—just solid walls and shadows. I sprint toward one of the walls. My legs push forward harder, willing myself to pass through before I crash into it.

The world blurs for a heartbeat, and then I stumble forward, my feet skidding on the dirt outside. I glance back, breathless, at the wall I just passed through. A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips, I’m getting really good at the whole teleporting thing. But enough celebrating, I quickly round the outskirts of the barn and make my way up the hill to where the distinct figures of the Winchesters wait. A look of relief passes over Sam and Deans face at the sight of me but I can’t say the same for John. I know he doesn’t care if I get injured or die.

“They won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life,” John informs, slightly out of breath. “Well, what the hell do we do now?” Dean asks.

I wipe the blood from my cheek with the back of my sleeve, glad that I decided to wear dark clothes today. “I’ll go back in there and finish it,” I answer.

“No, you’re not,” Dean declares, taking a single step toward me.

“Why not?” I ask. “I already killed two and—”

“You did?” John cuts me off, reflecting the same surprise he did before.

“No, my machete is just normally covered in blood.”

“You’re not goin’ back in,” Dean says firmly.

“Dean—”

“Not on my watch.” “Oh, come on. This is quicker than waiting until night and you can have your special gun sooner,” I reason, following him as he walks away.

“Not happening.”

“Don’t you want that gun?”

He stops short of the Impala's trunk, his expression firm as he faces me. “Not at the expense of your life.” His eyes are set on mine, a challenge burning behind his irises.

“I’m very capable of doing it myself,” I argue, my chin raised to meet his gaze head-on.

“I know you are,” he replies, his voice low and sure. “‘Doesn’t mean I’m lettin’ you go.”

“I don’t have to listen to you, you know,” I point out, the words sounding childish on my tongue. His brow arches, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his face. He wets his lips, voice dropping lower, “I don’t see you goin’.”

The words hang heavy between us. He’s got me, and he knows it. I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming in my throat. His eyes drop briefly, flicking to the small space between us like he’s daring me to move. He tilts his head slightly, waiting, his confidence annoyingly attractive. His fingers brush my wrist, featherlight, trailing down the inside. It tickles my skin, my breath hitching slightly, loosening my hold on the machete. He doesn’t rush—his hand glides lower, steady, until he slides the weapon from my grasp as if he already knew my answer before I had the chance to utter it.

“We’ll need dead man’s blood,” I manage, my voice quieter than I intended. His eyes flick back to mine, dark and unreadable, the weapon now clasped firmly in his hand alongside his own. He nods, his lips parted slightly.

****

After splitting up from John and Sam—and some lying and distracting on our part— Dean and I managed to grab the dead man's blood from the local funeral home. Afterward, it took some extensive convincing, including arguing that it would be safer for me to act as bait instead of Dean to be where I am now.

Now, I lean over the car’s popped hood, peering at the engine while the Winchesters watch from somewhere in the trees. “Car trouble?” a woman's voice asks. I turn around to see a dark-haired woman with thin eyebrows and striking blue eyes standing with another girl lingering behind. It didn’t take them long to show up. “Let me give you a lift. I’ll take you back to my place,” she purrs.

I lean against the front of the Impala, tilting my head slightly as I eye her. “I’m sure you’d like that,” I respond, biting my bottom lip, purposefully teasing. She steps closer as expected, so close I can smell the lingering metallic scent of blood on her mouth as well as her strong perfume. She grabs my jaw roughly, her fingertips digging in as she holds my face firmly, forcing my head back an inch so that she can use our small height difference to her advantage. I let her do what she wants, I’m not afraid of her or the other vampire. I’m just here to get her close enough for a good shot. “Would you like that?” she asks, spinning my question.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not Buffy and you’re not Spike,” I smile teasingly.

Her smile deepens, turning a little wicked. “You know, I should kill you for what you did to them.”

And I know she’s talking about the two I killed and the third I hurt. “Will you?” I challenge. I’m sure she won’t, at least not now. They like to play with their food. So, just as expected her eyes trace down my face, the collum of my neck, and dip beneath my shirt. “We could have some fun first,” she answers, eyes tracing back up.

Her head tilts down, her hold on my face tightening as her lips brush mine. Her hand slips to the back of my head, grabbing a handful of hair and tugging. My lips part in a groan, my head harshly bent back, giving her the chance to crash her lips to mine. She kisses me roughly and fast, all teeth and tongue before pulling away and licking her lips as if savoring the taste. “Heard you had a boyfriend,” I remark. “You think he’d mind you–” She cuts me off with her lips, teeth clashing with mine. My hands grasp the Impala behind me, the cold metal digging into my palms contrasting with the heat of her mouth.

She gasps, an almost choking noise as she pulls away and I know the shot has been taken. My eyes fall to her chest, the arrowhead sticking out. “Dammit,” she curses. The Winchesters emerge from the trees, crossbows in hand and unreadable expressions on their faces. Her hands fall from my face as she steps back, my chest heaving a little as I try to catch my breath. “It barely even stings,” she claims.

“Give it time, sweetheart,” John answers. “That arrow’s soaked in dead man’s blood. It’s like poison to you, isn’t it?”

Real surprise passes over her features, a hand coming up to cradle where she’s been hit as she staggers backward, wavering before she collapses to the asphalt. “Load her up,” John directs, moving to the other vampire who’s also on the floor with an arrow through her. “I’ll take care of this one.”

I turn around, shutting the hood of the car just as I hear the familiar squelch of blood.

****

The campfire burns bright in the middle of the small clearing of woods. She's still unconscious, secured with a rope around her that she could tear easily the moment she awakens. “Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage, and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready,” John orders as he walks back into the clearing with his eldest son in tow.

Dean sniffs the bag contents and coughs, “Stuff stinks!”

“That’s the point. It has to be strong enough to cover your scent,” I smile while simultaneously feeling bad for finding his reaction to the ingredients funny. “You can dust your clothes with the ashes and they, hopefully, won't be able to detect you.” I move to him, willing to take the bag from his grimacing face.

“‘You sure they’ll come after ‘er?” Sam asks as I carefully separate and dump the ingredients into the fire.

“Yeah,” John answers. “Vampires mate for life—”

“Didn’t seem she cared about that with Y/N” Dean remarks, cutting off his father. I give him a pointed look. And he just responds with, “What? She was the one who looked real into you.” There's a certain edge to his voice that I can’t quite discern, something almost snarky.

“Well, one thing interpretations got right about vampires is how inherently sexual they are,” I explain. “I’m not sure why but I guess it makes sense considering how they take the blood is intimate.” Still, Dean doesn’t seem particularly satisfied with that answer.

“She means more to the leader than the gun,” John continues. “But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time.” “A half-hour oughta do it,” Sam answers. “And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can,” John orders.

“But…”

“Well, Dad you can’t take care of them all yourself,” Dean cuts his brother off.

“I'll have her and the Colt,” John reasons.

“That’s hardly a lot of protection,” I point out.

“And if I remember you wanted to go in with less,” he bites back.

“I also have abilities that you don’t. I can stay with you, ‘make sure you get it safely.”

“‘Don’t need your protection,” he answers. I figure ego has some part of his decision so I drop it, if he doesn’t want backup then he doesn’t want it.

“But after. We're gonna meet up, right?” Sam asks. “Use the gun together. Right?” There's a long pause, the question hanging in the air for one too many seconds. “You're leaving again, aren't you? You still wanna go after the demon alone. You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like children,” Sam answers firmly. “You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe,” he reasons. I bite back my comment about how ironic that is coming from him as I walk a couple of steps away. “Dad, all due respect but, uh, that's a bunch of crap,” Dean says, all heads snapping to him. “Excuse me?”

I half expect him to back off, instead, he doubles down. “You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe.” “It's not the same thing, Dean.” “Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?” “This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive.” “You mean you can't be as reckless.”

“Look... I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece.” The atmosphere seems to change, becoming a little heavier in the wake of his words. “Your mother's death ... it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too. I won't.”

I’m sure there is some truth to his words but at the same time, he's been a horrible father to them, leaving them alone as mere kids to fend for themselves, forcing them into the hunting world at a young age, and even bringing them on hunts when they should’ve been worrying about school not their lives. “What happens if you die?” Dean points out. “Dad, what happens if you die, and we coulda done something about it? You know I’ve been thinking. I ...think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together.”

Sam nods.

“We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it,” Dean argues. It may sound cheesy but it holds merit. “We're running out of time. You do your job and you get out of the area. That's an order.” His answer is unsurprising and yet the way Dean looks down and the way Sam clenches his jaw makes me want to deck John Winchester until he agrees.

****

We quickly follow after John, having already killed the vampires in the barn and freed the container of people they had. Of course, it’s against what we were directed to do but we aren’t exactly known for following rules, so there's that. We ditched the Impala some ways back, sticking to the trees with our crossbows as we approached John's truck and the group of vampires.

We arrive in time to see John get knocked to the ground, his plan going south immediately. He’s backhanded into the door of his truck just as one of many arrows flies through the air, hitting the other vampires that crowd around. We emerge from the trees and I switch my crossbow to my off-hand to unseathe my machete. I easily walk up to one and in one clean motion send their head flying, the body buckling to the floor.

Quickly I turn, my crossbow raised to shoot a vampire that was creeping up on Dean. “Don't!” someone yells. I pause, eyes landing on a vampire who looks like a rock band reject with his arm around Sam’s neck while Dean tries to lurk forward with a machete. “I'll break his neck. Put the blade down,” the man orders. Everything stands still for a moment as I drop both my weapons. Dean, however, pauses until the man tightens his hold on Sam’s neck and then the machete is dropped to the ground with a clink.

Suddenly, the man’s arm is forced from Sam’s neck. It shakes as it's pulled away by an invisible force, his face contorting with confusion as he loses the ability to control his limbs. My head tilts slightly as I control him, forcing his other arm to remain at its side so that Sam is free to stumble away, his brother immediately dragging him behind him. The knees of the man buckle, forcing him to kneel on the asphalt. “You people. Why can't you leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do,” the man cries and I falter.

I falter. The one thing you’re never supposed to do in a fight. But, it doesn’t matter because his head is cleaned off his body before he can get up. John standing behind him, blood dripping from his machete. “Lutherrrr!!!!” the girl from before screams a horrible guttural scream that seems to reverberate in my ears. She’s dragged away by another vampire, fighting against their hold as she stares down John and her lover's body.

I stand over the little table in the motel room making sure I didn’t leave anything when John enters—the first we’ve seen him since last night. “So boys,” he starts immediately, the door closing behind him feeling like a death sentence.

“Yes sir,” Sam answers, both boys straightening out like soldiers.

“You ignored a direct order back there,” he starts.

“Yes sir,” Sam answers. “Yeah, but we saved your ass,” Dean intervenes, nervous looks thrown his way from Sam and I.

“You're right,” John, surprisingly, nods. “I am?”

“It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So...we go after this damn thing. Together.” “Yes sir,” they say in unison.

“And I guess you can be there too,” he adds, looking over at me.

(Next Chapter)

Tag List: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra @fablesrose @ada--44 @bonkydarnes @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara @mxltifxndom @stilesxreid @chaotic-luvrs @tiggytaylor @deanwasscaredbyacat @imaginexred @daisychaingirl @ugvvguggvvgu @yasmin12312 @squishytap

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #the hunter and the witch #sam winchester #dean winchester x witch reader #slow burn #john winchester #supernatural season one #dean winchester jealous #dean winchester x f!reader #dean winchester x reader series #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x f!reader series #john winchester as a warning #vampires

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lil-dragon-rawr · 3 months ago

Text

Hear Me Out: TOH x DC

(or: this crossover needs more attention and sometimes you gotta be the snake oil you want to see in the world)

Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Masterlist

(Luz, Amity, Cass, and Steph are stuck in Riddler's latest Escape Room Of Death (Or At Least Very Threatening Special Effects))

Steph: *starts whisper-arguing with Cass about whether or not to get involved as civilians*

Amity, unaware and moving towards the door with Intent To Slime: want me to-

Luz: don't worry I got this!

Luz, pulling a snake (???) out of her shirt: go, little power noodle, go!

Stringbean: *snakeshifts their tail into a key and unlocks the door*

Cass, slowly putting her lockpicks away: 0_o

Steph, to Cass: was that a snake? That was a snake, right?

(Luz, being Luz, ends up face-to-face with Black Mask in the absolute worst part of town)

Black Mask, one vaguely sarcastic comment away from murdering the random teen that just wandered into his high-profile drug deal: you have one chance to explain who you work for and how you got here, or I carve the answer out of you with a knife.

Luz, squinting at him:

Luz "Belos Was Turning Me To Stone And My First Instinct Was To Sass His Terrible Fashion Choices" Noceda: well aren't you just a ball of sunshine

Red Hood, interrupting the deal with Black Mask and coming face-to-face with a teen who was alarmingly unfazed by the whole event: do you have a death wish?

Luz: no, but it loses its edge after the first time

Luz: I mean, been there done that amirite?

Red Hood, processing:

Red Hood, hoping he wildly misread the context clues: you've died before?

Luz: well yeah

Luz, seeing an opportunity to cause chaos: but I came back thanks to the power of god and anime

Red Hood: ???

Poison Ivy: *minding her own business on the balcony of her suite*

Willow, thorn vaulting her way into the balcony: hi there! Huge fan :D

Ivy, trying to have a peaceful afternoon: wHOMST-

Willow: wanna compare notes on carnivorous plants?

Ivy:

Ivy: ...yes, do you have live examples by chance?

Willow, knowing she can essentially spawn plants at will: :D

(Robin, incredibly suspicious of the group that just moved into one of the worst (but cheap) apartment complexes in Gotham, has a stakeout at their apartments)

Hunter, moving around his apartment with Waffle on his shoulder: ^w^

Robin, immediately switching gears: I wonder if I could liberate the bird and convince Father to keep it since it's rescued from potential rogues.

Oracle, who heard him over comms: you're not allowed to steal pets anymore and you know it

Amity: *gets a job at Barbara's library*

Barbara, trying to keep an eye on her since she's kinda sus: hey, you're new here right? Want to grab coffee sometime?

Amity, just trying to do a good job: sure! :)

Barbara, suddenly acquiring a new sister: [task failed successfully]

King "Technically A Teenager But Really Short So Everyone Thinks He's A Child" Clawthorne: *gets kidnapped*

Kidnapper, calling the number King gave him to ask for ransom: we have your child-

Eda, unamused: oh yeah, which one?

Kidnapper: uhh short, yellow eyes, keeps asking if we have any ice cream?

Eda, annoyed: you have King???

Kidnapper, thinking they're getting somewhere: yes, and if you ever want to see him again, you'll bring $100k to the warehouse on the corner of 5th

Eda, knowing full well King could escape if he decided to use 2% of his power: *pinching the bridge of her nose* I'll be right over

Signal, about to rescue the small child some guy kidnapped: *waiting for an opening*

Eda, strutting into the warehouse on a mission: so you're the guy who kidnapped my son?

Signal, doing a double take because this lady with a hook for an arm has an aura that's oozing black and gray (and it looks like she has two auras for the price of one???): uhh Oracle?

Kidnapper, pointing a gun at Eda: slide the money over or I shoot!

Eda, still unamused: oh I'm sure you will, you spineless snaggleback.

Eda, letting the Owl Beast take over completely: *screeching, swallowing the kidnapper whole*

Eda, reverting back to normal: *burps*

Signal, panicking: Oracle? Hello?

Eda, moving on: so, King, did you have fun?

King, dropping the ropes he burned through with a glyph an hour ago: I had a blast!

Signal, finally getting a good look at the kid and realizing his aura is stronger than the demon lady's: Oracle, please respond

Signal, about to finish patrol: *sees the kidnapper from earlier passed out in a pile of nasty goo (Eda pelleted him up lol)*

Signal, incredibly concerned: ???

Oracle, tracking down all the information she can find on the Clawthornes: so it looks like that lady Signal saw got married in Vegas, stole her husband's car six hours later, and paid for a latte in Connecticut with a live racoon

Spoiler: what a legend. Move over Florida Man, there's a new queen in town

Red Robin: she turned into a monster and literally ate a guy yesterday

Spoiler: exactly, she's iconic

Red Robin:

Spoiler, rolling her eyes: god forbid women do anything

Red Robin, staking out the Clawthorne apartments after The Incident™: *listening in on conversations via the bugs he planted*

Gus, appearing next to him out of nowhere: hi there! Got a minute?

Red Robin: *screeching*

Gus, taking this as a yes: can I bug you with a few questions?

Red Robin, realizing a civilian snuck up on him and his siblings will never let him live this down: ...uhh

Gus, fangirling on the inside because this is a real human hero right in front of him: so what's it like being a human hero?

Red Robin, desperately trying to figure out what on earth these people are: you're not human?

Gus: *bursts out laughing and never answers the question*

(Luz, Vee, Hunter, and King, hopelessly lost in Black Mask's territory while trying to find their way to a restaurant)

Red Hood, recognizing Luz "I Have The Power Of God And Anime On My Side" Noceda: hey are you actively trying to get killed by Black Mask, or are you just lost?

Luz: oh hi again! Guys, this is the vigilante I was talking about!

Vee: *leans forward and sniffs Red Hood before freezing and remembering that's not something humans do* uhh. Ehe.

Red Hood: did you just sniff me?

Vee: uhhhh

Luz, squinting at Red Hood because Vee obviously smelled magic on him: haha, so silly, you wouldn't happen to be magic, would you?

Red Hood:

Red Hood: okay, back up. You can smell magic?

Vee, understanding there's no way out of this conversation: ...yes?

Red Hood, to Luz: and you died?

Luz: that's been established. The real question is how are you magic?

Red Hood: probably cause I died and got dunked in a necromancer's key lime smoothie extravaganza

Luz: cool

(the Batfamily sets up a meeting with Clawthornes & Co, C&C agrees cause they wanna see how the most paranoid member of the JL reacts to Demon Realm shenanigans)

Batman, seeing C&C and immediately clocking them as a bunch of child soldiers trauma bonded for life: .....

Eda, seeing the Batfam and also immediately clocking them as a bunch of child soldiers: ........

Eda, about Robin: why is there a twelve-year-old fighting crime?

Batman, about King: why is there an eight-year-old with more power than most high-level magicians?

Robin and King, at the same time: I'm fourteen!!

Robin and King: *squinting at each other*

Signal, off to the side, seeing the auras of the rest of C&C for the first time: oh my God. Oh my God

Spoiler: come on it can't be that bad

Signal: oh my God if B picks a fight we're all going to actually die

Batman, about Luz: why has your kid died?

Eda, about Red Hood: why has your kid died?

Red Hood, a self-proclaimed unbiased participant: oooooOOOOOOO she got you there *high fives Luz*

Batman, dragging Signal into the conversation because he's the only one who can see their auras: Signal. Ask your questions.

Signal, desperately trying to not get obliterated in a magic mushroom of energy: I plead the fifth

Eda: [Eda was amused]

Signal: so, you have two auras. Is there an explanation for that or...?

Eda: eh, I guess I have my sister to thank for that

Signal: ...can you elaborate?

Eda, sighing: it's a chronic condition. But at least my inner demon is paying rent now.

Signal, wildly confused:

Signal: so, um. You're the kid who got kidnapped a little bit ago, how are you holding up?

King: you call that a kidnapping? At best that was a half-baked attempt at a babysitting extortion scheme

Signal: ...do you know what kidnapping is?

King: yeah?

Signal: and you were unfazed by the whole ordeal?

King: I mean yeah, this was nothing compared to the time I was almost sacrificed by that cult

Batfam, collectively: ?????

Batman: [Batman will remember that]

Signal, to Luz: okay. So, you're the one who died - your aura also has this demon thing protecting it?

Luz and King: !!!!

Eda: hot dang, kid! The Titan's still hanging around!

Red Robin, thinking it's Greek myths coming into play: I'm sorry did you say titan?

Luz, making an attempt at explanation: yeah the Titan gave me the last bit of his power when I died

Luz, with jazz hands: and voila! Not dead anymore!

Spoiler, whispering to Red Robin: so is she...technically a god now?

Signal, increasingly desensitized to the power level of C&C: *pointing to Willow* you're basically Poison Ivy on crack

Willow, who just had her weekly meeting with Ivy: aww, thank you!

Signal, turning to Amity: I don't even know what happened to you.

Amity: oh is my aura all goopy?

Signal, slowly: that's...one way of putting it

Amity: okay it's all good! Probably just abomination slime :)

Batman: ...abomination slime?

Amity: yeah, like this!

Amity: *conjures abominations on the ground beneath the vigilantes*

Batkids: *screaming, cursing*

Luz, kissing Amity on the cheek: ooh another one for vigilante bingo! Nice job, sweet potato!

Signal, squinting at Hunter: uhh you're like, made out of bark and oozing a vaguely concerning substance? Also there's a bird imprinted on your chest

Hunter, tearing up: oh. What kind of bird

Signal: small and red, idk maybe a cardinal?

Hunter, full-on sobbing: I'm fine I just have some dirt in my eye. Stupid dirt

Batfam, putting two and two together about the group's matching bird tattoos: ohhh. Oh. Oh.

Spoiler: kay but why is your aura wood?

Hunter: oh I'm part palistrom wood

Hunter, counting off ingredients on his fingers: and part Titan blood, which probably explains the oozing

Hunter: I have a Galdorstone,

Spoiler, horrified whispering: is that like a kidney stone?

Hunter, still listing ingredients: Stonesleeper lungs, Selkidomus scales, a bone from my former uncle's deceased brother-

Red Robin: is there a reason you treat body parts like they're customizable options in the menu of an RPG?

Hunter, missing the joke completely: I'm a Grimwalker. This is what I'm made out of

Red Robin: ...you lost me.

Robin: but what about the blue jay you had on your shoulder?

Hunter: oh you mean Waffle! :D

Hunter: *pulls Waffle out of his shirt* say hi, Waffle!

Waffle: *un-petrifies himself and chirps*

Robin: 🤯

Spoiler, to Blackbat: it was a snake!

(hard cut to Robin being swarmed by palisman)

Robin, thinking: on one hand, it is foolish to show such obvious weakness in front of potential enemies. On the other hand, their familiars are all very cute.

Robin:

Robin, making a decision: *continues playing with the palisman*

Signal, pointing to Gus and Vee: I don't understand you.

Gus, comfortingly: don't worry, greatness is difficult to comprehend :)

Vee, actually trying to help Signal: ohh it's because he's all smoke and mirrors and I'm not even a witch!

Spoiler, who thought these were all just metas after Eda "It's A Chronic Condition" Clawthorne: you're not even a what now

(Clawthorne & Co, trying to start from the beginning)

Amity: so we're all witches-

Luz: well,

Vee: *laughs*

Hunter, raising his hand: I'm only half a witch on a good day

Batman:

Amity, amending: only three of us are biological witches who use traditional witch spells,

Luz: there you go!

Amity: those three witches are Willow, Gus, and myself

Amity: and Luz is the first human witch!

Spoiler, whispering to Blackbat: witches and humans are different species??

Blackbat: *shrugs*

Eda: and I used to be the most powerful witch on the Isles, but my curse corrupted my magic. Now I'm a harpy because I convinced the demon in my head to pay rent

Batman: curse?

Eda, waving her hand: yeah, long story

Luz: and like we established earlier, Hunter's a Grimwalker that used a human template, so he's not biologically a witch either. But Flapjack gives him magic!

Hunter, nodding solemnly: the power of friendship

Spoiler, whispering to Blackbat: oh my god friendship is magic My Little Pony was right-

Blackbat: *snickers*

Red Hood: and the weird kid who smells magic isn't magic?

Vee, defensively: magic is yummy!

Red Hood:

Vee "My First Instinct Upon Entering The Human World Was To Tell A Human 'Skin's Sure Weird' To Their Face" Noceda: ...yum yum!

Batfam:

Vee:

Batfam:

Vee: okay okay I'm a basilisk, basilisks eat magic!

Batfam: ...

Vee: ...nevermind.

Batman: that just leaves King. Is he also a pseudo witch?

King: oh yeah what did you call me a couple weeks ago Luz?

Luz, barely keeping a straight face: he's Jesus.

Batman: ...come again?

Vee and Luz: *start wheezing with laughter*

King, after a couple minutes of running with the bit: okay okay I'll explain

King: ...I'm the son of the Titan

Signal, looking between Luz and King's auras rapidly: you...he...oh. Oh

Spoiler: oh my god he's actually Jesus

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undercover-grisha · 1 year ago

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Jesper: “I got a lockpicking kit at the market today, I’m so excited to learn how to use it!”

Kaz: “Ha. Lockpocking takes years of practice to be good at it, and you can’t learn from a stupid little kit, you have to learn on the fly, from experience, gun to your head-“

Click Kaz: “…”

Jesper: “You were saying?”

Aside…

Wylan: “Yeah he got it two days ago. Failed the first three, then got in the groove and hyperfixated for the whole weekend. He just likes pretending he’s naturally gifted to piss off Kaz.”

#At this point Jesper’s hyperfixations are just MY hyperfixations #six of crows #soc #shadow and bone #jesper fahey #kaz brekker

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envysparkler · 1 year ago

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It was a Tuesday night, Tim was on patrol all alone because Bruce was benched with a sprained ankle, and he was hanging from the rafters of a warehouse by his wrists.

Typical.

Unfortunately, they had used actual rope, which meant that the lockpick Tim had so carefully pried free from the hidden pocket on his shoulder was useless, and he had a piece of metal trapped between his back molars as he tugged at the rope with his teeth.

It was frustratingly slow going. The warehouse was silent—Tim was supposed to be bait for Batman, and the thugs had taken an extended smoke break after roughing Tim up a bit—and Tim was hanging upside-down like a monkey, legs twisted around the rope and gripping tightly to give Tim enough stability to bend up and worry at the knot with his teeth. He wasn’t sure if he was loosening it or tightening it, and Bruce’s voice in his ear was not helping.

“If you can get the birdarang from your belt pocket,” Bruce said, voice carefully level in the way that meant that he was definitely panicking, “And—”

Tim abandoned the knot for a second, jaw sore and teeth aching. “I’m not Nightwing, I can’t just remove my spine when I want to,” he snapped, sucking in breaths in the brief pause before he clenched his stomach and bent up again. “I’ve almost got it.”

That was a lie, but Tim knew that Bruce was about five minutes from ignoring Alfred’s instructions and heading out, broken ankle be damned.

“If you can’t untie the knot, then cutting it would be easier—” Tim groaned, the sound muffled around the rope. “And you need to give yourself more slack, so the tension isn’t at the knot—” Tim groaned louder.

He couldn’t give himself more slack with the rope that was currently bearing his entire weight. Chewing through the rope was his best bet right now, no matter how sore his teeth got. The fibers had to break at some point. Right?

A throat cleared, loud and close, the sound cutting through both Bruce’s half-panicked babbling and Tim’s mental self-recriminations. Tim dropped his head to see who’d snuck up on him—

And stared straight into a red helmet.

Tim did not squeak. He remained calm and level, holding his upside-down position even as his stomach dropped and his throat locked up.

“Robin?” Bruce asked warily through the comms. The red helmet was silent.

“Hood,” Tim said, as both a greeting and an answer.

“Did you just say Hood?” Bruce asked, voice rising, as the mechanized tone responded, “Replacement.”

Tim took stock of his situation—hanging upside-down, wrists tied, Bruce’s increasingly frantic questions in his ear, and a lockpick still held between his teeth. The Red Hood, in contrast, was looking up at him, arms crossed and within easy reach of his guns.

“Hi,” Tim tried, and hoped Hood didn’t decide to shoot him. He was pretty much a sitting duck.

“The Red Hood?” Bruce’s tone had definitely hit panic now. Tim ignored him.

“How’s it hanging?” Tim gave his best Nightwing-bright smile. He wasn’t even anywhere near Crime Alley. What the hell was Hood doing in Tricorner, anyway?

“Cute,” the distorted voice growled, “Big brother’s definitely rubbed off.”

#my snippets #tim is not having a good day

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theresamouseinmyhouse · 1 year ago

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tim + brentwood characters as boys i was legitimately friends with in high school and think of every single day:

Buzz- Jake (fake names for all of my friends bc privacy reasons) who complained about hanging out with nerds, got into a fistfight with someone else on his football team bc they called us nerds, was thoroughly convinced he'd run laps faster if he was hopped up on pixie stix (i held his backback while he got sick in the bathroom👍👍), he tried to hit on my older sister and she laughed at him, he was so put out he contemplated becoming a monk for a week

Wes: Max, who i helped sneak an entire bottle of orange juice on to the bus to our choir competition, but was unaware he brought a full bottle of vodka as well, ended up crying on our choir teacher for the three hours after the comp and i bought him a box of donuts after school, he did not stop doing this and had severe beef with a kid he knew in 5th grade and hadnt seen since but also hadnt forgotten their name and last i knew, was still awaiting for a dreaded confrontation to eventually come

Kip: Eduardo, who we all thought was studying during lunch but was actually filling his notebook with weird facts he observed about us and also managed to chew several packs of gum at once throughout our math class before the teacher noticed him, didnt know the plot to the clockwork orange so i lied about it for 5 weeks before he read it and called me just to tell me "you lying frog" befire he hung up

Ali: Ángel, who lied several times on separate occasions to the campus security about where people smoked, forgot what chihuahuas were twice, and almost drowned when he was swimming except his older brother got him and he immediately called me while waiting for the ambulance to tell me he almost fucking died, randomly sang a song about crabs he made up throughout the day

Danny: Ben, helped me with my biology homework because i helped him with essays, once released a live rat into the computer classroom because he had beef with the teacher, once texted me at 11 p.m. because he was having a mental breakdown over his chem work before he realized he was actually looking at trig and i told him id shoot him with a tranq gun if he woke me up like this again, kept forgetting how to tie his shoes

Tim: Teddy, he catfished 6 men over the age of 30 by pretending to be a 13 yr old girl and lured them to the part of town where there is an absurd amount of wild dogs that evade animal control and are known to maul humans, i watched him lockpick the english teacher's door so he could take back an essay he wrote bc it was actually a slash fic he printed out and turned in by accident, we hung out at a dennys once and he accidentally put his hand in syrup, looked me dead in the eye and said "i did that bc im gay" and wore pastel pink for a month bc it pissed off the hall monitor, his dad, and also six teachers he didnt even have class with

#robin 1993 #Tim Drake #Buzz Cohen #Kip Kettering #Danny Temple #Wes Thomas #Ali Ben Khadir #brentwood #Brentwood Era #timmy tag #God i miss my old friends they all disappeared during the lockdown and i never got their numbers back after they fucking moved #I knew so many weird boys when i was like 15 #I was just thinking of them when i remembered the brentwood boys and behold. This post.

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mytardisisparked · 11 months ago

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Toothbrushes

While Doggett searches Mulder's apartment during "The Gift," he finds evidence that connects some non-case-related dots.

Read on AO3

The apartment is only a little dusty, which is a miracle, considering how long he’s been gone. The fish in the corner bookshelf seem content and their tank is fairly clean; a testament to Scully’s care. Doggett appreciates that she looks after her partner’s pets and home while he’s gone. There is a special kind of trust there, in giving a key to your home to someone else and knowing they will know what to do in the event that something happens to you.

Doggett tries not to think about the lockpicks in his breast pocket.

He gives the fish a little feed as a way of apologizing for disturbing their afternoon, disturbing their home.

He’s opened all the drawers in the living room with little to show for it. It’s mostly papers, supplies, bills, mail, and the occasional case file borrowed from the basement. Nothing of note.

Despite the clutter, which Doggett feels a little bad adding to, the living room does not yield the gun he suspects Mulder has hidden here somewhere.

He moves to the bedroom. The carpet is clean and appears to be fairly new. The mattress and bed frame are the same. He can’t help but wonder what might make a guy buy all new carpet and bedding at the same time, but he lets that thought go after failing to find anything of interest under the bed or around it, aside from a few shoe boxes full of trinkets. The nightstand is clean and holds only a few small items – a generic medicated chapstick, a photo of a young boy and girl that Doggett assumes must be Mulder and his abducted sister, and a baseball cap that says “STONEHENGE ROCKS” on it in bold letters.

As Doggett smiles and looks at the hat, his eye catches on a small, black box tucked underneath. He sets the hat on the bed and picks up the box, his heart skipping a beat when he realizes that it’s covered in velvet.

He swallows and opens the box, finding exactly what he expected inside: an engagement ring. Judging by the wear on it, it’s old – perhaps it belonged to Mulder’s recently deceased mother? He relaxes. Carefully, he replaces the box in the drawer and sets the hat back on top of it before rocking back onto his heels and taking a deep breath.

He moves to the closet next, finding a few boxes of files inside, all pertaining to the Samantha Mulder case. They’re covered in dust. Doggett thumbs through them briefly, but finds that most of them are out-of-date. He figures Mulder has kept them for sentimental reasons, or as backups. Hanging above the boxes are a few suitjackets and a collection of the ugliest ties Doggett has ever seen. He smiles as he examines a few, reminded of the ties he wore back in the 80s.

The bathroom is clean and well-organized. The medicine cabinet has a handful of bottles; mostly NSAIDs, but there are a few others that he assumes were for managing Mulder’s illness. There are some band-aids and other basic first-aid items. Most of the first-aid kit appears to have been used – par for the course, Doggett supposes, when you’re working the X-Files.

Under the sink is a plunger, shaving supplies, and an unopened box of tampons. Doggett nods at that – he always kept a box in his glove-box for his female coworkers, too. Beside it is a hairdryer and a scrub brush for the toilet.

Doggett stands and takes one last look around the bathroom for anything he missed. His eyes stop on a small cup by the sink.

The cup holds a comb, a tube of toothpaste, and toothbrushes.

Two toothbrushes. Equally used.

Doggett suddenly feels his cheeks heat. Investigating the life of an agent he has been tasked to find is one thing, but those toothbrushes mean that he’s looking at someone else’s life, too. Her life. Agent Scully’s life.

He knew that Mulder and Scully were close and that their relationship probably crossed more than one professional boundary, but he has never asked, never dared to assume. It’s none of his business and he doesn’t need to know.

But those toothbrushes…

The persistent, hard look in Scully’s eyes makes sense now that he has a better approximation of how far this goes, how entwined their lives really are. He can’t help but wonder what she was like before Mulder disappeared, what she would be like if she was happy.

What she’s like when she’s with the man she loves.

Doggett backs out of the bathroom and looks away from the toothbrushes. He feels a little sick to his stomach about it, but he needs to keep looking for that gun. He makes for the dining room and kitchen, hoping that space feels less sacred.

#the x files #fox mulder #dana scully #fanfiction #msr #the gift #john doggett

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flowerandblood · 2 years ago

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The Golden Cage (1/5)

[modern! mafia boss • Aemond x female]

[warnings: angst, sexual tension, fluff]

[description: Aemond works with the mob and finds a new accomplice. His attention is drawn to his daughter, trying to isolate herself as much as possible from their criminal underworld. Angst, domination kink, a lot of sexual tension.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

______

For as long as she could remember, strange, disturbing-looking people had come to their house. She often watched them from upstairs as a child, through the railings, as her father greeted them at the door inviting them into the living room.

Their bodyguard, Harrold Westerling, one of the closest people on earth to her, always locked the door behind them. Then he would glance up, wink at her, and sit down in the chair. He read the book, waiting for them to finish.

When she asked her father, Eddard, who these people were, he always replied they are his accomplices. They came to them to deal with important, top-secret matters. In her imagination, Harrold was the keeper of their secrets, someone who separated her peaceful world from the one behind the door.

She could enter any room in the house except her father's study, which was why this room intrigued her the most. It was always locked, so she borrowed books from the library about lockpicks and how to use them. Unfortunately, it didn't work.

One day, at night, someone started banging on their front door. She saw through her bedroom window that there were several cars in their driveway, men dressed in black shouted something to her father, all she understood was that an accomplice of his owed them a large sum of money. Harrold then came to her and told her that whatever happened, she was to stay in her room.

Then, for the first time in her life, she trembled with fear. She saw one of the men point a gun at her father, he was explaining something to them in a reassuring tone. She felt her heart pounding, and even though she couldn't quite understand why these men were so angry and what was going on, she knew that they could kill him.

That they weren't safe in their own home.

She never lacked anything. Her father did not spoil her, instilling in her, together with Harrold, respect and hard work, but he also never begrudged her anything, providing her with the best. Harrold was the keeper of her secrets; she treated him like an uncle.

He often drove her to school, and they made lunch together when her father wasn't home. Several times, when she was older, she tried to find out from him what exactly her father did. Harrold then replied that he was a car dealer, but he did not add that it was an illegal trade. She figured it out later, putting it all together.

Harrold told her to stay away from all this. He was happy when she passed high school with honors, he came to the end of her year with her father.

Her mother didn't show up. She now had a new family in another city and a small child who needed more care than she did. She suffered because of this, but they never got along and she did not seek joint contact with her.

She easily got into college. She loved history and archaeology, especially the Middle Ages and eagerly studied the stories of kings, queens and knights from different countries.

Since her father gave her the opportunity, she wanted to focus on studying the period, maybe even become a researcher herself in the future. She gave her best so that what her father gave her would not be in vain.

She knew that not everyone was as lucky as she was.

She managed to stay away from her father's affairs until one morning; it was still very early, just dawn, and she heard a car pull into their driveway. Ever since that time, when that man had pointed a gun at his father's head, this sound had made her instantly uneasy.

She got out of bed and put on a thin, white, lace robe over her nightgown, then she left the room and stopped by the railings, looking down.

Her father and Harrold were talking to a man who was definitely younger than them, but at least three years older than her. His appearance surprised her; she thought he looked like a rock star with his short blond hair, his long scar on the left side of his face and his black leather jacket.

There was something unsettling in his healthy eye, some instability and impetuosity that he obviously hid carefully, he was standing with his hands behind his back, saying something leisurely about some man who was giving him trouble with something.

He stopped abruptly and looked up, catching sight of her, pressing his mouth into a tight line. She didn't get scared and didn't look away; she thought she would not be a guest in her own home, her father turned after him, seeing where he was looking and waved at her.

"Don't worry, my love, we're just talking. Go back to sleep." He said with a smile, nodding his head, her eyes landed on Harrold. Only when he nodded at her did she turn her head and go back to her room.

She sat on her bed, waiting for them to finish.

She sometimes wondered what her father did with problematic people.

If he make them suddenly disappear.

She heard the sound of the front door closing and she got up quickly to look out the window, to make sure that this man was leaving. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found out that he was, but a shiver run down her neck when she saw him glance at her as he opened the door to his car.

He grinned suddenly in a way that made a drop of cold sweat run down her back.

He terrified her.

He got in the car and closed the door with a loud slam, driving off with a squeal of tires.

Much to her despair, he came to their house more often from then on. Apparently, her father had developed a closer connection with his company or whatever he did.

She didn't look at him as she passed them standing in the hall.

She loved rollerblading for sport, she was doing it with her headphones on, in this way she exercised physically and relaxed her body, overloaded with stress.

She thought that she would finish her college and study only history.

No shady deals, no shady strangers.

She knew her father wanted this for her.

She felt a stone in her stomach as she glided nimbly on her roller skates into her driveway and saw the man she had so carefully avoided smoking on her front porch. He saw her at once and stared at her, smirking again in the same way she had seen then.

There was something dangerous about that smile.

She braked sharply on her rollers sideways, facing him on the steps, and crouched down, untying her laces.

She could feel him watching her intently, the soft sound of his cigarette puffing and smoke exhaling through his nose.

She couldn't stand his gaze.

"You rollerblade well, little birdie." He said exaggeratedly and ironically between his drags, she frowned at him as she grabbed her skates by the laces and climbed the stairs in her socks, heading for the entrance to her house.

She wondered why her father had decided to work with him.

She asked him about it once, and he looked at her confused, making himself a cup of coffee.

"Well, he has good access to the things I need." He said carefully, and she just sighed loudly, walking towards Harrold, who was waiting to take her to class.

They rode together in silence, Harrold put on her favorite mix of songs that they had once made together, but she paid no attention to it. He looked at her worried.

"Smile. Look what a beautiful day it is." He said happily and indeed, there was beautiful summer weather all around them. She sighed heavily.

"It's getting harder and harder to pretend I don't see anything." She said finally, a note of pain and fatigue in her voice. Harrold didn't say anything for a moment.

"I know."

Her mood was only improved by a lecture on medieval England. She loved lecturing with this professor who might as well have been her grandfather; he looked a bit like Santa Claus from the Coca Cola commercial.

He spoke with passion, she was immediately drawn into what he was talking about, imagining what he was saying like a movie in her head.

During the break between classes her mother called her and it surprised her, because she rarely did this; she answered right away, afraid something had happened.

"I can't reach your father. Your grandmother can't either and she called me in tears that your grandfather is not well. Will you tell him to go to the hospital as soon as possible?" She asked in a tired voice.

She felt her heart start pounding hard on the thought, that her grandfather was always a cheerful, calm old man. He often took her on bike rides to buy cherry bread rolls when she was little.

"Yes, of course, I'll try to catch him right now." She said quickly. "Do you know what happened?" She asked uncertainly.

"I think it was a heart attack, luckily the doctors made it on time, but they don't known if he will survive." She said finally.

She hung up, thinking hard. She remembered that her father had mentioned to Harrold he would be at the Black Moon Club this evening, that he had some errands to run there. She dialed her father's number but only heard that the subscriber was temporarily unavailable.

She thought she'd just go there and try to find him.

She get a taxi and was there in fifteen minutes, but security guards told her it was a closed event and she couldn't get in.

She explained to them who she was, what was the reason for her arrival and showed them her ID card as proof, the big, broad-shouldered men looked at each other, one of them sighed.

"It really can't wait?" One of them asked. She pursed her lips.

"No, please, I promise, it's really urgent." She said quickly. The man sighed heavily.

"Come." He said, walking downstairs with her.

She immediately felt the blast of strong, loud modern music thumping throughout her body, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol all aroud her. It was stuffy in there and she felt dizzy, the security guard looked at her.

"Stay here, I'll go ask my friend if he's seen your father." He said low and walked into the crowd of dancing people, leaving her against the wall.

She looked around uncertainly, swallowing hard. The atmosphere of this place was disturbing to say the least; it looked like a place where people went to snort some hard drugs and spend all their money on smiling champagne-drinking women cuddling up to them. She looked down, pressing her lips together, trying to just not exsist.

She flinched as a man approached her, she knew him from somewhere. He smiled at her, waving his drink at her.

"Aren't you by any chance Eddard's daughter?" He asked amused, she blinked and nodded, looking around uneasily, the man laughed and put his arm around her, she immediately tried pulled away.

"Come, sit down with us. Your old man is around here somewhere, we can wait for him together." He said encouragingly, but she shook her head without looking at him, terrified.

"No, thank you. I will wait here." She she said forcing a smile, the man raised his eyebrow in amusement.

"Are you afraid of me? I won't hurt you. Come, let's sit and talk." He said, stepping closer to her and she took a step back, bumping into a wall with nowhere to run.

"Little birdie." She heard someone low, deep voice and flinched, looking behind her.

Only now did she see that he had been sitting around the corner on the sofa the whole time, some slightly drunk girl snuggled into his shoulder, he was smoking a cigarette, his eye piercing and mocking.

"Come here."

The man in front of her backed away quickly when he saw who was talking to her, she felt a cold sweat on the back of her neck, her whole body shivered. She saw him lean over the girl who was embracing him, his lips forming a quiet 'get the fuck out'.

The girl got up on slightly unsteady legs and walked towards the bar, and only then did he look at her again, he sprawled out on the sofa, one of his arms resting on the back of the couch. He took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke through his nose.

"I don't like to repeat myself." He said coldly.

She frowned at his words, helplessness, and walked over to him on shaky legs, sitting down far away from him, looking at the table in front of her.

"Are you here to have some fun?" He asked indifferently, taking another drag, looking straight ahead, his hand above her head.

"No." Shereplied matter-of-factly and heard him grin.

"Pity." He grunted low, shoving the rest of his cigarette into the ashtray, exhaling the smoke through his mouth with a soft sigh. "It's good to have fun sometimes. A golden cage is still a cage."

She gave him a pained look, his words hitting her for some reason, she clenched her hands on her knees.

He took his drink in his hand and leaned against the couch, taking a sip, looking at her intrigued. They stared at each other for a moment, eye to eye, she didn't know why, but she felt like asking the question.

"How do you leave yours?" She asked resignedly.

She saw his tongue hit the side of his cheek, clearly thinking hard as he stared at her.

"Maybe someday I'll show you." He said lowly, she felt a shiver run through her at the tone of his voice.

He smirked as she looked away, embarrassed, she saw that a security guard was walking towards them, followed by her father, clearly nervous about the fact that she had come here.

"Aemond, thank you for taking care of her. What were you thinking? It's not safe here. Get up, we're leaving."

____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96 @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1

If you want to be tagged, leave a comment below. ♥

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nightingale2004 · 1 year ago

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Fast and furious oc's introduction

The leader: Andrea "Andy" Isabela Ortiz

Faceclaim: Isabela Merced

She is the biological daughter of Leticia "Letty" Ortiz and Dominic Toretto

Andy was born 8 months after Dom left Letty and was left outside of an orphanage

Andy bounced from foster home to foster home growing up

Her one foster parent taught her about cars. How they worked, the feel of the car, how to drive, drift, etc. It was the one home she spent with a long period of time.

Started street racing when she was 14 in secret

She inherited a love for a 1970 dodge charger (she gets it from her dad, and it was her second car)

She had a little business of her own where she steals cars and car parts and sells them to her clients, but now they expanded to getting objects for people who pay big money

She's a skilled auto mechanic, master at engineering, a very strategic racer, skilled fighter, and values loyalty in her crew

Let's meet Andy's crew, shall we?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fighter: Westley "Wes" Anthony Kincaid

Faceclaim: Hero Fiennes-tiffin

Wes is originally from London England

He was originally a street fighter for his dad until Andy found him

He came from an abusive household, and his dad made him do scripted fights that involved a lot of painful items

Andy took him in her crew, and now he protects them with no script or fake a fall

He's not bad behind the wheel but nowhere near Andy's level

Has a major crush on Andy and constantly tries to impress her and get her attention

He's a skilled fighter, very observant, and can tell a lot about a person from just about anything they do (like sherlock level deduction)

###############################

The Key: Kelly Amber Prescott

Faceclaim: Olivia Holt

Kelly and Andrea have known each other since they were in diapers

They both grew up in the orphanage and always caused mischief together

Andy sees Kelly as big sister

Kelly is a Kleptomaniac, is a master pickpocket, and lockpicking genius.

Kelly can break into any safe, steal from anyone, and can talk her way out of any situation

She is also a master behind the wheel but prefers motorcycles

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The hacker: Lyra Jean Williams

Faceclaim: Kristina Tonteri-Young

Master hacker

Can hack into anything no matter how secure and knows everyone's search histories

Technology genius and tech engineer

Knows martial arts

Andy found her in the streets of LA and helped her get out of a "situation" that involved the wrong people

Beats everyone in video games

Her hacker name is called Z3r0

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

The demo: Malik Leon Wilson

Faceclaim: Jonathan Daviss

Malik is the demolition expert in the group

Freakishly good at making things go boom

He is also the weapons and utilities expert and can get all the group needs in a flash

He makes his own weapons and is a lover of engineering, mechanics, and chemistry

He's not terrible behind the wheel but he could use some work

Does not know the meaning of the word "Finesse"

Likes to go big or go home

Both him and Kelly are the wildcards of the group

Is a sharpshooter with a gun

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finifugue · 5 months ago

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~600 word snippet of a WIP sequel to Death and Other Lies which may or may not come out in the near future, depending on how life goes. ily

They pound down the stairs, dodging guns and fists and knives as they go, and Lando catches a stray bullet, grazing across his arm as he pushes Ollie out of the way ‒ less dangerous, and more frustrating, because honestly the guy shooting it was slow as anything, so it’s really actually on Lando that they were in a position to be shot in the first place.

He swears a little under his breath and continues to herd Ollie down to the basement, to the sewerage grate he knows runs right into a complex system of tunnels. It's bolted shut, but Lando just attaches one of what Alex calls his ‘brand new state-of-the-art lockpicking devices’ to the centre of it. “Code?” “18-15-20-20-15-7-15,” Alex replies. “What?” “I said, 18‒” Lando huffs, tapping in the code impatiently. “I know what you said. I want to know why that’s the fucking code.” George snorts into the comm, making a truly disgusting noise. “’Cause Alex is a basic bisexual using a letter-number conversion cipher.” “Oh, die.” The thing beeps in a way which is never good for anyone standing nearby, a little red light blinking, and Lando yanks Ollie backwards by the arm, diving behind a large stone pillar before there’s a huge flash of light and the sound of an explosion. When he peeks back around, the grate is little more than a smouldering hole in the wall. He puts a hand up to his comm again. “Two-Three.” “Yes?” is Alex’s reply. “That’s not a lockpicking device. That’s a bomb.” “It opened the sewer, did it not?” Arthur asks. “My brother is coming, also.” “What?” Charles is meant to be securing the perimeter, not running through the sewers. If Charles is running through the sewers instead of securing the perimeter, Lando is going to fucking kill him. He says as much. Arthur snorts. “Other brother.” “Lorenzo’s on Earth again?” He was on one of Jupiter’s moons, last Lando checked, terraforming. Or, at least, he was telling the government he was terraforming. Lando’s pretty sure he’s money laundering up there. “Other other brother.” Arthur doesn’t have any more brothers. Unless he’s talking about ‒ The rapid pit-pat of four absurdly small legs echoes out from the hole in the wall, followed by a high-pitched, yappy bark, and Lando begins praying to gods long since murdered. Leo Leclerc. “Remind me to murder Charles when we get back,” Lando tells Ollie. “Fricking Charles and his fricking ninja dog.” Ollie tilts his head. “I think he’s cute.” He bends down, scritches Leo behind his big floppy ears, and Leo snuffles up to his hand, tail wagging like a thing that waggles at the speed of sound. “Will you show us the way out, buddy?” he asks in a baby voice, and when Leo yaps in response, he coos. “Good boy. Good doggie, yes, you’ll help us. Good boy.” While Ollie is distracted, Leo’s eyes turn towards the door they came through, where the sounds of guards are becoming ever-closer, ever-louder. His gaze burns with the wrath of a thousand suns. Leo Leclerc is a Dachshund, but he doesn’t let that stop him. His little black tapioca pearl eyes hold a fire last reflected in the eyes of Genghis Khan. He barks at a hundred and thirteen decibels, on last count. He has a distant ancestor who would routinely run away from his master and fight bears. Leo Leclerc spent his first three months of life in a Russian satellite, course set for Mars, and is the scariest, most eldritch, longest little tiny dog that has ever graced the planet. Charles adores him; Alex is in a constant state of war with him; Lando tolerates him, but only because when he said they were not keeping him, Charles pouted and him and asked him why Lando was allowed to keep Franco if Charles couldn’t keep Leo.

Happy new year wahoo

#death and other lies 2: Landoscar become everyone's parents #except for those who are the children of charles or alex and george #landoscar fic #landoscar #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #fin's fics

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scrivenger-grimgar · 10 months ago

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nine's list of skills that the vestiges are teaching him

First, Second, and Third, Shigaraki Yoichi, Kudo, and Bruce

encrypting and coding

gun

hand-to-hand combat

actual war strategy

Fourth, Shinomori Hikage

Wilderness survival (how to make clean water, how to make basic tools/weapons, how to make temporary/semi-permanent/permanent structures, how to build a fire, how to make pottery, how to carve wood, how to flint knap, how to navigate both with and without a map/compass, how to navigate by the stars)

Cooking (how to butcher/skin animals, how to properly smoke meat, how to tell if you can eat that plant, how to properly store and preserve food, how to make pine tea for vitamin c)

Natural poisons/venoms (hemlock, foxglove, nightshade, azalea, ivy, mistletoe, rhubarb, yew, snakes, fish, frogs, rays, skates, spiders)

Geology, natural history, palaeontology (for some reason??), anthropology

Hunting, fishing, gathering berries/nuts/roots, mushroom hunting

Fifth, Banjou Daigoro

gymnastics

free running

parkour

mathematics degree (??? i didn't know he could DO that)

Sixth, Tayutai En

lockpicking

stealth

fucking hatchets apparently??

ethics and philosophy, sure why not

Seventh, Shimura Nana

how to fly

HOW TO LAND

throwing knives

english

SWORDPLAY YO

hey why is fourth's the only one thats capitalized? Because he insisted. Thank you. Nine I was going to teach you how to land either way, you didn't have to make it another point. real question id why me 2nd & 3rd are all put as one? Look, given how you all act I have no real way of knowing. Okay, but why are we all stuck together then, Nine? 3 dont talk like u h8 me pls Use grammar and I might. no. Then suffer. Why isn't Eight on here? cant afford him lmao none of you are allowed in my documents anymore.

#bnha #one for all #one for all vestiges #shimura nana #tayutai en #banjo daigoro #shinomori hikage #shigaraki yoichi #midoriya izuku #bnha kudou #bnha bruce

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thedawningofthehour · 11 months ago

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I did the SPECIAL stats! Oh, for Fallout initiates:

I used the New Vegas model for this, because you get literally twice as many SPECIAL points and also they got rid of skills and traits in Fallout 4.

So without further ado

RAPH

Obviously, our boy's gonna top out on Strength. I tagged Melee and Unarmed for obvious reasons, and Survival because of that one episode. No, actually, while in-game Survival is mainly used as a cooking skill I do feel like Raph would be good at camping, mending, all that outdoorsy stuff. If, you know, you got him away from New York long enough. The biggest danger would come from him not knowing what's safe to eat and erring on the side of 'shove this delicious-looking berry into my mouth.'

And Hot Blooded I felt was a good parallel to his savage mode.

LEO

I made the decision not to top out any of Leo's skills because 1) he is so across-the-board powerful, and 2) he has a very lethal case of Dumbass. I waffled a bit on not making Charisma his highest skill, but I wanted to showcase how Leo's main talent lies in his smarts and wit. But still not at 10 because dumbass.

I mentioned in doth that Leo was crafted for agility, and while he definitely was I think Draxum's main intention with him was versatility. He's an all-around great fighter, but not particularly strong or defensive, and Donnie was likely meant to be the sneaky agile one. Leo was an all-rounder. And he gets Small Frame because my boy your arms look deflated.

And Skilled because again, Leo is a dumbass. Very smart but slow to catch on where he's not smart.

DONNIE

My man is fucking jacked. Okay, I don't care what the writers said about Donnie being the weakest, man is second to Raph unless Mikey is being magical about it. Intelligence topped out, obviously, Perception is high but not quite as high as Leo's because he's a moron. Energy Weapons because I feel like Donnie would enjoy a laser gun.

Four Eyes because of the glasses he's pictured with as a kid. And Built To Destroy because he's Donnie.

(I've mentioned that Bella has a Charisma of 2. Donnie gets one more because he's the funny one)

MIKEY

Mikey actually gave me the most trouble. I knew I was going to top out his Endurance, but the rest? I felt like I was undercutting everything but I only had 40 points to allocate. I tagged Explosives and Lockpick because-well, I just felt like he would like that.

Debated on Small Frame, felt like that kind of went against his whole defensive specialty, but I couldn't pass up the Agility boost.

I considered doing April but she'd be 10s across the board.

I might do a level-up later to give them some perks, we'll see.

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mollysunder · 2 years ago

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Mel and Jinx, Co-Presidents of the Black Sheep Club

Isn't it crazy the way Jinx and Mel never interact but are practically foils to each other throughout the show? They both started out as black sheeps of their respective families for essentially the same reason, both excelled at different set of skills their families wouldn't or couldn't prioritize for their goals.

The traits that alienated both Mel and Jinx within their own families, and eventually had them torn away from them, also landed them in a place where their skills are valued. In Piltover, Mel becomes a master of court and the informal Head of Piltover’s council in a relatively short amount of time. With Silco’s resources, Jinx becomes one of Zaun's brightest and deadliest engineers and the best shot there is down there.

Ambessa, and Noxus in general, had no motivation to adopt Mel's perspective on diplomacy as it had the potential to weaken their family's standing. Vander wasn't equipped to handle or cultivate Jinx's skills in firearms or engineering nor was he in position where he could. Sure, Vander could support the other kids in their more manual pursuits, like boxing, lockpicking, and general physical strength building, but that's all he could do for Zaun in general. Vander as a leader was just maintaining Zaun in a way that didn't challenge Piltover's dominance, he couldn't support Jinx's skills because those were areas Piltover used to assert force over Zaun.

Jinx and Mel are both characters that are well acclimated to violence thanks to their mentors (Ambessa, Vander, and Silco) and environment, and are now effective actors of violences in their respective spheres. It's obvious with Jinx, she's a willing force within Silco’s empire. Jinx also runs around with grenades and guns and rockets killing enforcers and firelights alike. With Mel, she oversees an incredibly violent hierarchical system as the informal head of Piltover’s council that does cause on screen civilian casualties. Mel herself is also comfortable sending a militarized force into Zaun to shakedown the populace to assert the illusion of control. Even Mel's plans for hextech (outside of weaponizing it) were a form of economic violence to Zaun as it made Piltover less dependent on Zaunite labor, the one thing they could leverage.

Where the two really diverge is how they handle power and conflict. From the beginning Mel enjoyed being the politician behind the current, never putting herself in full risk of fallout by hiding behind her choice of figurehead. This passivity that helps Mel avert risk extends throughout business and social life. Mel doesn't seek out Jayce on his hextech theory she stumbles upon him in when he's breaking into the Academy. When Mel's upset with Jayce she lets him come to her. When Mel misses out on new hextech investors she let's an opportunity present itself to let her make up for it rather than confront Jayce. Mel almost never actively attempts to be vulnerable in matters of business or of the heart.

Jinx is quite literally the complete opposite. Jinx refuses to be passive throughout the show, when presented with a problem, especially one that makes her vulnerable, Jinx immediately decides she'll solve it her way. When Vi tells her she can't come to save Vander, Jinx goes anyway to use her experimental bombs. When the destroyed Shimmer shipment set Silco's operation back further widening the gap between PnZ, Jinx decides to steal the hexgem and frame the Firelights for it. After Silco tells Jinx that Marcus will crack soon, she kills him along with his closest men at the bridge, once again framing the Firelights for it. What use were those Enforcers if they were going to flip soon? Jinx doesn't wait to be self righteous, or for others to come to her. Jinx chose to confront her loved ones by kidnapping them and forced them to decide how they're relationship was going to be based on the choices Jinx gave them.

It's ironic how these two have never met, and yet they both work as one another's boogeyman. For Jinx, Mel practically is Piltover, this bright shining machine that unrepentantly tore apart her life. Mel is wholly uncaring of the fallout of her past decisions that led to conflict with Zaun and solidly remained transfixed by her "line goes up" style definition of progress the entire time until it came back to bite her. For Mel, Jinx is like the stuff of her nightmares, brutal and single-mindedly ruthless in her goals that she achieves through violent means. Mel gravitated more to the advisor role because she not only hated war, but feared the consequences of being at the mercy of people like her mother, people like Jinx.

Jinx and Mel have such potential when you explore both as foils of one another. I could go on and on about their light and dark motifs, how their respective hqs are placed at the very top and extreme bottom of their cities, or how Mel gets Jayce and Jinx gets Viktor in the hextech divorce, but I won't. It's better to wonder how they'll converge in the aftermath of the finale.

#arcane #jinx arcane #mel medarda #together these two make one good noxian #frankly theirvrelationship to their primary parent deserves its own post #arcane meta #mel and jinx

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forgotten-retrouvaille · 4 months ago

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An indepth timeline for events occurring in Jill Valentine's history . Headcanon based and the canon as it is for mainverse Jill on the blog here. Cut for length but a highly recommended read .

Jill is born in 1974 to one of France's most infamous thieves .

Growing up in Bordeaux, France , underneath her thief father as an independent individual, she was taught through games and puzzles how to figure out puzzles and discover patterns && details. They moved to the U.S when she was around twelve years old, and was homeschooled. She largely taught herself, with her father stepping in occasionally, teaching her martial arts, lock-picking , breaking and entering, knots, and encouraged to play sports from an early age, enrolling in a rugby team from the age of 13 . A troublemaker child , Jill was someone who didn’t always pay attention to the rules , often being left to her own devices by her dad , who preferred to let her do things and find out the hard way if it was a stupid thing to do , rather than just forbid her with little reason or experience . She often spent hours away from home wandering the place , and often messed around in places she shouldn’t - putting her lockpicking and stealing skills to the test .There were certain cases where she hotwired and stole a couple cars , but she was quick to get in trouble with her father for it . Didn’t exactly stop her , though . She quickly developed a love for climbing things and traversing difficult scenarios and terrain , and while teaching herself to climb up the side of the building at around 9 years old , endured an incident where she fell and broke an arm, but she recovered rather well .

Her mother was never quite in the picture, having left pretty early in her life. Once she was around 11-12 , her father began to take her with her on his heists and scouting missions, teaching her building flaws, entrances, how to move silently across a variety of materials, how to skim documents for important information, and how to break into a building quietly. Along with this came the art of pickpocketing and sleight of hand, something that Jill was particularly skilled within. She was taught how to handle firearms safely and responsibly, often taken to gun ranges in order to learn. They never quite used them , but the knowledge was good to have.

At around 12 , she and her father entered a building that ended up collapsing on them shortly after, and shortly after they engaged in a fight with a rival thief who intended on stealing from them, but the pair ended up winning the altercation and the rival was stalked and stolen from himself by her father . At 15 years old , Jill hotwired and stole her first car, which she ended up crashing and then subsequently ditching . She and her father were responsible for several famous strings of thievery and heists and had several wanted calls put out for them , but local law enforcement never had any concrete proof, appearance evidence or names to put to the case .

She worked with her father from when she was thirteen up till she was seventeen, having never quite been caught by law enforcement - she joined the military upon encouragement by her father, who didn’t quite wish her to spend time in prison for his own career pathway. At the start , Jill possessed quite an attitude and was snarky towards some of the instructors , though it soon switched to proper responsibility once she spent enough time within the military . She still remained quite vocal about her own opinions , however . She had a determination that set her apart from many of the other recruits, pushing through and excelling when it came to certain tasks of the training, such as bomb disposal and infiltration.

Upon joining the 75th Rangers Regiment, and gaining the callsign Sparrow for her strong determination to persevere, her inability to be contained, her father came to visit her on base, taking her out to go on a nighttime walk, and once he did so, pointed at the sky and squeezed her hand, telling her that “his eye is on the sparrow”, a means to encourage her and reassure her. She soon took that to heart, inscribing that on the lockpick that saved her life after Arklay. During her time in Rangers , she participated in several operations and events and ended up being involved in several cases of structural collapse , manhunts and other similar operations , and during a particularly heavy vehicle chase, collided with another hostile vehicle . She was quite frequently exhausted and overworked during this time .

While she was part of the army, she quickly gained the attention of recruiters searching for potential candidates for Delta Force; the nation’s primary counter-terrorism unit. She was invited to take part in the 6-month, extremely intensive training course, where she excelled in lock picking and especially bomb disposal. During this period of time, she built up a reputation of being resilient, courageous and precise in her work; and she excelled during her training.

After she completed her training and gained experience serving in the force, she was one of the only women in the world with Delta Force training. Due to her excellence when it came to stealth operations, especially breaking into buildings without leaving a trace, her capability with lockpicking, Jill was often sent on solo missions as part of manhunts or anti-terrorist operations, operating in high-risk high-stress environments, and her position helped her immensely.

She excelled when it came to ambushes and gaining intel or special reconnaissance operations, and for the majority of combat operations worked within Squadron A as their recon/sniper trooper, assisting in direct assault. She possessed a strong skill with long-range weapons and marksmanship due to her training, though was best when it came to breaking-and-entering.

She earned her airborne wings then, and always kept them refreshed. Jill was involved in several altercations during this time , and like with Rangers she was frequently overworked and exhausted .

Highly skilled at what she did, she was scouted by Captain Albert Wesker to join S.T.A.R.S , and she served from 1996-1998 . She was involved in several important operations requiring her specializations , and was also involved in several transportation collisions partly due to her own driving tendencies and hostile manouvres.

Her experience at Arklay Mountains flipped everything upside down. She experienced a strong sense of betrayal during this time , and was the one to kill the Tyrant at the end of the situation . The Raccoon City incident occurred not long after and she was both infected and subsequently vaccinated against the T-virus , but still experienced side effects of the strains she was exposed to , which is explained further in several other meta posts I have made .

From 2000 , Jill worked as a private anti bioterror operative , or rather , mercenary , and was exposed to several other viral strains , experienced a bout of virally contaminated clothing, and one incident where she was involved in a facility explosion and encountered friendly fire, which left her severely injured and recovering for a brief period of time . In 2003 , Jill was involved with Chris Redfield to investigate and shut down a Russian Umbrella facility , where they encountered Sergei Vladimir and T.A.L.O.S , before succeeding in their initial mission .

From 2004 the B.S.A.A. was in place . Jill and Chris founded the organization and were part of the Original Eleven . Initially it only consisted of eleven elite members, but soon the onslaught exceeded initial predictions and although it was initially a veteran-and-civilian led organization, it was soon considered to be upgraded into something far more than what it was . It was restructured as an anti-bioterror unit under the jurisdiction of the UN , and around 70% of member countries allowed it to operate on their grounds . Headquarters were located in the UK , and most agents are based around airport hubs and air force bases , with several branches involved in every continent of the world, including Antarctica .

In 2005 , Jill was involved in a long operation involving an investigation into the Queen Zenobia , and ended up also entering the Queen Semaramis , two ships that had been lost for a fair while . During this time she was severely exposed to T-Abyss , but with her immunity to Progenitor and T viruses , Jill didn't experience any severe side effects to this .

In 2006 , Jill and Chris were involved in a long operation following several leads to locate and apprehend Oswell E. Spencer and discover the location of wanted fugitive Albert Wesker . They discovered the former deceased and the latter alive , and engaged in combat. Upon an attempt on Chris' life , Jill resulted in tackling Wesker out of a window and down the cliff , and sustained entire body fractures , hypovalemic shock and subsequently excessive bleeding, and was only saved by Wesker by the skin of her teeth. She was presumed Killed In Action a few months after and despite efforts to locate her body nothing was found , and a funeral was held while in reality Jill was recovering in a cryostasis coma within one of Wesker's facilities. She spent the following years under P30 and was essentially mind controlled by Wesker, and experienced several traumatic injuries that didn't heal correctly. Upon the Kijuju incident in 2009 , Jill was freed and rescued by Chris Redfield and Sheva Alomar, and was placed in recovery at a BSAA medical facility. She developed several chronic conditions and autoimmune issues post Kijuju , and still struggles when it comes to dealing with them . Also outlined in one of my earlier meta posts.

Jill was suspended from field work from her return in late 2009 to late 2011 , where she was placed in rehabilitation and even discharged from the hospital, was on strict orders to only focus on recovery and was in and out of hospitals and medical facilities for checkups and medical tests. She returned to the B.S.A.A. in late 2011 where even restricted from field work , engaged in mission support (similar to Hunnigan in the DSO) and assisted in several operations including Edonia / China and NYC . During her recovery she was involved in an industrial accident within her garage after not checking an engine appropriately, and spent a couple days recovering , along with becoming involved in a transportation collision.

Jill was involved within the NYC incident in 2014 as mission support , coordinating ground troops and assisting Chris Redfield and Ingrid Hunnigan (subsequently Leon Kennedy) with information to rescue Rebecca and direct locations . Her official return to field work was in 2015 , when she partook in the Alcatraz incident , even after developing a brief cardiovascular condition as a result of her earlier heart issues post Kijuju. After this, she involved herself in several other operations , where she was frequently injured and still went through frequent medical testing, and was exposed to a severe viral incident . During 2017-2020 , business at usual at the BSAA , but she provided a lot of information to Chris Redfield about the organization and activities when he went rogue and left for Romania and the Winters . During 2022 , Jill was involved in a severe fight due to a mistaken identity altercation , and the same thing subsequently occurred in 2023 .

Jill became involved with several operations and events alongside Helena Harper and Leon Kennedy, alongside many others . Mainverse here is heavily affiliated with @illuzijan , @harperhydra , @novelresilience and several others and will be updated here as events occur in the future .

#〘 headcanons 〙 ⸻ ➥ to tear the stars from the heavens .

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