#mnh-ocs

[mnh-ocs]

Figure I'd just do some rambling to start us off here, so who better to start with than one of my oldest characters, Laker.

^ First design.

^ Current design, he changed a LOT.

Also, when I say "oldest" I mean I didn't make him then immediately give up on him- Anyway, I made Laker when I was about 12? 13? Initially he was meant to be a Sam and Max fan character, don't really recall what his purpose was supposed to be, I think he was just a random punk ass kid they had to deal with, as time passed though, I decided that he should be his own thing, though worldbuilding for him hasn't been my top priority, I just prefer to do fun stuff with him at this point.

Some old random lore tidbits were that he was abandoned by his parents as an infant, and he stayed in a group home until he ran away and started living on the streets and stealing to survive. May or may not scrap that completely if I rewrite a backstory for him.

Fun facts:

I was originally gonna name him "Claude" after I designed him, (remember that name btw.)

He used to be straight, eventually after I learned about other romantic/sexual orientations, I made him bi instead.

His birthday's August 2nd, he's currently 22.

His last name is Monroe.

In terms of what type of squirrel he is, I picture him being a mix between an Eastern Gray squirrel, and a red squirrel.

He's extremely afraid of snakes.

He prefers foods on the sweeter side, his top favorite being muffins.

His voice claim is Seth Green, dunno why, it just suits him to me.

I know this part is probably a bit silly, but while I love most of my characters, I'd have to say that Laker's the most important one to me, as I've just had him around for so long, and he kinda pushed me in to designing more and more OCs and continuing to do art in general. He's definitely sticking with me for a good while.

Have some other Laker art for the road, some old, some new.

[mnh-art]

I made another blog lol

[askthehills]

CW! NSFW

Denzien could tell that both of them were just as desperate as eachother, the sounds of pleasure and the reactions he'd managed to rip out of Lizard were enough to show him that. He pressed a kiss against Lizards neck as he cried out, more of an affectionate gesture more than a lewd one, but he had both loving and sexual intentions behind it.

He let out a shuddery sigh of relief, undeniably happy that Lizard had slowed down, his dick ached as it twitched against Lizards fingers, but he was glad. He wasn't ready to cum yet, it was too early, too soon.. He was surprised he hadn't came earlier from the friction of them grinding against one another like rabid animals.

"Lucky you, getting around" Denzien chuckled lowly "You've got me now though. I'll treat ya like a princess."

it was supposed to come off praise in a way but deep down he was a little jealous. He was in what he guessed was his late 20s and he hadn't been able to do anything with anyone, he'd always wanted to know what a good pussy felt like... Oh well. It didn't matter, he had Lizard, Lizard was all he needed. He'd ask him about it later, for now? He had to focus. He dragged his forked tongue over Lizard's neck, both halves going in different directions.

He let go of Lizard's dick, lifting his hand up to lick the precum off of it so casually. He bit his tongue gently trying to figure out if he liked it or not, licking his hand again to cement his opinion. It was a unique taste he had to give it that.

He watched the other drop to his knees, dick twitching at the sight of him down there, a jagged smirk played upon his lips. The tongue against his dick ripped a squeak out of him. He bit his lip and entangled his hand in Lizard's hair, not really doing anything with it.

Denzien was still shaking, either from nerves or the adrenaline or pleasure, or maybe a little of each, it was pretty hard to say. Settling on all three, Denzien tried to focus. He slid his palm down Lizard's neck down onto his shoulder, keeping it there for now, unconsciously rubbing loving circles into the flesh.

"...sssshit," Denzien hissed after a second of breathlessness, as his long sharp nails dug into his shoulder, the sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt, warm, wet, pleasurable.. It took him everything and more not to fuck into Lizards mouth, not wanting to choke him. The tip play was enough to make his legs buckle, but the deep throating ripped a groan deep from his core, pale eyes rolling back in his skull.. He didn't know if he could remain stood up, his body slouching.

"Fuck you're doing amazing... So.. So good" he leant down briefly to give Lizard a kiss on the head, the hand in his hair slid down to his chin to tilt his head upwards before it moved back into his hair and Denzien stood upright again. "Perfect.."

- 🐥

Denzien being sweet while getting his dick sucked for the first time is my everything)))

(I fucking love them URRVEHH,,, ND off topic but I made a silly little hills have eyes oc I love him sm)

Lizard had shuddered at the touch on his hair, his touches out of love and affection.

"Mnh.." He moaned briefly. He had noticed each affectionate gesture Denzien had given him. His own cock twitching angrily as he pursued his attention on Denzien.

He had noticed his resistance to thrust, shakily huffing.

He closed his eyes at the kiss, flushing slightly..before gently returning the favor,, kissing his tip instead, looking up at him. "You can..fuck my mouth just don't hurt me." He mumbled.

He was okay with pain if it were a burning sensation that..made him stir. Maybe a little bit of burning in his throat for example-- their current situation. Though..overall pain turned him off. Made him panic a bit. He was a sadist,, not a masochist,, though he had a few exceptions.

He slowly took him back into his mouth, gently bobbing his head as he hungrily sucked and swallowed around his member..adding delicious pressure.

[milf-harrington]

*makes coffee at 7:30 at night because i really want to draw but also feel like i could fall asleep where im sitting*

[suhareek]

that's my lovely girl quirk associated with rubber. like rubber girl/ or gummy girl

[tristasi]

¿Cuál es de tus Oc es el que menos te a gustado? ┻━┻ ヘ╰( •̀ε•́ ╰)

Mnh... No creo que haya un oc que menos me guste...quizas . Mnh... No lo sé, todos mis ocs tienen algo que me gustan por lo que no hay uno como tal que no me guste

Quizás en alguna forma alterna si, o cuando estoy tratando de buscarle pareja y veo que su personalidad no ayuda...

[mnh-ocs]

About time I went ahead and rambled on about another OC, so, here comes Cottentail.

^ First design, any other pictures of this design I had are basically lost to time now.

^ Current design, difference is night and day.

If I remember correctly, she was the second character I made and kept after Laker, though I could be wrong. After I decided to start making my own original stuff, I just had the simple idea of a random little kid following Laker around, forcing him to take more responsibility since nobody else is really keeping their eyes on her.

Another of Cotten's old lore tidbits is basically similar to Laker's, no parents, stays in a group home, etc, though once Laker realizes she's in the same boat he was in when he was younger, he takes it upon himself to guide Cotten and look after her, in hopes she doesn't fall down the same path he did. Though Laker may not be the best role model, Cotten looks up to him regardless, she very much sees him as an older brother/father figure.

Fun facts:

She originally had light lilac colored fur, before I switched to a lighter cream color.

The cat plush she carries around is just called "Kitty," which was inspired by a childhood rabbit toy of mine, also simply named "Bunny."

Her birthday is January 3rd, she's currently 6.

Unlike Laker, she was never given a last name.

She's afraid of heights.

Her voice claim is Daveigh Chase.

And to end things off, more old/new Cotten art.

[mnh-art]

Hello Toontown nation

Don't play much of the fan Toontown servers these days, but I still love mine and my partner's ( @jakoso) Toons, so, this self-indulgent AU was born.

[lesbiancookies]

Shared Exhaustion

Begonia Cookie and Vampire Cookie are a lot alike.

word count: 1007

warnings: OC/canon character interaction, very mild injury and blood.

ship(?): friendship; pre-relationship Vampire Cookie & Begonia Cookie (OC)

characters: Vampire Cookie, Alchemist Cookie, Begonia Cookie

“... Vampire, your girlfriend broke another window--” a tired cookie, clearly some days worth sleep deprived, called out to her brother with contempt. “I presume she’s here for you, anyway.”

The unexpected visitor gingerly stepped over the broken shards of sugar glass, hopping onto the cushy couch in the living room. The black floral cat shifted into a fellow cookie, draped across the back cushions lazily. She yawned widely, showing off sharp teeth before grinning at Alchemist. “Mnh.. sorryyy. I did knock. What colors are you making in your lab this week? Take a nap and relax, friend!”

“Nap? No, I’m too close to completing this formula for--”

“Mornin’, sis. She’s not my girlfriend, you know..” the scientist’s brother floated into the room with a stretch, stealthy as ever. One hand rested against his temple, headache apparent.

“It’s evening!” Alchemist argued, sighing heavily and shaking her head. The vampire winced at the raise in his sister’s voice. “Unless either of you plan on cleaning this mess up, I recommend going elsewhere for the time being so that I can deal with it, just like I deal with everything around here.”

Begonia and Vampire easily heard the last part, though it was muttered under her breath. The plant-based cookie shifted once more, gearing up to jump onto Vampire’s shoulder, landing in a perfect balancing act. She winced slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by the redhead, but he’d bring it up later. He grinned, waving a hand to Alchemist. “I’ll replace it, promise...”

“I know you will,” was all she said, shrugging. She supposed she couldn’t be too mad, she was used to it at this point ever since the cat.. plant-cookie (?) had randomly inserted herself into the siblings’ lives. 

The pair soon disappeared off to who knows where without further reply. There were really more rooms in this house than truly necessary, a sentiment shared by all three of them.

“... Did you cut yourself on the glass?” Vampire asked Begonia, though he knew she couldn’t speak any proper languages in her cat form. He knew she preferred living like this, though he hadn’t any idea why. She still dignified his query with a response, however, letting out a loud “myaahh!” of affirmation. “Ouch. To both my head and you hurting yourself... Is it bad?”

Another small mew. No, it wasn’t that bad. It hurt, sure, but she’d dealt with worse. Once they made their way into a room, she was gently set down onto a plushy cream mattress, turning back into her cookie form. She mostly hadn’t wanted to walk the distance to any rooms in the house, considering the glass was lodged in her foot. “I have my dignity, I didn’t want to bring it up. I prefer to deal with these things myself!” Begonia Cookie twisted herself into a position to examine her foot that, to Vampire, felt entirely unnatural and weird to look at.

“Do you need help getting it out?”

“What did I just say about doing things on my own?” she whined, defiant. “You can help by bringing me something I can use to pry the glass out!”

Vampire expected that. He had no clue why she was so opposed to receiving help, like she wanted to suffer in silence. Though, she’d always been stubborn; he chuckled to himself at the thought, scanning the bedroom before finding.. well, he didn’t know what it was. But it was some kind of tool Alchemist had likely left laying around. The redhead gently tossed it to his friend and she offered a lazy grin. His gaze on her was nothing short of fascinated as he watched her pry a large in-comparison shard of sugar glass free from her dough. Jam leaked out and dripped slowly onto the floor.

“.. Do you--?”

She raised a hand to cut him off. “I can walk it off!”

“And leave jam footprints in your wake?” he laughed quietly. Yeah, that wasn’t unlike her.

“You know that I can’t use bandages. My dough peels away and crumbles too easily for all the sticky bits that come with them!”

“At least let me get you a towel...” he offered.

Eyes rolling, Begonia relinquished. “If it'll get you to stop worrying, I suppooose!” the teasing tone was lighthearted and she never let that dumb little grin drop from her chronically exhausted expression.

Once a towel was administered to the wound to stop the leaking of jam and Vampire was seated cozily next to her, he yawned. She liked that she could trust him enough to be vulnerable like this. She was friends with lots of cookies, of course, but she’d rather crumble than let them see her injured. She was fatigued all the time, sure, but only the redhead knew how she really felt all the time. He felt the same way, tired deep in his dough in a way that couldn’t be solved with any amount of sleep. They slept together regularly, laying together as small animals in a way that was truly more understanding than anyone could ever begin to replicate.

“Did Alchemist wake you? Earlier, I mean.”

“Mm, yeah… though, she does that whether you're here or not. Vampire this, brother that…” another heavy yawn followed by the reply. “ I like when you’re here, because then she knows not to bother us.”

“Oh, good to know you only like having me around when it keeps your naps undisturbed!” Begonia snickered.

Vampire shook his head with another small laugh, flopping back onto the mattress. The pair fell into a comfortable silence and Begonia checked her foot to ensure there was no more jam dripping into the towel. It had dried and became tacky, therefore she deemed it appropriate to join him in laying back. Shared fatigued sighs escaped the cookies as they adjusted to their typical position, the begonia kitty curled around an orb of a juice bat. Vampire cuddled into her fur and they both drifted into a peaceful sleep, knowing they could at least share their fresh exhaustion whenever they awoke. 

[a-supernatural-writer]

Party of Three Pt.3 (pilot)

Summary: Sam, Dean and Isabeau come face to face with what John didn’t finish. By the end of the day, tragedy strikes and journey continues. 

Pairing: Eventual Sam x OC x Dean (polyamory relationship) 

Warnings: language, mentions of blood, violence, death

Words: 4,900

*This work is also posted on other fanfiction sites* 

Next Part | Main Masterlist | “Party of Three” Masterlist

Isabeau’s breathing was erratic as she held onto the side of the bridge along with Sam. She almost plunged into the rushing water down below, but Sam caught her and helped her hang onto the bridge. She looked down, praising god that Sam caught her in the first place. Water and her fire element didn’t mix well, sounded a bit cliche but it was true. Water made her inherently weaker and her firepower didn’t pack as much punch.

Sam pulled himself up back onto the bridge and then helped Isabeau as well. “Thanks, Sam.” Sam nodded, the two of them looking over the edge. “Dean!”

Isabeau sighed in relief as she saw Dean crawling out of the water. He was safe, but he was completely covered in what she only hoped to be mud. “What?”

“Hey, are you alright?” Isabeau called down. `

Dean held up one hand with an A-OK sign. “I’m super.”

Sam and Isabeau laughed, adrenaline leaving their bodies, relieved and also because of the fact that they weren’t in Dean’s place.

A few minutes later, Dean was back up on the bridge with Isabeau and Sam, checking the car to make sure it was okay. Dean shuts the hood of the car.

“Car all right?” Sam asks. Isabeau was keeping her distance from Dean, not enjoying the smell coming off from him at all.

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, it seems all right now. That Constance chick… What a bitch!” Dean yelled out the last part where they first saw Constance. Isabeau snorted at Dean’s anger. He looked ridiculous.

“Well, she doesn’t want us digging around, that’s for sure.” Sam said as Dean sighed, leaning against the hood of the car. “So where’s the trail go from here, genius?” Sam took a seat next to Dean who throws his arms up in frustration and flicks the mud off of his hands.

Isabeau comes up next to Dean, sniffing the air around them, her face scrunching up in disgust. “You smell like a toilet.” Isabeau looks at Dean. Dean looks down at her comment. Like he didn’t know that already. 

Dean places his card on top of a handwritten guest ledger. “One room, please.” Since the three didn’t know where to go from their night out on the bridge, Isabeau suggested they go stay at whatever motel that was the closest so Dean can clean up and the three of them can decide where to go from there.

Dean was still obviously fifthly, it took all of Isabeau’s strength not to hurl at the smell. She can deal with blood, severed body parts, all types of gory stuff but this was a whole nother level of disgusting.

The clerk picks up the card and then he looks back up at Dean. “You guys having a reunion or something?”

“What do you mean?” Sam asks, confused by what the clerk meant.

“That other guy, Bert Aframian. He came in and bought out a room for the whole month.” The clerk answered. Dean looks over and Sam and Isabeau. Isabeau would’ve laughed out loud at the situation. Out of all the motels, they just happened to pick the one John was staying at. 

Isabeau crouched down to come face to face with John’s motel room door. The brothers stood behind her, blocking anyone’s view of seeing her while she worked on the lock. Isabeau placed her hand on the doorknob, her eyes glowed blue for a brief second as she whispered out a string of words that didn’t sound like any language the boys have ever heard.

Isabeau got up with a satisfied smile as the door unlocks. She opens the door and grabs Dean and Sam’s shoulders, yanking them inside and shutting the door behind them. “Woah.” Isabeau whispered out as the three looked around the room in awe. Every surface had papers pinned to it, you name it; maps, newspaper clippings, pictures, notes. There were books on the desk and assorted junk on the floor and bed.

Dean goes to turn on the light, while Sam steps over a line of salt and Isabeau gets closer to the walls to look at everything that John rounded up. Dean recoiled as he sniffed a half eaten burger and placed it back down. “I don’t think he’s been here for a couple days at least.”

Sam crouches down, rubbing the salt in between his fingers. “Salt, cat’s-eye shells. He was worried, trying to keep something from coming in. Both brothers walked over to Isabeau. “What do you got here?” Sam asked.

Isabeau licked her lips, processing every bit of information she was seeing. “Centennial highway victims.” Isabeau huffed out, none of the victims connected.

“I  don’t get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, age, ethnicities.” Dean said while Sam goes to look at the papers on the other walls. “There’s always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?”

Isabeau looked over, her eyes finding research on devils and demons, another about sirens, witches, the possessed, but then her gaze landed on the “Woman in White” with the article from the Jericho Herald about Constance underneath it.

She gestured Sam to the article, both coming together in front of it and Sam turning on the light. Sam scoffed. “Dad figured it out.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“He found the same article we did.” Sam responded.

Isabeau’s lips pressed together. “Constance Welch. She’s a woman in white.”

Dean looks over at all of Constance's victims. “You sly dogs.” He turns back to the two. “All right, so if we’re dealing with a woman in white, dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it.”

“She might have another weakness.” Sam said.

“No, dad would want to make sure. He’d dip her up. Does it say where she’s buried?” Dean asks, walking to them.

Isabeau shook her head while Sam spoke. “No, not that I can tell. If I were dad, though, I’d go ask her husband,” Sam taps on the photo of Joseph Welch. “If he’s still alive.”

Dean hummed in agreement. “All right, why don’t you see if you can find an address? I’m gonna get cleaned up.”

Dean starts to walk away, but Sam stops him. “Hey, Dean, what I said earlier about mom and dad, I’m sorry.”

Dean held his hand up. “No chick-flick moments.”

Sam nods with a laugh. “All right, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Isabeau rolled her eyes, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Morons.”

Sam chuckles as Dean disappears into the bathroom. Sam notices something, his smile disappears and walks forward to take a closer look. Sam takes a photo off the mirror which had John, Sam and Dean smiling happily while sitting on the roof of the impala, he smiles sadly at the photo.

Isabeau’s gaze flickered from the photo back over to the rosary hanging in front of the mirror. Out of habit, she reached down to her right wrist and played with the rosary that was wrapped around it. 

Isabeau was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in her lap, watching Sam pace the room, listening to the voicemail that Jessica left him. He sits down next to her, still listening. Dean comes out of the bathroom, shutting off the light, grabs his jacket, shrugging it onto one shoulder.

“Hey, man. I’m starving.” He walks across the room. “I’m gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner down the street. You want anything?” He asks Sam.

“No.” Sam answers.

“Aframian’s buying.”

Sam shakes his head. “Mnh-mnh.”

Dean points to Isabeau but she shakes her head and waves her hands no. She wasn’t at the moment hungry for food. Something just wasn’t setting right with her at the moment. Dean shrugs, leaving the motel room and closing the door behind him.

Isabeau looks over to Sam and smiles softly as he’s still listening to Jess’s message. His phone suddenly beeps, he pulls it away from his ear. Seeing that it’s Dean he puts it on speaker. “What?” He asks.

“Dude, five-oh, take off.” Dean says.

Isabeau’s eyes widen slightly, her and Sam standing up from the bed. “What about you?” Isabeau looked down at the phone, a little bit of anxiety blooming in her chest.

“Uh, they kind of spotted me. Go find dad.” Dean ordered before hanging up the phone. Sam and Isabeau shared a look, before going over to the window, peeking out in between the curtains. They see one of the deputies, both pulled back away from the curtains and darted away from the window.

It was time to find Joseph Welch and finish this case. 

Isabeau knocks on the door, after a few moments an old man opens it. Isabeau smiles, “Hi, um, are you Joseph Welch?”

Joseph nods. “Yeah.”

“Do you mind if you talk to you for a few minutes?” Sam asks. Joseph agrees and the three of them are soon walking down his junk filled driveway, Joseph holding the photo that Sam took from John’s motel room.

“Yeah, he was older, but that’s him.” He handed back the photo to Sam. “He came by three or four days ago, said he was a reporter.”

“That’s right.” Sam agreed, going along with whatever story John made up. “The three of us are working on a story together.”

Joseph looked at Sam. “Well, I don’t know what the hell kind of story you’re working on… the questions he asked me.”

“About your late wife Constance?” Sam asked.

“He asked me where she was buried.”

Sam nodded. “And where is that again?”

“What, I got to go through this twice?”

Isabeau spoke up. “It’s fact checking, if you don’t mind.”

Joseph sighed. “In a plot behind my old place over on Breckenridge.”

“Why did you move?” Sam inquired.

“I’m not gonna live in the house where my children died.” Joseph said. All of them stop when Sam asks another question.

“Mr.Welch, did you ever marry again?”

Joseph shook his head. His answer was almost immediate. “No way. Constance… she was the love of my life, prettiest woman I ever known.”

“So you had a happy marriage?” Isabeau raised a brow at him.

Joseph hesitated as he looked at Isabeau. “Definitely.”

Isabeau’s lips pressed into a thin line. She smelt bullshit. She blinked and patted Sam’s arm. “Well, that should do it. Thanks for your time.”

Isabeau and Sam walk over to the impala, Sam takes out the keys but doesn’t open the door. He looked up at Isabeau on the passenger side of the car. She nodded at Sam, licking her lips and turning towards the direction of Joseph. Both of them knew he was lying about having a happy marriage.

“Mr. Welch, you ever hear of a woman in white?” Isabeau calls out. Joseph turned back to her. “A what?”

“A woman in white or sometimes a weeping woman. It’s a ghost story. Well,” Isabeau chuckled, walking towards Joseph and Sam bringing up the rear. “It’s more of a phenomenon really. They’re spirits. They’ve been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places in Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana.”

Isabeau was now face to face with Joseph. “All these are different women, you understand, but all share the same story.”

Joseph lets out a breadth. “Girl, I don’t care much for nonsense.” Joseph walks away, but Isabeau follows anyway. She could feel anger pooling inside her. “You see, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them, and these women,  basically suffering from temporary insanity,” Joseph stops. “Murdered their children.”

Joseph turns around. Isabeau continues, “Then, once they realized what they had done,  they took their own lives.  So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways, and if they find an unfaithful man,  they kill him, and that man is never seen again.”

“You think... “ Joseph’s lip trembled with anger. “You think that has something to do with Constance, you smartass bitch?”

Isabeau’s eye twitched at his last comment, she felt Sam’s hand wrap around her wrist, ready to pull her away if need be.. “You tell me.”

“I mean, maybe… maybe I made some mistakes, but no matter what I did, Constance never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here, and you don’t come back.” Joseph’s face was shaking with anger and what Isabeau thought was grief, she couldn’t tell.

After a moment, Joseph turns away and walks back to his house. Isabeau closes her eyes, taking a deep sigh, twisting her hand so that her own and Sam’s were now holding each other. Sam squeezed her hand in comfort and she squeezed back.

Sam then chuckles, trying to lighten up Isabeau’s mood. “Come on. We got to get my idiot brother a chance to get out of jail.” Isabeau scoffed ,holding out her hand that was free, “My turn.”

Sam rolled his eyes playfully, fishing out the keys and dropping them in her hand. “Let’s go, Stretch.” 

It was nighttime once again, Isabeau was driving the impala while Sam called 911 with a fake story. He hung up the phone, “Hopefully that will give Dean some time.” Isabeau smiled, eyes focused on the road.

“Hey.” Sam said softly. Isabeau hummed in response.

Sam was quiet for a second. “Are you okay? You seemed like you wanted to rem Joseph a new one.”

Isabeau’s knuckles turned white from clutching the steering wheel tightly, her jaw clenched. “I, uh,” Isabeau forced out a chuckle. “During high school, I was with this really sweet guy. He was handsome, funny, smart, all the cliche things. We were together for a long time. He, um, he was my first. First everything, I thought we were going to be together forever.”

Sam furrowed his brow, “You never told me or Dean about him. What happened?” Sam watched as Isabeau’s face fell.

“He, um, he was dating someone else while also being with me.” Isabeau fell silent. Sam’s jaw clenched at the information. If that guy was in front of Sam right now, he probably would be black and blue.

Isabeau cleared her throat, and gave a laugh. “Though looking back at it now. I’m happy we didn’t end up being forever. I realized by the end of our relationship, my heart belonged somewhere else.” Isabeau shot Sam a sad glance before turning back to the road.

Sam licked his lip, not understanding her intent. Before he could ask her what she meant, his phone rang and he picked up, putting it on speaker. “Fake 911 phone call, Sammy? I don’t know, that’s pretty illegal.” Dean said.

Isabeau’s face broke out into a grin, as if she didn’t just tell Sam about her first love crashing and burning.

“You’re welcome.” Sam grinned.

“Listen, we got to talk.”

“Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she’s buried behind her old house. So, that should have been dad's next stop.”

“Sammy, would you shut up for a second?” Dean asked.

“I can’t figure out why he hasn’t destroyed the corpse yet.” Sam continued, ignoring Dean’s request.

“Well that’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s gone. Dad left Jericho.”

“What? How do you know?” Sam asked.

“I’ve got his journal.”

Isabeau furrowed her brow. “John doesn’t go anywhere without that thing.”

“Well, he did this time.”

“What’s it say?” Sam spoke again.

Isabeau could hear Dean, flipping through his dad’s journal. “Same old ex-Marine crap when he wants to let us know where he’s going.”

“Coordinates, where to?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

Sam sighed. “Dean, what the hell is going on?”

Isabeau glanced at Sam but when she turned back to the road, she saw Constance suddenly appear. “Whoa!” She slammed on the brakes, the tires screeched.

“Sam! Isabeau!” She heard Dean shout from the line. Isabeau reached out to Sam when the car stopped, she was breathing heavily and felt her heart flutter from fear.

“Take me home.” Isabeau and Sam jumped. They looked at the rear view mirror; Constance was in the backseat.

“Take me home!” Constance said a little more aggressively this time. “Sam.” Isabeau whispered out.

“No.” Sam was stoic, he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted.

Constance glares and the doors lock themselves. Isabeau and Sam reach over and struggle to open them. Isabeau stops struggling to open her door once she sees the gear shift and gas pedal press down. The car begins to drive, and Isabeau tries to stir the wheel but it wouldn’t budge.

“Isabeau!” Sam looks at her in fear.

Isabeau’s hands start shaking, her voice cracking. “I’m not doing this!” Isabeau’s nerves were going haywire.

Isabeau starts to slightly calm down once she realizes the car is slowing down and pulling up to Constance’s house and stopping, the engine shutting off and so do the lights.

“Don’t do this.” Sam said to Constance.

Constance flickered in the back seat. “I can never go home.”

Isabeau then realized. “You’re scared to go home.” Both of them look back and Constance is no longer there. They turn back and glance around, freezing when she’s sitting in between the two, her gaze is on Sam. Constance climbs into his lap, shoving him back hard enough to recline the front seats.

Isabeau grimaced, watching Sam struggle against Constance. “Hold me. I’m so cold.” Isabeau glared at Constance, reaching back slowly to brag her gun from her back pocket.

“You can’t kill me. I’m not unfaithful. I’ve never been!” Sam continues as he struggles against Constance. “You will be.”

Constance then turns away from Sam and sets her eyes on Isabeau. “Because of her.” Isabeau starred in fear. Constance reaches out, grabs Isabeau the collar of her shirt, and pushes her onto Sam.

Before Isabeau could stop Constance, her lips touched Sam’s. Both of them froze, wide-eyed at what was happening.

Constance threaded her fingers through Isabeau’s hard, gripping a handful of it and threw Isabeau forcefully back into the driver's seat, her head banging against the window, breaking it in the process. Isabeau reflectively throws her hands up to the back of her head, her vision and everything around her becoming blurry. There was blood, and boy it was going to be a nasty lump in the morning.

“Beau!” Despite what just happened, Sam was still worried about Isabeau’s well being. In that moment, Constance vanishes. Sam looks around, then screams out in pain and yanks his hoodie open. Five holes were being burned into Sam’s chest, matching Constance’s fingers.

She flickers back on top of him, her hand reaching into his chest. Rage filled Isabeau’s chest as she pulled out her gun, but someone else beat her to it. Gunshots go off, shattering the passenger window as well. Isabeau looked over and saw Dean approaching, still shooting at Constance.

Constance kept on flickering in and out as Dean shot at her. Isabeau took the chance, leaning forward and starting the car. She glared at the house in front of her. “I’m taking you home.” She slams on the gas. Dean watches as she crashes through the side of the house and stops when she could go no further. She could hear Dean calling out to her and Sam.

Dean rushes into the wreckage, running over to the passenger side of the car. “Sam! Beau!”

“Here!” Sam calls out. Isabeau groans, as she shifts her body, trying to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“You okay?” Dean asks.

“I think.” Sam says as Dean rips open the passenger door. “Can you move?”

“Yeah, help me.” Dean takes Sam’s hand and helps him out of the car. Sam leans on the car as Dean reaches out his hand to Isabeau. “Beau?”

Isabeau groans as she grabs Dean’s hand, and he drags her out of the car. He helps her stand up by putting an arm around her waist. Isabeau patted his arm. “I’m good.” He let go of her, seeing that she is able to stand on her own.

They look up to see Constance staring at a framed photo which had a picture of her and her two children when they were alive. She looks up at them and glares, throwing the photo down and moving out the way. A bureau scoots toward the three, all of them letting out groans as it pinned them to the car.

Isabeau juts out her hands, the bureau moving forward suddenly, but to only come back to pushing against them. “God damn it!” Isabeau cried out in anger. Her head felt like it was put through a blender, making her concentration and strength weak. Not to mention Constance was really pissed now, so that was an added boost for Constance.

The lights start to flicker and water begins to pour down the staircase. Constance looks up at the top of the staircase scared. She goes over, at the top are a boy and girl hidden in the shadows, both of them hold hands and speak in chorus. “You’ve come home to us, Mommy.”

Suddenly her children are behind her, and she turns looking at them distraught. They embrace her tightly and she screams, her image flickering in and out. In a sudden burst of energy, both Constance and her children melt into a puddle on the floor.

Sam and Dean look at each other while Isabeau juts her out once more, moving the bureau back to its original spot. The three walk over to where Constance and her children vanished.

“So this is where she drowned her kids. Dean asks.

Sam nods. “That’s why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.”

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Dean slaps Sam on the chest where his burns were and walks away, throwing his shoulder over Isabeau, guiding her to the car with him.

“Ah!” Sam laughed through the pain. “I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?”

Isabeau pointed at Sam, “Hey! He saved your ass before I could shoot the bitch myself.”

Dean then pointed to Isabeau. “I’ll tell you something.” Dean leans over to look at the car. “If you screwed up my car,” He turned to Isabeau. “I’ll kill you.”

Isabeau and Sam laughed, he shook his head at his brother. 

They were back on the highway, Dean in his place in the driver’s seat, Sam in the passenger and Isabeau in the backseat, nursing her throbbing head.

In front, Sam had John’s journal open to the page with coordinates, a map open in his lap and supporting a flashlight between his chin and shoulder. “Okay, here’s where dad went. It’s called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.”

Dean nods. “Sounds charming. How far?”

“About 600 miles.”

“If we shag ass, we can make it by morning.”

Sam looks up at Dean, hesitating. “Dean, um…”

Dean glances at the road and then back. “You’re not going.” He stated.

“The interview’s in like 10 hours. I got to be there.”

Dean nods, disappointed that Sam wasn’t joining them for the ride to find John. “Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I’ll take you home.”

They say nothing. Sam turns off his flashlight and jumps a little when he feels Isabeau’s hand on his shoulder. She squeezed it lightly before pulling away.

They pull up to Sam’s apartment, Dean still frowning as he stops and Sam gets out of the car. He leans over to look through the window. “Maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?” Sam suggested.

Dean nodded. “Yeah, all right.” Sam pats the door, looking to the back seat, him and Isabeau share one last smile and turns away. Isabeau bit her lip as Dean started up the engine.

“Sam.” Dean calls out. Sam turns back around. “You know, the three of us, we made a hell of a team back there.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

Isabeau sighed and leaned over to Dean and whispered. “Give me a few minutes.” Isabeau slid out of the car, shutting the door behind her and walked up to Sam.

“Hey, about what happened earlier with Constance…” Isabeau sighed, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I’m sorry.”

Sam chuckled looking down at the ground and back up at her. “It wasn’t your fault. She forced you on me. She only killed those who were unfaithful. She used you against me. Don’t blame yourself.”

Isabeau shook her head. “I know I just… I feel like I could’ve done something, anything!” she sighed.

Sam softly smiled, placing his hand on the crook over her neck, rubbing her skin softly with his thumb. The action was itself intimate, but that’s how the two were since childhood. Little intimate touches of comfort, that’s what they were to each other; comfort.

“I know.” Sam paused. “Stop by? Jess has been dying to meet my best friend. I think you two will be two peas in a pod.” Isabeau felt her chest tighten with affection and underlining pain. But she nodded nonetheless.

Sam then smirked. “I also miss having you around. So, whenever you’re done finding dad, please, come by.”

Isabeau snorted, gently taking Sam’s hand off of her and punching his arm lightly. “Never begged you for a big sap. But for you Stretch, I will.”

Sam and her embraced each other in one last hug, not knowing when they will see each other again. “Be happy.” Isabeau whispered into his ear, placing a light kiss on his cheek before pulling away and hoping into the passenger seat.

Isabeau nodded at Dean, and the two drove off, leaving Sam behind for who knows how long. Once they were a good distance away and Sam was back in his apartment, Isabeau gestured to Dean to turn back around. He nodded. There was a pit in Isabeau’s stomach, she felt it the moment they pulled up to Sam’s apartment. Something bad was going to happen; really bad.

Dean parked the car across the street, the second the engine turned off, Isabeau ran out of the car. She could see fire lighting up Sam’s apartment. “Dean!” The two ran at full speed to the door, Dean kicking down the front door.

“Sam!” Dean called out. Isabeau pointed to where the fire was coming from. The two ran into the room, it was all in flames. Sam was laying down on the bed, shielding his face with his arms. Isabeau looked up, her covering her mouth in shock seeing Jess on the ceiling bleeding and burning alive.

“Sam! Sam!” Dean looks to see Jess and runs over to Sam.

“No! No!” Sam is screaming out as Dean grabs Sam off the bed and shoving him out the door, Sam is struggling against Dean with every step.”Jess!”

Isabeau pushes Dean and Sam out the door making sure they’re safe and running back inside the apartment and shutting the door behind her. She was going to try her best to save Jess.

“Isabeau!”

“Beau! No!”

Isabeau could hear the screams from Dean and Sam outside the apartment. She ran into the room where Jess was, her body still on the ceiling. “Jess!” She called out to her. She got no response.

“Damn it!” Isabeau breathed in, her eyes turning a fiery orange, her arms spread out as the fire started to surround her entering her body. As more and more of the fire seeped into her skin, her actual being turned into a figure that was completely made of fire.

“Jess!” Isabeau called out once more. Nothing. Anger, pain, frustration. That’s all she felt at that moment. She screamed, more and more of the flames becoming one with her, but she knew that it wasn’t enough. The fire wasn’t stopping no matter how much of it she was consuming. “I’m sorry.” She whispered out, her body returning back to normal and the flames no longer touched her. She ran out of the room and slammed open the apartment door, and ran to the car where Dean stood while Sam in his arms. “Beau!”

Dean and Sam pulled her into a strong embrace and then pulled her away to look at her in the eyes.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” Dean shouted at her and Sam just looked at her with tears in his eyes. Sam lost Jess, he couldn’t lose Isabeau too.

A lone tear fell down Isabeau’s face. “I thought I could stop it. But the fire, it kept on going.” She looked at Sam. “I’m sorry.” She whispered out. Sam said nothing but pulled her back into his arms, his arms tightening around her.

“I’m sorry.” 

Isabeau watched from Sam’s side as police, fire trucks and onlookers surrounded the apartment. Sam hasn’t said much since Isabeau got out of the apartment, attempting to save Jess and put out the fire herself.

Sam’s face was filled with anger as he cocks the rifle from the trunk. Dean walks over from the bystanders and shares a look with Sam. Sam nods, then sighs and tosses the gun back into the trunk. “We got work to do.” He slams the trunk down.

Isabeau looks back at the apartment, her eyes glaring at the scene before her. She wasn’t coming home anytime soon.

Next Part | Main Masterlist | “Party of Three” Masterlist

[fluffyllamas-23]

Post-plane ride hell

Okaaaaay! I was not planning on writing this until after my semester ends, but then it just kind of...happened? So enjoy, I guess XD

Shoutout to @embriumtea for feeding my addiction to making new OCs and sending me that really wonderful pic of Matteo’s face claim 

(Matteo speaks some Portuguese in it, and my sincerest apologies for any mistakes.  I, unfortunately do not speak the language so I used google translate).

It’s not unusual for Mateo to be exhausted coming off a flight - more often than not, he was.  It’s also not unusual (though it hasn’t happened in a while) for him to step off the plane feeling bleary and headachy and just plain run down.

Declan knows this (of course he knows this, they’ve been dating for three and a half years), and Matteo barely has to say anything for him to know when he’s not feeling well.

The phone call when he stepped off the plane had been brief, but it was long enough for Declan to know that Mateo is coming down with something (he’s not entirely sure Matteo even knows it, though). His accent, though usually almost undetectable, sounded much thicker over the phone, which is always the number one indicator that he’s about to be knocked on his ass by some sort of hell-virus very, very soon.  

The frustration is another huge indicator - Matteo is rarely in a bad mood (that’s Declan’s area of expertise, honestly). He had very angrily told Declan to stop asking if he needed a ride home, and then hung up in annoyance when Declan called him a complete moron (which, in hindsight, was probably not the greatest thing to call his tired and ailing boyfriend).

The way Declan sees it, there’s one of two ways this will play out.  The first is that Matteo will continue to be frustrated and annoyed and will go to bed mad at nothing but his shitty immune system.  The second, which is exactly what Declan hopes will happen, is that he’ll just admit he’s not feeling well, drop the attitude and cuddle with him on the couch.  

A little over half an hour later, the front door opens, and in walks a very rumpled, very tired and very worn out looking Matteo.

He drops his bags on the floor, and Declan has him wrapped up in a hug in an instant.  Matteo visibly deflates and slumps into him, face buried in Declan’s chest.  

“I’m okay.”

“Matty,” Declan says softly, “come on.  I know you.”

“I think I’m getting sick,” he admits in defeat, “I don’t feel very well.”

“Yeah, I could tell.”

Matteo groans and rests his chin on top of Declan’s shoulder, “remind me never to agree to work a twelve hour international flight ever again.”

Declan chuckles, “I told you it was a bad idea.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles.

Declan kisses the top of his head, “Are you achy? You’ve gotta be achy.”

Matteo nods, pressing his face even more into Declan’s chest, “yeah.”

“Okay,” Declan soothes, rubbing his back, “how about you go lie down and I’ll draw you a bath? It’ll help you feel better.”

“Oh God, please,” he groans, “everything hurts.”

Declan frowns, “yeah? You want my heating pad in the meantime?”

“Not unless you have one that fits over my whole entire body.”

“Are you feeling bad enough to need some medicine?” Declan asks, reaching around him to put a hand on his cheek. He doesn’t have a fever yet, thank God, but Declan has no doubts that he’ll spike one soon.

“No...not yet...m’jus...tired.”

“Did you sleep at all on the flight?”

“No.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Declan grumbles, “go to bed.  I’ll get the bath ready and bring you something to eat.  What do you want?”

“Nothing.”

Declan rolls his eyes, walking with him to their room, “that’s not an acceptable answer, and you know it.  You’ve gotta work with me a little bit, sweetheart.”

“Uh...maybe...some toast?”

“Is that a question or a statement, babe?”

“Ugh, I don’t know,” Matteo groans, “I’m really not very hungry right now.”

“Is your stomach bothering you?”

“No.”

“Did you eat anything during the flight?”  

“...No.”

Declan sighs, “you have no sense of self preservation, you know that?”

“You’ve been telling me that for the last three and a half years,” Matteo groans, collapsing down onto bed. Declan pulls the blanket over him and strokes his cheek

“Will you please eat at least something? Two bites, you don’t have to eat everything, but you need at least something in your system,” Declan asks.

“In a little bit? After the bath? I’m so tired…I want to sleep.”

Declan runs his hand through Matteo’s hair, “alright. Close your eyes, I’ll come get you in a little bit.”

By the time the bath is ready, Matteo is sprawled out in bed, fast asleep.

“Matty, wake up,” he says softly, waking Matteo against his better judgement. He really should just let him sleep - the poor guy is absolutely exhausted.  

He forces his eyes open, which elicits a low groan of discomfort, “ohhhh.”

“Are you okay?”

He lets out a stuffy sounding sniffle, rubs at his eyes and then squeezes them shut again, “mby head. Oh mby God.”

“Oh...you sound awful, sweetheart. What happened? You’ve only been asleep twenty minutes.”

“I dond’t kndow…oh shit, this is awful.”

Declan presses the backs of his fingers to Matteo’s cheek, “no fever, that’s good.  I’m going to go grab you some decongestants and then the bath, yeah?”

“Dond’t wandt to mbove.”

“I know, I know, but it’ll help with the aching...and the steam will help the congestion.”

He sniffles, rubbing at his nose, “you’re probably right.”

The bath does help, although Matteo is too consumed by how awful he feels and how he just wants to sleep, to enjoy it. He stays in it for all of seven minutes before croaking out that he needs to lie down, because even sitting there is too taxing and he feels on the brink of passing out.  

Declan helps him to the bed, and then rummages around in their dresser for a pair of his sweats and a hoodie that’ll be much to big for Matteo.  

“Here,” he says, tossing him the clothes. “Get dressed and get under the blankets, I’m going to go get you water and the thermometer.”

*

Declan always knows exactly when Matteo spikes a fever, and that moment comes at three in the morning, when Matteo shakes him awake

“Decland, acorde,” he mumbles, “eu mbe sindto horrível.”

“Honey, I can’t understand you,” Declan mumbles, rubbing at his left eye with the heel of his palm while he pushes himself into a sitting position.

“Doendte,” he groans, muffling a series of itchy sneezes into the blankets.

“Okay...I know that one,” he sighs, chewing on his bottom lip.  He presses a hand to Matteo’s forehead, inhaling sharply at the heat radiating off of him “you need medicine...shit, you’re really burning up.”

Matteo blinks at Declan in confusion - everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion, everything aches and burns...everything just feels wrong.  He’s simultaneously too hot and too cold, and his head is throbbing so much that just moving it to look at Declan is entirely too painful and brings tears to his eyes.  

“Decland,” he groans, gripping at his shirt.  

“Yeah, hey, what’s up?” Declan asks softly.

“I…” He can’t figure out how to form words - especially in the language Declan understands.  

Declan can tell he’s struggling, he can see the frustration in the line that’s appeared down the center of his forehead, in how tense and rigid his entire body had gone.  

“Hey, hey, hey,” Declan soothes cupping Matteo’s cheek with one hand, and with the other, he smooths his thumb down his forehead, “it’s okay.  Don’t worry, you’re alright.  I just need to get the fever down.”

Matteo mumbles something else in portuguese, eyelids drooping.  

It takes a little bit, but his fever is finally down from nearly one hundred and four to a much more comfortable one hundred and one. Neither of them get much sleep the rest of the night, and by eight that morning, Matteo is on the couch, shivering beneath a blanket.  He watches Declan pace through half-lidded, bleary, fever bright eyes.

He’s been sneezing off and on all morning, and each sneeze feels progressively worse and triggers annoying, stuffy sounding coughing fits.

“You dond’t have to call out,” Matteo sniffles, rubbing at his nose. Despite the fever drop, he still doesn’t feel much better.  

He feels less hazy, yes, but he’s still so congested that it’s making his head throb and leaves him with a dizzy, light headed feeling.  His throat hurts (and everytime he swallows, he’s reminded of that fact), his body hurts, and he’s so tired he just wants to cry.  

“Yes I do.”

“Ndo...hhh..hih’ihtshuh! Ihtsch! Tshih! Snff! Snff...”

“Yes. There’s no way in hell I’m going to leave you alone when you’re this sick.  Mnh-mnh, not happening...and bless you.”

“S’probably...hihhh...ihhh...heh...a g-good thi’gg-tschih!...dizzy,” he mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Bless you.  See?” He says, ruffling Matteo’s hair, “I’m going to go call my boss, I’ll be right back.”

Declan steps outside, closing the sliding glass door behind him as he pulls his phone out.  He can hear Matteo sneezing even with the door shut - the fit sounds exhausted and scratchy and drawn out, and Declan’s heart clenches.  

Once the phone call is finished, he steps back inside to find Matteo half slumped over with a handful of tissues pressed to his face.  He blinks away irritated tears before his breath hitches again and he lets out a shaky, “Ehtschuh! Tschuh! Snff!”

“Bless you,” he frowns.  

Matteo slumps into him, coughing a little as he rests his head on Declan’s shoulder, “I’mb exhausted.”

Declan wraps an arm around Matteo, rubbing up and down his arm, “I’m going to go get you something to eat, does anything sound good? I know you’re not hungry, but you haven’t eaten today...or yesterday.”

He sniffles, “cand you mbake that s-soup...hhh...hihhh...ihtsch! Hih’tscheww! snff...that onde...ihtsch! Snff! Snff! That you mbake?”

Declan laughs lightly, “yeah I can make that.  Want me to put a movie on for you?”

He shrugs tiredly, “I’mb about to fall asleep. Umb...cand you wait ond the soup? I wandt to cuddle.”

“Absolutely,” Declan says softly.  Matteo maneuvers so that he’s laying with his head in Declan’s lap.

Declan begins carding his hands through Matteo’s hair, which effectively lulls him to sleep.

Translations:

Acorde: wake up

eu me sinto horrível: I feel horrible

Doente: Sick

[xyuniconnijix]

Abi has 4 OCs left up for adoption, if you'd be interested in looking

Mnh, sure why not sound interesting

[nyccraigslistfraudblog]

located in the west village is a lovely 2br garden apt to share for OC (west village) $1815

located in the west village is a lovely 2br garden apt to share for OCT 1 2018 6 MONTHS OR year or more further time, CAN BE discussed depending situation,non smoker. laundry rooms on site, supermarket one block down the block, path train 2 blocks a ... from Craigslist https://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/roo/d/located-in-the-west-village/6704895248.html Fraud Bloggs made possible by: http://circuitgenie.wix.com/techsupport

[mnh-art]

More of the sillies

[mnh-art]

My boy

[mnh-art]

how do you animate-