#rebar boy

[t3rraria]

Buck: do you remember—

Chimney: the 21st night of September!

Buck: I was gonna say when you got a rebar pierced through your skull

Chimney:

[ghiertor-the-gigapeen]

Still remember this?

He's back

Father wants you to sin more

[deancas-stabfest]

Family Beesness

Author: @mbqnoyolo Artist: @femchef Rating: T Word Count: 4,742

Tags: Stabbing, bees, curses, non-graphic violence, Samwena, day drinking, soggy tacos

Summary

It starts with a bee. Everything is cursed and nothing is sacred.

Link to Fic | Link to Art

Stickers:

[wisefoxluminary]

My top five characters across movie and TV as Barbie posters because this trend seems to never die.

[risley92]

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Well my mind went in a very different direction.

It may have been an accident or someone was being sneaky when they posed the photo. Poor Jensen, can't get a break.

[sinnadone]

[Image description: a fifteen-panel digital Supernatural fan-comic, which begins with the last ever shot of the show, of Sam and Dean Winchester gazing wistfully over a river while leaning on the railing of a bridge with the Impala in the background, as the camera floats up and away from them. The four panels depicting this recede into darkness, which continues for a bit, until it is interrupted by the sound effect of a snap and dissolves to show the brothers waking up on the floor of a motel room, Sam with a headache and Dean with a startled “What the-”. The full, panel-by-panel description is under the read-more.]

Happy anniversary! here’s how gabriel can still win

[Image description, panels 1-4: the last ever shots of the show, receding into darkness until it is interrupted with a snap.

Panels 5-6: the darkness fades away to show Dean bolting awake with a cut-off yell of “What the-”. He is on the wooden floor of a motel room with a dark green-and-brown interior. Sam is on the same floor, in the background to Dean’s left, propped up on one elbow and touching his forehead with a wince. “Hell...?”, continues Dean, quieter, as his hand hovers over where the rusty rebar should be sticking out of his chest, finding nothing of the sort. In the meanwhile, Sam notices that the skin on his hand looks as young as the day Dean last died.

Panel 7: the brothers turn to each other in silent disbelief.

Panel 8: a voice from off-screen draws their attention to the upper left: “A terrifying little nightmare, wasn’t it?” They face the direction, Sam with shock and Dean with a raised eyebrow.

Panel 9: the camera turns 180% degrees to reveal Gabriel, casually laid out on top of the motel room’s desk, looking down at them with a smirk. His torso’s propped up with an elbow, both legs slightly bent, one parallel and one perpendicular to the desk’s surface. The hand of the arm doing the propping up is hanging off the edge of the desk and holding a can on whipped cream, while the other hand is leaning on his raised knee. On the wall behind Gabriel is a large framed painting of many golden wings. He continues, “This is where the fuck you’d be without Cas, blah blah blah...” . The panel stretches down to include the space under the desk, a bit of the floor and the Winchesters’ legs up to the knees.

Panels 10-11: a close-up on Gabriel as he snaps his fingers and a strawberry pops into existence right over his thumb and index. He sprays a dollop of whipped cream onto it, closing one eye in concentration.

Panels 12-13: the camera moves behind Gabriel, looking over the Winchester brothers staring up at him. Leaning the hand holding the berry back onto his knee, he exclaims: “So saddle up, boys!”. The background goes out of focus as he throws the strawberry into his mouth with a flick of his wrist.

Within a half-circle-shaped panel #14, the dome of it intersected by radiating lines, he savours the taste, smiling with his eyes closed.

The camera zooms in on his face, lit up from below by bright flames he is suddenly surrounded by, eyes glowing gold. Looking down and somewhat at the viewer, he says: “We’re going to Super Hell.” End of the main description, only background details and appearances after this point.

The comic is styled to look as if drawn on dark brown craft paper. It is fully colored but completely unshaded, except for the last drawing of Gabriel surrounded by fire, which features fully rendered lighting and flames. The motel room has dark green walls and dark wooden floor and furniture; on the side of the room closest to Sam is a one-person bed, and on the side closest to Dean is a two-person. All three men are white and vaguely in their thirties-to-forties, and all three are wearing jeans in various shades of blue. Sam has dark shoulder-length hair parted in the middle and wears a dark jacket over a red plaid button-up, Dean has dark blond hair in an Ivy League-type cut and an army-green jacket over a dark T-shirt, and Gabriel has blond combed-back waves and a purple short-sleeved shirt with the top two buttons undone. End of description]

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 17

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: *Gives you a box of virtual tissues.* Just in case. 😘

Word Count: 6,000 Tags/Warnings: Macho angst ahead, hurt/comfort, major, major fluff…

Part 17: More Than Words Can Say

Mount Sinai Hospital was one of the largest private hospitals in the city. 

Fortunately, it was also the closest to Vought Tower, or what once had been the focal point of the superhero industry. It had been reduced to mere rubble and whatever dilapidated parts still stood. 

All the news outlets were covering the tower’s collapse, and speculating on what could’ve created the blast that made the entire city tremble—not unlike last year’s incident, when Soldier Boy killed the most powerful supe in the world.

In the hospital, M.M. walked through the Emergency Department until he found Yvette and her son, Devon. They sat beside each other on a single cot, now joined by Yvette’s husband Chris while she signed her discharge papers. She’d gotten off with a minor concussion and a bandage over her temple. 

“Just checking in on you guys,” M.M. said. Yvette smiled, but she asked about you. 

“She’s in surgery,” he told her. 

Yvette nodded, though tears welled up in her eyes. Chris rubbed her back and held his son’s shoulder. 

“Please call me with any news on her,” Yvette asked. 

“You got it,” M.M. said.

“And please,” she said, holding her son. “Thank Soldier Boy for us.”

M.M. paused at that. 

Seeing the family was well in hand, he returned to the trauma wing. There in the waiting room sat the whole team, minus Butcher, who’d been admitted to the hospital as well after the ED doctors didn’t like what they’d found on his lab reports. (But M.M. would look into that later. Hughie was with him now anyway.)

That left Frenchie, Kimiko, and Annie to wait for any news on you. Even Grace had arrived an hour ago. 

But M.M.’s attention was drawn to the dusty motherfucker standing near the hallway. 

Soldier Boy leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. The collar of his supe suit was undone to give his neck and chest some breathing room. He’d removed his gloves, and an empty gallon jug of water lied at his feet. 

He was covered in a fine layer of soot and grime, though he’d since washed his hands and face to the best of his ability. He was also flanked by his two hired men, Frank Cardoza and Lorenzo Rivales. 

Grace had run a quick background check on both, and as M.M. had learned, they were ex-Marines Soldier Boy had picked up in Colombia, while he was busy infiltrating a drug cartel.   

Fucking figures, M.M. thought, shaking his head as he watched the man. Grace stood and joined him.

“He’s not just gonna fuck off back to South America,” he told her. “You realize that right?”

She considered that with a tilt of her head. “Let’s just see what happens here.”

As if right on cue, your surgeon made his way down the hall and over to the waiting group. Ben pushed off the wall and went to meet him, as did Grace, Annie, and M.M. 

Annie and Ben eyed each other with mistrust and annoyance, respectively, but then he ignored her to regard the surgeon with a terse, expectant gaze.  

The doctor was a graying man in his fifties. He seemed to internally brace himself before he spoke, glancing at Ben first before the others. 

“We’ve repaired the damaged muscle around her right leg. The femur is broken. We also addressed the wound near her shoulder,” he said. “However, the rebar did nick her heart. She’ll need additional surgery to repair it.”

Ben sensed a but coming. He crossed his arms. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

The doctor gave a nod and a short sigh. 

“She’s lost a lot of blood,” he explained. “We’ve given her a transfusion, of course, but she’s in a delicate state right now.”

“So why’re you wasting time? Do your fucking job,” Ben snapped. Grace shot him a glance, but addressed the doctor herself.

“What are her odds, doctor?” she asked. Ben eyed her with a glare. She ignored him for the time being. 

“She needs this now. But, there is a chance she won’t make it out of surgery at this stage,” the surgeon replied. “The OR will be available in thirty minutes…so this would be the time to be with her, just in case she’s unable to get through this.”

“Excuse me?” Ben said. 

His tone was dark and deep with grit, and the doctor stepped back. No one dared attempt to hold Ben back, but Grace quickly thanked the doctor and urged him to move forward with prepping you for surgery. 

Loco shared a saddened look with Frank, who watched their boss with a deepening frown. 

Annie turned to Ben with a measure of sympathy, hidden underneath her irritation at his attitude and her worry for you. You were still her friend, and she felt guilty for how cold she’d been treating you lately. And she could see, at the very least, that this man cared about you. 

“Look, can you just calm down a bit? We’re all here hoping she pulls through,” Annie said. 

M.M. stood behind her, silent, supportive. But Ben just ignored her, and everyone else for that matter. 

He stalked down the hallway. And when he turned a corner, out of eyeshot, he growled and punched a hole deep into the closest wall.

Hughie perked up when Butcher finally started to rouse in his hospital bed. They had him on a hefty dose of morphine. 

He blinked his weary eyes, his head rolling over on the pillow. His lips quirked when he noticed Hughie, who was glaring at him. 

“Watching me sleep now?” Butcher remarked. “Pretty fuckin’ creepy, Hugh.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Hughie said. 

That was something Butcher couldn’t refute. He nodded. “I see they told you.”

“When were you gonna say something?” Hughie said. “When you fucking dropped dead?”

“Probably not even then,” Butcher teased. But when he took in the younger man’s face, all he saw was his little brother, Lenny. Butcher sighed. 

“Ain’t nothing any of us can do about it.”

“Fucking cancer?” Hughie said incredulously. “You could’ve gotten treatment.”

“Would’ve bought me a few more months, maybe,” Butcher admitted. That fell between them for a moment with stony silence. 

“It’s all right,” he added. “I’ve had my fucking time. Got to see the life drain from that golden cunt’s eyes…got to let my girl rest easy.”

Hughie didn’t buy that. Or maybe, he just didn’t want to. His eyes burned, both with emotion and determination. He stood from his seat and set out to find Grace. If there was anything that could help Butcher, she would know. 

While the others went down to the cafeteria for a bite to eat, Frank sat in the waiting room with Loco beside him and Dr. Baker’s briefcase on his lap.

He was sorting through its contents while Loco sat with crossed arms and slumping shoulders. He looked over at Frank’s stoic profile with a frown.

He was older, but not by much. They’d gone through one fresh hell after another together, and somehow, Frank always managed to pull their asses out of the wringer. It seemed Frank was trying to do the same for their boss. 

It was funny, actually. Soldier Boy wasn’t their first contractor. You were their first kidnapping though. Neither he or Frank had felt good about it when Antonio brought you back to the mansion in Medellin, but they’d agreed to do a job. Guarding you became part of that job. 

And yet, you had somehow reminded both Frank and Loco that they used to be respectable members of society. They used to have families, friends. They had once been soldiers. Good men. Maybe that was why they’d grown fond of you over the past few months. 

And Frank…well, Loco knew the man had his reasons for wanting to be done with this work. Loco couldn’t blame him; he was feeling tired himself. 

“Found anything good?” Loco asked in Spanish. Frank’s dark brows had drawn together in new interest.

“More than good,” he said. He looked up, but didn’t find Soldier Boy in the waiting room. “Where the hell did he go?”

Loco pointed to the reception desk. “Try asking someone.”

With a sharp sigh, Frank gave Loco the briefcase. “Guard that with your fucking life. Don’t let anyone from the CIA take it from you.”

Loco gave him a look of offense. “It’s like you don’t know me at all, bro. Fucking hurts.” 

Rolling his eyes, Frank got up and went over to the reception desk. 

“Excuse me,” he said. There seemed to be no one at the reception desk. Granted, it was late at night, and they technically weren’t supposed to be there. Grace Mallory had worked out an agreement with the hospital to allow them all to stay overnight. 

He didn’t have to wait too long though, as an on-duty nurse came over with a clipboard in hand. Her red hair caught his eye, along with her pretty smile. 

“Hi there. Can I help you?” she asked. 

Frank faltered, just for a moment. But he cleared his throat and met her eyes. 

“Did you happen to see which way Soldier Boy went?” he asked.

She gave him a wan smile and pointed down the hall, to the left. “That ‘a way. Think he had an argument with the wall over there.”

Frank followed her gaze and caught sight of the hole in the wall. He frowned. 

“Sorry about that,” he said. 

The nurse gave him a sideways look. “No worries, hun. It’s not your fisticuff outline in the wall, now is it?”

Once again, Frank didn’t know quite what to say to her slightly teasing smile. But he returned it, more reserved, but genuine. 

“Thank you,” he said, with a nod. Then he remembered then what he needed to do. 

And he took off brusquely down the hall. 

It took him a few minutes to pull his head together, but Ben eventually worked up his nerve to go and see you. 

You were still drugged out asleep, of course. He stood outside the large window of your private room in the Intensive Care Unit. He wouldn’t go in though. Part of him refused to believe it had gotten to this. 

And the reality, that this was his fault. He’d caused the blast that destroyed the tower. His fault he hadn’t gotten to you sooner.

“You are the reason I needed saving,” you’d told him once. 

You were right then, and it still held up now. 

So, no…he wouldn’t go in there, into your room. The truth was, he couldn’t. 

But Ben’s awareness prickled before he noticed, Frank had joined him. Ben tolerated it. While he wanted to be alone, maybe part of him (one he wouldn’t acknowledge) craved some kind of company. 

“You’ll get paid, don’t you fucking worry,” he said dryly. 

“That’s not the only reason I’m here,” Frank said. 

It felt like a confession. Ben didn’t reply though; he was focused on your pale face, covered by the breathing mask. Shallow puffs of air fogged the inside of it while your heart monitor clipped on.

“There’s another solution here,” Frank said. 

Ben gave him a cursory side glance. “She wouldn’t take Compound V. Not even to save her fucking life.”

“That didn’t stop you before,” Frank mentioned. 

Ben didn’t answer, but he’d been internally debating it ever since he’d spoken with the surgeon. 

“All right, get it over here,” he said. “The temporary stuff.” 

Frank rose a brow. He’d been curious enough to try testing the man. But now, he frowned.

“She won’t forgive you,” he pointed out. 

“What’re you, devil’s fucking advocate? She’ll get the fuck over it,” Ben snapped. 

But after his initial anger subsided…he knew his subordinate was right. 

“She’ll be alive to hate me,” he said, more honestly.  

Frank inclined his head. “There could be another way.” 

Ben glanced over at him. 

“She lost a lot of blood,” Frank said. Ben frowned.  

“They’ve given her fucking blood transfusions—” 

“Yeah, normal blood. A supe’s blood is stronger. Yours could probably heal her,” Frank said. “But, the only one who can break your skin is you.”

Ben eyed him in suspicion. “Who told you that?” 

“Read it somewhere,” Frank said evasively. 

Ben huffed in response, but as that realization truly sunk into his mind, his lips pressed together in new determination. He left Frank to start a brusque pace down the hall. 

He ignored the red-headed nurse calling at him at the reception desk when he shoved through a locked security door, into the OR unit. He searched until he found your surgeon and pulled him from the sink he was washing his hands in.

The man gasped with fright, though he tried to hide it looking up at Ben. “What the hell’re you doing?”

“I’m making a donation,” said Ben. He raised a blunt nail to his wrist. “You better hurry the fuck up, because I’m about to open a vein.”

It was morning by the time another doctor returned to deliver an update on your progress: the “treatment” was working. Your wounds had knitted closed within an hour following the blood transfusion, and you no longer needed surgery. They had also x-rayed your leg and found that the bone was whole once again. Even your broken ribs had healed.

Ben nodded at the news. He didn’t respond, and just started walking down the hall. Grace, Annie, and M.M. stared after him with mixed reactions of confusion and curiosity. 

“Where are you going?” Annie asked. She was exhausted; all of them were. 

The supe ignored her though. M.M. shared a look with her before he decided to follow the man. 

Meanwhile, Ben once again stopped in the middle of the hallway when he was out of view. He took in a slow, steadying breath of relief, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Congratulations. After today, you’re gonna get your statue put back up,” M.M. said.

Ben turned around to stare back at the man, schooling his face into a stoic frown. 

“Yvette and her son are going to be fine, by the way,” M.M. added, as he crossed his arms.

Ben paused slightly at that, filing that information away with secret satisfaction. 

To M.M., he merely raised a brow. “You got something to say, or are you going to keep wasting my fucking time?”  

“You think saving one black kid makes you a hero?” M.M. asked, point blank. “Taking down Vought. Saving her. What does that all mean to you?”

Ben frowned in irritation. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“Just answer the question. Be honest for once in your motherfuckin’ life,” M.M. said. “Do you really think you’re a hero?”

Silence fell between them. 

Ben didn’t know what it was about this guy. Maybe it was his persistence, or the fact that he’d pulled you out of the rubble and got you to a hospital in time to save your life. 

But Ben actually considered the question.

Killing Stan Edgar and Black Noir. Saving you. He’d done it all for selfish reasons. The kid…that was something else. His face stuck in Ben’s mind, how he’d trusted the superhero, like dumb kids were supposed to do.

But in that moment, carrying the tower on his back and knowing he was the only barrier between a mountain of hot rubble and this one kid…Ben hadn’t wanted to fail. 

And still. You are the reason I needed saving…

It wasn’t really saving the fucking day if he started it, was it?

Ben’s lips turned on a humorless smile. Still, he had saved the kid. And his mom. And you. For now, that was enough.

“Looks like I am,” said Ben.

But he met M.M.’s stare, briefly allowing him to glimpse beyond a wall of arrogance and pride.

And Ben walked away. M.M. watched him go in silent contemplation.

Grace intercepted Ben before he could visit you in the ICU. 

Christ. What the fuck now? he thought sourly. 

She gestured for a word, and with an annoyed look, he followed her down the hall.

“I’ll get to the point,” she said. “Butcher is sharing a floor with your girlfriend, down in Oncology.”

Ben raised a brow. That prick had cancer? Par for the fucking course, if he said so himself. 

“So?” he remarked. 

Grace sighed. She’d expected that reaction. “They’ve given him weeks, but the way he’s been pushing himself, more likely it’s days. Taking the untested Temp V long-term has had its adverse side effects…if you were to make another blood donation, I’ll make it worth your while.” 

So now his blood was some fucking wonder drug? Hell no, Ben thought. 

“You’re asking me to save the guy who’s double-crossed me, tried to hunt me down, tried to end me?” he said, with a dark, incredulous chuckle. “You can fuck right off, sweetheart.”

She grated at the sweetheart remark, but Grace leveled him with steely blue eyes.

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be on ice right now,” she pointed out. 

Ben’s lips pursed. He’d really like to snap this bitch’s fucking neck on principle…but then he thought about it. He could work this into his favor. 

“You know what. I’m having a good day, so maybe I’m feeling fucking generous,” he said. His mouth edged into a smirk. “But I think it’s time we renegotiated our contract. Don’t you?”

Grace stared up at him, and she inhaled a deep breath. 

“Fine.”

You slowly woke up in a hospital room, in a paper gown with an IV drip and a heart monitor. Which made sense, as the events of yesterday came back to you in a rush. 

But beyond feeling relieved to be alive, you also felt extremely well-rested. You didn’t feel like a building fell on you. 

What kind of masterful drugs are they giving me? You tried to read your chart on the wall, but you didn’t see any pain medication on there. 

Annie popped into your private recovery room. Her face brightened when she saw that you were awake. 

“Hey, hun! How do you feel?” she asked, lowering into a chair at your bedside. You wouldn’t know that this chair had been occupied by various members of the team over the past few hours, including M.M., Frenchie, Frank, and even Grace. 

“Great, actually,” you replied. But now you frowned. “I shouldn’t feel great.”

You remembered nearly being crushed under a pile of rubble. You remembered falling on a piece of rebar, and unable to move your crushed leg. You remembered the worry in Ben’s eyes… 

And panic stung at yours.

“Did they give me Compound V?” your voice shook when you asked. Annie calmed you down with a shake of her head and a reassuring hand on your arm. 

The door to your room opened once again. Ben’s frame filled up the doorway. When his eyes met yours, your breath caught in your throat. He was still in his supe suit, and with his hands resting on his belt, he strutted inside the room. 

M.M., Frenchie, Frank, Loco, and Kimiko came in behind him and at least looked showered. Ben looked like he hadn’t even done that much, nor slept all night.

“It wasn’t the V,” he said at last. “Just a little blood donation. Seemed to work like a charm.”

His resulting grin had a bit of charm in it as well. Your head tilted in confusion.

"Whose blood?" you asked.

"Mine," he said. His expression faded, slightly more serious.

You found yourself slowly smiling, though your brows still furrowed in surprise. He gave me his blood…instead of Compound V.

While you tried to wrap your mind around the gravity of that, you reached for the pitcher of water on the rolling tray beside you. You grasped the pitcher, but the plastic actually crunched in your hand. You gasped and moved your hand over so the water inside wouldn’t spill all over you.

Ben raised a brow. 

The room fell silent as all eyes stared at you. When the water finished pouring out onto the floor, you gently set it back down on the tray. 

“Seems you got some of his strength in the deal,” Annie remarked. 

“Great, there’s two of them,” Hughie quipped with a grin. 

“Well, that’s probably just temporary,” M.M. sighed. “Hopefully.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, and it brought a slight grin to Ben’s lips. 

After a bit of well wishing, everyone cleared out of your room to let you rest up…except for Ben, Frank, and Loco. 

“What are you guys going to do now?” you asked of the latter two. Loco cracked his knuckles. 

“Got another job lined up in private security,” he revealed. “I’ve lost the taste for drug running. Nearly lost a damn toe on the last one.”

You laughed. “Well, thanks for doing one more job here.”

“Anything for el Capitán,” Loco said, giving Ben a respectful nod. “He pays exceedingly well.”

You raised a brow at Ben, who shrugged with a cocky grin. Smiling, you turned to Frank, who was sitting in the chair beside your bed. 

“And you?” you asked. Frank gave you a rare smile. 

“Going home,” he said. “To my daughter.”

Your eyes began to sting, but you tried to blink away the beginnings of tears. You nodded and squeezed his arm. 

“Give her a big hug for me. And thank you again…for everything,” you said, even though you realized that thanking your former guard keep was strange. Still, there had been no part of your kidnapping that was normal in the least. 

Frank hesitated, but he covered your hand with his. 

Though he caught the way Ben’s face tightened, and Frank let go of you. He stood with Loco, giving you and Ben a final nod. Then the two men left your room and disappeared down the hall.

Part of you felt melancholy, like chapters of your life were closing. But you also felt like new ones were waiting in the wings.

Your gaze turned to Ben, who stood near your bed.

He was looking over your chart to see if the doctors needed anything else before you were discharged. But your soft voice called to him, earning his attention. You beckoned him closer.

He went over and sat down on the edge of your bed, laying a hand on your thigh. You reached out for his arm. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

Ben scoffed, though a hint of humor glinted in his eyes. “For what? Saving your reckless ass for the millionth time?”

“For saving Yvette and her son,” you replied with a smile. “And yeah, all that other stuff.” 

Your hand slid down his arm and slipped into his hand. Your fingers curled around his palm. 

“Really. Thank you…” 

Tears welled up in your eyes again. You still couldn’t fucking believe he opened up one of his own veins and gave you his blood. He gave a public hospital his blood in order to save you. 

He could’ve easily slipped you V24 again, or worse, the permanent stuff. But he didn’t just save you. He’d respected your wishes. 

What you wanted to say next got stuck in your throat.

Ben had something hiding behind his eyes, like he was reluctant to show you his real emotions. But when he focused on your face, his hand tightened on yours. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak. He only let go of your hand to brush a falling tear from your cheek. His lips twitched at a smile.

“Come on now, baby doll. You’re tougher than that.”

You choked on a laugh as more of your tears slipped down your warming cheeks. “Nope. I’m actually not.”

“Hmm. Could’ve fooled me,” Ben said. You matched his grin with a beaming smile of your own.  

Slowly, you pushed yourself up and took his dirty face in your hands. You guided him down to you, and you pressed your lips to his. 

He allowed it with his usual demanding, fervent kiss. But then it slowed. He held your wrist to keep your hand in place on his cheek, and his thumb drew bath and forth over your skin. 

You parted from him, pulling back enough to see his face. There was so much you wanted to say…but maybe right now, it was too much. 

You met him with another tearful kiss.

Before you were officially discharged from the hospital, you had one more visitor. 

Grace was once again there to debrief you. This time though, Ben sat at your side on the bed, a silent statue who regarded the woman coolly. He seemed to be tolerating her presence with more ease than usual, and you wondered why.

“You’re going on medical leave,” she informed you. “For three months, and then a psychiatrist will need to clear you for duty.”

Part of you wanted to argue, considering you were completely healed of your injuries. But you knew you needed a break from the S.A.—from all of this. 

“Your mother and sister will be brought out of witness protection soon, after we determine that the threat is sufficiently neutralized,” she said. “You can return home today as well.”

You could finally go back to your apartment…though the thought didn’t call to you as much as it should have. You glanced over at Ben.

“Is this the part where you try to ship him back to Colombia?” you asked. 

“That was the agreement,” Grace said wryly. You frowned, trying to blink away the tears forming once again in your eyes.

You didn’t want to lose him, but you also didn’t want to give up your life here. You didn’t want to leave the S.A., or your family, or your friends. Ben put you out of your misery, however.

“We renegotiated,” he said. 

Your eyes widened. “What?”

Grace explained, “In exchange for his assistance in another case, he can stay in the U.S. on a trial basis. As long as he agrees to live within the law.”

You didn’t entirely trust Grace. Ben would be watched at every moment. That was a given, but considering he still didn’t have full control over his nuclear power, you were surprised Grace would allow him free roam within U.S. borders. 

“And, provided, he agrees to a relocation. Preferably not in a densely populated area,” Grace added.

There it is, you frowned. You shared a look with him, and you could see he wasn’t entirely on board with this. You had no doubt he’d agreed to her demands by lying through his teeth. 

You turned back to Grace.

“What if he becomes a contractor for Supe Affairs,” you proposed. “There may be some fallout after Vought’s collapse, and more of their records to go through. Other labs to clear out. Ben would be a lot of help, if he’s willing.”

You glanced at Ben again. He met your eyes, then Grace’s, and he nodded marginally. He was getting bored of the heat in South America anyway. 

Grace heaved a sigh. Ben’s lips formed a smirk. 

“Oh, relax. I just ended Vought. You’d be an idiot not to cash in on that PR,” he pointed out. 

“Need I remind you that you caused the tower’s collapse?” Grace said tersely. “And you did not end Vought. There will be repercussions to this, believe me.”

Ben’s face tightened, but you grasped his hand. 

“But he fulfilled the mission,” you said. “He took out Black Noir…and Stan Edgar in the process.”

“The idea was to arrest him, but I get your point,” Grace said. Her hand raised to cover her mouth as she thought about your proposal.

Eventually, she spoke. “If you can play by our rules, then we’ll contract with you. But until you get that atomic bomb under control, you can’t remain the city. Upstate is the best I can do.”

Ben chafed at being told what he couldn’t do. What the fuck was he going to do in Upstate New York? Slowly rot to death in dusty-ass suburbia?

You shot him a knowing look, raising a brow. 

“It’s a fair offer, Ben,” you pointed out. His lips pursed in annoyance. But he glanced at your hand in his.

Then he looked up at Grace. “Fine. But first, unfreeze my fucking bank accounts.”

Ben later led you out of the hospital. There was a car waiting outside, and he got in to drive, despite you offering. He must’ve been going on very little sleep, if any over the past two days. 

And of course, he’d refused to be seen at all medically, saying he was fine. You were still concerned about that destabilizing gun Black Noir had shot him with. 

“I’m fine,” Ben had claimed. “Just need some sleep, that’s all.”

You watched his profile for a moment, and a smile started to raise your lips…until you finally remembered something that felt like a heavy stone in your stomach.

“Um…” you said, earning Ben’s attention. You looked up at him. “My father’s dead…”

Good fucking riddance, was Ben’s initial reaction. Followed by a frown, as he now realized he would never get the pleasure of choking the shit out of Jon himself. 

Ben had been fucking livid to learn from Frank that you’d been left alone in the Tower with your father while it was coming down (and Ben was petty enough to dock that little slip up from Frank’s pay). Had that asshole lived, Ben wouldn’t have put it past him to try and take you with him after escaping the building. The mere thought grated on him. 

“Black Noir killed him,” you said, heaving a shaky breath. 

That cut through Ben’s thoughts. He glanced over, watching you fight some conflicting emotions. 

“…Punched a hole straight through his chest,” you added.

Ben hummed in acknowledgement. You turned to him with a raised brow and glassy eyes. When he realized you were expecting a bit more from him, his lips pursed.

“Well, he got a quick death,” he said. “Better than he fucking deserved, far as I’m concerned.”

You sighed and leaned your head back on the head rest. Your eyes closed. 

“Goddamn it, Ben.”

Ben eyed you with a deepening frown. “What the fuck do you expect me to say?”

“How about some decency?” you asked, as a tear fell down your cheek. “He tried to apologize. But I wouldn’t let him.”

He paused at that. While he thought you were being unreasonable, it begrudgingly dawned on him what you wanted, and maybe, what you needed. He sighed through his nose. Even now, you were a handful.

Ben reached over, taking your hand from your lap. He pressed the back of it to his lips, earning your mild surprise.  

“That’s not your fault,” he said. And he briefly took his eyes off the road to look into yours. “None of it was. You understand me?”

Your face softened. Though you tried to blink away your tears, a few of them still fell. You wiped at them with your free hand, while the other squeezed around his fingers, resting against your thigh. Despite how you were fracturing inside, warmth still kept you afloat. 

So you looked up at Ben, and you nodded. He seemed satisfied by your answer. He turned back fully to the road, but you kept a tight hold of his hand. He allowed it.   

“We’ll have to go to the safe house to get our stuff,” you said eventually, with a small sniffle.

“No need,” Ben said. “That’s taken care of.”

That confused you. Was he taking you to your apartment then? 

But instead, he drove you out of the city, and an hour upstate into Scarsdale. You’d never been there, but you knew it by reputation—as one of the most affluent towns in the state.

You were even more confused when he drove down a street flanked by tall hedges within a private community. He pulled into a circular driveway in front of an immense white house, with a red brick roof, colonial architecture, a manicured lawn, complete with matching fountains lining the front door.

Ben parked the car and encouraged you to get out with him. You followed him up to the front porch, expecting an old billionaire to pop out of the tall bushes at any moment to chase you away. 

“What’re we doing here?” you asked. His hands fell to the belt of his supe suit as he surveyed the stood, the door, and the walls for anything amiss. 

“I’m looking into buying it,” he revealed, as if he’d just told you, It’s pretty fucking sunny today, huh? 

“Our stuff is ready to be shipped out when the deal closes with the owner,” he added.

Your eyes flew wide. “What? When did you have time to scope out houses?” 

You’d only been discharged about an hour after the conversation with Grace. 

“I had Frank look into some shit. He found this one,” Ben shrugged. “Could use some work, but not bad.”

Our stuff, you repeated in your mind. This house…was he trying to recreate what the two of you had in Medellin?

And more importantly, was this his way of asking you to move in with him? 

Well, there’s not too much asking going on, you thought in annoyance. And yet, you blushed; the sentiment in itself was enough to warm you. 

You brought Ben back down to Earth by grasping his hands, earning his attention from the old grout in the tile.

“Ben, this place is amazing,” you said. “But I don’t know if I’ll be comfortable living like this.”

He frowned down at you. “What the hell do you mean? You could have anything you want here. It’s safe. Got plenty of room—”

“A bit too much room,” you said, holding up your thumb and forefinger a couple inches apart. 

He looked adorably grumpy. You smiled and squeezed his hand. 

“Did you really feel cozy and at home in that mansion with fifty rooms and nobody in ‘em?” you asked.

He didn’t answer you, and he didn’t seem happy either. You didn’t want him to take this as a rejection. 

“If we’re going to do this,” you said, “then can we start a little smaller? Somewhere that feels like home to both of us?”

Ben stared back at you in annoyance. “You need to broaden your palate.”

You just managed to stop yourself from laughing.

“You haven’t had a normal home in a long time, Ben,” you replied. Maybe ever, you realized. “How about you trust me?” 

He gave you a dubious frown.

“What about this,” you tried. “Let’s pick it out together! If in a few months you still hate the new place, we’ll try it your way.” 

“You’re assuming we’re gonna make it that long.” Ben was starting to wonder if this was going to work after all. The two of you were from very different worlds. 

You offered a cheeky smile. “I’m optimistic.”

He huffed. “Sure.” 

You reached up on your toes, and gripped the front of his suit when you leaned up to kiss him. His hands rose naturally to hold you, resting on your jean-clad hips. He followed your languid kiss, his furrowed brows relaxing when you touched his cheek.

When you broke from his lips, his eyes opened to find yours. 

“I am, Ben,” you said more seriously. “I’m not playing games. This is real to me, and I want to be with you.” 

But then you hesitated. You lowered back down to your feet. 

“But if it’s not to you…if you’re just passing time with me, until you get bored,” you said, “tell me now. Please.” 

It was Ben’s turn to hesitate. It was the please that got to him, along with your downturned gaze. He captured your chin between his fingers and raised your face up to him. 

“I’m not fucking around,” he said. “I want you to live with me.” 

Your smile was soft and bright when you took his hand. Ben wouldn’t admit it, but something in his chest stuttered to life then.

“Okay,” you said with a nod. “Let’s do it.”

AN: *squeals* It's happening! We've really gotten here, folks. How'd you like how it all wrapped up with Grace, M.M., and even Butcher?

But we're not quite there with these two yet...

Next Time:

“Why’re you nagging me like a goddamn wife?” he snapped.

“Wife?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You don’t even call me your girlfriend.”

But God forbid another man even smile in your direction. Ben was possessive, protective, and claimed with all but words that you were his. And yet, he wouldn’t say it.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was afraid of commitment, but you’d been living together for six damn months.

Keep reading: THE EPILOGUE

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

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[hopefulatrocity]

Snow And Embers

Notes: Uh so I've fallen into my Hunger Games hyperfixation again. This is just something that came to my mind while watching the movie. I needed a refresher from my TWD fic(I have not abandoned that I swear). This leans more heavily to the movie than the books, except for Lucy's eye color, I stuck to the book with that. So spoilers. NOT PROOFREAD. Also, I'm highly of the notion that Coryo did love Lucy but not all love is healthy. His bordered on obsession. And with a tendency for paranoia, it didn't end well.

Pairing: Lucy Gray Baird x Coriolanus Snow (SnowBaird)

Part 2

CW/TW: Spoilers for BOSAS, darkish thoughts, ideas of claiming/possession, Smut!(18+ breeding kink, creampie, fingering, slight somnophilia, very slight inexperienced Coryo).

The first time Coriolanus and Lucy Gray  became one, it was slow and euphoric. There had been hesitation for him. As ashamed as he was to admit it, he had never been with anyone, romantically or sexually. He'd spent his life worrying about status, money, and academics. With the fragile state of his academic career due to Dean Highbottom's hatred for him, and the ever looming threat of eviction and starvation, even after the Dark Days, he hadn't had the time nor emotional ability to even attempt either. The beautiful rainbow that was Lucy Gray Baird, was the catalyst that changed everything. 

He'd been enchanted by her singing during the Reaping, and initially he thought his interest was simply hope that maybe she could be the key to his family's troubles. That she could be the one to turn his fortune around. Those thoughts turned the moment he watched Lucy Gray pluck a petal from his proffered white rose, and place it on her delicate pink tongue, the two colors contrasting and trapping his gaze. When her lips sealed around the soft sepal, his blue eyes traced the plump flesh, wondering what the skin there tasted like. Would they taste like roses? Or would it be something wholly Lucy Gray? 

He'd had to snap himself out of his trance, scolding himself for falling victim to his brain's carnal desires. He was there to be a mentor. He was there to fix his family's status and finally land on top, just like snow was supposed to. For a while this train of thought had worked. Every time his mind wandered to tanned skin and silky hair colored like the rich dark chocolate from his starvation-induced childhood dreams, he would think back to his interaction with Dean Highbottom, the threats, and the reasoning for why he was interacting with the tribute in the first place. 

It didn't help matters when Lucy Gray had threaded her fingers into his own when they went to view the arena with the other tributes and mentors. Her palm was sweaty, so was his, but the way their fingers fit together perfectly had his heart beating faster than ever before. He'd looked into her eyes and the fear there had him tightening his grip, a measure of reassurance. His inner Capitolite had reared it's head then, warning him about getting too close to her, a district girl. A tribute at that. One likely to die within the next few days. He'd dropped her hand, almost like the soft creases of her palm were instead the fangs of the snakes she so easily mastered. 

Within minutes everything had gone to ruin, the bomb had gone off, flaming rebar fell on top of him, and suddenly he knew he was going to die. He'd called for her, the dust and rubble making his throat and eyes burn. In the haze, he had seen her look towards the exit, she had a chance to escape. Surely this meant she would leave him to be engulfed by the flames on his back. But she hadn't. She had pushed away another tribute who told her to run and had gone to help him. A district girl saving the life of a Capitol boy. It was the kind of propaganda that would have made his grandma'am's heart stop. 

Lucy Gray had saved his life. He had to save hers. So he snuck his mother's poison filled compact to her in dead of night. Through the bars he had poured his heart out, not in words of love or passion but of strategy and advice for winning the games. It was all he could do. When she had leaned forward, her lips seeking his through the bars, he had pulled back in shock. As much as he wanted to kiss her, he couldn't. If he did and she died the next day, he wasn't sure he would survive it. Internally, he promised himself that if Lucy Gray won, he would do everything he could to finally find out what she tasted like. 

And she had won, his tampering with the snakes and the compact being her lifelines. Despite the fallout from his treason, Coriolanus kept his promise to himself. He'd bribed his way to District 12, unsure if he would even be able to find his rainbow songbird. For all he knew, Gaul could have killed her. 

But then he saw her in that bar. Singing so beautifully. When her eyes met his, his heart lept and so did his cock. 

The first time they kissed, it was like the world turned on its axis and nothing else mattered but Lucy Gray. She did taste like roses, fresh and floral. And the softness of her lips balanced the slight roughness of his own. He had to leave her, return to base, but he knew that kiss was just the start of something more. Something powerful. 

Over the next few weeks, anytime he was able to sneak away from his peacekeeper duties, he was with her. Soft touches, handholding, and hugs turned to bruising grips, roving hands, and passionate kisses. Despite his inexperience, Coriolanus felt like a connoisseur of intimacy when he was with Lucy Gray. She had a bit more experience than him, the idea of another man touching his songbird made his stomach turn but he knew it wasn't something that could be changed. She guided him whenever his feelings of inadequacy crept up. She would push his hesitant hands under her skirt, letting his recently calloused fingers graze over the smooth skin of her thighs. Or press her tongue past his lips and tangle it with his own. Each step a domino collapsing and pushing him to move further with her. 

They didn't have sex until the second time they visited the cabin by the lake, that time without the Covey. By some miracle, his unit had been given a weekend of rest and he took advantage of it. As soon as they had stepped into the cabin, their lips had collided and clothes fell to the floor in a trail, leading directly to the one bed in the corner. 

Night had fallen, and the only light was a small oil lantern on the bedside table that he had briefly gotten up to light. The flickering flames danced along the contours of Lucy Gray's naked body and he stared at her sleeping form for hours. He was laying on his side, the thin blanket covering his waist, with one hand propping up his head. The short spikes of his hair tickled his palm and he thought about how Lucy Gray had tried so hard to grasp it. He wished it was longer, he could easily imagine how good it would feel to have her tugging at his long curls. 

Coriolanus’ blue eyes traveled over Lucy Gray's face. Her dark locks where sprawled over the one threadbare pillow, coiled like snakes from the arena. Occasionally her eyelashes would flutter against her cheek and she would sigh. His heart would stop for a moment, both with happiness and fear. Happiness that he would be able to see her warm gray eyes gazing up at him lovingly, but also fear to be losing that moment of retrospection. His eyes moved from her face, down her neck, and to the top of her breasts. The perfect handfuls were covered by the blanket they both shared, as was the rest of her body. She had one hand laying across her stomach, while the other was tucked under her head. 

With a mind of their own, his fingers moved out to lightly stroke the soft skin of her hand. The same ones that had stroked his cock expertly, and had teased their way across his thighs. Needing to see the rest of her, Coriolanus slowly pulled down the blanket until it was laying over her knees. Heat began to pool in his stomach as he saw goosebumps bead on her skin. Her dark nipples peaked in the chilled air and he had to stop himself from running his fingers over the pointed tips. Blue eyes caressed her stomach and moved  over the slight curve of her abdomen that led to the thick patch of curls between her legs. She had one leg bent and the other splayed out, giving him a glimpse of the heat that lay hidden by the soft hair that guarded it. Her dusky folds still glistened, even though it had been hours since he'd been inside her. But his full focus was drawn to the pearl of white that sat at her entrance. A small amount of his cum was still there and it made the animalistic part of him purr. He had cleaned between her legs with his shirt shortly after their coupling, but she was still dripping with him.  A dark part of his mind wondered if it had taken. If he had claimed her fully. 

At the time, they hadn't spoken of contraception. Not that there was much of that available anyways. The Capitol had just barely begun manufacturing any type of birth control again after the war. It was expensive and no one in the districts could afford condoms or anything like that. Even their base commander had told them to be careful during leaves. The last thing they needed was news of Peacekeepers knocking up the district women. It would only bring more rebels to their doors. 

He knew the Covey was adept with herbal remedies but he hoped that they didn't have one for this type of thing. It was shocking to him, as he hadn't spent much time thinking about the possibility of having children. His priorities had revolved mostly around the intertwining of his family's status and his education. But now here he lay, his girl by his side, wondering what it would be like to make her his own. To have his seed plant itself deep inside her. She'd be marked by him, her pregnant belly a sign that she belonged only to him. That coal rat Billy Taupe would finally understand that Lucy Gray Baird was his. No one else would dare look at her. And if they did he had no problems with killing them. 

Coriolanus painted along her skin with the tips of his fingers, gently rasping them over her puckered nipples. He stared at her breasts and wondered how big they would they get. He imagined them swollen with milk, the tips dripping and the flesh overflowing his hands. 

Lucy Gray's stomach was smooth and her hips weren't very wide, but he knew they would adjust to hold his child. The supple skin would become taut and her hips would expand to accommodate their child. Would she get stretch marks? He hoped she did. That way she'd be marked even after giving birth. A beautiful scar to remind her and anyone else who had fully claimed her body. 

Drawn again to the small bead of cum at her entrance, Coriolanus ran his fingers through her lower curls and pressed his seed back inside her warm channel with his pointer finger. A low moan escaped Lucy Gray's lips and she clenched around the thin digit. As if her body was trying to pull his seed back inside her. His chest tightened and he looked up to see if she had woken up. But her eyes were still closed. Good. He wanted a few more minutes to indulge in this fantasy. No.. not fantasy. Plan. The animal inside him refused to forget about this. It had made up its mind. Lucy Gray was his. And her body was destined to carry his child. 

Gently he removed his finger from inside her, the tip brushing against her clit and causing another moan to leave her parted pink lips. If her singing voice was perfection, her moans were solace for him.

Coriolanus lifted his small corner of the blanket and moved his body over hers, his stiff cock brushing her thighs and settling over her public hair. The slight pricking of the coarse hairs across the tip of him was shocking. He had to stop himself from thrusting against her, seeking more friction. His body was still inexperienced, still desperate for any touch. 

His nose brushed hers and his fists caged either side of her face. 

“Lucy Gray….”

The rasp of  his voice saying her name vibrated across her lips. She woke slowly, the look of sleep and pleasure keeping her lids drooping. As soon as she realized what had woken her up, a small smile crossed her face. 

“Coryo.”, she brushed her lips against his. His name sounded like a possession. He didn't want anyone else to say his name. Just like her body belonged to him, his name was hers alone. The twitching of his cock against her slit had her pressing her hips up to tease him. He pushed forward a bit, notching himself at her entrance, her still dripping cunt practically begging him to thrust into her. Lifting one of his hands, he cupped her cheek, and stroked his tumb over the apple tenderly. Her gray eyes latched onto his own, both searching for something unknown in his gaze. 

“Mine,” he whispered it, almost lovingly, but with a note of passion and mastery. A declaration of his possession, daring her to contradict him. 

Lucy Gray nodded her head minutely, and  placed a ghost of a kiss on his chin. Those lips that had bewitched him from the moment he saw them wrapping around that rose petal were soft as silk. Since then he had found that she truly did taste of roses and something smokey, like embers. 

Drunk on his floral scent and the need to be filled, she whispered, “Yours, Coryo.”

Darkness clouded Coriolanus’ light blue eyes and she gasped as he thrust to the hilt inside her. The tip of his cock brushed the entrance to her womb and her channel began to pulse around him. Begging him to fill her. Lucy Gray's body instinctively knew what it needed from him. 

She wasn't fully his. Not yet. But she would be by the end of the night. 

[winged-void]

Here's the story yall asked me to post

Hello! I am posting this short little story, which is the first of a number of short stories I have written about these two characters, a delusional noblewoman and her deranged maid. By clicking the readmore you agree that both characters contained within, regardless of what the text says, are girls.

In some forgotten corner of some forgotten city, a forgotten noble of a forgotten family sits in petty agony. 

Protected from the onslaught of acidic rain only by a hastily constructed sheet metal roof, he imagines Mother's pain at the tears in his coat, and the scion of the Branche family considers weeping. 

What would it cost? 

Too much. 

Elan Branche pushes it down. At twelve, one puts such childishness behind them. 

Back straight. Assess the damage. Find the solution. 

The coat was heavy. Too large, and far too decorated with old and meaningless signifiers of unearned and forgotten glory, weighed down further still by the damp of rain and blood (hidden at least by the deep red color of the fabric), he takes it off and hangs it on a bit of exposed rebar. 

It was old and beautiful; burgundy and torn to shreds. The sleeves and the tail had cuts and rips that Elan knew he could never fix. He thought of a picture he'd found of the family's old staff, and the dedicated tailor among them. All gone now, gone since before his birth. This burden, like all before it, must be borne alone. 

Put it out of mind for now. 

He turned away from the coat to inspect his blade. Sharpening the noble edge sharpens the noble mind, he thought, and began to clean. His adventures to these parts were proving more expensive than he thought, but the rabble must know the Branche Family. Their petty vassals and pettier commoners had forgotten and darkness had come to them. 

By sword and torch and pistol he would bring light and flame back. He would polish the old blazonry with the blood of those foolish and cruel enough to have taken advantage of the weakness of his family. No longer would commoner merchant thugs an-

Hold. A sound. 

Elan jumped and turned, blade pointed at his empty coat, hanged and swinging in the breeze. 

Foolish. Too easily startled. Undignified. Waving your sword around at an empty coat. 

But then another sound, like the whimper of a kicked dog. 

“N-Nothing gets by you, milord….”

A hunched and crouching pathetic figure emerged from behind the rebar, raising its hands, but holding onto what seemed to be an especially short thin piece of scrap metal, bent at the end such that a thread could pass through it. 

Elan's mind raced. First, relief, then recognition. Figure was a boy. No older than thirteen or fourteen. Thin, so thin, tall and dressed in rags. 

“You. You're that kid from the other day. The mugging victim, yes?”

Wasn't that mugging four towns over? 

He left it unsaid. He continued. 

“What are you doing with my coat?”

The figure squirmed, and tried to stand up straight. 

“I-I-I saw. The state of your coat. And I thought I might be useful, milord…” It paused, and jumped as though shocked, “My lord.”

It gestured towards the left sleeve, and Elan's eyes traced the crimson thread from the needle in its scarred hand to the sleeve of the coat, partially sewed with baffling skill. 

Elan considered the boy. His hair gray (common in these chemically stained regions), his form clearly starved, his body shaking but his hands so very steady. 

Potential and possibility, all of it. Solutions to problems named and those he refused to name. 

“How useful,” Elan lowered his sword and allowed himself to smile, “would you like to be?”

[ebonyheartnet]

Danny Phantom prompt w/ optional DC! :D

Corpse AU where Danny sheds every time he accidentally burns out a body.

As ghost king and ancient of balance, aka space, Danny’s being run ragged. The sheer amount of duplicates he has to pump out to hold the line as the GIW advance into the zone is nearly soul crushing. Black haired, blue eyed, washed out bodies are piling up like sand bags at this point. Danny can smell the char on them every time he gets close, and it makes his eyes water. He just uses them like rebar to make the ice walls even sturdier.

One day, Danny realizes that the bodies can recharge if left in the zone long enough.

One day, Danny realizes that he can command a thousand strong army of corpses armed with the basics, a lack of pain, and a protection obsession big enough to swaddle worlds.

Meanwhile, Batman watches an army of dead boys with Jason’s face swarm research facilities. He wishes he had time to be horrified, to save them all as he watches his son be murdered several times over, but he doesn’t. Something in his chest is screaming to help them, so he follows his gut.

[jesterwriting]

(for that timeloop post,, uhm this relates to the whole body horror thing ((not too much just a brief mention)) so if rn u don't wanna see that SCROLL AWAY!!! OR DELETE ME!! OK disclaimer ends here)

oh man but what if Law did say room anyway and there were impossible scars on your insides... like littered everywhere, they're not fresh but old, almost phantoms that make no sense, because if they were real you would've died. how would he react to that? maybe not when he noticed them crying but after weeks or months, dunno, where they keep skipping his more thorough check-ups (where he uses his devil fruit) since they're anxious about the pains? and think that somehow there are signs of their previous deaths and the mention of them makes it hurt more and more and they just can't do it. but they can't bring themselves to say it because who could possibly believe them? if Law doesn't, it would just feel even worse, won't it? even if they understand his point of view. maybe they even die in front of him and it gets harder to just hold all of that in,,, oh boy. if you think about continuing your oneshot i'll eat it like a starving animal!

pairing: law x gn!reader

contents: slight body horror, slight gore, timeloops, suicide done to restart the loop, hurt/comfort, happy ending,

word count: 1.6k words

note: OHHHHH I LOVED THIS IDEA OH MY GOD. absolutely so smart. anon your mind is huge and i had so much fun doing this request. <33 i really hope you enjoy :33

playlist: caribou - tanya tagaq

a sister fic to this

This had never happened before. You had experienced hundreds of loops, maybe even thousands, and this was the first time Law saw fit to scan you with his Devil Fruit.

Maybe you were getting sloppy. You had a strong immune system so you never got sick, and the first time Law scanned you for your general checkup upon joining the crew, there was nothing of note. You wondered what changed, as if you hadn’t died more times since you joined his crew than you had in your entire life. Maybe it was because the more you suffered, the more reckless you became, throwing yourself into the fray with little regard for yourself. You could take a bullet for your crewmates, so you would. It was as simple as that.

There was a first time for everything, you supposed. A first death, a first breath, a first kill; there were uncountable firsts that one could experience, and you had experienced most of them.

Not this one, though.

You had tried to avoid it for as long as possible. Your captain was a man who carried burdens, ones almost as heavy as the ones on your shoulders. If he knew how many times he failed you — or how many times you failed him — you knew he would take all the blame for himself. As if you hadn’t been the one lying, and fighting, and dying over the course of countless lifetimes.

Law blinked a few times before his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. You fidgeted under his stare. If his reaction was anything to go by, he found something horribly wrong with you. While you had experienced slow deaths before, you had never experienced what it felt like to waste away from disease. Maybe you’d find out this loop, you thought, trying to feel nonchalant about the idea and not like you were about to throw up.

“Um. What’s wrong,” You tried.

Law shushed you, the blue glow from his room still surrounding you. You bit your tongue, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt to try and take your mind off of whatever he could have found.

“This can’t be right,” He muttered, one hand cradling his chin. He pointed to your chest. “There’s a scar inside of you, it looks like a puncture wound through your lungs. When did that happen?”

Three loops ago when you fell off a building and onto some rebar. That was a particularly awful death. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was Law’s panicked expression as he tried to put you back together again. There was terror in his eyes. You tried not to think about that part.

“And here,” Law continued, pointing to your abdomen. “There’s a scar running across the length of your stomach. It almost looks as if you were previously disemboweled.”

You had been. Multiple times. It was a common and very disturbing loop ender that you tried to avoid if you could. Watching your organs fall out of you in a steaming heap was never something you liked to experience, but for some reason, your opponents kept aiming for the gut. You wished they’d aim for the heart or the head more often. At least then it’d be quick.

He didn’t stop there, jaw falling open when he stared directly where your heart was. “When were you stabbed, Y/N-ya, this looks recent.” Law blinked a few times before realization dawned on his features. His eyes shot to your face, expression going from open to unreadable in seconds. “How did you survive without my intervention?”

Your mouth was dry. How were you supposed to respond? There was no way you could tell him that you had died on his watch more times than you could count. Law didn’t deserve that. Your captain was a good man, one you loved admired far too much to allow this to weigh him down. He would take your failures to heart, completely discounting the amount of times that he had saved you from having to start anew.

You must have been quiet for too long because Law was speaking again. “Answer me.”

“It’s from a long time ago,” You said.

That was a lie. It was from the previous loop. A quick death by your own hand over the cold corpse of your captain. If Law didn’t survive, there was no point in continuing, and if there was one thing you had grown accustomed to, it was taking your own life after one loss too many. You knew how to make it quick, no suffering. So with a precise hand, you drove your knife into your chest and let the timeline begin anew.

When you saw Law again, whole and alive, you vomited. You were under the impression that he believed that you simply ate some bad seafood, but from the concern that was slowly etching its way onto his features, you weren’t so sure of that now.

“Don’t lie to me.” Law’s eyes flashed, barely contained frustration needling at the corners of him. “None of this makes any sense, half of these injuries should have killed you. The other half would have needed to be treated.”

The truth sat on the tip of your tongue. You felt selfish and needlessly cruel for your desire to tell Law what was really happening. Your eyes burned, and their glassy sheen didn’t go unnoticed. Law handed you a tissue, expression softening.

“I- um.” You hated how your voice cracked. It had been a long time since you told someone about your Devil Fruit. You always died, and they always forgot. For a long time, you thought it was better that way, carrying this weight on your own. The way Law looked at you, though, it made you want to pour your soul out to him. Every pain, every loss, every death lain at his feet, and for once, you could stand unburdened. “It’d be wrong of me to tell you.”

Law’s eyebrows knit together. “Now you’re being stupid.”

“No, I’m not. You’ll regret asking once you know. Don’t pretend like you don’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, you don’t deserve my troubles on top of that. It’s better for both of us if you just forget what you saw.”

With that, you stood and made to brush past Law and out of the room. He grabbed you by the shoulder, not allowing you to go any farther. Though his grip was firm, it didn’t hurt. If you really wanted to, you could wrench yourself away from him.

“You’re trembling.”

Your lower lip wobbled, your resolve ebbing away by the second. “It’s complicated.”

“So tell me.” Law’s lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. “Doctor’s orders.”

You let out a small huff. He didn’t deserve this, but there would always be another loop. This current one hadn’t been going so well, and by your estimation, it would take at least three more before you managed to reach your next checkpoint. It wouldn’t hurt to tell Law what he inevitably wouldn’t remember. You steadied yourself with a deep breath and turned to face him, his eyes met yours with a mix of concern and exasperation.

“It’s my Devil Fruit,” You started. Law leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms, attention solely on you. Your heart thundered in your chest. “I’ve died so many times.” Without your permission, your breath hitched. Law’s hand encircled your own with a small squeeze, encouraging you to continue. “It, um, brings me back, I guess. I’ll die, and then wake up in the bunkhouse days earlier, and I’ll be the only one who remembers what happened. All those scars you saw were what killed me in a previous loop.”

He was silent while he chewed on his words.

“How many times have you died since you joined my crew,” Law finally asked.

Your hand was still in his and you gave it a squeeze. “That’s not fair. I know what you’re doing and I won’t let you do it.”

Law’s shoulders slumped as he brought his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I believe you. It explains a lot. I noticed you cry in your sleep sometimes.”

“You watch me sleep?” The tips of Law’s ears were tinged pink while you laughed.

“I was worried so I checked on you.” With a sigh, he began to lead you out of the clinic to his office. “Come on, you’re telling me everything you can remember. We’re going to come up with a plan.”

Humoring him, you followed close on his heels. It didn’t matter how long or how hard you planned, there was no accounting for the unpredictability of the universe. This comfort wouldn’t last long. Soon, you would be dead again and the cycle would start anew. That didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy sharing a space with your captain, listening to him meticulously craft tactics to keep you, and everyone else, alive.

It wasn’t until four days later you found yourself breathing, though covered head to toe in blood, with the rest of the crew. Everyone was safe and sound, and Law wouldn’t stop looking at you with a smirk on his face. When you found yourself next to him, he bumped his shoulder against yours.

“I told you my plan would work.”

Just like that, for the first time in your life, you were no longer alone.

[hawkeyetrained]

Hold on Kid

Dean Winchester x sister!reader

Warnings: angst, death, slight blood mention, heartbreak, let me know if I missed anything

Summary: I suck at these and if I tried, I’d probably wreck it. Hunt gone wrong is the best description I got.

Word Count: 3,999

AN: This is my first post here so be gentle. Enjoy

Life as a hunter was complicated. Naturally, you make enemies with the monsters who knew those you killed. Some wanted revenge, others hated that their kind was killed. Then, there was being a hunter and a Winchester at the same time. Not only do you make normal enemies like all the other hunters, but you make enemies simply because of your last name.

I was the baby of the Winchester family, being nearly six years younger than Sam and almost a decade younger than Dean. After the fire at their home, John took his boys on a journey across the country to hunt down the monster that killed his wife and left him and his boys without a home. He met my mom five years later and after nine months, I joined the family, only for my mother to vanish one night. John had taken me on the road with them after she disappeared, often leaving me with Bobby while he took my older brothers to hunt the simpler cases.

Despite the age difference and the fact that we were “half” siblings, my brothers were the best people in the entire world. Sam and Dean treated me no differently than how they treated each other. I was let in on jokes and taken to diners and bars with them once I was old enough to drive, often driving a drunk Dean and a tipsy Sam back to our motel for the night.

They taught me to hunt the right way. Started me off on simple cases with plenty of back up, making sure I did all the research necessary and never went anywhere alone until they were sure I was capable of taking care of nearly every monster in the book. I was comfortable fighting off nearly any monster, all but djinns.

Those creatures scared the hell out of me. I knew that Sam and Dean had faced enough of them in the past, but I was still fairly new around them and the cases involving them. The fact that they strung up their victims and essentially trapped them in their own minds was horrifying to me, and I’ve taken heads clean off vamp’s bodies.

So, when a case came up that practically screamed djinn, the boys double checked with me every hour, asking if I was ok and still good to attack once the sun went down.

“Guys, I’ll be fine. They just creep me out.” I tried calming my worried brothers. “I can manage it.”

“We never doubted you on handling it.” Sam defended gently, cleaning his gun at the table of our motel room. “We just want to make sure you’re comfortable. We don’t want anything happening to you.”

“I mean, come on kid, we just want you to be safe. I know how much these things freak you out.” Dean added to the conversation from his laid-back spot on his bed.

I sent both brothers a soft glare. “And I appreciate that. But I’ll be fine.”

_____

Flash forward to a few hours later, I was sprawled out on the top floor of the large, abandoned barn, metal rebar sticking out of my stomach and my brothers firing shots down on the floor below me. We had been wrong on our intel, it was more than just one djinn, a whole family of six popping out of the shadows when we burst in. One of the younger women had caught me by surprise, nearing stringing me up but ended with a magazine of rounds to the head.

“Dean.” I tried calling out for my oldest brother, attempting to drag myself closer to the stairs so he’d be able to hear me over the fight. “Sammy.”

Neither of my brothers were answering, my head leaning back to rest against the floor as I took in a few deep breaths. My hands shook as I placed them around the metal, making sure to not move it but add enough pressure to the surrounding skin to help stop the flow of blood. I had been taught that keeping the object in could potentially save your life, especially if it were holding an artery closed.

With neither of my big brothers answering my desperate pleas for help, I resulted in closing my eyes and praying to the angel who kept tabs on us. “Castiel.” I spoke his full name. “Dean and Sammy can’t hear me. I need help. I think I’m dying Cas.” Tears gathered in my eyes as I spoke to the angel who had become a best friend over the years. “Please, I’m so scared Cas.” No answer came from the angel, but he was busy with heavenly issues that us hunters would never know of.

After a few more strangled calls to my brothers, heavy boots finally began climbing the stairs. “Hey kid, did you manage to take them…” Dean’s voice cut off abruptly when my eyes met his. “Kid. Sammy!” Dean practically growled down the stairs, rushing the last few steps and coming to a stop beside me. “Hey, kid, you ok? What happened?”

“She didn’t like my jokes.” I tried lightening the mood as Dean pushed my hands away to take in the damage. “Everyone likes my jokes.” Dean set his blade down on the floor beside me, yanking both his jacket and his flannel off, quickly balling the shirt material and pressing it down around the metal.

A pained scream ripped through my throat at the pressure, white hot pain exploding in my stomach. “I know, kid, but we gotta keep the pressure. You’re doing great.” He turned over his shoulder. “Sammy!” His green eyes met mine then, the fear and anger flooding the bright colors that always brought me comfort. “You keep those eyes on me kid, you hear me? Keep lookin’ at me.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off him even if I wanted to. Sure, Sam and Dean were my brothers, but they practically raised me when John was out hunting. Sam was the overprotective big brother in every sense of the term. He walked me to and from classes, dropped me off for any projects that needed to be done and practically ran background checks on all of my friends at school.

Dean, he was protective but in a whole other way. While Sam took on that big brother role, Dean was basically the father I wanted. He made sure I got to do kid stuff, pulled me from school to play hooky, sat with me after bad dreams, played with me as a kid, and sat with me for my first heart break. He was the one that taught me to drive, to hunt, and to live however I wanted. I could get away with absolutely anything with Dean since all he ever wanted for me was to grow up happy and loved.

So, staring up into Dean’s eyes as blood soaked into my shirt and coated his hands, I knew I was going to be safe, no matter the outcome of this injury. Dean would take care of me until the day I stopped breathing, he had just hoped that it would be a long time after he had gone.

“Hold on kid, Sam’s coming. He’s got what we need. You just hold on.” His eyes were fogged over with tears, and he aggressively rubbed them into his shoulders to clear his vision. “Kid, talk to me. I gotta hear you talk.”

“I love you.” I managed to get out, though I wasn’t sure he heard much of it. My hands had stopped shaking and a coldness was seeping into my skin as I watched Dean’s eyes widen ever so slightly.

“No, kid you gotta say something else. OK? That can’t be all you got for me.” His left hand moved from the wound and gently brushed some hair back out of my face. “You gotta tell me this joke that the bitch on the floor didn’t laugh at. I’m sure it was your best.”

The world was becoming foggy the longer I stared into the green eyes that always brought me comfort. They mixed into the slight green tint the ceiling had from years of neglect and abuse from the weather. Dean, my big brother, who was always there for me when I needed, who would drive all day and all night just to get to me after a fight with John or Bobby about hunting. The brother who literally went through hell to save Sammy and negotiated with a witch for my life. The father I always needed and wanted in my life.

The pain in my stomach had gone numb and my hands had pretty much stopped moving all together as I watched Dean scream for Sam yet again. “Come on kid, just a little longer. You hold on a little longer kid, I got you. Dean’s got you kid.” That nickname was something he only ever used for me. It was his term of endearment to the little girl he raised. “Talk to me, please.” The last word was a heart shattering plead that helped focus my eyes for one final moment.

“I love you dad.” The line slipped from my lips half a second before my eyes got too heavy to keep open any longer and the world faded into back.

_____

Dean’s sure he never cried so hard in his life. He had lost so many people throughout his life that he was pretty used to hearing news of someones passing. But watching the color leave his baby sister’s skin, watch the light drain from her eyes, and listen to those Earth-shattering words fall from her lips as she bled out into his hands sealed it for him. He had just lost his world, his little sister that he had raised practically since she was born; he just lost his little girl.

Sam came clomping up the stairs as quick as his long legs could carry him, just not quick enough. He swore his heart stopped in his chest when he found his older brother crouched over his younger sister, blood coating the floors, and sobs racking Dean’s chest. Sam’s chest felt like someone sent a fist straight through his ribs, ripping his lungs out in the process. His knees hit the floor a few feet from where Dean was crouched over, eyes locked on his older brother’s back.

Dead’s head came to rest against his sisters, near silent pleas to wake up falling from his lips as tears dripped from his eyes. Prayers to Castiel or any angel listening following. The oldest Winchester had told himself that he would never beg for anything, never allow someone to have that kind of control over himself, but here he was, begging to the body of his little girl and to any angel listening to let her wake up, to let her live and take him instead.

The soft, unmistakable sound of fluttering wings caught both Winchester boy’s attention enough for them to turn. There stood Castiel, with his big brother Gabriel at his side, watching the young girl on the ground continue to bleed, though much slower now, through the shirt of her oldest brother.

“Cas.” Dean had locked eyes on his favorite angel. “Please, there’s gotta be something you can do.” Castiel swears he’s never heard Dean Winchester sound this broken before, never heard him plead this softly. “I can’t lose her. I can’t lose my kid.” Another wave of tears fought its way up through Dean’s chest, nearly choking him on the sobs coming from his body.

Gabriel was at a loss for words. Never had he been around the Winchester boys and not get a snappy comment or crude joke thrown his way, but here he was, looking down at two very broken Winchesters. Gabriel could sense the pain and worry coming from his brother, knowing that the younger angel couldn’t do anything for the Winchester girl. Cas had only barely begun to learn how to pull someone back when they were in the veil and looking down on themselves, not quite taken by the reapers yet. So, with the flutter of his wings, Gabriel went off to do the one thing he knew could help the two brothers.

_____

The pain in my chest was unbearable as I watched Dean cry, his hands not leaving my wound, his voice faintly pleading for me to come back to him.

“I tried to stay with you Dean. I’m so sorry I couldn’t.” My voice was barely even a whisper as I tried to hold in my tears. Sam was knelt down a few feet back from Dean, tears staining his cheeks and making his hair stick to his face. “I’m so sorry Sammy.”

Everything around me seemed to move in slow motion. Sounds muddled together and lights seemed to blur the picture before me, but that all too familiar sound of flapping wings would grab my attention any day. I turned away from my sobbing brothers to face the Archangel Gabriel himself.

“Gabe?” A crack snuck its way into my words. “Is that really you?”

“Hey there sweetness.” He winked, arms crossing over his chest. “I thought I told you to stay breathing last I left.”

I nodded, instantly running over to him. His arms opened enough for me to slot myself against his chest, tears leaking onto his shirt. His hands came to rest on me, one against my back and one in my hair, pulling me closer to his body. “What happens now?” I questioned the angel as I held tighter to his waist.

“Well, we can hang here and wait for the reaper to come take you up to heaven, or…” I cut him off before he could continue.

“Or you can take me?” I questioned; my eyes now turned to get what I thought would be the last glimpses of my brothers.

Gabriel pulled back, hands on my shoulders to get me to look at him. “Haven’t I told you to let me finish before you jump to conclusions?” I nodded against his chest and waited for him to continue. “Or I could take you back to your brothers. Let you live a little longer.”

Everything in me froze, not believing what he said to be true. “You can do that? Bring me back?” His honey-colored eyes were already looking down at me when I turned to face him. “I can go back to them?”

He simply nodded to me. “As long as you promise to keep breathing for me.” I was nodding almost instantly to his request.

“Please. Please take me back.”

_____

The whole building grew silent after Gabriel had been gone for well over an hour. Sam sat staring at the back of his brother, waiting for Dean to do something. Dean had gone still moments after the archangel vanished, hoping with all his will that a miracle would happen.

The oldest Winchester had resorted to cleaning up his little sister as best he could, pulling the metal from her body and throwing it far, far away. The bloodied shirt had been tossed out of the way as well, her shirt and jacket now covering the fatal wound on her stomach in a way to make it seem like she was just sleeping. Dean’s fingers trailed softly over her head, pushing hair from her face, and trying to memorize everything he could about the young girl before they gave her a proper hunters funeral.

Castiel had yet to move since his older brother vanished, staying still as if he were carved from stone as he watched over the two Winchester men. He listened to every sound coming near the building for a ten-mile radius, making sure nothing tried sneaking up on the two while their world crumbled around them. He had wished he heard your prayer earlier, gotten back down to Earth faster, maybe then you would still be alive and sitting with your brothers, rather than coated in blood and ghostly pale.

The flap of wings pulled Castiel and Sam from their states of grief, watching a small smile flicker across the archangel’s face. Sam had half a mind to scream at the angel before movement caught his eye.

The blood soaking the floor around the body of the youngest Winchester slowly started to vanish, seemingly seeping back into the wound on her stomach. Then color began to return to her skin, slowly transforming it from a deathly grey back to her natural pigments.

It took a moment longer for Dean to notice the changes, having been so absorbed in caring for the body of his little girl. Once his eyes noticed the changes, his hands backed up from her, almost like she caught on fire. Both Winchester brothers scrambled to their feet, backing away from the girl who was laying so still seconds before.

With one last beat of silence, the wound on her stomach closed fully and her chest heaved with a huge breath of air.

_____

The world came back dramatically. All of a sudden, I could hear the soft drops of water from the ceiling again, feel the coldness of the hard floor below me and smell the horrible damp concrete of the walls to my right. Then my eyes fluttered open, and I could see the ugly ceiling that was decaying from years of abandonment again.

My brain raced as I tried to remember what happened. The hunt, a djinn, the metal rebar, Gabriel pulled me back. I died and Gabriel brought me back. Sam and Dean, they watched me bleed out on the floor of a hunt, watched me die on a hunt they knew I was already nervous for. Dean, he had been with me, he held my hand as the pain vanished and the world fell into silence. He had been with me as I died.

My lungs pulled in one of the deepest breaths I’ve ever taken, causing me to turn and cough loudly as I took the chance to breath more air in. My brain raced as it figured out how to work again, after moments of rest and complete silence it was working to catch back up on what was going on, and the only thing it seemed to think of was…

“Dad.” The word fell from my mouth before I could even process what was going on. Then suddenly I was being hauled up to my knees and crushed into the tightest hug ever given. Everything about the person was familiar, the way the arms wrapped themselves protectively around my shoulders, hand placed to the back of my head. The soft fabric of the green jacket wrapped around shoulders, and the scent of the hunt along with something so specifically Dean. I was wrapped in the arms of my oldest brother, wrapped up and secured in his embrace, protected from anything the world could throw at us.

His chest heaved with sobs, mumbles of my name and ‘kid’ falling from his lips. “I got you; I got you kid. I’m here. You’re ok.” The words fell from his lips in a jumbled mess, falling together in a mess of letters.

“Dean.” My words came out quietly as I hugged him back with everything I had in me. I clutched onto him as my own tears fell, coating my cheeks and making stains on his shirt as I pressed my face to his chest.  Feet scrambled on the floor beside us and before I knew it, Sam was crushing me and Dean in the tightest hug he could manage. “Sammy.” I adjusted one arm to be able to hold onto both my brothers, all three of us a crying mess.

It took the three of us nearly a half hour to calm down enough to stand and face the angels. Sam had stepped a few inches away, wiping his cheeks with the backs of his hands as he turned to speak to Gabriel. “I don’t even know what to say.” His words were barely strung together as he glanced back at me.

While Sam had stepped a few inches back, Dean had yet to let me go. His arm had yet to fall from my shoulders and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t let me go for the next few hours, though I wasn’t going to complain. I had turned into Dean’s side, keeping my arms around his waist and my head leaned into his shoulder, tears still damp on my cheeks.

“Thank you, Gabriel.” I looked at the angel who pulled me back. “I can’t even begin to tell you how thankful I am.” Dean’s arm tightened around my shoulders, pulling me just a bit closer to his side.

“She’s right.” Dean’s voice was deeper than usual after all the crying over the last hours. “Thank you.” Sam agreed with his brother, going over to hug Gabriel tightly.

Cas stepped a bit closer, his hand coming to rest on my cheek. “I’m glad you’re alright. The area around is clear, you’ll be safe heading back to the bunker. We will keep watch over your drive.” And suddenly, the two angels were gone with a soft flap of wings.

“Sammy, can you get the car started and give us a sec?” Dean asked his little brother, holding tighter to me if possible. Sam gave a soft nod, pressed a kiss to my head and went down to wait in the car.

Once he was gone, Dean turned sharply to me. “I’m so glad you’re ok, kid. You can’t ever do that to me again.”

Dean’s hands rested gently on my cheeks, thumbs wiping away the drying tears from my skin. “I never wanted to leave you. I tried so hard to stay with you Dean. I really did.” New tears dripped from my eyes as I looked up at my oldest brother.

“I know you did, kid. I know.” I was pulled back into his chest, his hands rubbing into my back as I cried into his shirt again. “I got you now. I’ll never let that happen again, ok? I won’t ever let anyone put their hands on my little girl again.” My fingers twisted into the back of his shirt as he soothed me, helping me calm down and relax again. “So, can I ask about the dad comment?”

A soft laugh blew through my nose. “Yeah, you can.” I pulled back to look up into the green eyes that always brought me comfort. “John was never really there for me. You know?” He nodded softly at me. “I mean, you took me to my first day of school, you taught me to drive, you were the one who was always there for me.” My voice trailed off towards the end as I watched his face slowly stiffen into an emotion I couldn’t read. “Sorry, I’ve just always seen you that way, I guess it just slipped out today.”

“Kid, I’m not mad, or anything like that.” He gently brushed a few fingers through my hair. “I’ve always seen you as my little girl. I know I was there more than dad was. I know he barely had anything to do with you. There’s nothing I want more than to be your dad, even if you just call me Dean, that doesn’t matter.” He took a deep breath. “I want to be the one you call when you need help or come to when you’re scared. I know you’re not exactly a kid anymore, but just know that I’ll always be there for you. You’re my kid.”

I didn’t even answer, just lunging forward and wrapping him back in a tight hug. “I love you, dad.”

His hands held my head to his chest tightly, a kiss being pressed down into my hair as we held onto each other. “I love you too, kid. Don’t you ever forget that.”

@thetallassgirl

[ackleskittles]

SUPERNATURAL FINALE : an honest, maybe sometimes controversial, take on tv's biggest disappointment of this decade.

DISCLAIMER : in this essay, i will give my opinion about 15x20 of the silly long-running show Supernatural (no kidding???) and i stand by the fact that i hate it, BUT i am not just going to trash talk my comfort show the entire time, and will try to bring into light the things that actually worked (ahem, yes, i will try to find some...) in this episode. i don't need any attacks on my opinion, you can disagree with the things i am going to say, but let's stay civil, right ? hope you enjoy it !

let's face it, no need to beat around the bush : Dean's death is THE worst thing that could've ever happened to us. 15 years of adoring, worshiping THE best character ever created on tv just for losing him ?? this way ?? feels (sorry but...) fucking disrepectful to me. and listen, i haven't seen that cursed episode again in six months, so don't mind me if my blurry memories are failing me... it still makes me so mad, that the episode starts on OUR beloved hero living a peaceful life, happy, kind of, finally free from god's (yeah, more like chuck) who's been through literal hell, faced a hundred deaths, just to end up on that stupid rebar. fuckin stupid quick, meaningless death of a HERO. i can't even think straight when it comes to this but what makes it EVEN WORST is the freakin comedic part of this episode. the pie in the face ??? when THE Dean Winchester is about to die ??? or Sam's fuckin hideous wig ??? the episode focuses on some POINTLESS hunt involving a fuckin vampire literally no soul remembered from season 1 (if you did remember without even looking it up and just happen to have this knowledge, i am sorry AND really impressed) ?? are you just kidding ?? your main character dies, and you just make it absolutely no big of a deal ? i could not. disrespectful, once again.

Dean isn't even the only one who's been failed on this finale because the same disrespect is put on Sam. i'm not bringing back the wig again (BUT THE WIG THO ??? i know the budget is low with covid and everything but come on ??) but the blurry wife is the icing on the cake. but where they failed Sam the most is the way in 15 years (okay this is not only finale related but i thought it deserved to be brought into light) they never EVER gave the man a real closure with Jess. they literally bring every character back from the dead, or at least give the boys an opportunity to say goodbye at some point but they never even cared giving Sam a proper closure from the most important relationship in his life. this, pals, makes me insanely angry. but at least, Sam gets to live and have an ordinary life until his last breathe.

Castiel isn't even really mentioned again ?? i mean, no need for a long thesis about this shame but he's been a fan favorite for YEARS and they just ???

i reached the part where i have to list the things that worked for me in this cursed episode. well. it gave us Dean x Miracle ? the man deserved to have a dog. and it was one of the cutest thing they ever did on this show. Miracle is somehow Dean's little sparkle of joy and hope after losing Cas. kudos (somehow, in a way, i don't know) to Dean's last speech to Sam, and their heartbreaking exchange. it really moved me, and made sense, it was in character. Dean dying on his feet was also appreciated (and those kudos go to Jensen, thank you buddy) but i will explain why in the next paragraph. anyway, i don't have anything more to add, and trust me i tried really hard!! oh, the photography was also decent, but it's one thing Supernatural always did well, so... not surprising.

i am NOT a supporter of Dean dying in the finale, and i am thankful to the wonderful talented writer in this fandom for their amazing fix-it fictions on the finale. this ground is covered, so i am leaving you with ao3 for all the ways the show could have ended WITHOUT Dean dying. my man deserved to be happy and free ans well. i am going to cover the ground of THE WRITERS REALLY WANT DEAN DYING. fine. i don't agree, but you do you baby. 15 years of the show, Dean Winchester was depicted as a HERO. the fanbase has been dedicated for FIFTEEN FUCKIN YEARS and being myself a 2006 Supernatural fan, this finale made me feel like it was a total loss of time. as i said before, i WORSHIPPED (and i still do) this character like i've never worshipped any other character. what he (and we) deserved for always sacrificing his own happiness and life was to die the hero he's always been. to die, i don't know, saving Sam one last time ? with a show with great biblical implication, didn't he deserve a great biblical tragedy ending ? something huge, epic ? and i know this could be controversial because they are no longer under the influence of god himself, but he could have been paralleled to Jesus somehow, just joining heaven next to Jack and Cas as his mission on earth was over. i don't know. just thinking about things.

what could've also been great would have been Dean's life flashing before his eyes as he was dying. glimpse of unseen good moments, memories, as a tribute to the character. once again, he deserved no less than to be praised for everything he did for his family, and for the world.

anyway. revival is now a thing all over social medias and it could both heal us, or destroy us. it raised a lot of concerns, the most important being will Cas' confession finally be aknowledge ? i sure hope it will for misha's perfect delivery of it, and his fight to allow his character to be himself fully. but i also hope this revival finds a way to "cancel" the mistake the writers made with this finally. it could make sense. it could be yet another illusion, trick, anything really and they could (just like us) pretend it never happened (spoiler alert : it really never happened) and i don't want my hopes too high. but it's possible.

thank you so much for your attention. i wanted to write an essay about the finale but i feel like i've been here and there talking nonsense. i've never really expressed my disappointment before, as it was something really personal to me, but i am glad i finally did. there could have been so much more things said. or said in a better way, but i tried my best :(

love y'all, spn family <3

[imaginaryprotagonist]

Ok, look. I'm a little bit obsessed with Dean Winchester. To the point that rewatching Supernatural and reading Destiel fan fiction is no longer sufficient. So, instead of the rebar death, I'm listening to Radio Company and pretending Dean became a rockstar. I'm diving into Jackles' IMDB history. Beau Arlen? Absolutely not, that's Dean Winchester retired from hunting and working as a Sheriff in Montana. Soldier Boy? Nope, that's delusional Demon Dean. Eddie G? I think you mean Stanford-era Dean who time travelled, moved to LA and started a throuple relationship with Marilyn Monroe and SOME DUDE NAMED CASS! Then Cass died so he time travelled back, had his memory wiped, then realised dad is on a hunting trip and hasn't been home in a few days. And yet. AND YET. I still don't think I'm as obsessed with Dean Winchester as Jensen Ackles is, and I find that validating.

[youhavehitawall]

Average day on Team 86.

Hicks is the kind of guy who just ploughs through whatever he doesn't even notice. He's like a slab of rebar with wheels. Wall? Gone. Door? Gone. He crashes through the entryway and Zach and Bruiser fall in after him like a mean girls parody. He is banned from most public spaces and doesn't know what a frappe is

Zach and Bruiser fully support this by the way,

Bruiser is the PR manager which means a lot of short clips of Chick either being an absolute nightmare of a car, or getting stuck in a blanket for a solid ten minutes. One of his favourite pasttimes is egging Chick on to see what happens. Boy howdy does he love putting that guy in Situations!

Zach is the chillest of the crew chiefs and basically lets his rabid racecar do whatever. He thinks its funny and noone else is willing to take Chick on so he gets to keep primary ""babysitter"" privileges. [that being said, he is also the most normal of team 86, and is the voice of reason. he stops things getting out of hand without ruining the fun]

[ziorite]

me finishing season 1 of 911 and watching everyone’s arcs conclude in a satisfying if not completely final way:

idk do people warn for spoilers six years after the show came out ??? adding the break anyways in case someone’s also watching for the first time and also because it’s a long post whoopsies

I KNOW I KNOW ABBY AND BUCK DON’T END UP TOGETHER but they’re so sweet to each other… and he’s grown so much in their relationship and it’s so healthy… god i’m so invested in this rehabilitated fuckboy :’)))

and karen coming back to live with hen ???? ooooh girl ik she fucked up HARD but i was crying cheering punching the air for her this whole damn season that is MY comfort lesbian character !!!

now bobby and athena i wish i could say didn’t see coming but unfortunately i hopped on the wiki to look up someone’s last name and was immediately spoiled for shit. HOWEVER i will not let that distract me from angela basset’s back muscles dear GOD. bobby better treat her right because that dress had me on the FLOOR.

chimney might take the position of second favorite character purely because of how fucking funny he is. plus between the dating life and the fucking metal rod through the school the man just can’t seem to catch a break. but he’s still rolling with the punches and being such a support for everyone else and i DESPERATELY need the show to go deeper into his character and background !! someone appreciate this national treasure !!! (plus the fact that rebar is apparently an accepted nickname had me crying laughing for a solid two minutes— the way buck launched up those stairs and started in on him with absolutely NO hesitation ??? and chimney didn’t even question it ??? DONE.)

in conclusion i will be devouring the rest of this series with a furious appetite and having a lot of feelings about it. a lot. patricia’s death caught me by surprise and boy did it have me teary. kudos to the showrunners but also they owe me tissues.