#the lies we told canon

[cosmicterrorthe8th]

Another Grant headcanon:

I think he wrote love notes when in relationships, and he went all out with like making the paper scented and stuff. But like he had no good perfume so he ended up using his horrible body spray. So like the lucky boyfriend would like find a paper reeking of the body spray like every once in a while.

Also I think he was someone who fell deep into romance because having a crush and feeling butterflies in his stomach was better than numbness. So he would pursue every crush even if he knew it would not end well because of the thrill of it. I think this sucked but I think he atleast felt like this is a normal way for life to suck.

[rosenecklaces]

every damn time gwynriel/elucien gets a heavy hit reminder on "your barely a ship chill the fuck out" from S*M herself they throw the biggest fucking tantrum and makes it everyones problem like...

sorry not even casual readers who dont care about elriel dont get on youre side since they know are the most likable couple to have their story told. go get youre shit together if a fictional gardener liking- being shackled, to your equally fictional book BF, gets you so fucking heated

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. the damage is done.

about. when satoru decides that he wants you (his ex) back, his foolproof plan starts off by making your new partner extremely insecure..

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, non canon, toxic relationships, love bombing, exes to lovers, gaslighting, infidelity, cheating, breeding, fingering, multiple orgasms, couch sex, oral sex ( f! receiving ), unprotected sex, ex boyfriend!gojo, fem!reader.

ex!gojo who slides into the dms of your current partner to slowly make them insecure.

he acts like a nice guy, offers advice on what to do when you’re mad, what you like to eat, how to keep you all sedated and happy. your current partner starts to gush about how cool of a dude satoru gojo is. how could you pass up on such an amazing guy? he’s rich, funny, caring — they can see how you fell for him.

but what they don’t understand is the greedy side of satoru — the one who one who wanted you all to himself. the guy who never let you go out, who made you cry but made you cum with the promise of never hurting your feelings again.

sometimes the advice gets a little too specific. how does satoru know where you keep your sex toys for kinky nights of fun. why does he know the spot that makes you arch your back off of the sweaty sheets just like that? or how many fingers you like to take? or how long it takes before you start gagging on cock.

it makes your new partner insecure, gives them performance anxiety and ruins the vibes of your bedroom. they can’t communicate with you, at least not properly — it leads to fights that are all too familiar. conversations you’ve had with satoru before. your little insecurities and biggest fears are thrown into your face, things they know will hurt you deep down you. these are some of the first times you cry because of your new partner.

it’s all too familiar, these are things you’ve gone through before with your ex — the recognisable twinge in your chest and feeling of guilt after being gaslight is something you know all too well.

“he was right, you really are just a cry baby.” they say. “since he knows so much about you, maybe you should go back to fucking him.” which feels like a bullet to your heart because you’ve spent so much time proving to your partner that you’re over your ex and all the bullshit that satoru put you through. all the drama and all the trauma he left you with.

your partner leaves for the night, leaving you alone with your tears and the tiny voice in the back of your mind that tells you it’s all satoru’s fault. it goads you into calling him, his number which you blocked but kept written down in your notes app in case of emergency. it’s been forever since you last spoke to your ex and told him you wanted nothing to do with him — so you’re surprised when he picks up on the second ring, seemingly happy to hear your voice.

“what did you do, satoru?” his name on your tongue is foreign yet also familiar. you’ve said it a million times before, in many different ways (lust, love and loss) but this time you’re angry. like the last time you spoke.

“what do you mean?”

he plays coy and you feel your temper bubble. “we got into a fight, i know it’s your fault. what did you say to them?”

“shouldn’t you be making up with them?” gojo answers your question with a question, his all-knowing smirk transcending down the static on the line. “why was your first thought to call me?”

that makes you falter, stops your typhoon of rage in its place.

the truth is, you know why you called. deep down you know that gojo could fix this, when you fought as a couple you would always call him first and in tears — letting him calm you down. gaslighting you in the process. he always knew what to say to scab over the wounds of your arguments, patching over deep cuts with little white lies even if he would reopen them and leave mental scars in place.

when you fight with your partner now, you seek the same sort of unhealthy comfort in the only person who you know will give it you and that’s exactly what satoru wants.

“let me come over,” he states, suave. “let me help you fix this.” he takes advantage of your emotional torment, butters you up with the promise of comforting you and against your better judgement — you let him. your partner abandoned you, satoru wants to help you. you’ve always known that he still loved you, at least he wouldn’t leave, at least he’s not like your partner.

regret will come in the morning, you think, when you let satoru into your apartment and back into your life. he knows that everything on the walls are different, the picture frames are now brown instead of white and hold photos of your current life in place of what you had with your ex. the furniture has moved and the diffuser at the entryway smells different. but as much as you’ve tried, you can’t get rid of your ex, satoru gojo. he will always make his way back to you.

he makes sure that you’re aware of this when he kisses you on the couch that you kept from your previous relationship. satoru tells you that you’ll always need him when he pins your hips to its leather with a strong arm and buries his white head of hair between your warm, thick thighs. he proves it to you with the way that his tongue licks broad strokes against the entire length of your sex and flicks at your clit because he knows that how you like you it, he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he eats you out like that.

there’s going to be a stain in the couch from just how much more you gush on satoru’s skilled fingers and tongue, as he moans against your sopping mound and tells you how he’s the only one who could ever make you see stars this way. his face gleams with your arousal and his eyes sparkle knowingly because it’s true. you’ve never felt as good as you have with satoru in comparison to anyone else. it puts doubt in your mind, makes you question why you even left him in the first place.

though, you don’t have much time to dwell on the thought…because in hurried yet precise movements — gojo is making you cum on his fingers again. the rough pad of his thumb possessively writes the letters of his name against your pulsating clit — hardened by blood that rushes to it, carrying lustful hormones from your frenzied mind. he loves how you taste when you cum, how you cling to him, how he knows that you’ll never forget this phenomenalfeeling after tonight.

it’s a little too intimate for two exes when satoru makes you ride him. his legs spread wide while you straddle his lap, creating the perfect angle for his cock to nudge against that one special pleasure spot inside of you. you’ve missed his cock, it’s perfect length and thickness — it’s pretty pink tip that oozes so much precum that’s all for you. it’s only ever been for you.

the way satoru’s large palms cup the globes of your ass and guide you back and forth over his lap unlocks a nostalgic and loving feeling in your rapidly rising and falling chest. he kisses you with so much passion that you’re reminded of the good nights you spent with him — making love until sunrise while his tongue rolls over yours and licks at your teeth. you’re naked and chest to chest, noses becoming neighbours while the course of your breathing syncs up. it’s overwhelming, how adored you feel in the moment, all while fucking your ex on the couch.

you grope at each other like it’ll be the final time you ever have sex like this. your hands settle at the base of satoru’s neck and his on your waist while you languidly move together in a salacious dance routine you’ve done so many times before. you’re perfect partners, it’s evident in the way you reward his throbbing cock with dribbles of your creamy arousal — droplets of soft white running down and catching on veins on his shaft.

“i’m always going to love you, baby,” satoru’s soft laments echo through the home you’ve made with your over lover — barely audible over his balls slapping against your peachy ass and your cunt selfishly squeezing down on him, squelching with every thrust. “i’m always gonna want you like this, even when we fuck up. e-even when we’re not together,” he growls and rambles, blissful blue eyes darting all over your face twisted with ecstasy and right down to where you paint him with arousal and suck him in so well. “fuuuck, i wanna cum…s-say you want it, say you want me.”

it’s overwhelming, how much love you have for satoru. for your ex. it washes over your feelings of guilt in regard to your infidelity, any bad emotion or thought of your partner cannot compare to the burning and bright lust that flickers in your tummy. when you fuck yourself down on gojo’s throbbing girth he pulls back out of your snug, salacious sex — creating a delicious cycle of friction that you never want to forget. that you miss so bad.

“i want…i want you!” you stutter, tears brewing in your starry eyes. “i miss you, i love you,” the words rush out of you before your hazy mind can even catch up and register them. you barely manage to register that you’re fucking your ex just mere hours after arguing with your special one. it doesn’t matter, not right now and not in this moment. not when satoru teases your clit until you’re able to cum all over him, painting his thighs with your slick as you slump against him.

even though he shouldn’t, even though he’s ruined your relationship, gojo cums inside your quivering cunt. fills you to the brim with his viscous, scorching seed and there’s so much of it that it seeps from your entrance — pooling okto the couch below.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“come back to me, baby.”

“i…i don’t know if i can…”

you want to so badly, especially the damage is done, sealed by stolen kisses that’ll mean nothing in the morning.

satoru’s gotten what he wanted, to make you question your relationship and remind you of why you should come back to him. you fell asleep an intertwined mess on the couch and he leaves in the early hours of the next day.

all so that your current partner will never know the events that occurred on the night of your fight — you don’t have to heart to tell them when they come back the next morning with your favourite flowers and an apology. they shouldn’t have left you. they shouldn’t have gone to satoru behind your back. they love you.

but it’s already too late, a seed of doubt has been planted in your mind by your ex. you release that you still want him, that you might even miss him and the foundation of your new relationship becomes shaky and unstable.

you’ve grown insecure and you will always be comparing your current partner to your last partner. to gojo.

and your lover? now they’re insecure too, because you’re always so distant and you always smell a little different when you come home these days.

because you’ve started going behind their back to be with your ex, satoru, too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[sevilynne]

"B—but... Snivellus is a death eater..."

Listen here, you little shit. For Severus, he got neglected by BOTH parents (and it was implied that he was abused both physically and mentally as well.), gets bullied by two boys because he wanted to go to Slytherin (who sneers back and ends up getting bullied), almost gets killed and Sirius nor Remus gets any consequences other than detention (Really? Is his life worth detention and not Azkaban?), James flexes it to Lily and Lily starts believing James over the victim, Severus accidentally calls his bestfriend a mudblood over the heat of the situation (Lily was about to smile, when James literally used scorgify in his mouth), loses the person thay cared for him the most compared to others (Which Lily isn't even a good friend, so his life is messed up), with Remus and Sirius not maturing (Sirius still calls Severus "Snivellus", and Remus and Sirius spreading lies like "Severus was jealous of James" or "Lily never hated James," when it's the other way around!!! James was jealous of Severus because he existed and Lily was his best friend!

Now his blood supremacist friends are basically recruiting him, and helping him on the way! Basically, the "bad side" is his good side! They are the only ones who "cared" for him when he needed help! He was a death eater for a reason, and people manipulating him because he was vulnerable is a reason.

The audacity of stans trying to make a hotter version of Severus—Regulus? Regulus is basically a walmart Severus but Timothée Chalamet dressed up in wizard robes! If Regulus was told as ugly, nobody would boohoo care about him.

Y'all only hate Severus and love Regulus because J.K. Rowling never made a Marauders era movie! Regulus is basically a blood supremacist with Voldemort shrines and posters who'd call Lily a mudblood! While Severus is basically bullied on a daily basis.

You guys got to see Severus's good and bad things! Like him "bullying" children, but saved the wizarding world. Literally, maybe he targeted children, but so did Minerva! Minerva literally targeted Neville and locked him outside of the Gryffindor common room when there's an apparent psycho killer, and humiliated him infront of everyone! But we all never see that because we are in Harry's POV, she favours him—she only took points and she was apparently fair because Harry's BIASED!!! Just like how all Slytherins are portrayed because of Hagrid and Ron!!! She favours Gryffindor just like how Severus favours Slytherin, except she takes big points away (which is from Gryffindors she doesn't like) and when she's infront of the professors!

Severus is a morally grey character, and Regulus? We basically time skipped him, we skipped all of the bad things he has done while we never skipped Severus's, that's why you don't have a bad opinion about him, but really! In the Marauders timeline, Regulus was a Voldemort fanboy while Severus literally had stuff happening.

This is why you don't hate James Potter, you guys basically skipped HIS timeline and moved to Harry's, which Severus is portrayed to be this big bad bully until DH! And that's why Harry "Snape's #1 Biggest Hater" Potter's vision changed to "Snape's #1 Biggest Defender", just like how his vision changed from "My father is a great man" to "I fucking hate my own father".

But you guys are so deep into these fanfics like CR (Crimson Rivers) or ATYD (All the Young Dudes) that you all forget about canon lore! He physically assaulted, sexually assaulted, and mentally exhausted Severus! We're not throwing the SA word around, because lets think of this:

———

Lily let out a stream of mixed swearwords and hexes, but her wand being ten feet away, nothing happened.

“Wash out your mouth,” said James coldly. “Scourgify!”

Pink soap bubbles streamed from Lily’s mouth at once; the froth was covering her lips, making her gag, choking her —

“Leave her ALONE!”

James and Sirius looked around. James’s free hand jumped to his hair again.

It was one of the boys from the lake edge. He had black hair that fell to his shoulders and startlingly onyx eyes.

“All right, Snape?” said James, and the tone of his voice was suddenly pleasant, deeper, more mature.

“Leave her alone,” Severus repeated. He was looking at James with every sign of great dislike. “What’s she done to you?”

“Well,” said James, appearing to deliberate the point, “it’s more the fact that she exists, if you know what I mean...”

Many of the surrounding watchers laughed, Sirius and Wormtail included, but Lupin, still apparently intent on his book, didn’t, and neither did Severus.

“You think you’re funny,” he said coldly. “But you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave her alone."

Behind her, the Impediment Jinx was wearing off. Lily was beginning to inch toward her fallen wand, spitting out soapsuds as he crawled.

“Bad luck, Prongs,” said Sirius briskly, turning back to Evans. “OY!”

But too late; Lily had directed her wand straight at James; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James’s face, spattering his robes with blood.

James whirled about; a second flash of light later, Lily was hanging upside down in the air, her robes falling over her head to reveal skinny legs and a skirt.

Many people in the small crowd watching cheered. Sirius, James, and Wormtail roared with laughter. Severus, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though he was going to smile, said, “Let her down!”

“Certainly,” said James and he jerked his wand upward. Evans fell into a crumpled heap on the ground.

Disentangling herself from her robes, she got quickly to her feet, wand up, but Sirius said, “Petrificus Totalus!” and Lily keeled over again at once, rigid as a board.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” Severus shouted. He had his own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily.

“Ah, Snape, don’t make me hex you,” said James earnestly.

“Take the curse off her, then!”

James sighed deeply, then turned to Lily and muttered the countercurse.

“There you go,” he said, as Lily struggled to her feet again, “you’re lucky Snape was here, Evans —”

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like him!" (Severus is canonically a Mudblood because he has dirty blood—Muggle blood)

Severus blinked.

“Fine,” he said coolly. “I won’t bother in future. And I’d wash your skirt if I were you, Evans.”

“Apologize to Snape!” James roared at Evans, his wand pointed threateningly at her.

“I don’t want you to make her apologize,” Severus shouted, rounding on James. “You’re as bad as she is.”

“What?” yelped James. “I’d NEVER call you a — you-know-what!”

“[...], walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can — I’m surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK.”

He turned on his heel and hurried away.

“Snape!” James shouted after him, “Hey, SNAPE!” But he didn’t look back.

“What is it with him?” said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him.

“Reading between the lines, I’d say he thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,” said Sirius.

“Right,” said James, who looked furious now, “right —”

There was another flash of light, and Evans was once again hanging upside down in the air.

“Who wants to see me take off Evans’s skirt?”

———

Now, let's see if this isn't messed up. This is humiliating! Why did Severus leave his female best friend when she was being PA'd and SA'd by a male! Why did he take out his wand too late? Why is he such a coward?

Gender roles do matter in this context, no matter if Severus considers this as SA or not, it's SA and he got his pants stripped down, but it doesn't matter, he's a boy isn't he?

If this was Lily, everyone would care, but no! It's greasy, slimy, old Snape, and he's a boy.

Sirius nor James used dark spells, but they were pretty much using hexes so it doesn't matter—they are basically baby DE bullies but Gryffindors.

Stop attacking Severus and start thinking about this, because he was just a boy.

A lot of people (Not all) cared for Harry when Myrtle basically tried to SA him, why not Severus? He was stripped infront of the whole school! (Not invalidating Harry's trauma), this is just so messed up.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

So...I was wondering if you had a post on information concerning Ace's older brother? Purely for research purposes of course...😅

Ask, and you shall receive!

This is a compilation of all the canon information I could find on Ace’s older brother. He has yet to be named, so 😅 errrr… I'll be referring to him as “Anippola" (as in “Trappola aniki”) in this post.

Anippola is older than Ace by 7 years.

According to Ace, his brother was even more excited about Ace getting into NRC than their parents were.

Before Ace was accepted into NRC, his older brother would take him along with him to various places.

He is an alumnus of NRC and was previously in Heartslabyul dorm; this is why Ace is not surprised when he, too, is sorted into Heartslabyul.

Ace talks with his older brother over the phone. Sometimes they talk late into the night, which occasionally makes Ace late in the mornings.

He “built up a whole repertoire of magic tricks” from his days as a NRC student. Ace learned them by playing watching, memorizing, and then finally replicating those magic tricks, since Anippola refused to tell him how to do them. It is through these kinds of experiences that Ace has become quite adaptable.

He learned some sleight of hand tricks from their magicless father too.

Whenever the Trappola men are together, they will challenge each other to pull off various tricks.

Ace reports that his older brother told him "the most convincing lies are sprinkled with a dash of the truth". This implies that Ace may have learned how to lie so cleverly from Anippola, or at the very least was inspired by his advice.

Ace's brother bought a luxury watch with his first paycheck. He framed it as though it was Ace's birthday gift, but then revealed the item was actually for himself and gave Ace an empty box instead.

Anippola later apologized and gave Ace a box of candy, which annoyed his little brother (because Ace says he's not a little kid, of course he wouldn't be happy about receiving candy!)

Another time, Anippola purposefully snuffed out the candles on Ace's birthday cake. This resulted in a fight between the brothers.

From these stories, we can deduce that Anippola s a prankster.

He did his 4th year NRC internship at a theme park management company designing shows and attractions. (The dialogue could also be interpreted as generally working in the entertainment industry, not specifically for the theme park company.) Anippola currently works for that same place.

There is supposedly a picture of Ace's brother hung up in the hallway by the teacher's lounge. The photo is from when Anippola led the card solider parade for a Magical Shift/Spelldrive opening ceremony.

Ace says his brother is not the type to make sweets for him.

Anippola wasn't all too interested in dorm life.

He told Ace about various ways to kill time at his dorm.

Ace describes Anippola as someone who is light-hearted, casual, and easy to get along with.

Ace also admits that it can be advantageous to have an older brother, as they are an example to follow and could support him in that way. He specifically mentions school life and job hunting as examples.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello again everyone! It's time for another Merlin au! This time featuring Uther's propaganda and a healthy dose of misunderstandings and pain! :D

This au was inspired by an idea that I pitched in a reblog of one of @tamaha's amazing posts! (Also, shoutout to my awesome mutual @achillesuwu, since you asked to be tagged when I wrote this! :) ) You can find that original reblog here!

EDIT: You can find part two of this au here!

In canon, we know that Uther had children drowned for using magic, and that most of those children were likely warlocks who were born with their magic. However, we also know that most people in Camelot believe that magic is a choice and that it's impossible for someone to be born with it, so how did Uther justify to his people both the existence of child warlocks and the killing of children for something that they had no control over?

Well, Uther utilized his propaganda to justify killing young warlocks. He found some ancient text that hypothesized that warlocks got their powers from being reborn demons, and he used those very shoddy sources to justify his actions.

He spun stories about how warlocks looked human, but weren't human at all. He told the people that while those warlock children might have looked like regular humans, they would grow into powerful demons that would hunt down regular humans and eat their souls to gain more power.

Uther's propaganda campaign was successful, and soon, warlocks were some of the most feared magical creatures in Camelot. The people were terrified at the thought of a beast that could consume souls and blend in among them, unable to detected until it was too late.

Warlocks were a regular element of the nightmares of all of the children in Camelot, who would jump at every shadow and wonder if it was a warlock, there to devour them. Arthur was among those children, lying awake late at night, trembling with fear at the thought of any person he passed on the street being a warlock who would eat his very soul, denying him any afterlife and instead turning his soul into more magical power for the warlock.

And fast forward to some point after Arthur's become king, Merlin has a pretty painless magic reveal. Arthur and the knights were out hunting, they all get ambushed by bandits, Arthur takes a bad hit that would probably be fatal, but Merlin rushes to his side and, without hesitation, uses magic to heal Arthur's wound.

Arthur was, of course, very upset to learn that his manservant and best friend has magic, and they have a big argument over it, but no one physically attacks anyone (despite Gwaine's threats to kill Arthur and the rest of the knights and run away with Merlin).

So, everyone endures a rather tense and awkward ride back to Camelot, where Merlin is the recipient of many irate glares from Arthur and reassuring looks from the knights. When they reach Camelot, Arthur bans Merlin from his presence until he calls for Merlin again. He says that he can't stand the sight of Merlin at the moment, but Merlin will owe him a full explanation later. Merlin tearfully agrees and holes himself up in Gaius's chambers for a few days, while Arthur makes an ass of himself with his foul mood, snapping at everyone in the castle.

The knights try to point out to Arthur that while, yes, Merlin had magic and had lied to Arthur, he had only revealed it to save Arthur's life. Most of the knights used that point as a tool to comfort Arthur and ease his temper, but Gwaine used that fact to rub it in Arthur's face how terrible of a person Arthur was being towards the man who had just saved his life.

Finally, after the whole castle had to suffer through five days of Arthur's prattish and unpleasant behavior, Arthur summoned Merlin to his chambers, feeling calm enough again to actually hear whatever nonsensical reasons Merlin would give for turning to magic.

You see, what Arthur, the knights, and pretty much everyone in the castle had assumed was that Merlin had probably just picked up on some small useful enchantments and healing spells for Gaius's old study of that material. Arthur was angry at Merlin for turning to magic, but he could understand where Merlin was coming from.

Everyone knew that Merlin cared about his friends to the point of idiocy, so it made logical sense that Merlin, since he had the resources available to him, would resort to learning healing magic in case of an emergency. Arthur understood that aspect of Merlin more than anyone else.

Knowing that Merlin's magic was probably just the result of him being a loving and caring idiot did help ease the blow for Arthur, and truthfully Arthur didn't plan on punishing Merlin at all. To Arthur, hopefully confining Merlin to his chambers for a few days would discourage any future stupidity along these lines, and they could put this entire situation behind them.

So, when Arthur summoned a distressingly pale Merlin to his chambers and demanded an explanation, he expected to receive some stuttered response about learning a few spells from some of Gaius's spare books and to extract a promise out of Merlin that he'd never turn to magic again, and then everything would be fine.

However, when a wrought looking Merlin opened his mouth to explain, Arthur's heart plummeted to the floor. At the very first words of Merlin's explanation, "I was born with it," Arthur's chest went cold, and he took a few staggering steps backwards until his back hit the cold wall behind him, his eyes seeking out his blade.

Merlin was born with magic. That made Merlin a... a...

"Warlock," Arthur whispered, his eyes teary and terrified all at once.

Merlin stopped his explanation and tilted his head at Arthur, a small grin pulling on his lips. Arthur flinched back slightly at the sight of it, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the all-encompassing terror, dread, and sorrow that swirled around his mind.

"Ah, so you do know the correct word for it then! Yes, I am technically a warlock, but the distinction doesn't really matter that much anyways."

Merlin made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if his words hadn't just completely shattered Arthur's heart. Arthur couldn't even listen to the rest of Merlin's explanation through the rush of his heartbeat and breathing in his ears.

The terror gripping his heart shouted at him to fight or flee, don't just stand there waiting for him to decide that he's feeling peckish for souls!

Arthur suddenly registered the pallor of Merlin's skin and the hollowness of his cheeks and came to the awful conclusion that he doesn't have much time, Merlin's already hungry and Merlin was stepping closer there was no time to escape nonono!

Arthur closed his eyes, unable to look at what must have been Merlin unfurling whatever demonic jaws he kept hidden and preparing to eat Arthur's soul...

But the sensation of his soul being devoured, whatever that was supposed to feel like, never came. Instead, he just felt a hand on his forehead, and after a few seconds another one cupped the side of his face.

Arthur hesitantly opened his eyes, almost not wanting to look upon Merlin's happy, friendly face that had always brought nothing but comfort. He didn't want those caring eyes to be that last thing he saw before he died at Merlin's hand!

Slowly, Arthur steeled himself and blinked the tears from his eyes, willing to at least face his death like a true warrior, looking at it head-on.

But, as his vision cleared from the tears, Merlin didn't look like his death, or like any sort of soul-eating monster. He just looked like Merlin, and by god wasn't that the worst part of it?

Merlin slowly smiled at him as his tears dried, coaxing him away from the wall and towards his armchair by the fireplace. Merlin gently guided him over to chair and helped him into his seat, holding Arthur's hand the entire time.

Arthur, once he was sitting, looked over at Merlin, still holding onto his hand and whispering comforting words to him, and Arthur felt like a small, scared child again, freshly awoken from a nightmare and jumping at every shadow.

It took what must have been hours for Arthur to catch his breath, stop his tears, and cease his body's terrified trembling, and Merlin sat next to him the entire time, drying Arthur's tears and comforting him.

Eventually, Arthur looked Merlin in the eyes again, and he could find nothing in them but love and care.

Whatever Merlin was, however hungry he must have been after going five days without being able to hunt for souls to devour, he apparently didn't see Arthur as a target.

Arthur took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact with Merlin. Alright, Merlin might be a soul-eating demon straight out of Camelot's worst nightmares, but he saw Arthur as a friend, not a meal. Arthur... Arthur could work with that.

He just... he needed more information before doing anything else. Merlin was still looking at him with love and concern, and with each passing moment, Arthur became more and more convinced that Merlin was still Merlin, warlock or not. And damn it all, that still counted for something. It had to count for something.

Now that his fear was marginally under control, questions swirled around Arthur's head. How did Merlin even eat souls before this? How often did he need to eat? Did he need to also eat food, or did he sustain himself and his powers on souls alone?

Before he could ask Merlin any of the pressing questions that were on his mind, Merlin had already helped Arthur out of his chair and towards his bed, readying a limp Arthur for bed whilst the king was drowning in his own thoughts.

Before Arthur even knew it, Merlin was pulling blankets over him and snuffing out the candles in his room. Merlin promised to visit Arthur again in the morning to tell him more, and Arthur barely registered his words over the storm of his own thoughts.

When morning came, Arthur couldn't even tell if he had gotten any sleep throughout the night or not, but he woke up exhausted either way. Only a few minutes after the sun had risen, Merlin burst into the room, still looking paler than usual and helping himself to one of the sausages that was supposed to be a part of Arthur's breakfast.

Just the sight of Merlin eating anything made Arthur feel slightly queasy, imaging some terrified soul being devoured at Merlin's hands. Arthur took a deep, steadying breath before getting out of bed, allowing Merlin to dress him as he normally did.

Merlin, much to Arthur's relief, was still acting like nothing had changed, like he was still the same harmless Merlin that Arthur knew him as before yesterday.

If that was how Merlin wanted to act, then Arthur was fine with it. Truthfully, even with all of the questions that Arthur had surrounding Merlin's nature, he found that he didn't really want answers to any of them. Answers would make this new reality, one where Merlin was never harmless at all and where there was a demon hiding under his best friend's skin, real for Arthur. If Arthur didn't have any answers, then he could just... pretend that everything was still fine, like nothing was wrong.

To keep Merlin by his side, he would gladly accept ignorance and pretend like nothing had changed.

However, there was still one issue that Arthur needed an answer to, to confirm that Merlin was still the man who Arthur always thought him to be.

As Merlin was cleaning up Arthur's breakfast plate, Arthur cleared his throat, getting Merlin's attention. Merlin quickly turned around to meet Arthur's gaze, but Arthur didn't feel scared meeting his eyes this time.

"Merlin, I'm willing to let everything that was revealed yesterday be forgiven, and everything can go back to normal."

Merlin gave Arthur a beaming smile at his words, and Arthur continued with a solemn heart.

"However, there is one thing I need to know. You've never..."

Somehow, the words eaten the soul of an innocent person were so vile that they refused to pass Arthur's lips, so he chooses an alternative.

"... hurt anyone who didn't deserve it, right? And you never will in the future? If we are to have any sort of trust between us, you must answer me honestly"

Arthur figured that, if Merlin was indeed forced to eat souls to survive, Merlin was probably feeding on bandits or enemy soldiers that Arthur and the knights would've killed anyways. It was the only explanation, as innocent people didn't mysteriously turn up dead regularly enough in Camelot to indicate that Merlin was feeding on them, and Arthur knew, deep down, that no matter what he was, Merlin would never do such a thing.

Merlin froze at Arthur's words, his smile falling. He lowered his gaze briefly, before meeting Arthur's eyes once more, determination shining brightly in his eyes.

"Arthur, I swear to you, anyone whom I've hurt with my powers were enemies of Camelot. Whatever I've done, I did it to protect you and your subjects."

Arthur nodded, satisfied and relieved by Merlin's answer. Nothing had to change then, Merlin was still his friend and manservant, albeit with powerful magic and an appetite for the souls of his enemies. Arthur could... tolerate that.

As the weeks went on, Arthur found himself thinking about this new side to Merlin less and less. Merlin was still acting exactly as himself, so there was no reason for Arthur to worry, let alone dwell on any thoughts of warlocks.

(And if he had a familiar nightmare from his childhood featuring a warlock, then that was Arthur's business and Arthur's business alone.)

Everything was fine, and months passed without any incidents. That was, however, until Arthur noticed Merlin becoming paler, his cheeks hollowing out again, and his eyes sporting heavy bags. As he took in the changes in Merlin over the past few days, he came to the sickening conclusion: Merlin was getting hungry again, and would need a soul to eat soon.

But Camelot was at peace, there were noticeably less bandits roaming the streets in the past year, and no assassins had come to the castle in the past months. Arthur could see that Merlin's usual... hunting grounds... had been drying up, and he needed to find a solution immediately. Arthur shivered at the thought of what devastation Merlin would unintentionally bring down upon all of them if his hunger ever got out of control.

After several hours of brainstorming on Arthur's part, he finally had an idea. It sickened him to have to consider, but he would do what he had to for the sake of Camelot.

Arthur called for Merlin to follow him as he made his way into the dungeons, where only one prisoner was currently being held. The prisoner was a minor noble who had killed several of his own servants and then used his status as a member of the nobility to cover up his involvement in the murders.

However, the nobleman was sloppy, and there was evidence left behind that proved his guilt without a doubt. He was set to be hanged for his crimes in two days time, as per Arthur's own judgement at the noble's trial, but... if he was going to be executed anyways... perhaps his death may be of use.

(What Arthur didn't know was that the real reason why Merlin looked so exhausted was because Merlin had spent every night for the past week searching for and compiling evidence that the nobleman was behind the murders, as the bastard would've gotten away with it otherwise.)

To Arthur, the criminal's death could be used to ensure that Camelot's only source of magical protection (and Arthur's best and dearest friend) didn't starve to death or go into a hunger-induced rampage, whichever came first.

Slowly, Arthur made his way to the nobleman's cell with Merlin trailing after him, where the criminal was bound to a chair on Arthur's orders. Arthur solemnly opened the door to the cell, gesturing for Merlin to follow him inside.

As soon as Arthur set foot in the cell, the nobleman started begging him for mercy, pleading with him to lower his sentence, not knowing what punishment Arthur truly had in mind for him. Ignoring the soon-to-be dead man, Arthur turned towards Merlin, who was startled by Arthur's intense stare.

"Arthur? What's going on?"

"Merlin," Arthur choked out, his voice rough with guilt, sorrow, and fear alike. Merlin rushed to Arthur's side at the sound, trying to urge him out of the cell, away from whatever issue was causing Arthur such pain.

Standing firm, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Merlin, I need you to... to do something for me."

Concern marred Merlin features as he reached out to Arthur.

"Of course, I would do anything for you Arthur."

Arthur swallowed roughly, trying to force his next words out of his throat. He'd ordered executions before, hell, he'd even ordered this man's execution before, but this was much, much harder than any of the other orders he'd given.

"Merlin, I need you to... take care of this man, as you normally do for enemies of Camelot."

Merlin reeled back with shock, looking somewhere between confused and hurt.

"Arthur, you can't possibly mean for me to..."

"I'm sorry, but yes Merlin, it needs to be done."

Merlin stared at Arthur for a few more moments, before slowly nodding his head and turning towards the bound criminal.

As Merlin stepped closer to the doomed noble, Arthur closed his eyes and turned his head away. Perhaps it was cowardice, but if there were ever a time for Arthur to show such cowardly behavior, it was here. He didn't want to see this part of Merlin.

He did, however, hear everything. There was a scream from the criminal, which was sickeningly cut off by a loud wet crunch that echoes off of the cell's walls, and then there was no sound in the cell except a very loud silence.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes to the sight of Merlin standing in front of a corpse and tried to believe that everything was still normal.

And that's a wrap on this au! Man, that got darker than I expected it to be.

Be sure to let me know if you'd like a continuation of this au!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[evansboyfriend]

since the show is coming back tomorrow (!!!) and people seem to be a little bit confused about Tommy Kinard's canon character traits, as extrapolated from the source material, let's review, shall we?

Tommy put everything on the line, risked his job, not to mention entire life, by agreeing to fly Hen and Chimney and two more guys he's never even met before through a hurricane to maybe find (the wreckage of) a cruise ship that his old captain was on. He did it because Chimney called him and asked for a favour (also seen in 2x14, Broken) and because he trusts Hen's instincts (evidenced in 2x09, Hen Begins)

Tommy lied through his teeth to his co-worker when he stepped in to save Hen's unsuccessful bullshitting and made fake mouth static at the fire chief pretending the connection is bad before disconnecting the call. If there was nothing wrong with the cruise ship, he would have been fired, or at the very least suspended.

okay, what do we know so far? Tommy is loyal to his friends even if they haven't talked in years, he is dependable and will come through in a crisis.

we also know Tommy is a very skilled and competent pilot (given he's able to operate both the plane in 2x14 and helicopter in 7x03) and he flew said helicopter through a hurricane, landed it on the belly of a capsized ship, rescued the survivors, and flew everyone back to safety. and given the extremely dangerous conditions of the rogue rescue mission, I'd say he's also brave and/or a little bit reckless; when the situation calls for it, at least.

he's also super cool, an opinion shared by multiple characters (Buck, Christopher, and Chimney).

that being said, let's move on to 7x04

Tommy agreed to give Buck a tour of Harbor station, meaning he had to go to work on his day off, and then offered him flying lessons. So he's either super nice or he's interested in the cute guy (i think it's a little bit of both)

Tommy invited Eddie, a guy he barely knows, to a sold out big reunification bout, with ringside tickets that he got from the organiser, who he's apparently friends with, and flew them in a chopper! He's just a super nice dude.

Tommy offered to drive Eddie to the hospital, and talked about The Incident with him, because when he gets to Buck's loft, he says "he [Eddie] feels bad, in fact we both do" and honestly, he had no obligation to do any of that. He could have let Buck drive Eddie since he offered and wiped his hands clean of that mess. But he's a caring and considerate person, further evidenced by the fact that...

Tommy went to Buck's loft before he had to go to work, to talk to him in person and clear the air, saying he didn't want to do it on the phone or in a text. Tommy starts by apologising and stating very clearly that he never meant to come between Buck and Eddie and that neither of them meant to exclude Buck. He also easily reciprocated Buck's vulnerability. I think the loft scene alone does a great job at showing us that Tommy doesn't shy away from confrontation or a difficult conversation, is emotionally mature, values open and honest conversation, and owns up to his flaws and insecurities. (Yeah, I'm trying to be concise. There's meta upon meta about the goddamn loft scene)

He's also a little bit insane because why does hearing that the cute guy maimed his best friend make you want to kiss him. Tommy Kinard will see a red flag and pretend to be colourblind. (-> for tumblr purposes this is a joke)

anyway, moving on, Saturday rolls around...

Tommy noticed that Buck was a little tense, reassured him that no one's looking at them, and sympathised with him. He doesn't judge Buck, like, at all. I don't need to list all the ways Buck made an absolute fool of himself on their very first date. He also paid for the dinner.

Tommy cut the date short (abruptly, because this is a drama show) but before he left, he told Buck he's adorable, but not ready - and this is right after Buck forcefully shoved him back in the closet in front of their mutual friend, and especially after Tommy told him about his own difficult journey coming out of the closet.

Tommy showed up at the café, told Buck he has nothing to apologise for, and explained that he cut the date short because didn't want to pressure Buck.

Tommy asks Buck if he's absolutely sure, about Tommy being his date at his sister's wedding. Then says okay.

more character traits for Tommy Kinard: generous, non-judgmental, sympathetic, patient, and once again, a little bit insane.

night of Chimney's bachelor party/day of Maddie and Chimney's wedding:

Tommy shows up to the bachelor party even though he's on call for work, you know, as a firefighter pilot, and he could have spent this time sleeping or resting in case he gets called... and he does, to a wildfire! Before he goes he promises Buck that he'll try his damndest to make it to the wedding.

Tommy shows up as promised, after spending at least half a day fighting a wildfire? In his turnouts, covered in soot, but he shows up as promised.

I think this shows he is selfless first and foremost because he made time to show up to the (failed) bachelor party and he is honest and keeps his promises. Even if that means bringing a biohazard (himself) to a place full of vulnerable sick people (the hospital). Because, as previously established, he's a little bit insane.

these are the core Tommy episodes of season 7.

as for 7x09 and 7x10:

Tommy tenses up when confronted with his old captain Gerrard - who then subtly throws a slur at his face

Tommy is quick with the sass and will not indulge in his nosey friends' inquisitive questions

Tommy notices Buck's mood and checks in with him - he's caring and attentive

Tommy once again does not hesitate to admit to feeling jealous

Tommy doesn't really talk to his dad

Tommy likens his dad to captain Gerrard

Tommy admits that having Gerrard as his captain did not make him a better person (and okay, sidenote to talk about something that annoys me about this, because Tommy had different captains, including Bobby, while at the 118, and I think s7 canon seriously overestimated how long he worked under Gerrard, but let's say Gerrard was his first captain as a probie and influenced him to a certain extent)

some odd tidbits ~

Tommy has a sarcastic, deadpan sense of humour

Tommy is a goddamn flirt and unbelievably smooth

Tommy came out after he transferred from the 118 to the 217/Harbor Station

Tommy used to be a pilot in the army

Tommy flies for fun on his days off

Tommy plays basketball every other Thursday with Eddie and other first responders

Tommy knows muay thai

Tommy has a car lift and knows his way around an engine

Tommy likes watching half-naked pummel each other

Tommy likes karaoke trivia

Tommy likes craft beer, monster trucks, and the movie 'Love, Actually' (provided canon doesn't forget about this and/or retcons it for some reason)

[dilfsfordinner]

Escarmiento- Miguel O’hara x fem!spider reader

a/n- spoiler warning for atsv!!! Some of the things in this I don’t agree with based off of my personal opinion for certain characters, but y/n, for story sake, agrees with Miles

warnings- eventual smut, predator/prey dynamics, spanking, edging, degradation, explicit language, size kink, biting, mean/rough sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, aftercare, soft miggy after he realizes he was an ass

—————————————————————————

“You’re an anomaly. You don’t belong here, you don’t even belong in your universe. Everything you’ve done…”

The sound of your husband’s voice rang between your ears as you squeezed between the growing crowd, the dark blue and red of Miguel’s “lair” reflecting off the suits of the hundreds of spider people slowly congregating around the boy you knew as Miles Morales. For weeks, Miguel was infatuated with this Morales kid, infatuated with the idea of capturing him so that he could save everyone, so he could save you, as he loved to say.

Slowly but surely, you found yourself standing at the front, watching as the young boy was on the receiving end of a very familiar type of lecture. “-kid, you can’t have everything, you can’t save everyone. Spider-man makes sacrifices, that’s the way it has to be,” Miguel’s tone was strong, unwavering, as he told the kid the unfortunate truth of the situation.

Gwen, Peter, Hobie (who could not care less about the situation), Jess, and your husband all battered the kid with their takes, with their opinions on the situation and you could tell that he wasn’t having any of it. The others in the room also thought it their place to partake in this ping pong match of morals, their voices overstimulating even to your ears. It was obvious that Miles felt suffocated, lied to, attacked, and you couldn’t just sit back and watch.

“What if he’s right?”

…

The room went silent at your words, every single spider lensed eye turning to look at you as you stepped forward, a pair of scarlet eyes meeting your own, narrowing slightly. “What if nothing happens? I mean, how are any of us supposed to live if we stay trapped by the rules of the unknown?”

A sigh left the lips of the spider you knew all too well, his gloved hand running down his face as he turned to you. “We’re “trapped” by those rules for a reason. They’re the only thing holding everything together. You should know that more than anyone.”

Yes, you knew all too well what would happen if the canon was disrupted, being Miguel’s only pillar to trust and lean on for him to be vulnerable enough to share his story. That was one case though. One instance out of countless others that were possible.

With careful steps, you walked toward them until you were side by side with Miles, his wide eyes watching you literally take his side, the first out of hundreds to step up.

“Amor.. being bitten by that spider should’ve caused irrevocable damage in his universe, should it not have?” You questioned him, his strong arms crossing as he pondered the fact, “It wasn’t canon, so by your reasoning, all hell should’ve broken loose in his universe. But it didn’t. Miles may very well be an anomaly, but if he can commit non-canon acts without consequences, there’s nothing stopping us from letting him save his father.”

With a scoff, your husband’s hand turned to gesture the scenes projected behind him, the sight of universes crumbling, millions of lives wiped out due to one action. “This is why we can’t let him. If the kid is allowed to do whatever he wants, every single universe would end up in shambles because one little thread of reality was tugged loose.”

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but to some degree, you did agree with Miguel. You knew how important it was to uphold the rules of the multiverse, but there was just something different with Miles. You couldn’t help but think that this was different, that his case was truly unique.

“He’s staying. I don’t care about hypotheticals or any other possible outcomes-”

Using Miguel’s voice as a cover, as inconspicuous as possible, your gloved hand lightly tugged at Miles’ pinky, and when his eyes glanced at your still frame, you whispered under your breath, “Use your palms.” Miles’ eyebrows furrowed at your comment, his shoulders squaring as Miguel approached the both of you.

“-he’s not going anywhere until we know for sure that he’s not a threat.” Miguel’s hand closed around your wrist, pulling you away from the boy’s side as you watched him pull a red disk from the air behind him, casually throwing it at the boy’s feet, a red cage snapping up around the panicking kid.

Miguel was immediately battered with pleas to let him go, specifically by Gwen and Peter, as Miles yelled and slammed against his enclosure. Slipping away from the turmoil and shouting, you caught Miles’ gaze and nodded slightly, his eyes going wide at the realization of your words. His hands pressed against the red lining, a muttered sentence leaving his lips before the cage shattered and every single spider-person was thrown backwards by the sheer force. Everyone besides you of course, who was conveniently standing next to a freed Miles, your webbing attached to the floor the only anchor you had to prevent from flying back.

Scarlet eyes immediately snapped to you, your gaze full of guilt as Miles turned to sprint, your legs quickly following as the shout of your name boomed behind you, your eyes flitting back to find a rage-filled Miguel with hundreds of spiders at his heels, pursuing Miles, and unfortunately, you as well.

—————————————————————————

Part Two

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Crossroad Blues | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon gore, canon violence, imposter syndrome, discussing grief and parental death

Word Count: 4935

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Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You sighed heavily as you pulled up a photo of Dean’s mugshot from the St. Louis Police Department. “Well, you’ve got a warrant out in St. Louis, and now, you're officially in the feds’ database.”

Dean grinned at you across the diner table. “Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something.”

“Dean, it’s not funny,” you scolded. “We’re fucked if we’re not careful.”

“Well, what do they got on you two?” Dean looked between you and Sam.

Sam muttered, “I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet.”

“No accessory? Nothing?” Dean chuckled.

“Shut up,” Sam grumbled.

The older brother laughed. “You're jealous.”

“Why the fuck would he be jealous, Dean?” you hissed.

Dean seemed caught off-guard. “Whoa, sweetheart, relax—”

“No, this is serious, man,” you replied, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. “Dee, I was completely off the grid before I met you. Now, we all got arrested— thankfully, Diana’s getting our mugshots and prints wiped from Baltimore— but I’m undocumented! My mom told me she gave birth to me in a motel room. This was after my parents had already been ‘missing’ for years. My brother and I have no birth certificates, I don’t have social security, I don’t have insurance, I don’t have a real driver’s license— they can book me for that reason alone. I’m fucked. You didn’t kill anyone. They actually have legitimate reason to book me.”

Dean’s plucky attitude dropped, and he turned around, slightly angry. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t exactly plan on getting arrested. And I’m sorry it screwed you over, okay? Chill out.”

You glared at him. “ ‘Chill out’?” You chuckled coldly. “ ‘Chill out,’ he says. I wouldn’t be as angry if you weren’t making stupid jokes.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop, okay? Jeez.”

Sam huffed. “Okay!” He slid papers between you and Dean who were scowling at each other. “Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed.”

Dean looked away from you and down at the paper, but you kept your eyes trained on him. “Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?” Dean questioned.

“Two days earlier,” answered Sam.

“Did he actually say Black Dog?”

“Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive.”

“Do you think we're dealing with an actual Black Dog?” the older brother asked.

“Well, maybe,” Sam shrugged.

“What's the lore on it?”

The brunet slid another page over to Dean. “It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big; nasty.”

“Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg,; ook at that one, huh?” He held up a picture and smirked at his brother. 

Sam glared at him.

Dean’s smirk slipped. “What? They could.”

Sam got up from the table and began heading out of the door. You followed Sam quickly. Dean grabbed your arm and spun you back around.

“What, Dean?” you snapped.

He shrank under your glare. “Look, I— I’m sorry, okay?”

You dropped the tension in your shoulders. “Yeah, me, too. I just— I worry about you. And you guys completely turned my life upside-down when you walked into it. And everything’s changing so fast; it’s kinda scary.”

Dean nodded as he started walking. “I get it. If it makes you feel any better, you’re changing my life, too.”

You looked over at him and smiled softly. He couldn’t quite meet your eyes after that admission.

***

You and the brothers interviewed the deceased’s former business partner, and the man seemed a little bitter. Apparently, Sean Boyden was a terrible architect around ten years ago. Then, suddenly, he was in Architectural Digest. A piece of information he gave you, though, aside from his bitterness, was that Boyden used to bartend at Lloyd’s before his overnight success.

Then, you went to the animal protection agency to gather information on complaints or phone calls about a Black Dog. You were the one who went in to gather intel because you weren’t willing to take the chance of Dean being recognized from the St. Louis APB. You got back in the car and explained to the brothers what you’d found out. You held up the complaints list you’d gotten from the secretary. “Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, and dog-like. There's nineteen calls; all from Dr. Sylvia Pearlman.”

You headed to the woman’s home to interrogate her, only to find that the woman had disappeared two days ago.

“Hi, we’re Animal Control,” you told the woman who opened the door. “We’re looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?”

“The Doctor— well, she— I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago,” she said.

“Okay, and you are…?” Sam asked.

“I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid,” she introduced. “I’m not sure where she went. She just packed and left; she didn't say where. That stray dog: did you find it finally?” 

“Oh, not yet. You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?” Sam questioned.

She shook her head. “Well, no. I never even heard it.”

There were pictures on the wall of a brunette woman appearing in all of the photographs who you deduced was Dr. Pearlman. A picture that caught your attention was the woman at a bar with two friends. You turned back to the maid. “Hey, you know I read she was chief surgeon at the hospital. She's gotta be what, forty-two, forty-three? That's pretty young for that job.”

“Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position... ten years ago?” the maid thought aloud.

“Huh, an overnight success. Ten years ago,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah, we know a guy like that.” Dean clicked his tongue.

“Oh, look at this,” you said. You flipped the photo from the wall over to show the writing on the back. “Lloyd’s bar.”

*** The bar was your next stop. It was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and you and the boys parked close to the gravel intersection.

Dean noticed something on the side of the road, and called to you and Sam, “Hey,” to get your attention.

“Yeah?” Sam questioned.

He nodded in the direction of yellow flowers growing around the edges of the crossroads. “That's weird. Think someone planted these?”

“Middle of all these weeds?” Sam questioned.

“These are, uh, what do you call 'em—” Dean snapped his fingers, trying to think.

“Yarrow flowers,” you noted.

“Yeah,” the older brother nodded. “Used for certain rituals, aren't they?”

“Yeah, actually,” Sam commented. “Summoning rituals.”

You tsked. “So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's. Where there just so happens to be a crossroads.”

“You think?” Sam turned to you.

“Let's find out,” Dean said and started toward the center of the road. He bent over and looked up at you. “This seem about the dead center to you?”

You looked around a few moments before looking back at him and nodding. 

Dean dug a few inches into the hard soil with his hands and hit something solid. 

“Yahtzee.” He found an old Altoid tin and opened it to reveal several occult objects and a picture of an older man you hadn’t seen thus far on this hunt. 

“Holy shit, that’s graveyard dirt and a black cat bone. That’s… crazy Hoodoo spellwork,” you breathed out. “Used to summon a demon.”

“Not just summon one. Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good,” Dean deadpanned.

“They're seeing dogs, alright,” Sam added. “But not Black Dogs, they're seeing Hellhounds. Demonic pit bulls.”

“You guys ever come across this stuff before? I’ve only read about it,” you said, looking between the boys.

“No, never,” Dean replied. “Whoever this demon is, it's back, and it's collecting. And that doctor lady? Wherever she's running? She ain't running fast enough.”

“So, it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?” questioned Sam.

“Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music,” you nodded.

Sam shrugged.

Dean looked at his brother, stunned. “You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? Sam, there's- there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, 'Crossroad Blues'? 'Me and the Devil Blues'?”

“ 'Hellhound on My Trail'?” you added.

Sam frowned, and Dean rolled his eyes. “The story goes, he died choking on his own blood. He was hallucinating and muttering about big, evil dogs.”

“And now it's happening all over again,” Sam said. “We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here.”

Dean groaned. “Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play ‘Let's Make A Deal’.”

“So, what, we should just leave them to die?” scoffed the younger brother.

“Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?” the older one deadpanned.

“Dean,” you scolded gently.

“Fine,” he murmured. “Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right? So this guy probably summoned this thing; let's go and see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive.”

***

The man’s name turned out to be George Darrow. He was the first person to summon the demon to Lloyd’s. Unfortunately for him, all he asked for was artistic talent; he had forgotten to ask for the recognition for it. His small studio apartment was littered with paintings; some half-finished and some completed. They were incredible. 

“Was it worth it?” you asked him.

“Hell no. I'm still broke and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want. But that wasn't the worst.”

Your heart broke a little for him. 

“Go on,” encouraged Sam.

“Demon didn't leave. I never counted on that,” he muttered. “After our deal was done, the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but I mean, who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?”

“How many others are there?” questioned Sam.

“Uh, the architect, that doctor lady— I kept up with them, they've been in the papers. Least they got famous,” George scoffed. “One more. Uh, nice guy, too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for.”

Sam shook his head. “No. No, there's gotta be a way.”

“You don't get it! I don't want a way!” George suddenly yelled. “I called that thing! I brought it on myself. I brought it on them. I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'till then. Buy a little time." He sighed. "Okay, kids. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help.”

You and the brothers hesitated.

“Get out! I got work to do.”

“Mr. Darrow, could I—?” you started.

“What?! What do you want,” he spat.

“I just wanted to know if I could buy one of your paintings,” you said. “That little one over there.” You pointed to a small canvas, no bigger than a piece of printer paper. It was of a skull on a nun’s body with what looked like ectoplasm dripping from her eyes. The linework and blending of the oil paint was incredible. You were truly in love with it and had been eyeing it since you walked into the room.

“I don’t want your pity money, kid. But thanks,” he told you.

“I’m serious, I really do want it. I don’t wanna buy it off you out of pity,” you protested.

He considered, before nodding. “Just take it, kid.”

“Mr. Darrow—”

He couldn’t look at you as he spoke. “Take it. It’s payment enough that someone wants one of my paintings.”

Your heart broke for him even more, and you hugged the painting to your chest when he handed it to you. 

Sam paused before speaking again. “You don't really want to die.”

George turned back to you one last time. “I don't? I'm... I'm tired.”

You bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from crying as you left the man painting in his room.

You stored the painting in your bag when you returned to the Impala, and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk as you drove to the Hudsons’ house to find the last crossroads victim.

***

You and the Winchesters rolled to a stop in front of a very nice house. You knocked on the door to reveal Evan Hudson moments later. “Yes?” he said, seeming shaken.

“You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's? Would have been about ten years ago.” Dean cut straight to the chase.

Evan startled and slammed the door in your faces. You heard the latch click in place.

“Come on, we're not demons!” Dean called.

“Any other bright ideas?” Sam deadpanned. 

Dean stepped back, set himself, then kicked the door in in one go. Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight, and you mentally scolded yourself. ‘You sick fuck, we’re on a case.’

You followed the brothers into the home and began searching through the rooms for Evan. You found a door closed at the end of the hallway, and Dean went to kick it in again. You stopped him by catching his leg. You turned the handle and pushed the door open gently. The room was completely silent as you entered. “Evan?” you called.

Evan jumped out from behind a bookcase, holding his hands up. “Please! Don't hurt me.”

Sam attempted to pacify him. “We're not going to hurt you, alright? We're here to help you.”

“We know all about the genius deal you made,” Dean gruffly said. 

Evan looked frantically between the three of you. “What? How?”

“Doesn't matter. All that matters is, we're trying to stop it,” Sam replied.

The man flicked his eyes between you and the brothers nervously. “How do I know you're not lying?”

Dean clicked his tongue. “Well, you don't, but you're kinda running low on options there, buddy-boy.”

Evan swallowed harshly and started pacing. “Can you stop it?”

“Don't know,” you said earnestly. “We'll try.”

“I don’t wanna die,” he muttered, beginning to well up with tears.

Dean’s tone was almost mocking. “Of course, you don't, not now.”

You gently grabbed Dean’s wrist. “Dean, stop.”

He continued, ignoring you. “What'd you ask for anyway, Evan? Huh? Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?”

“My wife.”

The older brother laughed coldly. “Right. Gettin' the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for.”

“Dean!” you and Sam chided, more firmly this time.

“No. He's right, I made the deal,” Evan sniffed. “Nobody twisted my arm, that… woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but— I don't know how to— I was desperate.”

“Desperate?” Sam questioned.

“Julie was dying,” he lamented.

Dean suddenly softened. “You did it to save her?”

Evan nodded. “She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying… a matter of days. So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot.”

“Did you ever think about her in all this?” Dean questioned.

“I did this for her,” Evan protested.

Dean advanced on him, ripping his arm out of your hand. “You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?”

You put a hand on Dean’s chest and pushed him backward. “Knock it off,” you told him, giving him a sharp look.

Sam turned to Evan. “You just sit tight, alright? We're going to figure this out.”

You followed Dean out into the hallway. “What is your deal, man? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Hey, I got an idea.” He pulled out the goofer dust you’d gotten from George Darrow. “You and Sam throw George's hoodoo at that Hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon.”

“Wait, summon?! Are you nuts?!” you protested. “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You can’t. I won’t let you, okay? I can’t handle this properly if I’m worried about you.”

You looked up at him with sad eyes.

He put his hands on either side of your shoulders. “(Y/N), I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent.”

Sam walked up behind you. “Yeah, but how much time?”

“I don't know, a while. I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine,” Dean chuckled.

“Dean, you can forget it, alright?” Sam argued. “I'm not letting you summon that demon.”

“Why not?” Dean grumbled.

“Because I don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean scoffed.

“You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean, and I think I know why,” Sam noted.

Dean turned around. “We don't have time for this.” 

Sam was able to stop him with a single word. “Dad. You think maybe Dad made one of these deals, huh? Hell. I've been thinking it. I'm sure you've been thinking it, too.”

Dean didn’t turn back to face you and his brother, but quietly said, “It fits, doesn't it? I'm alive, Dad's dead. The yellow-eyed demon was involved. What if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul?”

Evan called back from inside the room behind you. “It’s outside!”

“Just keep him alive, okay?” Dean instructed. 

“Dean!” you called.

“Go!”

You steeled yourself and turned back to the office Evan was in. You took a bag of Goofer dust from Sam and began covering the window sills and doors. Sam made a circle around Evan while you worked.

“What is that stuff?” Evan asked.

“Goofer dust,” Sam replied.

“You serious?” he scoffed.

“Yeah. 'Fraid so. Look. Believe me, don't believe me, whatever you want. Just whatever you do, stay inside the circle, alright?”

You looked back to see Evan nodding. He began to hug himself, standing in the middle of the circle just as you and Sam finished coating the room.

Sam shook his bag out. “That’s the last of it.”

You paced around the room, Bowie knife in hand, as Sam tried to comfort Evan. All you could think about was Dean with the crossroads demon, and you prayed to a god you didn’t believe in that he wouldn’t make any stupid deals.

You knew how much his dad’s death was tearing him apart. You knew that even in that moment with him after he’d just woken up next to you in the apartment back in Philadelphia, his heart wasn’t fully there. You wished you could take away that pain for him. 

“(Y/N), are you trying to increase your step-count or something?” Sam asked you.

You barely registered his snarky question. “What?”

“You’re pacing. Like, a lot.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you said.

“God, you and Dean were made for each other.” Sam shook his head, chuckling slightly.

You deadpanned at him. “Shut up.”

Evan whirled around at something you couldn’t hear or see.

“What?” Sam asked him.

“You hear that?” Evan asked. 

“Hear what?” you questioned. “Where is it?”

“Right outside the door,” Evan said quietly.

Suddenly, the doors began to rattle violently. Sam stepped inside the circle of goofer dust, but you stayed outside of it, gripping your bowie knife tightly.

“Just don't move, alright?” Sam told Evan. “Stay where you are.”

The rattling droned on for several minutes before it stopped suddenly.

“Do you still hear it?” Sam asked.

“No. Is it over?” Evan breathed out.

You whipped around to the sound of rumbling from a grate nailed to the wall. You stared it down until it burst off the wall, kicking dust from the vent into the room.

“It's here!” Evan exclaimed.

Deep claw marks gouged into the floor up to the circle, and they stopped just before the edge. The hellhounds had apparently completely ignored you, but you tempted fate by pissing them off. You dug your bowie knife into where you thought the back of one of the creatures was.

“(Y/N), what the fuck are you doing?!” Sam yelled. 

You cried out in pain as an invisible force slashed at your leg. Deep claw marks appeared on your thigh, ripping through your jeans. 

“(Y/N), no!” Sam screamed.

You slashed at your leg with your knife and hit something solid. 

“(Y/N), get inside the circle, you maniac!” Sam chided.

“Trying!” you replied, pulling the knife out of the solid thing you’d hit. Nothing seemed to work on the hellhounds, though, and your knife only stalled them momentarily. You crawled, scrambling over to the circle, careful not to disrupt it as the hounds got one last lash in at your leg. You sat back against Sam’s legs, holding your leg and breathing through your teeth.

“Jesus, (Y/N/N), are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Sammy, do I look okay?” you groaned, trying to keep still on the floor despite the pain in your right thigh and left calf.

He paused for a moment. “Fair point.”

The windows flew open, disrupting the Goofer dust that had been laid on the window sill and slowly beginning to blow the dust away from around you, Sam, and Evan.

“Circle's broken. Come on!” Sam pulled you and Evan.

“Sam, take him! Go!” You threw your knife at him and stayed in the slowly breaking circle, and Sam obliged. You stayed on the ground, praying that the hellhounds would leave you alone. Thankfully, they did, and you tried to recollect the dust and build the particles up around yourself. Sam had long since sprinted out of the room with Evan in tow, and the scratches on the floor led out of the room and down the hall. 

You sat like that for a while, crying and in pain. You knew you needed to stop the bleeding on your thigh as it was bleeding way more profusely than your calf. You took your button-down off and wrapped it around your leg tightly. You threw your head back, chest heaving, at the pressure around the wound. You pulled your sock up around your calf to try and collect the bleeding there.

You could hear rattling from down the hall, and wished you could do something more to help. Suddenly, the pounding stopped.

“Sam?!” you called.

“(Y/N)! You okay?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yeah!”

“Is it over?” 

You considered for a moment before calling back, “I don’t know! I fucking hope so!”

You could hear Sam laughing getting louder and the sound of a door creaking. You assumed he was hesitantly checking the hallway out to see if he could make it back to you. “I think we’re good,” he called.

“Thank god,” you breathed out. You tried to stand, only to fall back on the ground almost immediately. “Fuck.”

Sam entered the office. “Shit, you’re bleeding a lot… uh—” He pulled out his phone. “Dean, Dean, is it over?... Yeah, yeah, he’s fine. It’s (Y/N) I’m worried about… No, no, she’s okay— for now, at least.”

“Hey!” you called. “I’m fine, Sam, really.”

“Oh, yeah? Try standing up, then,” he deadpanned at you.

You went to move but reconsidered at the throbbing in your leg. 

“That’s what I thought.” He turned back to his phone. “She tried to take on a hellhound… Yeah, yeah, okay. Just… get here. As fast as you can. And bring her bag. I know she’s got the first aid stuff in there.”

Evan reentered the room as Sam hung up the phone. “Holy shit!” Evan cried worriedly. “Is she—? Does she need a doctor? Hold on, I’ll call 911—”

“Don’t you dare, Evan,” you protested firmly, glare pinning him to the spot. “I’ll be fine. I just need to stitch myself up, ‘s all.”

***

When Dean arrived about fifteen minutes later, he was furious. “(Y/N), what the hell were you thinking?” He stormed into the room with your duffel bag in his hand. 

“Dean, I’m fine. Gimme the damn bag—”

He slammed it roughly on the ground, sitting next to you. “Let me see.”

You hesitated but unwrapped your leg upon Dean giving you a harsh look. 

He cursed under his breath when he saw your leg. “Fuck, (Y/N)...”

“Just let me stitch it up, I’ll be fine—”

“No,” he gruffly stated. “I’ve got it.”

Sam looked between you and Dean before taking Evan out of the room to calm him down. 

Dean began threading the needle. You sucked in air through your teeth. “Tell me what happened. How’d you stop it?” You were asking him to distract you.

He looked up at you, still angry, but complied anyway. “I cornered the bitch and made her let him out of his deal.” 

You paused, waiting for more. “And?”

He said, “And nothing.” And began to work on your leg.

“Dean,” you pleaded, grabbing his wrist. “Talk to me, please. Talk me through this.”

He seemed to soften when he saw how much pain you were in. He took a deep breath as he tried his best to stitch you up gently. “She, um, she said my dad’s in hell. And… And he did make a deal. And she told me—” he paused, eyes welling with tears, “She told me she knows how torn up I am about it all. She told me she could bring him back, (Y/N/N).”

Your breath caught in your throat, no longer focused on the needle piercing your skin. “What?”

“Yeah.”

“Dean, don’t tell me—” Tears welled in your eyes. 

“No. But…” he paused, tying off one stitch before moving to start the other one. 

“But?” you pressed.

“I sure as hell thought about it.”

Your stomach dropped. “Don’t you fucking do that to me, Dean. Dee, look at me.” You grabbed his face and forced him to look at you. “You cannot fucking give up. I won’t let you.” 

He turned his attention back to your wounds, moving to the last claw mark on your thigh. 

“I know you’re hurting,” you sniffed. “I know his death is killing you. It kills me to see you like this. But I’m not— ah!” You cried out when one of his stitches accidentally went too deep into your thigh. He looked at you apologetically as you continued to talk. “I’m not gonna let you trade places with your dad. You’re here for a reason. Your dad loved you enough to keep you here. And what you told Evan earlier? Have you even considered how much it would kill me if you were gone?! And Sam? Both of us would be crushed. You matter, Dean. Sam needs you.”

“(Y/N)—” he tried to stop your admissions as he finished wrapping your leg.

“No, dude. You need to hear this. I need to tell you this. I need you here, Dean. You’re my best friend. How do you think I’d feel if you were gone?”

He faced you. “I can’t— I can’t keep living like this.”

“And you won’t,” you said. “I know it’s cheesy, but it gets better. You won’t always dread waking up every day. You won’t always blame yourself. That’s just today.”

He shook his head. “How do you know that?”

You sighed. “Listen, both of us blame ourselves as the reason our dads are dead. And no matter how much I tell you that’s wrong, you’ll never believe me. Same way I’ll never believe you. And it hurts. I won’t lie to you. It fucking hurts for a while. But then… it gets better. Time and… the people in your life… make it better.”

He stared at you with sad eyes, unsure of what to say.

“And I know you don’t believe me right now, but… please, please, just trust me,” you begged.

Dean continued to stare at you, not saying anything, before standing up from the floor next to you. “C’mon, we gotta get back on the road.”

You sighed, trying to stand from the floor.

“Oh, fuck, I forgot,” he chuckled awkwardly, making you giggle. He swept you up in his arms and looked down at you with a gaze you couldn’t quite read. Dean then stared out ahead as he effortlessly carried you the rest of the way to the car. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[m-jelly]

Teacup

Canon world.

"What exactly are we doing?" Levi's brow raised as he pulled on his jacket. "You said casual clothes, so I'm curious."

"Well, it's a surprise." You smiled softly. "You'll need to roll up your sleeves, you can do that right?"

"Yes?" Now he was even more curious. "What are you up to?"

You hummed a laugh. "You'll like it, trust me. I'll explain on the way." You walked with him out of your home, it was nice having him live with you some days when he was not at the scout base. "Do you want to hold hands? I know you sometimes don't like it."

He pouted as a blush spread on his cheeks. "Tch, I'm not a kid." He grabbed your hand. "You better hold tightly. I know what you're like, you might wander off. I have to make sure you stay right next to me. Anyone could take you."

It was cute how Levi really wanted to hold your hand, he just found it hard to express his feelings. From what he said you knew that he wanted to hold your hand more, he was just using the dangers of the city and you going on adventures as an excuse.

Levi squeezed your hand tightly. "So, explain."

You smiled up at him. "What you told me about your past has been on my mind a lot."

"What part?"

"The part about your mother."

A soft smile spread on Levi's lips. "My mother..."

You nodded. "Mm, you mentioned a teacup she loved that you used but broke."

He released a long sigh. "Yeah..."

"Do you remember what it looked like?"

He frowned a moment, he had no clue why you were bringing that up. "Yeah?"

You stopped outside a shop. "Good! The reason I ask relates to where we are right now."

He pulled his gaze from you and looked up at the building. "Pottery shop?"

"I booked us a lesson." As soon as Levi looked back down at you with wide eyes you smiled. "I thought you could maybe recreate that cup."

He swallowed hard, he didn't know how to react because he was so touched by how thoughtful you were. This was an incredible gift and a fantastic date idea. He looked around to make sure the two of you were alone before leaning towards you and kissing you.

He hummed as your soft warm lips met his. "Thank you. This...this is wonderful. I love you."

You grinned at him. "I love you too. I'm glad you're up for it. I did worry you might not. It can be messy."

He pulled you into the shop. "Yes, but it's worth it."

The two of you worked together to help make Levi his beloved teacup. After making it, you made a little plate for Levi to have food on. After everything had dried you started the painting. It impressed you how steady of a hand Levi had as he painted. His art wasn't perfect, but it was cute and unique. He would paint a bit and then he'd instruct you on what to paint because he wanted your mark on the cup.

Levi pouted a bit when they were taken from him, but you explained to him you'd come back and pick them up the next day when it was all checked and finished.

He held you close as he walked with you. "May I stay over tonight?"

"Of course."

"Thank you." He kissed the side of your head. "Thank you for today. I loved this. We should go again and make other things."

You smiled sweetly at him. "We should. I'd love to set it all up again."

"Perfect."

Tags below.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a

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@nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08

@levistealeaf @pelicanpizza @hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife

@demonic-bird @searriously

[tmntxthings]

Fun fact: Turtles touch/tap the face of their partner as a form mating display, so can we get some head canons of the rise boys unconsciously/involuntarily touching their s/o face, like cupping their cheeks with one or both hands habitually whenever they're in arms length or tapping/brushing the back of their hand on s/o cheek to get their attention?

Turtle Taps

author’s note: here you are cute anon!! i was smitten with this idea but it only came to fruition bc of @marwhoa’s encouragement hehe

warnings: fluff, kisses, established relationships, unedited

—————————————————————————

Leonardo

he would poke

idk but i imagine when the two of you were close friends, borderline dating, he’d ‘annoy’ you by poking your face, especially those chubby cheeks of yours

you would complain, batting his hands away, and as friends that was fine but when the two of you started dating it would hurt his feelings

“I can’t help it!” “You’re just too cute!” He’d repeat those excuses, not truly explaining the full meaning behind his repeated actions. And Leo would’ve never told you!

The two of you were dozed off during a movie marathon in the projector room. Laying in bean bags that were pressed together, Leo had made sure his was close to yours. He woke up first and as he turned to see your sleeping form his hands went out on their own accord.

Cupping your cheeks gently and his thumbs giving soft taps. He felt so happy when you snuggled your face further into his hands. So happy in fact that he couldn’t help it when he started poking those chubby cheeks

Your eyes snapped open, “Leo!” You grumped, wanting nothing more than to fall back asleep. His hands would freeze, his eyes widening, feeling badly about having gotten caught and your rejection as you batted his hands away once again.

He quickly got up, mumbling an excuse about getting something to eat. His immediate reaction had you sitting up, feeling guilty for having hurt his feelings you finally did a google search.

‘Why do turtles tap faces?’ Upon further research after being so utterly shocked at the initial results. You felt like a fool. You got up, blushing furiously as you rushed to the kitchen. Leo was faced away from you but he heard your approach and asked if you wanted something to eat as well. “We got leftover piz-

He stopped short as he felt your hands encase his face. Then hesitantly only out of nerves, you started to lightly tap his green cheeks. Leo was a churring mess, moving too fast so he could turn to see you. You pulled back and he was smiling brightly, face awaiting for you to continue your earlier actions

So you complied, hands going out once more and you tapped his cheeks, the smile Leo gave you practically blinded you. “You could’ve told me what this actually meant!” You complained, poking his cheeks in the same annoying way he would, but he’d just nuzzle his face into your touches

“Yeah I guess I could’ve,” he mused. He had been too embarrassed to just say it. That and he just wasn’t the type to admit the truth that easily. But if he had known your reaction would’ve been this he’d have spilled sooner. You smile and shake your head, stilling your hands and pulling him close to plant a sweet kiss to his snout.

Michelangelo

Mikey would squish your face in pure excitement. He’s just so happy, he can’t contain himself, he’s squishing your cheeks together.

He could be on the whole other side of the room, or not in the same space at all, but he’ll run through the lair, find you at random and squish your cheeks together squealing about something that excited him.

Definitely happens so much that you’ve accepted it at this point, you’ll see him barreling towards you (yes he’s tackled you to the ground a couple times when you weren’t prepared for him to jump you!) and accept your fate

You try to play it off sometimes like you’re annoyed but truthfully it’s just so cute and endearing, when he’s reallyyyyy happy or when the two of you are alone he’ll squish your cheeks together and peck your lips with a soft kiss. A flurry of them too, you’re not just getting one kiss

Many many swift kisses in rapid session, and let’s say he just won in a video game, the arcade room empty except for you two, he’ll give the room a quick scan before he’s on you

“Y/n!!!! I wonnn !! Hehe did ya see??” He squishes your cheeks together while he speaks and as soon as he’s done he’s kissing you before you can answer, you hadn’t seen him win, you were playing your own game but he didn’t need to know that

Once he parted you spoke though your speech sounded slightly off because he still had his hands cupping your face, squishing, “ ‘hat’s awesome Mikey” he’d blush, coming down from the excitement

It was like his thoughts would come after he took action, taking note of his hands and how his lips felt, he’d pull you closer, slower this time and giving you a breath-taking smooch

Only this time he had forgotten to glance around beforehand so he flinched as he heard the snap of a camera. “Oh don’t mind me lovebirds, just documenting for future-“ Leo stopped midway realizing Mikey was actually quite close all of the sudden

“Give that here!! Leo!!” Mikey yelled chasing after his older brother. Of course it had been Leo, laughter and yelling could be heard throughout the lair and you were sure everyone would be witnessing this spectacle, you chuckled strolling at a leisure pace after your orange clad turtle

Donatello

Donnie brushes you with his hand

It doesn’t happen often and when it happens it surprises Donnie the most out of the two of you

He’ll be overthinking or had gotten so overworked that Donnie will blink and suddenly you’re in front of him with worried eyes, your mouth moving but he doesn’t hear anything as his hands reach out as if by instinct and he’s brushing the back of his hand against your cheek

He’s blinking slowly and watching your expression soften as you gingerly do the same to him, giving him time to move away if he doesn’t want your touch. But this time he does want it, he’s exhausted honestly but as soon as he feels your fingers brushing against his green cheek he’s sighing

Like he’s expelling all the stress and worries he had minutes earlier, he’s leaning into your touch and it’s like his battery that was depleted is now recharging

He stays there, nuzzling his face into your hand as Donnie continues brushing or just holding your face close to his own. Once he’s charged though he’ll blink and suddenly remember himself, pulling back sharply and blushing a darker green

Coughing into his fist as you pull back, smirking at his embarrassed reaction, “How about we eat some pizza and you go to bed? Hmmm Donatello??” Teasing him no doubt but making sure he understands that it’s probably best to take a break from his projects

“Sure, sure.” Donnie’s standing stiffly, one hand coming up to cover another fit of embarrassed coughs as he swiftly leaves the lab, you follow him smiling to yourself as your own cheeks felt warm.

Raphael

Raph gives you light taps

He’s always treating you with an extra amount of care. He’d never forgive himself if he was the cause to your pain.

Raph isn’t as shy as he is with his feelings towards tapping you, but he is similar in a way that he doesn’t do it super often

If you’re around and the two of you aren’t alone he’ll probably hold himself back but if you are alone he likes greeting you with light taps to your cheek

He’ll be a blushing mess, eyes cast everywhere but at you and Raph will give you sweet gentle taps, he only makes eye contact when your hands cover his, giggling at his expression

“Still so shy even after all this time?” You quip and Raph gives you a bashful grin, “Only with this!” And he’ll kiss you easily to prove the point. He definitely isn’t shy about that which shocks you more since these cute taps don’t seem that embarrassing

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Hi, how you doing, luv? I saw your requests were open so here I am!

I told this idea to a friend and we liked it so much I needed to see it written, and I love how you write Arthur!

I don't usually request/like low honor Arthur but hear me out! Low honor Arthur with a female reader and he's user her as his alibi whenever he goes on a killing spree. But she happily applies, smiling at the officers when she gets questioned like "it ain't him officer. how do I know that, you say? he was with me the whole time🤭" while Arthur quietly cleans the blood splatters off his guns

Samy!! Here it is!! I really hope you'll like it😭 Also, hell yes, what an ask! Loved writing it. Makes me want to write more Low!Honor. And ngggh the best compliment ever telling me you love how I write him I can't

˖✧ Pretty lies

✦ Pairing: Low!Honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader  ✦ Warnings/Tags: Blood (obviously), guns, cursing, canon era speech, ending is suggestive. Therefore, MDNI, please! ✦ Words: 1,8k ✦ a/n: Okay so, this is my first attempt ever at a Low Honnor Arthur. I guess I just made him bolder, extra cocky+extra flirty? Hope it’ll fit! ALSO, as always, English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if anything sounds weird. Please if you notice any mistakes, reach up to me! ✦Credits. First pic is from Reddeadcomfort on Pinterest, gun pic from Pinterest too. Second one from my playthrough; blood stains and dividers by me.

Arthur’s violence wasn’t a secret to anyone. Not to anybody in camp, not to you, certainly not to himself. 

Not even to numerous people at this point, considering the large number of poor fellas who had the bad luck to cross him and ended up beaten to a pulp, covered in bruises, head in a drinking trough, riddled with bullets, or even worse.

But you loved him, no matter what. You knew about his flaws. Knew about his brutal, crude side. But around you, this heated aura was turning into something else entirely. And you liked it.

So, when a panting Arthur had rushed to you on the porch of Strawberry’s hotel, blood covering his entire self, face and hair included, blue eyes shining sapphires in a tide of rubies, you weren’t that surprised. You were even less when he asked you to be his alibi for whatever the Hell he just did, as he had taken the habit of doing lately. Lying for Arthur’s crimes could have looked like an immoral thing to do, but as a member of the gang too, you clearly weren’t a saint either.

And you really were enjoying this little game.

The subtle grin Arthur had every time you would lie in front of the police for him, asserting with absolute conviction you had been together all day. The rosy tone his cheeks, ears and neck were displaying when you felt bolder and added some details in your alibis. Details about fake, steamy nights or afternoons you were supposed to have shared, swearing to the Lord you had the unholiest of times together. Oh, the look he was giving you. Knowing, amused, dreamy and so, so proud and debauched. Lustful, even.

You were sure he was enjoying it too.

“Alright, I’ll cover for you again. But at least go take a bath, I can’t do miracles.” You ordered him, a devilish smile on your face. 

“Thank you, sugar.” Arthur quickly answered, his voice just a low, breathless mumbling, barely letting you distinguish his words.

He quickly entered the hotel and you heard the receptionist gasp from where you were. You chuckled to yourself, imagining his outraged face rapidly losing all its composure under Arthur’s hard gaze piercing through the layer of blood, ordering him to prepare a bath as gently as if he was doing a hold-up.

Poor man must have liquefied on the spot.

You leaned against the patio’s fence and breathed in the fresh late afternoon air of Strawberry, alpenglow golden and rosy on top of the mountains, a peaceful scenery under your eyes. Contrasting with the horror and brutality Arthur must have left in his trail.

He was quick to join you again, looking fresh and neat as if he were a completely normal gentleman. His messy hair and dirty beard long gone, a nice black shirt, shiny boots, and a scout jacket on, probably to match Strawberry people's clothes. 

The only things that hadn't benefited from a change were his eternal Gambler hat and his holster and revolvers, both still painted with blood stains, a red and morbid Appaloosa coat on shiny metal.

“Policemen won’t be too long to arrive. ‘Hid my face but they chased me down all the way from Flatneck Station.” He informed you, voice calmer and shoulders less tensed.

“What the Hell were you doing there?”

“Robbin’ a train.” He replied with a cocky grin, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“More like slaughterin’ a train, uh?”

“Smart mouth.” He retorted, amused by your remark. “Too many of ‘em bastards had irritated me.”

“And how much did you get exactly?”

“Seven hundred.” His smirk widened as he patted his satchel, which was probably full of stolen money.

“Damn, Arthur! All by yourself? You never cease to impress me.”

His eyes wrinkled in a genuine smile, a rare sight. He didn’t add anything, silence enveloping both of you, as often in his company. But you knew he had loved your praise. 

Arthur casually sat on one of the chairs behind you, legs open to be more comfortable, and took his guns out of his holster, as relaxed as if he had sat to draw in his journal.

He knew the Law had absolutely no proof against him, and that you were charming enough to lead them up the garden path as easily as if they were children. 

As he had planned, two terribly worn-out lawmen arrived, clothes soiled and face tired. It looked like they didn’t have the time to take a good bath contrary to your companion, probably interrogating the whole town before arriving here. One of them, the shorter of the two, climbed up the wooden stair treads and spoke.

“Sir, Missus. We’re searching for a dangerous criminal. He has been described by several witnesses as a tall man with broad shoulders, brown hair, blue eyes, and a black leathered hat…” His words slowed down and turned into a whisper at the end of his sentence, lost in the air, as his gaze landed on Arthur. His eyes narrowed realizing he matched the description perfectly.

“Oh, I’m really sorry, officer, we haven’t seen anyone like this…” You said with your most angelic smile, your body turning politely from the fence to face the policeman.

You were now standing right next to Arthur who didn’t look bothered at all. 

All the contrary, he had given a simple salute by nodding his head to the man, the tip of his hat shaking nonchalantly in his direction, and had begun cleaning his guns, blood visible like porcelain dipped in a vibrant red paint.

The officer frowned, clearly not convinced.

“You, where were you-

“Him? He was with me all day officer."

He does not believe you. Yet. You took his arched eyebrow as a personal invitation to give him a good show:

"To tell you the truth, we’re on our honeymoon here, so we took the time to enjoy our day together…”

While speaking, you put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, to emphasize your words, to look convincing. But you would have lied to yourself telling you weren’t appreciating this, fingers caressing his muscles through the thick jacket, traveling innocently to his neck where you brushed the base of his hair, just underneath his hat, pampering him as if he was a cat.

And Arthur? He had the biggest shit-eating grin you've ever seen on his face. He loved it, the pure audacity of it all, your teasing touch on the back of his head, his own hands busy with his guns, oil and piece of fabric wiping the fresh remnants from his killing spree of a few hours ago, in the most carefree way possible, all of it under the Law’s nose.

A rush of adrenaline spread through him, tingling and warming his body. He tried to fight his own blood from gathering more and more between his legs, but after all, looking all giddy would just make it all more convincing, right?

“But this man really looks like…” The policeman tried to object, before being cut by you once again.

“Officer, I assure you we was here all day…” You asserted, honeyed voice soft to the ears, eyes as innocent as a dove.

“Oh, except for this morning though, we was out. We tried this really special spot, you know? The one in the mountains, where you can bathe in these hot springs… We had a good time there, didn’t we, honey?” You fibbed with perfection, adding even more details to your tapestry of lies.

The hand you had on Arthur slowly pushed his head against your chest, his face ending up cheek against your cleavage. His devilish smirk almost cracked from widening, and the tip of his ears got all red and hot. You could feel it against your skin, both of you relishing in your juvenile, corny lovers play.

Inside, he felt like he was on top of the World right now.

“Yes baby, ‘t was definitely a good time…” Arthur agreed, playful eyes adverting from his revolvers to look at yours from down there, his slightly crooked teeth visible through his gigantic grin.

“A-arlight, I erm…” The lawman coughed, visibly uncomfortable because of your behavior and finally convinced by your pretty little speech. “I’ll leave you to… To "it" then. Good evening Sir, Ma’am.”

He walked back to his colleague who had smoked a cigarette while waiting for him. Arthur and you kept on playing your naive role until both of them were far enough, the last echo of their conversation sounding exceedingly comical into your ears:

“Shit, we lost this asshole…”

 “Told you this couldn’t be him. Who would be stupid enough to strut around right next to the sheriff’s office?”

Yeah, who would be, uh?

You giggled a bit, eyes still locked on the stupid man in question. He hadn’t stopped smiling the whole time, a low chuckle shaking his chest, joining yours.

“This was a close one. You’re getting more and more reckless…” You warned him gently, hand still wrapped around his head.

“But you, on the other hand, are a brilliant actor, darlin’.” He added, his deep voice showing a hint of amusement and mischief. “And you're getting bolder too. A honeymoon, really?”

“The damn bastard wouldn't let it go…” You shrugged with an innocent smile.

It looks like he was comfortable like this because he wasn’t making any effort to pull away from your soft flesh. All the contrary, a sneaky arm curled up around your waist, pushing you onto his lap, his guns and the piece of fabric ending up on top of your thighs.

“Ya know, alibis are fun an’ all but… Maybe we could have a good time for real, sometimes.” He whispered in your ear, big hands handling you gently, one resting on your legs, the other holding your back.

“Yeah? You tired of lying, Arthur?”

“Am tired of doin’ nothin’ while havin’ the most gorgeous woman in town pretendin’ to be my wife…” His thumb slowly strokes your thighs while answering in a low, passionate tone.

This wasn’t just pretty lies anymore. His voice wasn’t joking, it was filled with desire; his hands warm and demanding on your body.

“Mmh… I see… Maybe we could actually book a room here for the night then…” You answered in the same quiet register, betraying your own needs.

One of your hands grabbed his guns, the other the blackened piece of fabric damped with oil, and you finished cleaning up his revolvers for him, fingers delicate and attentive.

His eyes are locked on your hands and their movement, completely hypnotized by them, his ears turning entirely red, this sanguine color spreading less and less subtly on his face and chest too.

You can't help but notice the hardness growing between his legs, pressing under your body. 

And he can't wait for the moment when this won’t be the barrel of his gun you'd be holding and caressing between your hands…

“Sounds pretty good to me, “Missus Morgan”.”

[y-rhywbeth2]

Passing thought: Technically, as a vampire spawn, Astarion should have the spider climb ability. One could explain that as the tadpole repressing it, he notes that it's shut down his regenerative abilities in a banter with Shadowheart.

But if you let him ascend he talks about it in his hubristic rants like it's something new and special. So he doesn't know that he should already be able to do this as a spawn.

One answer is that Larian just decided that spawn don't have that ability in their game, but another answer - fitting DnD canon - is that Cazador didn't tell him about it. Many vampires teach their spawn lies and don't teach them full extent of their abilities to keep them weak and afraid of retaliating to reduce the chances of them overthrowing them.

(I also have a mental image of him discovering this over the events of the game and he has an enraged freak out as he realises he's always had more power than he realised and that Cazador tricked him out of. (Somebody should maybe get this guy a copy of the Libris Mortis. Like, "here's a manual on your condition and similar ones, because we can't trust whatever your shitbag abuser told you."))

[indigovigilance]

Baraqiel and Azazel

Disclaimer: DO NOT ask Neil Gaiman to confirm or deny any of this. He doesn't want you to ask. I don't want you to ask.

SO DON'T ASK.

Edit: Neil confirmed this theory and it's not my fault: see the reblog

Now, on with the meta.

Thesis and evidence below the cut:

Dominion...

Angel of the Sky...

Hair an eye-burning ginger, eyebrows like grisly slugs, often draped in red…

Occasionally damp...

Most likely singed…

Most likely singed…

Most likely singed…

Most likely singed…

So that's everything from purely within Good Omens canon.

Baraqiel is described, additionally, in the Book of Enoch as:

Lord of Lightning

Who taught the forbidden knowledge of astronomy:

He is also the overseer of the Second Heaven, wherein lies the prison of Fallen Angels. More on that later.

The story of Baraqiel’s ejection from Heaven is contained in the Book of Enoch, but he’s not a main character. In fact, he’s only one of twenty major fallen angels, specifically, the ninth. The tenth is Azazel.

Who, then, is Azazel?

Firstly, Azazel is a fallen angel:

Who is damned because he introduces humans to forbidden knowledge, specifically, the knowledge of swords [and other devices of warfare]:

And also the knowledge of adornment, specifically, “the art of making up the eyes, and of beautifying the eyelids, and the most precious stones, and all kinds of coloured dyes.”

And insofar as Azazel is synonymous with Azzael, he denounces the authority of the Metatron:

In fact, Azazel is given all the blame for revealing the secrets of Heaven: “​​the whole Earth has been ruined by the teaching of the works of Azazel; and against him write: ALL SIN.”

and God orders Raphael punish Azazel: “And further the Lord said to Raphael: "Bind Azazel by his hands and his feet and throw him into the darkness. And split open the desert, which is in Dudael, and throw him there.””

We never learn in the Book of Enoch that Raphael actually does this (based on my reading), but it was commanded. In fact, Raphael would have had to throw Azazel into that prison which was in the domain of Baraqiel.

This puts Baraqiel!Crowley and Azazel!Aziraphale among the ranks of angels that went to Earth and delighted in Earthly pleasures, which caused them to be “fallen,” that God refused to speak to from then on, that Enoch!Metatron was ordered by God to tell that they were unforgiven and would never be forgiven.

It’s worth noting that there seems to be some disagreement among rabbinical scholars over whether Samyaza, Azza, Azzael, and Azazel are separate entities or if these are different names for the same entity. We should also remember that in the universe of Good Omens, entities change names when they ascend to or fall from Heaven.

Tying this all back to the Metatron: In 3 Enoch, the book which describes the ascent of Enoch the man to Metatron the angel, we learn that the overseer of the Second Heaven is Baraqiel, angel of lightning. The description of the prison in the Second Heaven and the angels trapped within it is terrifying, but not more than Enoch’s own actions when he is there.

At this point Enoch has not been transfigured into the Metatron yet, but when he passes by, the angels ask him to pray for them to the Lord; and he refuses, for “who am I, a mortal man, that I may pray for angels?” He is told about them again in the Fifth Heaven, about their sins, how they followed Satan, and that they will be punished on Judgment Day.

So we have a lot of reasons here to see that there would be enmity directly between the Metatron and Azazel, for questioning his authority before God, and between Baraqiel and Enoch!Metatron, for either Baraqiel was guarding the prison or already in it when the human who would become Metatron was supplicated for prayers of redemption and refused. Either way, the Metatron is responsible for Baraqiel’s fall, most directly because he refused to take the petition of the fallen angels before God and instead relied on his interpretation of a dream.

There’s been a lot of implication and even exposition throughout S2 that memory is vulnerable to erasure. We’ve gotten some direct hints that Crowley doesn’t remember all of his past, but I would venture to propose that Aziraphale has a very troubled past that he does not remember, that the Metatron (and possibly Crowley) does, and that further, because his memory was [partially] removed, his name was changed to Aziraphale, for which we see precedent in Jimbriel and all the demons.

My absolutely unhinged, unsubstantiated S3 prediction is that Angel!Crowley sacrificed himself to rescue Azazel from damnation, and the price of Azazel remaining an angel was losing the memories of his transgressions, including (and especially) those he formed with Angel!Crowley. That at the Garden of Eden, Crawley!Crowley knew that these things had been erased, and that he was probably talking to a husk of his former friend, the way that Jim was a husk of Gabriel, but that when he learned that Aziraphale had given away the sword, realized that the soul of the person he loved was still in there.

Partner post: For a meta on why we should believe that Enoch!Metatron aka Human!Metatron is a possibility, go here.

Edit: I read the Book of Enoch from front to back, twice, but if you want to check my work (or write a response meta!) you can find the source material here and here.

If you liked this husbands-centric meta, you may like A Nightingale Sang in 1941

If you liked this historic event speculation, you may like Sodom and Gomorrah

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

And now... the (one of them at least) canon explanations for the first Robin suit.

Damian Wayne walks into his father's office holding a photo.

Damian: Father?

Bruce, reading: Yes?

Damian: I found this photo of Dick when he was Robin and, one question I've been meaning to ask, why the no pants? Why would you subject him to that? Ignoring the weather issues especially since we live in New York how is no pants and a speedo benefiting him, Father?

Bruce, groaning for a good couple of seconds. He slams his head on his desk.

Bruce: Look I've been sitting on this information for a very, very long freaking time because Dick told me to never tell anyone this. I am tired of being seen as the strange one, I was not the one who came up with that hero suit, he was. All right, Dick Grayson was the one behind the colors, the design, all of it!

Damian: Really?

Tim, peeking his head out from the door since he was eavesdropping: Seriously?

Jason on the other side of the door: You lying!

Bruce, sits up frustrated: I begged him to wear pants, he wouldn't cave! Alfred begged him too, but... dang it he does a good job with making us agree with his outfit choices. He said it was based off of his circus outfit and I tried to say no, but just lost his parents and he was so precious, I folded. I'm not the weirdo though, you want to call someone weird, talk to him! Be... nice about it though.

Damian: I admire your honesty father I will go make fun of Dick accordingly.

Bruce, vindicated: Thank you!

Bruce returns to work.

Damian, Jason and Tim find Dick Grayson at the kitchen table eating a sandwich. Damian places the photo on the table.

Damian: Explain, why no pants?

Dick, sheepishly: Hm ... There is a good reason why I decided on that design.

Damian: I'm waiting.

Jason: Yeah I am as well because I had to wear that fucking suit too.

Tim: Y- you told me Bruce was the one who came up with that idea... you lied to me!

Dick: Okay I may have realized later in life that the whole Speedo thing was a mistake for someone over 8 to wear.

Damian: It's weird no matter the age.

Dick: Point is, I had a great reason to design it like that at the time.. it's very aerodynamic and it helps me fight!

Jason: It didn't help me fight, me knowing how to fight helped me fight. That just made me look stupid! You know how many criminals laughed at me wearing that at 13!

Jason slaps the man on the head.

Dick: It's not my fault, Bruce wanted to-

Jason: You know he can't say no to you when you give him puppy dog eyes.

Jason hits him on the head again.

Dick: Ow.

Tim, betrayed: Why did you lie to me? I feel so hurt!

Jason: Would you tone it down fanboy! I had to wear the speedo!

Tim: Wait is that why you liked my costume?

Dick: Yes, kinda!

Tim: Oh... Okay I forgive you.

Damian, shaking his head: You are so weak with him.

Stephanie, rolling in Barbara: Ooh drama, I'm here for it.

Barbara: They found out why you had that outfit, Dick?

Jason: You knew and you never told me?!

Barbara: Sorry he swore me to secrecy before I got to tell you.

Jason bonks him on the head again.

Dick: Stop assaulting me!

Stephanie: Tell him what?

Damian: Father-

Dick grabs Damian by the arm and covers his mouth.

Dick: Nothing!

Jason: Oh you fucking will not! Bruce was not the one who came up with that ridiculous ugly costume for Robin, it was Dick who came up with the entire Speedo and no pants at all! And he feels shame for it!

Stephanie rolls Barbara away, the wheelchair woman catching herself at the table.

Stephanie, stifling laughter: Whaaat? Wait, is this true, Mr. Discowling?

Dick Grayson blushes in shame.

Stephanie: Yes, I can mock you for something! You have shame!

Alfred: What's going on? I heard screaming.

Stephanie: The man who still brags about the discowling being a good design has shame! Victory!

Stephanie runs out the kitchen, laughing.

Alfred: Oh, she found out about the original Robin costume.

Dick lays his head down on the table, blushing. Barbara rolls to him and pats him on the head.

Barbara: There, there. At least you're Nightwing.

Dick: I was 8 man, it looked cute and cool!

Barbara: As an 8 year old it's adorable, not 16.

Dick grumbled, keeping his head on the table.

[macrolit]

By Elisabeth Egan May 18, 2024

“You’d be shocked by how many books have women chained in basements,” Reese Witherspoon said. “I know it happens in the world. I don’t want to read a book about it.”

Nor does she want to read an academic treatise, or a 700-page novel about a tree.

Sitting in her office in Nashville, occasionally dipping into a box of takeout nachos, Witherspoon talked about what she does like to read — and what she looks for in a selection for Reese’s Book Club, which she referred to in a crisp third person.

“It needs to be optimistic,” Witherspoon said. “It needs to be shareable. Do you close this book and say, ‘I know exactly who I want to give it to?’”

But, first and foremost, she wants books by women, with women at the center of the action who save themselves. “Because that’s what women do,” she said. “No one’s coming to save us.”

Witherspoon, 48, has now been a presence in the book world for a decade. Her productions of novels like “Big Little Lies,” “Little Fires Everywhere” and “The Last Thing He Told Me” are foundations of the binge-watching canon. Her book club picks reliably land on the best-seller list for weeks, months or, in the case of “Where the Crawdads Sing,” years. In 2023, print sales for the club’s selections outpaced those of Oprah’s Book Club and Read With Jenna, according to Circana Bookscan, adding up to 2.3 million copies sold.

So how did an actor who dropped out of college (fine, Stanford) become one of the most influential people in an industry known for being intractable and slightly tweedy?

It started with Witherspoon’s frustration over the film industry’s skimpy representation of women onscreen — especially seasoned, strong, smart, brave, mysterious, complicated and, yes, dangerous women.

“When I was about 34, I stopped reading interesting scripts,” she said.

Witherspoon had already made a name for herself with “Election,” “Legally Blonde” and “Walk the Line.” But, by 2010, Hollywood was in flux: Streaming services were gaining traction. DVDs were following VHS tapes to the land of forgotten technology.

“When there’s a big economic shift in the media business, it’s not the superhero movies or independent films we lose out on,” Witherspoon said. “It’s the middle, which is usually where women live. The family drama. The romantic comedy. So I decided to fund a company to make those kinds of movies.”

In 2012, she started the production company Pacific Standard with Bruna Papandrea. Its first projects were film adaptations of books: “Gone Girl” and “Wild,” which both opened in theaters in 2014.

Growing up in Nashville, Witherspoon knew the value of a library card. She caught the bug early, she said, from her grandmother, Dorothea Draper Witherspoon, who taught first grade and devoured Danielle Steel novels in a “big cozy lounger” while sipping iced tea from a glass “with a little paper towel wrapped around it.”

This attention to detail is a smoke signal of sorts: Witherspoon is a person of words.

When she was in high school, Witherspoon stayed after class to badger her English teacher — Margaret Renkl, now a contributing opinion writer for The New York Times — about books that weren’t part of the curriculum. When Witherspoon first moved to Los Angeles, books helped prepare her for the “chaos” of filmmaking; “The Making of the African Queen” by Katharine Hepburn was a particular favorite.

So it made sense that, as soon as Witherspoon joined Instagram, she started sharing book recommendations. Authors were tickled and readers shopped accordingly. In 2017, Witherspoon made it official: Reese’s Book Club became a part of her new company, Hello Sunshine.

The timing was fortuitous, according to Pamela Dorman, senior vice president and publisher of Pamela Dorman Books/Viking, who edited the club’s inaugural pick, “Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine.” “The book world needed something to help boost sales in a new way,” she said.

Reese’s Book Club was that something: “Eleanor Oliphant” spent 85 weeks on the paperback best-seller list. The club’s second pick, “The Alice Network,” spent nearly four months on the weekly best-seller lists and two months on the audio list. Its third, “The Lying Game,” spent 18 weeks on the weekly lists.

“There’s nothing better than getting that phone call,” added Dorman, who has now edited two more Reese’s Book Club selections.

Kiley Reid’s debut novel, “Such a Fun Age,” got the nod in January 2020. She said, “When I was on book tour, a lot of women would tell me, ‘I haven’t read a book in four years, but I trust Reese.’” Four years later, on tour for her second novel, “Come and Get It,” Reid met women who were reading 100 books a year.

Witherspoon tapped into a sweet spot between literary and commercial fiction, with a few essay collections and memoirs sprinkled in. She turned out to be the literary equivalent of a fit model — a reliable bellwether for readers in search of intelligent, discussion-worthy fare, hold the Proust. She wanted to help narrow down the choices for busy readers, she said, “to bring the book club out of your grandma’s living room and online.”

She added: “The unexpected piece of it all was the economic impact on these authors’ lives.”

One writer became the first person in her family to own a home. “She texted me a picture of the key,” Witherspoon said. “I burst into tears.”

Witherspoon considers a handful of books each month. Submissions from publishers are culled by a small group that includes Sarah Harden, chief executive of Hello Sunshine; Gretchen Schreiber, manager of books (her original title was “bookworm”); and Jon Baker, whose team at Baker Literary Scouting scours the market for promising manuscripts.

Not only is Witherspoon focused on stories by women — “the Bechdel test writ large,” Baker said — but also, “Nothing makes her happier than getting something out in the world that you might not see otherwise.”

When transgender rights were in the headlines in 2018, the club chose “This Is How It Always Is,” Laurie Frankel’s novel about a family grappling with related issues in the petri dish of their own home. “We track the long tail of our book club picks and this one, without fail, continues to sell,” Baker said.

Witherspoon’s early readers look for a balance of voices, backgrounds and experiences. They also pay attention to the calendar. “Everyone knows December and May are the busiest months for women,” Harden said, referring to the mad rush of the holidays and the end of the school year. “You don’t want to read a literary doorstop then. What do you want to read on summer break? What do you want to read in January?”

Occasionally the group chooses a book that isn’t brand-new, as with the club’s April pick, “The Most Fun We Ever Had,” from 2019. When Claire Lombardo learned that her almost-five-year-old novel had been anointed, she thought there had been a mistake; after all, her new book, “Same As it Ever Was,” is coming out next month. “It’s wild,” Lombardo said. “It’s not something that I was expecting.”

Sales of “The Most Fun We Ever Had” increased by 10,000 percent after the announcement, according to Doubleday. Within the first two weeks, 27,000 copies were sold. The book has been optioned by Hello Sunshine.

Witherspoon preferred not to elaborate on a few subjects: competition with other top-shelf book clubs (“We try not to pick the same books”); the lone author who declined to be part of hers (“I have a lot of respect for her clarity”); and the 2025 book she’s already called dibs on (“You can’t imagine that Edith Wharton or Graham Greene didn’t write it”).

But she was eager to set the record straight on two fronts. Her team doesn’t get the rights to every book — “It’s just how the cookie crumbles,” she said — and, Reese’s Book Club doesn’t make money off sales of its picks. Earnings come from brand collaborations and affiliate revenue.

This is true of all celebrity book clubs. An endorsement from one of them is a free shot of publicity, but one might argue that Reese’s Book Club does a bit more for its books and authors than most. Not only does it promote each book from hardcover to paperback, it supports authors in subsequent phases of their careers.

Take Reid, for instance. More than three years after Reese’s Book Club picked her first novel, it hosted a cover reveal for “Come and Get It,” which came out in January. This isn’t the same as a yellow seal on the cover, but it’s still a spotlight with the potential to be seen by the club’s 2.9 million Instagram followers.

“I definitely felt like I was joining a very large community,” Reid said.

“Alum” writers tend to stay connected with one another via social media, swapping woot woots and advice. They’re also invited to participate in Hello Sunshine events and Lit Up, a mentorship program for underrepresented writers. Participants get editing and coaching from Reese’s Book Club authors, plus a marketing commitment from the club when their manuscripts are submitted to agents and editors.

“I describe publishing and where we sit in terms of being on a river,” Schreiber said. “We’re downstream; we’re looking at what they’re picking. Lit Up gave us the ability to look upstream and say, ‘We’d like to make a change here.’”

The first Lit Up-incubated novel, “Time and Time Again” by Chatham Greenfield, is coming out from Bloomsbury YA in July. Five more fellows have announced the sales of their books.

As Reese’s Book Club approaches a milestone — the 100th pick, to be announced in September — it continues to adapt to changes in the market. Print sales for club selections peaked at five million in 2020, and they’ve softened since then, according to Circana Bookscan. In 2021, Candle Media, a Blackstone-backed media company, bought Hello Sunshine for $900 million. Witherspoon is a member of Candle Media’s board. She is currently co-producing a “Legally Blonde” prequel series for Amazon Prime Video.

This month, Reese’s Book Club will unveil an exclusive audio partnership with Apple, allowing readers to find all the picks in one place on the Apple Books app. “I want people to stop saying, ‘I didn’t really read it, I just listened,’” Witherspoon said. “Stop that. If you listened, you read it. There’s no right way to absorb a book.”

She feels that Hollywood has changed over the years: “Consumers are more discerning about wanting to hear stories that are generated by a woman.”

Even as she’s looking forward, Witherspoon remembers her grandmother, the one who set her on this path.

“Somebody came up to me at the gym the other day and he said” — here she put on a gentle Southern drawl — “‘I’m going to tell you something I bet you didn’t hear today.’ And he goes, ‘Your grandma taught me how to read.’”

Another smoke signal, and a reminder of what lives on.