#ticketing escapades

[suns-diary]

in the ticketing queue behind 160k people. IM FINE

[shepscapades]

so! how’s it going

[sometimeswritingsometimesdying]

WHEN YOU CAME AND I LAUGHED, AND YOU LEFT AND I CRIED

[foldingfittedsheets]

Every sales job I’ve worked has that one item. The white whale. The biggest ticket you can sell. The sale you brag about when you’re chatting with other industry people.

When I sold mattresses it was a split king adjustable base. That’s two twin extra long mattresses next to each other to make a king, but each side can move independently. They’re insanely expensive and honestly kind’ve impractical but it was the biggest ticket thing to sell.

When I sold sex toys though our white whale was the 20lb ass. It was a female pelvis, a cut out from the waist to the tops of the thighs. It was hyper realistic material and cost about $500. I definitely had bigger tickets but not in one item typically.

In my time at the sex shop, I sold three. Each time was completely different in terms of how the guy acted about buying it. The first man was a little embarrassed and shy about it. I was professional and supportive as I rang it up. Once I handed him the receipt he looked at the box. Then he looked at me.

If you’ve ever wondered how big a box has to be to fit a 20lb ass let me just tell you: it’s pretty damn big. It’s an uncomfortably large armful of box and every side has a picture of the sex toy inside on it. It’s not subtle.

“Could I get a bag….?”

There was no bag that existed that could possibly contain all that ass. “Hang on,” I told him.

I got scissors and tape and covered the box in cut up black bags. Looking relieved he picked up his purchase and left.

The next man to buy one carried it proudly to the counter; self assured and not embarrassed in the least. When I said I didn’t have a bag, but I could wrap it for him he gave a hearty shrug and hefted it into his arms, marching out the door with the butt on full display.

The last man to get one was just kind’ve an odd guy. Not creepy, but eccentric. We got along great, and as I rang him up I said, “Well one guy wanted his taped over, and one guy carried it out. What would you prefer?”

“There’s no bags?”

“No store bags. I think our jumbo trash bags in the back might fit it….?” It seemed rude to suggest putting a $500 item into a trash bag, but he wasn’t bothered.

He considered this then said, “Bring me the trash bag.”

When I delivered it to him he still managed to surprise me. Instead of shoving the huge box into it he opened the box. He took out his new $500 sex toy, and all the little things it came with, tipping them unceremoniously into the trash bag.

“There! Now I don’t have to deal with the box later!”

I was slightly stunned but agreed that I could easily deal with the trash. Then in a move I still think about with delight he flung the trash bag over his shoulder like a Santa with a sack full of ass and sauntered out the door.

If this or my other escapades made you laugh you could pop a tip into my Ko-fi! For more like this check my tag "ffs foibles".

[astradyke]

im really just hoping that everyone is so busy trying to get VIPs that i can at least get like Two Normal Seats . i'm also hoping that this other show doesn't sell out because if everything backfires me and my friend are selling these tix and i'm going alone to the original show i was planning on. either way no way in hell i'm giving up the opportunity to see dan and phil but like... scary scary scary

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

It Couple || Young!Coriolanus Snow x Capitol!reader

GIF by @youremyvioleta and divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: just you and Coryo being the it couple at the academy 🤭

Warnings: fem!reader, idk if there’s anything else

Wc: 691

A/n: pls send thru fic requests for Tom!!!!

In the bustling halls of the Academy, you, the epitome of popularity, gracefully navigate the sea of admiring glances. You weren't particularly sure what factor of you made you so popular, maybe it was your kindness, looks, money, name? Whatever the reason may be you liked to bask in it, not in the cocky manner.

Your perfectly coordinated and confident demeanor were enough to turn any mundane day into a spectacle worth watching. Coriolanus Snow, the charming heartthrob of the academy, with his disheveled yet effortlessly handsome appearance, awaited you by your locker.

As he caught sight of you, a charming smile graced his lips, and he fell into step beside you. "Good morning, my love," Coryo said, his voice a velvet murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "Good morning, Coryo," your replied with a playful smirk, your eyes meeting his as you exchange a knowing look.

The chemistry between you was undeniable, and it added an extra layer of glamour to the 'it couple' status you both held. The title for it really came from a joke by Clemmie at the cafeteria as fellow students from younger years would shamelessly stare at you and Coryo doing such simple things, which in that case, was simply walking to your table.

From that day forward, the title flourished and spread around the academy. Instead of referring to you and Coryo in the context of you being together, they referred the two of you as the 'it couple'. It was quite undisputed, turning heads and sparking envy among your peers.

As you and Coriolanus walk side by side through the halls of the academy, whispers of admiration trail in your wake. Your relationship with Snow was the talk of the academy, maybe even the Capitol due to your high statuses. The two of you becoming a symbol of perfection, setting the standard for others to emulate.

"Snow and Y/l/n, they're practically royalty around here,' a hushed voice echoed from a cluster of students, "I wish I could be in their group for projects, It's like a ticket to instant success,' another voice chimed in.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus slid his arm around you waist, pulling you in a little closer with a smirk on his lips. "Do you see the way everyone's looking at us," he remarked, his eyes glinting with a mixture of pride and mischief.

It was undeniable that Coryo loved the attention. Even before the two of you started dating he would get attention, but now, it was different. "You just love the attention, don't you?" You teased, leaning into his touch.

He chuckled, a low, melodic sound that resonated through the hallway. "Guilty as charged. But it's even better when I get to share it with you, dove." Coryo purrs, his grip on your waist tightening as you giggle.

~

The day unfolded with the usual whirlwind of the classes, but it was during the partnered projects that your unity truly shone. In the lab, you and Coriolanus blended intellect and charm seamlessly, leaving your classmates in awe.

"How do they nail it every time," Io Jasper sighs making those around her chuckle, as they agree after seeing the elaborate model you and Coriolanus crafted. Coriolanus, known for his silver-tongued wit, had a way of making even the most tedious assignments feel like a delightful escapade.

~

Most, if not, all of the Academy's social events became your stage without you giving it much thought, and you and Coriolanus were the headline act. A grand ball celebrating the academy's founding anniversary was the the definition of lavish.

Dressed in a gorgeous dress that rivaled the stars, you walk into Heavensbee hall, your arm linked with Coriolanus. People around the entrance elicit gasps as the spotlight found the two of you.

Arachne rolls her eyes, observing the two of you with a group of friends. "How do they manage to look flawless all the time?" she comments, shaking her head. "It's nauseating." She finishes, tilting her head back to savor a sip of posca. Clemensia chuckles softly, "Well, there's a reason they're known as the 'it couple,'" she says, shrugging casually.

[anaburbononburbon]

Nobody’s perfect…

Part 1, Part 2

Trigger warnings: infidelity, suicidal ideation/thoughts, cursing, very angst. This is a dead dove, so please do not eat. 18+. MDNI.

Johnny was perfect…and with your hindsight now, you should have realized that it was an issue.

Nobody is perfect.

But your last relationship was filled with fighting, with fists, with cheating and a one way ticket to the clinic to clear up chlamydia. It was terrible, awful, no good and you swore off love for good.

Except for Johnny. The bastard snuck in to your heart and gladly made a home in you. And you allowed it. Flourished under it. He was thoughtful, would remember your favorite movies, your most played songs, the authors you gushed about once and suddenly, books would pile up in your home from his generosity. Flowers would be delivered when he was deployed and he would always try to call you when he could.

Even his team was wonderful. The captain who would invite you to drinks and encourage you to play darts with them all. The too-good-looking sergeant with his sharp smile, deep laugh and eyes that gleamed a little too much. But he was thoughtful. Would pull out your chair. Would laugh at Johnny with you as he tried, and failed, to beat his CO’s in an arm wrestling match. Hell, you even got along with his scary Lieutenant. There was a mutual understanding, a connection between you both that remained unspoken. He didn’t talk. You didn’t push. And slowly, he would get you your favorite drink or help you bring home a too drunk Johnny. He’d gently ask you if there was anything you needed from the store, from him. He was there in his own way, and it was perfect for you.

But things aren’t perfect. Not in real life.

You wish you could say that this was a shock. That it was surprising. You never saw this coming.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself. Not anymore.

You knew Johnny was a man whore before you got together. He was very clear about his previous escapades, without rubbing it in. He enjoyed sex, touch, intimacy. You did too, but maybe not quite like Johnny. But he never acted like it mattered. You still had sex together, and as often as you could. You were very upfront about your past and how certain things were a ‘no’ from you, and he said he understood.

Johnny was a fucking liar.

Johnny was a goddamn, no good, piece of shit liar.

You could hear it all from the living room. Your living room. The house you paid for, the house he moved into a few months back. His grunts. Her moans. A low chuckle that, of course, belonged to Ghost.

They had always been close, but you didn’t think that this was the case. You didn’t think…

Johnny brought up a threesome a few times, but you’d remained nervous. You thought he understood. You thought he’d be okay with not…

You were never good enough.

The voice from your ex made its debut back into your head, now followed by Johnny claiming loudly he was going to cum, and the unknown woman begging for him to cum inside her. Ghosts grunts.

God, you were going to be sick.

All in your bed.

Because who would respect you? You were nothing. You were less than nothing. You were pathetic.

Just something to be played with while everyone laughs at you.

You sat on the couch as the voices quieted down.

You were suppose to be at a book signing convention but you forgot your book, silly you.

And it’s in your room. The room you shared with Johnny. The book he got you because “he saw it and thought about you”.

Lies.

You knew it.

Just a reason to get you out of the house.

You wanted to cry.

You didn’t want to think about how many times this had happened.

You knew he was too good for you, too pretty, too outgoing. You weren’t a right fit and now it’s rubbed in.

You were going to cry.

Shuffles from the room, laughs and a slap echoed.

“I had a really, really good time.” She giggles. Bile raises up in your throat. You hate Johnny so fucking much. You hate him. How could he do this to you?

You just wanted Johnny to come home, tell you it was a dream and he would never do that to you.

“Me too, lass. Now, get ye goin’ and we’ll see ye back on base.” You wanted to get sick, you wanted to scream. You wanted to murder her and kill Johnny and blame Ghost for it all.

But you wouldn’t. You were pathetic.

You were nothing.

Minutes later, an unknown soldier stumbles in your living room and gasps at you.

“Oh, hey.” She had the decency to look guilty but it didn’t matter.

She looked nothing like you. She was taller, prettier, perkier, and she knew Johnny like you could never.

“I’m going to go.” You refused to say anything. You stared at her as she sheepishly walked out of your house. With your Johnnys cum dripping out of her.

Not yours, anymore.

God, you wanted to die.

The humiliation. The betrayal. Her moaning wouldn’t stop playing in your head over and over and over and over-

The next person who left the room was Ghost, and he of course, silently stared at you. Locked into place, taken off guard. You would be proud of yourself if it wasn’t because he was fucking another person with your boyfriend-

Ex boyfriend.

You were done with Johnny. You couldn’t allow him back.

And maybe Johnny had been done with you and never told you.

It all made your heart hurt and head pound.

“Johnny, get out here now.” Ghost called out sharply, refusing to drop your gaze. You didn’t cry. You didn’t move. You didn’t say a word. You just silently stared at him and took him for what he was: a liar. A theft. A murderer to your heart, your mind, your very soul.

How many times did they do this to you? How many times were you laughed at by his LT? By the entire team?

Fuck. You knew this wasn’t a one time deal and god, it ate you up inside.

“Aye know, aye know. Running late, Cap will have our-” Johnny came out, hair messy and skin glossy with sweat and whatever else fluids there may be. His eyes found yours and he immediately shut his mouth.

A first.

A beat of silence filled the air before a loud gulp came from the deceiver, the betrayer. The person who held you and told you over and over again that he would never hurt you like you’d be hurt, that he cared for you, that he loved-

“You need to get your things and move out.”

You thought maybe you would start screaming, start crying, start throwing things, but you couldn’t. Your arms were too heavy. Stomach too queasy, and you didn’t have to strength.

You didn’t want to fight.

You just wanted to die.

You thought he cared about you but he lied. He lied. He lied-

“Bonnie, aye-”

You quickly interrupted.

“I don’t care Johnny. I don’t care about anything you have to say. I don’t care about you. I want you, I want your shit and I want it out of my house. I want it out of my life. You’re going to delete my number. You’re going to act like we were never together, because that would be the most nice thing you could do to me.” Anger finally filled the empty void inside of you. Anger at his betrayal. At his disloyalty. At yourself for believing him in the first place.

“Listen-” This time Ghost tried to butt in, but you refused.

“Help him or don’t. I don’t give a fuck. You have an hour or else you’re trespassing.”

“No no no no no, bonnie, love, please no.” Johnny cried, stumbling and trying to move closer to you but Ghosts hand found his chest and kept him there. He hit his knees, actual tears falling from his beautiful eyes.

Your lip curled up as you stared at him. More anger, more disgust rolled through you.

“Someone’s cum is dripping down your chin, Johnny.” You sneered, and a sharp laugh at his expense when he quickly wiped his chin and found there to be nothing.

His face turned red and you found yourself shaking your head. You dropped his gaze and stared at the black screen of your tv. Grief warped through you. Your life with him was over. It was done. It was severed, and he didn’t want you anymore.

He just didn’t want to admit it.

“Please, let me explain.” Again, you laughed.

“Explain how good it felt coming inside of her? In my bed? In my house? Or having your Lieutenant goad you both? I hope it was all worth it, Johnny. I hope…I just cant believe you. I cant, I cant. I cant.” And suddenly, in an instance, you broke. You sobbed. Fat tears rolled down your face and snot clogged up your nose. Your heart stuffed itself in your throat and you knew your life was over.

You were ugly.

You were pathetic.

You were nothing.

You found yourself curled up, sitting on the floor, your chest breaking down in itself and you couldn’t breath.

“Please-” Johnny tried. Johnny reached for you and you screamed.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me! I hate you, Johnny! I hate you, I hate you ihateyouihateyouifuckinghateyou!” You could hear Johnny crying with you, but it meant nothing.

Your entire time together meant nothing.

He lied to you.

He cheated on you.

He broke you.

He was the love of your life, and he hated you.

He hated you.

“Johnny, come on.” Ghost got him up, and moved him back in the bedroom. You didn’t care why or what for. You hoped it was to start getting his stuff and start moving out.

You needed him gone. You needed him away. You needed him-

———————————————————————

You barely had yourself under control when they got out of your bedroom. Suitcases were full and laundry was going.

Considerate. Considering…

Ghost moved everything. And quickly. Bags and bags he had in his hands as he trucked them outside. He moved Johnny out and you refused to look at them. You only stared at their feet as they walked, without a word, out of your life.

You sat there as the door closed and the vehicle pulled away from your place.

You were alone, finally.

And you just wanted to die.

———————————————————————

Part 1, Part 2

I have no idea where this came from. I’m suppose to be working. I must be in the fun place in my cycle 🙃 angst all around! Take care of yourselves and don’t let anyone make you feel this way!!! You are beautiful and worth it.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Time Is On My Side | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: y/n is getting unhinged as fuck man, torture, mentions of childhood trauma,

Word Count: 4738

A/N: this gif should not be attractive but here i am sitting in a puddle... WHO SAID THAT

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Three weeks. All Dean had left was three weeks. 

It felt like your heart was constantly in your throat. It felt like you could never get Dean close enough to you when you slept beside him. No amount of late night conversation or sexual escapades could save you from the anxiety you had welling up inside you. 

And so, you went back to work trying to find the demon holding Dean’s contract. 

You lingered behind Sam in the back of a dark room in an abandoned cabin where Dean was throwing every torture he could possibly think of at the demon strapped to the chair in front of him. “You ready to talk?”

“I don't know,” he wailed. “I don't know anything!”

“Oh, you hear that, guys?” Dean taunted. “He doesn't know anything.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Sam smirked. 

You stayed silent.

“I'm telling you the truth,” the demon pleaded. 

“Oh, you are? My god, then I owe you an apology. Allow me to make it up to you.” Dean held the demon’s mouth open and forced Holy Water down his throat. “I'm gonna ask you one last time: who holds my contract?!”

You were mentally scolding yourself for finding this interrogation sexy in any manner.

The demon went quiet and hung his head low. He looked up with inky black eyes, smiling. “Your mother. Yeah, she, uh, showed it to me right before I bent her over.”

“I want a name. Or else—”

The demon cut Dean off. “Or what? You're gonna squirt your holy water in both ends? Please. Brother, that's like a flea bite compared to what's coming to me if I tell you jack. Do what you want. The only thing I'm scared of is the demon holding your ticket.”

You stepped forward for the first time. “Let me try something.”

Dean looked at you skeptically, but the wheels in your head began to turn. The boys hadn’t seen you in action with an interrogation just yet; a skill you could credit your father for bestowing upon you. 

“Oh, god,” the demon laughed. “Gonna torture me with a kiss, pretty girl?”

You kept your gaze ahead, preparing for what you were going to have to do to this demon. “We got any salt in the trunk, Dean?” 

He shot you another skeptical look. “Yeah…?”

You nodded at him to go get it while you circled the demon holding the iron fire poker behind your back. When you were behind him, you quickly carved the binding link symbol into the back of his neck through the demon’s screams of protest. 

The demon laughed when you were finished. “A binding link? Really?”

“Hate to say it, I’m with him on this one,” said Sam, looking at you with confusion written all over his face. 

You gave him a look that told him to just trust you. When Dean returned with the large bag of salt he had in the trunk, you doused the iron poker in holy water and dipped it in the salt. “Is this gonna feel like a flea bite?” you asked, your face completely flat. 

The demon’s eyes flashed with fear, but he kept his “tough guy” persona up. You lightly cut down his left thigh with your knife before shoving the poker in the wound, and he screamed out louder than Dean had been able to manage making him. 

“Who holds Dean’s contract?” you asked evenly. 

“I can’t tell you,” he replied flippantly. 

“You can,” you said, “you just don’t want to.” You cut down the inside of his left thigh and created a deep gash, repeating the same action of putting the poker inside the wound. “See why I wanted you stuck inside?” you snarled. “You’d miss all the fun.”

“I’m not telling you anything!” he cried. 

You recoated the iron in holy water and salt. You cut up the side of his torso and put the poker against the wound once more. “Tell me,” you demanded. 

“No!” he screamed in agony. 

“Tell me!” you screamed in his face, holding the poker to his throat. 

“(Y/N)—” you heard Dean say quietly from behind you. 

You shoved the demon to the ground, still bound to his chair, and grabbed a handful of salt. Harshly, you rubbed it into the bleeding wound on the inside of his thigh. “Fucking tell me!” 

“(Y/N)!” Dean pulled you up from the demon by your elbow. “Sam, finish this fucker.” He pulled you outside of the cabin, and you shrugged him off you. 

“What the fuck, Dean?!” 

“I couldn’t watch you do that anymore,” he said. 

“What, get some demon to spill his guts? I thought that was what we’re here to do,” you scoffed. 

“Yeah, but that?” Dean pointed back at the cabin. You could see Sam exorcizing the demon through the window. “I’m not gonna watch you do that to yourself.”

“This has nothing to do with me. I’m fine,” you responded. 

“I’ve never known you to be like that,” he told you. 

“Like what?”

“Like me,” he answered, looking anywhere but your eyes. 

“C’mon, Dean—” you rolled your eyes. “This has nothing to do with my character versus yours or something like that. This is a desperate time. Desperate times, desperate measures.”

“Whatever,” he said. “Why is this just a casual thing for you?” 

“I grew up a hunter with a mean ass dad, Dee. He taught me all this,” you said, waving your hand in reference to the cabin. 

“Really?” he questioned. “You never told me that.”

“It never really came up,” you smiled lopsidedly. “Besides, not much time for backstories when we’re trying to break a demon deal and keep Sam from going Dark Side.”

“Don’t do that again. Not for me, okay?” Dean asserted. “I can’t watch that again.”

“I’m not asking you to,” you replied. “But if it gets us some answers, I will do it again.” Dean went to protest, but you kept going. “If it gets you out of this fucking deal, I’ll do pretty much anything. I love you, and I respect you, but this is not up for debate. I have a skill. Why not use it?”

***

“Guys, why are we gonna go after a fucking zombie when we should be focusing on Dean’s deal?” you asked, referring to the case Sam had found in the paper. “We’ve been on soul-saving detail for months now. But three weeks out, all of a sudden, you’re interested in workin’ a case?”

“Look,” Sam sighed, “I just thought since Dean’s been all gung ho to hunt, I’d be doing him a favor.”

“Obviously I wanna hunt some zombies, (Y/N),” Dean grinned. 

You dropped your head back knowing you’d lost the fight.

***

The man who’d died had apparently had his liver removed surgically. After thoroughly convincing a coroner that you were insane, you realized your zombie theory was all wrong.

You remained fed up with the fact that you weren’t focusing on Dean’s deal but went along with the case anyway. While Sam and Dean remained focused on talking to another man who’d had an organ cut out of him, you were angry with the entirety of the situation; not specifically the two brothers.

Now, back in the motel, you sat on Sam’s bed while Dean happily chomped on a burger. You pretended to research on your laptop while Sam actually worked on his. 

“So, I got a theory,” Sam piped up. 

“Yeah?” Dean asked through a mouthful of food. 

“Yeah, I talked to Mr. Giggle's doctor. Turns out his incisions were sewn up with silk.”

That caught your attention. “What?”

“That’s weird,” Dean added.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, nowadays, it is, but silk used to be the suture of choice back in the early 19th century. It was really problematic. Patients would get massive infections. The death rate was insane.”

“Good times,” Dean quipped. 

“Right, so doctors, they had to do whatever they could to keep infections from spreading. One way was maggots,” Sam grimaced. 

“Dude, I’m eating,” Dean winced. 

“It actually kind of worked because maggots, they eat bad tissue, and they leave good tissue. And get this. When they found our guy, his body cavity was stuffed full of maggots,” Sam explained. 

“Dude, I'm eating!” Dean groaned. “Alright, let me get this straight. So, people are getting ganked, right? A little ‘antiques roadshow’ surgery, some organ theft. But why is this all sounding familiar?”

“Uh, Dr. Frankenstein?” you quipped. 

“No, because he’s heard it before,” said Sam. “When you were a kid. From Dad. Doc Benton: real-life doctor, lived in New Hampshire, brilliant and obsessed with alchemy, especially how to live forever. So, in 1816, Doc abandons his practice and—”

“Right, yeah,” Dean cut his brother off, “nobody hears from him for like 20 years, and all of sudden, people start showing up dead.”

“Dead or missing an organ or the hand or some other kind of part.”

“ 'Cause whatever he was doing was actually working. He just kept on ticking. Parts would wear out; he'd replace them. But I thought Dad hunted him down and took his heart out.”

“Yeah, I guess the Doc must have plugged in a new one.”

“Alright, where's he doing the deed?” Dean questioned. 

“According to this, Benton's picky about where he sets up his lab. He likes dense forest with access to a river or stream or some kind of freshwater,” replied Sam. 

Dean took another huge bite of his burger. “Why?”

“Because that's where he likes to dump the bile and intestines and fecal matter.”

Dean gagged. 

“Lost your appetite yet?” Sam deadpanned. 

Dean considered, looking down at his burger. “Oh, baby, I can’t stay mad at you.”

Though you normally would have giggled at Dean’s joke, you simply rolled your eyes this time. 

Dean had apparently been expecting you to laugh, too. “What’s up?” he asked. 

“Nothing.” You shut your laptop and walked out with the brothers staring after you to smoke a joint. 

***

Almost an hour of you sitting outside later, Dean marched out of the room with his bag. 

“Where you going?” you asked him. 

“Sam lied to us. He knew Benton was here,” he replied, throwing his duffel into the back of the car. 

“What?!” you exclaimed angrily. 

“Yeah,” Dean huffed. “And Bobby knows where Bela is. That’s where I’m goin’.”

“I’m coming with you,” you asserted. Off his look, you stated, “I’m not asking.”

“Can’t say I’m loving this new attitude of yours,” Dean said as you headed back to your shared room for your bag. 

“My dude’s gonna die in three weeks. Forgive me if I’m a little on edge,” you called over your shoulder as you strutted ahead.

***

Dean drove well into the night as you sat beside him holding his hand. You couldn’t help but want to constantly be touching just to revel in the fact that he was here, and he was okay. 

You arrived in Canaan, Vermont around three in the morning. You and Dean stopped at a motel to get a few hours of sleep before you would head to meet Bobby’s contact, Rufus Turner. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean told you through the dark, holding you against his chest. 

“For what?”

“Everything,” he replied, voice rumbling deeply in his chest. “I’m sorry I’ve been hard on you. I know this has been…” he trailed off, sighing. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Dee,” you told him. “I’m not angry with you. I’m just stressed out.”

“I know. And I’m sorry I put you in that position.” 

You tilted your face up toward him and kissed his chin. “It’s okay. Let yourself off the hook.”

The two of you didn’t speak for the rest of the night, but you knew that Dean wasn’t sleeping. The both of you were staring up at the ceiling thinking about what was awaiting Dean in less than three weeks. 

The evidence of that showed in the bags that hung under your eyes as you approached Rufus Turner’s house. A handwritten sign hung on the porch reading, “No solicitors, that means you! No asking for donations. No selling ANYTHING!"

Dean rang the buzzer and than banged on the door. 

You heard a noise behind you and turned to see a security camera positioning itself toward you. “What?” a man’s voice asked through the intercom. 

“Hi,” you said politely. “Rufus?”

“Yeah, even if I am, the question is still the same. What?”

“I’m (Y/N). This is Dean. We’re friends of Bobby Singer’s,” you replied. 

“So?” he asked. 

“You called him this morning,” explained Dean. 

“So?”

Dean tried to flash a charming grin at the camera despite his obviously growing frustration. “You told Bobby about a British chick who made contact with you.”

“And so?” Rufus continued. 

“You know where she is?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Could you tell me where I could find her?”

“No.”

“ ‘Course not,” Dean muttered to himself. He looked back up at the camera. “Look, Rufus, man—”

The door jerked open to reveal the man you’d been speaking to. “Look, let me point something out to you. You are knocking at my door, so don't ‘Look, man’ me. I'm not your man.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Dean replied politely. It was like he was speaking to his father, and how quickly he snapped into line startled you slightly. 

“Alright, let me tell you a little story,” Rufus began. “See, once upon a time, Bobby called me, asked me to call him if I got a whiff of this Bela Talbot. I got a whiff. I called. The end.”

“Okay, yeah, if you could just tell me where she is, I mean, that would be great,” Dean chuckled awkwardly. 

“Dean, right?”

Dean nodded. 

“Dean, do I look like I'm here to help you?” 

“I’m gonna say no?” 

“Then get the hell off my property.”

“Would a bottle of scotch change your mind?” you asked, holding up the bottle Bobby suggested you bring with a lopsided smile. 

Rufus eyed you, brows drawn, then the bottle, and then grinned. 

***

Rufus was actually pretty cool once you’d gotten to know him and plied him with a little liquor. What he told you about Bela was what really piqued your interest, though. Rufus managed to find Bela’s— well, Abby’s— records from England. She’d apparently lost her parents in an accident where it seemed the brake lines were cut on their car. 

You didn’t drink, seeing as Dean wasn’t intending on being the responsible one in this scenario, and as a result, you drove a very drunken Dean back to your motel. 

“But Bela—” he whined. 

“I’ve got her. You’re staying here,” you asserted, doing your best to get him on your bed. 

“I don’t want you going alone,” he replied. 

“You are too drunk to be handling a gun, m’ love,” you told Dean. “I promise I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Wait.” Dean grabbed your hand as you turned for the door. “Be safe, okay?” 

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You helped Dean tug off his boots and get into bed. He passed out pretty much as soon as he hit the pillow, and you gave him a lingering kiss on his forehead before you left. 

***

As soon as Bela closed the door to her hotel room, you were on her with your arm across her throat and your gun in her face. “Where’s the Colt?” you sneered. 

“(Y/N),” she replied calmly. 

“No extra words,” you asserted.

She quirked a brow at you. “It's long gone, across the world by now.”

“Liar,” you said, shoving her neck harder. You grabbed her bag from her hand to look in it, keeping your gun firmly trained on the place right between her eyebrows. 

“I'll call the buyer. Speak Farsi?” she smirked. 

You pulled her against you and made quick work of frisking her in search of her gun. 

“What the hell are you—?!” 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you replied, dangling her gun in front of her face that you’d found tucked in her waistband. You used the tip of your gun’s barrel to flick the light on, then pointed it back at her. “Don’t fucking move, or I’ll kill you, I swear to god.”

You began to search the room, taking every drawer and bag apart. 

“I told you, I don’t have it,” Bela spoke evenly. 

“We are way past trust, angel,” you explained to her. When you heard movement behind you, you shot at the door inches from her head. “I told you not to fucking move.” You continued searching.

After a few minutes, she spoke again. “It's gone. Get on a plane if you must. Track down the buyer. You might catch up to him eventually.”

You angrily threw the last drawer open, rummaged through it, and stood with your gun pointed at her head. 

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked.

You simply nodded in response. 

“You're not cold-blooded, darling.” Bela rolled her eyes. 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you stated flatly. “The boys are more of the Care Bear type than I am.”

She gave you a skeptical look. “Really.”

“Really,” you smirked cruelly. “You and I are way more alike than I think you realize.”

“How’s that?” she snickered. 

“Both annoyingly bitchy. Both with various vices and addictions. Both brutally honest. And we both killed our parents,” you told her. “But what I can’t work out is why you did it.”

She looked completely shocked but tried to maintain her composure. “I don't know what you're talking—”

“Yes, you do,” you replied. “Don’t fuck with me. You were, what, fourteen? Shady car accident, police suspected a slashed brake line, and little Bela— well, Abby— inherits millions. Ringing any bells?”

Her mouth agape, she breathed out, “How did you—”

“Doesn’t matter,” you drawled. 

“They were lovely people. And I killed them. And I got rich. I can't be bothered to give a damn. Just like I don't care what happens to Dean,” she shrugged.

Seeing red, you pushed her against the door with your arm against her throat again.

“You make me sick,” you snarled. 

“Likewise,” she grinned. 

You backed away from her, pointed your gun, and cocked it. Then, you noticed the woven herbs hanging above her door were ones used for warding off Hellhounds. Deciding killing her now would be letting her off easy, you clicked the safety back into place and shoved her out of your way. “I’ll see you around, Abby.”

***

When you returned to the motel, Dean woke up as soon as you opened the door. He hummed sleepily. 

“Morning, princess,” you smiled. 

“You haven’t called me that in a while,” his deep voice rumbled. 

You giggled. “Figured it was time to bring it back.”

“Is she—?” Dean trailed off, referring to Bela. 

“No,” you said. “She will be soon, though.”

He shot you a confused and slightly irritated look. “I thought you were gonna—”

“I was. And then I saw Devil’s shoestring hangin’ above her door. I figured that would be a more suitable death for her,” you shrugged. 

“Damn, she made a deal?” he questioned, getting up from bed. 

“I’m guessing to kill her parents,” you replied. 

“Good thinkin’. Well, let’s get goin’ back to Sam.”

You nodded. “Sure you don’t need to nurse that hangover first?” you asked mockingly. 

He groaned. “That scotch was some serious shit, man.”

***

“I’m really fucked this time, (Y/N),” Dean admitted, voice breaking slightly. 

You pulled your eyes from the road to look at him for a brief second. “Dee…”

“No,” he shook his head. “The Colt’s gone, and Sam was right. Bela was a goose chase.” Dean’s phone rang. “Speaking of…” he trailed off as he answered the phone. “You okay? Was he there?... Did you kill him?... What do you mean, ‘no’?... What, the live-forever formula?... Great, let me guess. I got to drink blood out of a baby's skull?... Wait, wait, wait. What are— What are you saying? You think… Okay, so, this formula…” He suddenly got panicked. “Sam?! Sammy!” He slammed his phone shut. “Dammit! Drive faster, (Y/N).”

“What happened?!” you questioned. 

“He found Benton’s cabin. He said that whole, uh, live-forever thing is just science. Meaning… it’s doable. And then, Benton found him,” Dean explained. 

“Oh, fuck.” You floored it completely. “Well, how the hell are we gonna find Sam? Weren’t there, like, five different possible cabins?!” 

“I’m gonna get the phone company to put a track on it,” Dean responded. 

After he did so, the car went quiet for another moment as you focused on driving. However, there was a nagging thought in the back of your mind. “Are you… Are you gonna take the elixir of life?”

Dean considered for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if this is gonna work.”

“Right. I don’t know if changing out whose pancreas you’re carrying is gonna have an effect on the Hellhounds’ ability to… y’know…”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “This fucking sucks.” He slumped down in his seat. 

“Hey, all is not lost,” you told him. 

He shot you a look that said, “Yeah, right.” “Look, right now, we just need to focus on Sam,” he asserted. 

“Okay, then. What’s your plan?” you asked. 

He gave you another look. 

“Right,” you said dryly. “Why would you have a plan?”

***

Thankfully, when you got to Benton’s cabin, you found a bottle of chloroform on the table in the kitchen. Silently, you held it up to show Dean. He took it from you and drenched his Bowie knife in the liquid. 

As you approached the cabin’s basement, you could hear Doctor Benton’s voice becoming closer and closer. Dean mouthed to you, “One, two, three,” and then, you and he began shooting at the doctor’s back after jumping out from behind the wall blocking the basement’s stairs from the rest of the room. 

“Shoot all you want,” Benton grinned, approaching you. You let loose two more bullets, and Dean swept up behind him to stab him in the back. 

He stumbled and turned around. “A knife? What part of immortality do you not understand? Pity about the heart, though. It was a brand-new one.”

“Good. It should be pumping nice and strong,” Dean smirked. “Sending this stuff throughout your whole body. See, I picked up your little bottle upstairs and dipped the knife in it.”

Dr. Benton’s mouth fell open in shock, and his eyes rolled back in his head just before he collapsed. 

“(Y/N), gimme a hand?” Sam asked as Dean dealt with Dr. Benton’s body. 

You rushed to his side, unstrapped his limbs, and carefully peeled the pieces of duct tape off his eyelids that were holding them open. “You okay?” “Yeah. You got here just in time,” he smiled weakly. 

You gave him a quick hug, both relieved that he was okay and happy to see him again. 

“Alright, break it up,” Dean groaned. “Help me get this mook on the table. He’s fuckin’ heavy.”

***

You sat in the corner of the room waiting for Dr. Benton to wake up. After about an hour of twiddling your thumbs, the doctor groaned. 

“Oh, hiya, Doc. Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” Dean deadpanned. 

“Please—” the doctor panicked. 

“ ‘Please’ what?” Dean taunted. “You've been killing poor bastards for over a hundred-fifty years, and now, you got a request? Shut up.”

The creature struggled against his restraints. “No, you don't understand. I can help you. I know what you need.”

Dean ignored the doctor and focused on you and Sam. “We might have to cut him up into little bits. Y'know, this immortality thing is a bitch.”

“I can read the formula for you. You know… immortality… Forever young, never die,” he tried. 

“Dean,” Sam said suddenly. 

“Sam,” you warned. 

He walked out of the room, indicating for you and Dean to follow. 

You kept an eye on the doctor just to ensure he couldn’t go anywhere while Sam addressed his brother. 

“I mean, we're talking Hell in three weeks, or needing a new kidney in, like, half a century,” Sam urged. 

“Yeah, well, you can't exactly get those at a Kwik-E-Mart,” Dean snarked. 

You kept silent. 

“It's not perfect, but it buys us more time to think of something better. We just need time, Dean. I mean, please, just- just think about it.”

“No,” Dean replied firmly. 

That surprised you, if you were honest. 

“Dean, don't you want to live?” Sam asked in desperation. 

Dean gave him a sympathetic look, but his voice was firm. “What he is isn't living. Look, this is simple.”

“Simple?” Sam scoffed. 

“To me it is, okay,” Dean returned. “Black or white; human, not human.” He strolled back into the room to tower over the immobilized doctor. “See, what the Doc is is a fuckin’ monster. I can't do it. I would rather go to hell.”

“You don’t understand. I can help you!” The doctor yelled. 

You poured more chloroform onto a rag and handed it to Dean. Dean covered the doctor’s mouth with it and turned to Sam. “Now, I'm gonna take care of him. You can either help me or not. It's up to you.”

***

The three of you laid the doctor’s body in the ground inside a refrigerator wrapped in chains. You dropped the doctor’s book on top of the box. 

“No!” Benton wailed. “Stop it! I can help you!”

“Enjoy forever in there, Doc,” Dean said, sounding slightly emotionless. 

As gruesome as the thought of being trapped down there forever was, it was what needed to be done. And so, you shoveled the displaced dirt back on top of the refrigerator and book. 

When you’d dusted your hands off, you turned to the boys. “Alright, we gotta get the hell outta dodge.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. 

“Bela’s probably on her way to the motel as we speak,” you replied. “She swiped the receipt from my pocket.”

“And you didn’t think to say anything till now?” Dean asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. 

“We were a little preoccupied!” you remarked. “Now, c’mon. Let’s get our shit before she gets there…. Should be in about three hours.”

***

After exactly three hours had passed, you called the motel room you’d been staying in while Dean drove the three of you away from trouble. Quickly, the phone picked up. 

“Hiya, Abby,” you cooed. “Figured you’d be stopping by.”

“Wh—”

You cut Bela off. “I felt your hand in my pocket when you took that receipt.”

Her breathing had become quicker. “You don't understand.”

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure I do,” you told her calmly. “I saw that Devil’s shoestring hangin’ above your door. There’s only one use for that: holding Hellhounds at bay. So I went back and took another look at that obituary for your parents. Exactly ten years ago today. Happy anniversary, I guess.”

When Bela didn’t speak, you continued. “Is that why you stole the Colt, huh? Try to wiggle out of your deal; our gun for your soul?”

“Yes,” she replied, and you could tell she was crying. 

“But stealing the Colt wasn't quite enough, I'm guessing,” you nodded, pursing your lips. 

“They changed the deal. They wanted me to kill Sam,” she cried. 

“Really?” you mocked. “Wow, who’da thought that demons would’ve been untrustworthy. Well, I’ll leave you alone now. Let you live out your last few minutes in peace.”

“(Y/N), listen, I need help,” she begged. 

“We are weeks past help, lovebug.”

“I know I don't deserve it,” Bela continued crying. 

“Y’know, come to think of it, you don’t. But if you’d come to us sooner and asked for help, we probably could’ve taken the Colt and saved you.”

“I know,” she swallowed, “and saved Dean, too. I know about his deal.”

Your heart sank, and your voice became dangerously low. “And who told you that?”

“The demon that holds it. She holds mine too. She said she holds every deal,” Bela explained. 

“She?”

“Her name’s Lilith.”

‘Fabulous,’ you thought. “Lilith? Why should I believe you?” you spat.

“You shouldn’t, but it’s the truth.” “This can't help you; not now. Why’re you telling me this?” you questioned. 

“Because just maybe you can kill the bitch,” she replied, voice holding her usual charm for the first time during your call with her. “Tell Dean I’ll see him soon.”

Taking in a shuddering breath, you said, “See you around, Abby,” and hung up the phone.

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

[moonsaver]

Yan!Sunday isn't someone who likes the spotlight.

I mean, it's obvious, even his normal character seems to be one that works behind the scenes, pulling taut strings until they snap one by one.

But Yan!Sunday leaves no exception, even when it comes to adoration.

The frequent visits you somehow always manage to make, scrounging up money from who knows where to afford all those tickets to Robin's concerts, meet-ups, fancalls, etc.. it's cute. Your devotion is almost admirable. Robin starts to recognize you more as a friend or acquaintance than a superfan, which is a great feat for someone like you – a measly fan who managed to get through from constant meetings and relying on a superstar's memory.

It isn't a surprise when you're invited by The Oak Family to Penacony for the Charmony festival, when it arrives. Imprompt shows, coincidental fan meetings as both Sunday and Robin work for the festival eventually leads you and Sunday to meet. It's almost unfortunate for you, things go awry at the last moment. Ticket prices soar the moment you reload the page, the line brutally cuts off right before you for the autograph signing, and the cameras just don't work whenever you want a photo.. it's comical to Sunday, in a way.

Of course, just as it is his responsibility to look after his sister, he talks to you, subtly scrutinizing your body language for any suspicion. It's not uncommon for creeps to appear in Robin's huge audience. He manages to flag you clear, however, when you talk about her in such a lively and innocent manner. It's almost as if you'd been her childhood friend. Something about it is so endearing to Sunday.

Hmm.. since he's taken such a liking to you, why not let him help you out a bit? You may have not been able to scrounge the money for Robin's new concert at the last minute, but don't worry, he can take you backstage, and let you see her performance from a completely different angle. He's family, he can get you to many more places than your fan-title. Soft chuckling as you mention almost losing your ticket because the page decided to glitch at that very moment, you just had to go bankrupt during the payment, and your phone ran out of battery that moment you were in the middle of one of Robin's best performances. It's cute. Spend some more time with him, too, won't you? He's a brother of hers, surely you'd be interested in knowing him, too?

Secret entries to Robin's backstage or VIP rooms turn into imprompt escapades, playfully and softly laughing as he leads you with a firm grasp of your hand somewhere peaceful, a large contrast to Robin's bustling concerts. The night air is cool, serene and quiet, much like Sunday. The night falls and remains in darkness to let the stars shine brighter. And Sunday tells you this over a quiet moment between you two. He never liked the spotlight, bustling crowds, loud noises.. people.

Unfortunately, your meetings came to an abrupt halt. At least.. it was unfortunate for Sunday. Your eyes always lit up at the end of the night, being able to meet Robin and talk about just how amazing her performance was, how happy you are with the opportunity to meet her again, and that you're so glad she remembers you. The spotlight belonged to his sister, and he was more than happy to let her have it.

But.. if it meant your eyes were for hers, it just never settled in him well.

Surely, there was a single admirer for the darkness of the night sky? The vast, velvety black expanse that held stars with the edge of it's fingertips? A single one.

His entire sky craved you.

And.. well, his sister has everything, doesn't she? She's quite generous too, like you said. Perhaps she'll help him out, just this once?

Suddenly, all your VIP tickets seemed to no longer matter. Shifted to waiting rooms where Sunday just so happened to be, backstages were empty and almost desolate, Sunday being the only "staff member" there, guiding you with his familiar firm grip on your hand, always back to that place where he shared that quiet moment with you.

The moments only got quieter and longer,however.

Sunday took notice of it, far before you did. Awkward, polite laughing trailing off into poorly hidden disappointment, the stuttering of your tongue as you try not to mention Robin again, the polite smile on his face telling you it's okay to start over, but never stop trying. The constant, slow push towards him instead of your favorite singer, seemed to only cause a repulsion between you two. He was extremely bitter about it.

Of course, he wouldn't dare take it out on sweet Robin. She's just an amazing singer, he doesn't dare blame her – she's admirable in many ways. But Robin doesn't miss the undertone bitterness that carries the flow of your name on his tongue.

Eventually – Robin stops meeting you. She stops looking at you in the crowds. She refuses autographs, fancalls, etc..

It does break your heart. A little.

Why don't you go to Sunday? He's family after all. He can help you reach closer. The walk to where she is, is not that long. Accompany him for a while, will you? Let him keep the firm grip of his hand in yours. He'll fix everything.

And when your excited face morphs into disappointment once again, as both of you fail to find her after her concert is just perfect. Let him comfort you, hm? He's very understanding.. and quiet. He listens to you so well. Perhaps.. being with Sunday isn't as bad as you thought? Maybe.. instead of searching for Robin over and over, you'd like to spend time with him instead. No one can comfort you better than Family, right?

[suns-diary]

dealing with family issues whilst vying for tickets. this is the biblically accurate life of an oasis fan

[shadowfalllen]

Masterlist of my writing

Hi there! I'm Moonwytch on AO3, and I also write under the pseudonym Shadowfallen. I've been obsessed with BG3 ever since it came out, and I still play it often. I fell in love with Shadowheart and her character arc in ways I've never experienced before, and I've written about her more than anyone or anything else. At the moment, all of my writing revolves around her. I mostly write smut/romance with f/f pairings, and sometimes, I explore more plot-heavy themes.

Here is a list of all of my works, with a short description of what they're about:

~Selûnite Shadowheart fics~

Atop Piles of Gold

Your peaceful life in a countryside cottage gets spiced up one night when Shadowheart decides to introduce a little roleplay into your sex life.

Under the Old Apple Tree

It's springtime, and Tav and Shadowheart have been toiling away in the garden, but now it's time to take a break under the old apple tree. Things heat up fast.

Great Library Escapade

Sorcerer Tav can't keep their (mage) hands off Shadowheart as they visit the House of the Moon in Waterdeep.

Seed of Light

You and Shadowheart have been trying to have a baby in the cottage; this time, you have Selûne's blessings on your side. Take me like you hate me

Selûnite Tav indulges in the spider meat, becoming mega horny and distracting Shadowheart who takes matters into her own hands before Tav ruins her mission in the Gauntlet of Shar.

~Dark Justiciar Shadowheart fics~

Catch Me If You Can (multichapter)

Tav and Dark Justiciar Shadowheart's favorite pastime is playing dangerous games of cat and mouse.

In Her Dark Embrace

As the moonless night arrives, you and the rest of the Sharrans, led by Mother Superior Shadowheart, ready yourselves for a Nightfall ritual and the act of wickedness it requires.

To Defy The Gods - [90k+ words] on going

Mother Superior Shadowheart has emptied herself of falsehoods and embraced the inevitability of loss. Almost. She can’t let go of Tav, clinging to the last flicker of light within her. But everything is fleeting in the life of a Sharran, and Shar's embrace grows ever tighter. How could she ever even dream of defying Lady Shar? And if she did, how could there be anything after?

If there’s one fic of mine I would recommend above everything else, it would be this epic redemption arc of Dark Justiciar Shadowheart. Click here to see what extra I've shared about it on tumblr.

~Alternative Universe fics~

The Goddess of Silver and Shadow [Goddess AU]

The newborn goddess Shadowheart descends upon Baldur's Gate and takes it over. You are chosen as her entertainment for the evening. Where the Heart Stays [Ranch AU, oneshot, 18k + words]

After moving back to her home town, Eliza is encouraged by her adoptive mother, Jaheira, to try something new, so she signs up for riding lessons at Hallowleaf Ranch. There, she gets reunited with her childhood friend, Jenevelle "Jen" Hallowleaf, and soon, something more than friendship begins to blossom between them. Wild Brew [Before the Last Brew side story, coffee shop AU]

Clara spends her days working on her novel at her favorite coffeehouse and pining after a certain dark-haired barista. One afternoon, her pining turns into thirsting, and she starts writing a smutty story about a Wild West-era sheriff and a certain outlaw called Shadowheart… I mean Shadowscar, totally not Shadowheart. Locked & Loaded [modern AU]

Tav's reckless driving earns her a stop from Officer Shadowheart. But instead of just a ticket, she gets a very thorough… inspection. Where Her Lips Linger {modern/ranch/coffee shop au]

Ten kisses. Ten moments. All feature Shadowheart and one of my original characters — drawn from across my other fics, but you don’t need to read those to enjoy these hot, heartfelt scenarios. Characters featured in this collection are from my stories: To Defy The Gods, Before The Last Brew & Where The Heart Stays. Alternatively you can read the original versions here on tumblr. Before The Last Brew - [coffee shop AU, 37k+ words] on going

A mysterious new barista named Shadowheart arrives in town, turning the mundane everyday life of aspiring author Clara Whitfield upside down. (Modern Coffee Shop AU). No Good Deed - [Outlaw/Wild West AU, 22k+ words] on going

A Wild West AU with a unique world of The Broken Frontier I created for the story. Features Outlaw Shadowheart who's coming to a deadly confrontation with her gang and the choices she makes alters her whole future and lead her to meet up with the fiercely independent rancher Eliza.

Artwork of Shadowheart from To Defy The Gods by @cylinderarts

[flarunie]

Transformer One Time Travel Au

(But its not the one doing the time traveling is not Optimus or Megatron)

Darkwing :

My headcanon is that Darkwing was one of the bots that online after the fall of Prime which automatically subjected him to Sentinel propaganda. It explains somewhat his behavior toward the coggles. So bro would be neutral after the war broke out, because of how much he hated those miners especially those two. Like why are the ones who work under him all become someone important ie Prime and leader of the Decepticon etc

And how did he and up in the past? Idk maybe Primus hates him or something.

But he ain’t gonna complain about getting a second chance since he could live to the fullest if utilizes his knowledge from the future like buying a lottery ticket with the winning number

Meanwhile, from other points of view, their short-tempered superior/colleague suddenly became a lot chiller after getting hit in the head It was Orion's fault but Darkwing didn’t start shouting or even express anger just ignored the red and blue bot.

It was even weirder when Darkwing suddenly became so lucky that he gained an insane amount of cash from the jackpots. So there is a rumor about getting blessed if getting hit in the head by Pax some idiot even tests that theory out which results in more mech ending up in medical care. And he also quit his job cuz he wants to slack off and not give a flying frag about the future.

But wait I’m not done yet.

Don’t forget that Primus still hates him

Although Darkwing is no longer an overseer, the miners will always be there to haunt him, for example when he goes for a walk, Orion falls on his head or Pax just broke into his apartment during one of his escapades. Even if he could just pretend everything was fine Primus kept throwing that no-cog into him.

So eventually Darkwing gives up on fighting fate and starts helping the miner because if Orion became a Prime, he wouldn't have to spend money fixing his face plate and the roof of his apartment.

This led Darkwing to try and fix those two goddam miner relationships since Orion Pax and D-16 always came in pairs.

Plus if a few love advice are gonna save Cybertron then why not? And seeing those cogless who are practically attached by the hip but also being oblivious hurt his optics.

In the past Darkwing wouldn't do anything and leave those two the way they were since the no-dating policy existed for a reason. But he has quit his job so…

Oh wait didn't that anoying miner find the Matrix at Cybertron Core how could he forget that? So Darkwing just yeeting Orion down the hole and let Primus take care of the rest.

I was smoking weed at 3AM when I wrote this

————

Other charecters:

Bumblebee

Elita-1

Starscream

Airachnid

[all-encompassing-hero]

The League of Villians spending several days trying to come up with a plan to sneak into some heavily gaurded facility to steal something for All for One and they just can't figure out a good plan so they decide to take a break by going to see some new movie that a bunch of them really want to see that's currently only in theaters but they realize they only have enough money for one ticket so they come up with a plan to have Mr. Compress buy a ticket and then sneak the rest of them in in his marbles and not once during this entire escapade does it occur to any of them that this plan could be used for anything besides going to see that movie.

[influenzalake]

'Hold on, I got this' - Chronically Ill Reader x Damian and Jon

Summary: reader is no stranger to sickness, they are chronically Ill and a little on the fragile side. There is an emergency across town in Metropolis, but Jonathan and Damian are stuck in school. They need a distraction before the school goes into lockdown, this time reader comes to the rescue

Y/N knows about the boys' heroism and the boys' know about Y/N medical history

TW: illnesses, syncope / fainting, mentions of food and eating schedules

gender neutral reader

- - - 

Metropolis is under attack, yet again. 

West-Reeve School is going into lockdown, yet again. 

At West-Reeve, safety is a top priority and each threat is given the same amount of response and attention as the next. Security is deployed, faculty are delegated, and students are confined. *ahem*  Directed toward the safety-bunkers for their protection. 

For their residents Robin and Superboy, all this organization and control is a problem. Their school takes names AND witnesses. Their alarms are buzzing in their pockets and brains about how many civilians are in the red zone, how little time left there is, and how they are not responding. They need OUT. 

Jon and Damian meet up for roll call and are visibly worked up. This is nothing strange considering the circumstances, but their anxieties are for completely different reasons than their peers.

"What are we going to DO? I can hear all the screaming!", Jon says. 

"I'm not sure yet, I am devising a plan to escape through the school vents and make an excuse we went with the wrong class group.", Damian answers. 

"I thought we did that last time! Our escapades are starting to add up, we need something fast."

Y/N finds them in their group as every student from each grade level is corralled in the gym before being separated one by one for roll call. After roll call, they go under. If they can't get out before then, more lives are at stake. 

"Hey guys- ohh...   Is it that bad?", Y/N quickly notices their expressions.

"YES it is that bad. We need to get out of this damn school. I'll give it 2 more minutes before I conclude we must fake our deaths."

"Damian, do we have to go that far? I have a baseball game this Friday! I can't miss that!!"

"Wait, you two need an escape plan? For superhero business?", Y/N questions.

"Yes Y/N, yes we do. Such excellent detective work.", Damian states dryly while rolling his eyes. 

Y/N takes a few seconds, then looks at their watch. Heart Rate is in the 60s, but they haven't checked or reported their blood pressure in a while... when was the last time they had a snack? 

Y/N makes their decision before Jon or Damian.

They get their attention and go,

"Hold up, I got this."

Y/N begins hyperventilating, taking huge breaths with no time in between then starts going faster and faster. They start turning red in the face and a familiar kind of tingling starts at the end of their fingertips. Their vision becomes clouded with dark and light spots and right before they lose sight, they hold their breath with everything they can and hinge forward. 

Damian understands the assignment and immediately goes into character. Jon follows suit and starts screaming at the top of his lungs to make way. They both start holding up Y/N by the shoulders dragging them across the gymnasium floor. They make a beeline to the Nurse's Office, silently thanking Y/N for their ticket out. They make the excuse that all the chaos and stress got to Y/N before they passed out. They tell the nurse they will stay with Y/N for support and the school nurse reports their attendance to the administrators.  

~

Hours later, Y/N is still at the school nurse's office, waiting to be signed out for the day. This time though, Y/N doesn't hold their breath. It takes forever for students to get home post-lockdown due to the strict sign in-sign out policy. There is a line wrapping around the building of parents and guardians waiting to be scanned and checked to take their child home.  

They're watching a news report on channel 3 about how Intergang was taken down by the heroic efforts of the Justice League. As the footage rolls, Y/N sees Robin and Superboy in the frame and smiles softly. 

At knock at the door snaps them out of focus,

"Y/N, your mom is here!"

"Thank you Miss Robinson!"

Y/N puts down their fruit cup and disconnects the monitors. They carefully stand up and starts cleaning their area before their phone lights up.

"Thank you, Y/N. Wishing you the best recovery." 

"Thanks for the distraction Y/N! Hope you're doing okay :)"

Two texts from two friends. 

"No problem"

And Y/N goes home.

- - - 

* inspired by my many Stood Up Too Fast and Almost Met Jesus moments 

* do not try this at home

*do not try this at home, please- do NOT try this at home

- - -

@jejji45

[olderthannetfic]

i'd actually never heard of escapade until you mentioned it recently, and now i'm leafing through the website and watching a panel from 2016 on the official youtube & just beaming. that looks like such a wonderful place to be & i think it rules that you staff there. rly unfortunate to be on the opposite coast but im absolutely thrilled there's a virtual convention & will for sure be buying a ticket this week !!!

--

:D

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

hello i am here with questions…. rubs my grubby little hands

i’ll start off easy :3

1. assign one song to each of your faves !

2. any fun selfship facts to share? 🎤

ALRIGHT NINI LISTEN UP!! you done fucked up by asking me anything music related because you just earned yourself a one-way ticket to yap city and i fear i cannot let you leave SO- let’s get to work, shall we? we’re gonna be here a while.

i will certainly try and pick just one song but the music encyclopedia in my brain is pretty broad so we might stretch the rules a little bit in the sense that i might give you a couple!

okay so first up, let’s start with our lovely ladies in kn8 who seem to be taking up the most real estate in my brain.

SO let’s talk about my current main f/o who, in my brain of lore, was essentially a situationship turned into whatever tf this is, Rin Shinonome. girlypop was NOT wanting to commit at first but i am indeed powerful enough to escape the cages of a homoerotic situationship (i can’t tell you how though because i can’t let you in on my secrets.) i’m going to give her two songs because the current one quite literally JUST came out and i want to be fair, so i’m going to assign Emergence by Sleep Token to her first because in terms of figuring out what kind of music i think my faves would listen to, not only do i think she would be a metalhead, she would also be a supreme stan of Sleep Token. she will also tell you and make sure you never forget that she started listening to them before they blew up as well.

second song i’m going to assign her though which i think i’ve chosen as our official song and just the supreme song you’d want your f/os to dedicate to you is All That I Can Give by The Plot in You. i could go into an entire lyrical analysis of this song but i have already yapped so excessively so i will let myself move on and we can do that a different day if you’re interested.

now for MY OTHER WIFE, who was kind of the epitome of a uhaul lesbian because WE WENT FAST. Mina Ashiro wasted ZERO time whatsoever. i’m talking INSTA insta love. and because i seem to dedicate this song to every intense romance i write i’m going to assign Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift. do i need to explain?? honestly i don’t even think i do. in fact i could probably sign most of the reputation album to mina because it is just the epitome of being SO INTENSELY DOWN BAD. once again, i could also go on an entire lyrical analysis but in order to keep me from falling down a hole- i won’t do that.

NOW let’s switch universes for a bit- i haven’t fleshed out any lore for these f/os yet so i’m going to try and keep this short n sweet like sabrina carpenter.

diving into the arcane universe we of course have me and every other bitch down bad for Vi because have YOU SEEN HER?? THE MUSCLES?? THE TATTOOS?? the way she [REDACTED] her girl in a prison cell WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT. oh LOOOOOORD i must be ovulating. but anyways, because you didn’t ask for my horny escapades i’m going to flip on over to our other fave horny metal band and i’m going to assign Concrete Jungle by Bad Omens to my favorite butch lesbian muscle mommy and the whole reason my account took such a flip flop. i feel like i relate to this song to her a lot as well whenever i think about her character in arcane in terms of her transition from zaun to piltover.

now next up, also in the arcane universe we have the other half of the sandwich i have forced my way into, Caitlyn Kiramman. i frankly get all sorts of violent in my brain whenever i see her portrayed as the little femme princess- not because that’s a bad thing to be- BUT BECAUSE I AM HER FEMME PRINCESS. she is MY prince charming. MY knight in shining armor. my 6’1 super hero who i’m frankly going to cling to like a damn koala any chance i can get. now this one was hard, i’ll admit, because i had no idea where i wanted to go with this one but for some reason the first song my brain landed on was Ankles by Lucy Dacus. in a way Caitlyn also reminds me a lot of Mina, so maybe my brain went to authority like, YES dom me please- but also snuggle me and hold me and be domestic with me afterwards.

i think i’m going to cut it there in terms of faves even though i could probably keep going BUT- holy fuck this is already way too long and i sincerely apologize 😭

now in terms of question two i do feel i’ve given you a ton of selfship facts and lore but because i am still shy about talking about my f/os i’m going to smash some more specific things at the bottom:

SO- rin and i actually met at a show (think 2022 i prevail’s tour with pierce the veil- i’m choosing that one because that’s whenever i feel like my life REALLY had a transition after that and it was probably one of the most special shows i have ever gone to- i could also go on and on about that show but LATER- AND NOT ON MAIN). i ended up getting sucked into the edges of a mosh pit and almost fell and probably would’ve gotten trampled because that pit was nuts but she ended up catching me and scooping me off to the side essentially so i could get out of the danger zone.

she was INSANELY suave and charismatic though and ending up saying something like, ‘well i can’t have you getting hurt at another show so why don’t i come with you to your next concert??’ from then on we became concert buddies essentially and she absolutely kept her promise because the second anyone started getting too rough and too close her death stare was enough to get them to back off. she was also really good at sneaking her way up to the front in which she, of course, brought me with her 💁‍♀️

anyways- damn- i wrote you a book. i’m sorry but also not at the same time. however if you did manage to get all the way through this: 🖤 you baddie and you deserve the best life with kashima!