#when he thinks ash (the man who is not there) made the research and not jo (the woman who is presenting it to him)

[jasmineshaven]

brando by lucy dacus being my jo harvelle and dean winchester song but in the fucked up one-sided pining way and not the relationship way

[farfromharry]

Summary: Lando finally wins a race and learns all he needed was a good luck charm

Lando Norris x Reader

w/c 933

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It had been a long and tiring journey for Lando in regards to getting his first race win. 5 years in Formula 1, almost 700 points and 15 podiums and he thought it was never going to happen— at least not if Max Verstappen had anything to say about. And then came along you.

At first you were nothing more than a friend of a friend, someone who had suddenly started appearing at group hang outs, who maybe caught his eye once or twice, purely for the fact you were an unfamiliar face. Suddenly you were everything.

It was a party for someone’s birthday when you spoke for the first time. He had come to the bar for another drink, only to be completely ignored by the bartender in favour of some pretty girls down the other end of the bar. You appeared a few moments later, grinning at the racing driver’s clear annoyance. You tapped his shoulder gently to grab his attention, “Watch this.”

All you’d said was excuse me, which he had already tried, and the man came running. You ordered your own drink and urged Lando to do the same. From that point on he was in complete awe of you. It was such a simple action and yet he thought you were completely fascinating. He had found himself so speechless that he didn’t even say anything to stop you from walking away afterwards. Only then did he realise he’d gotten a free drink too.

It felt like the next few weeks of his life were consumed by thoughts of you, until he finally bucked up the courage to start asking around. It all felt pointless until he saw you again at a party he’d thrown in the hopes you would show up. And you did. It seemed his plan was off to a good start.

He tried not to make it obvious that he was looking at you, or for you. He didn’t want to creep you out. In the end it was you that approached him, which took a lot of the fear out of the situation. No longer did he have to find the courage to go up to you— which he was really struggling with.

“I heard you’ve been asking about me?”

His cheeks burned pink. “I, um… yeah, I—“

You laughed. The sound was music to his ears. “It’s okay. I’m honoured, really. A world famous racing driver is interested in me?”

His eyebrows raised. “You know who I am?” The first time you’d properly met you made no indication of such, so he’d just assumed you didn’t know.

“I might have done my own research,” you shrugged. Not a single part of you seemed embarrassed about it though, not like he had. You were owning up to it, you were outwardly telling him he interested you.

And he knew in that very moment, he was completely hooked.

The first race you attended, not only of the year but ever, was the Miami Grand Prix. Lando insisted it was a good atmosphere, unlike a select few that weren’t always the greatest. It was also warm and there were places he could take you after that he thought you would like. You had no hesitations. All you wanted was to see your boyfriend succeed. You didn’t know all that much about the world of motorsport, but you knew Lando hadn’t won before and seeing it in person would surely be something special.

But he had his doubts. He had qualified 2nd, beside Max, for what felt like the thousandth time. He knew exactly how this would play out. But you didn’t feel like letting him get in his head.

“You’re going to win. You’re such a good driver, Lando. Believe in yourself.” He wished he could have taken your words seriously, but he didn’t have it in him to do so. He had already spent 2 years doing his very best just to get stuck behind the world champ anyway. His hope was burning out the more it happened, it was almost ashes at this point. But even if his hope did disappear, you were there to believe in him on his behalf. It was refreshing to have someone think he could win for once.

“I’ll try.”

You frowned. “If you won’t try for you, try for me?”

Apparently that was all the motivation he didn’t realise he needed. He was going to go out there and win it for you. He couldn’t let the first ever race you attended be one that was forgettable.

And when he crossed the line in P1? Everybody went wild.

While waiting for him to get out of the car, you were almost lost in the sea of papaya surrounding the barriers, but there was no way he would let that happen. He threw himself at his team first and as soon as he pulled off his helmet he was throwing his arms around you.

“You did it! You’re a race winner!” you cheered.

“I’m a race winner!” It felt so good to say. He couldn’t stop grinning. “You must be my good luck charm. Gonna have to come to all my races now.”

Your expression was a mirror of his. “If this is how you’re going to perform at every one, count me in.”

So it had taken him 5 years and a whole lot of time, effort and emotion to get him to that top step of the podium, when all along he had been waiting for the final piece of the puzzle to make it happen; you.

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[likedovesinthewindd]

Communication Barriers

fezco x fem!reader

summary: you and Fez's relationship after he goes to jail; a collection of calls and letters shared between the two of you.

warning: fez's in jail, reader's a RN, mentions of death, hospitalization, violence, jail stuff (obv)

wc: ± 2770

a/n: had to do a lot of research for this one so forgive me for any inaccuracies. Also ashtray is alive bc i said so ;) and pretend mouse is dead or something idk he doesn't really feature here. don't think too deep about the plot and technicalities of it idk either man💀

gif not mine, all credit to original creator.

Receiving the first letter from you was Fez's moment of realization; not when his sentence was read to him, not when he arrived in the cold cell for the first time, not even when he was woken up at 6AM sharp the next morning and immediately forced into the strict schedule of the institution.

He realized at that moment, staring down at your pretty handwriting on the piece of paper you've cut and folded neatly, that he was in prison, and that it would be a while before he'd be able to see you, or smell you or feel you again. His heart ached as he read line after line on the paper, imagining your sweet voice reading it to him.

The only piece of comfort he received was at the bottom of the letter; it was your number written down neatly, with a messily drawn heart and your name to end the letter off.

Having your number meant that you could be added to his approved telephone list, and that he'd finally be able to call you. You had been lucky enough to already have a landline so that you could receive collect calls, and had started working on registering so that he could call you on your cell aswell.

After Fez was arrested, you moved into his house to take care of his grandmother and of Ashtray, who you almost lost due to custody issues. After a shit ton of paperwork and many visits from social workers, you were approved as Ashtray's legal guardian. The fisrt few weeks after his arrest were easily the worst. Ash ending up in the hospital, having to clean up the aftermath of the raid and having to tell everyone about what happened.

You could so clearly remember the night before the raid too, before everything had taken an ugly turn. The two of you were sitting on the couch, watching an old movie and finally getting a moment of peace after everything that had happened with Mouse. He had held your hand in his and told you that night that he wanted to marry you one day.

Just wait till everything calmed down, then we gon' start plannin' you a big ass wedding.

You had laughed at that moment, telling him that the two of you still had lots of time. Now, sitting on the same couch, the soft glow of the television on your face and a profound feeling of loneliness, you couldn't help but think back at that night, and the promise he had made you. The space next to you on the couch that he usually took up, was empty, and you could feel your whole body yearning for his warmth.

The ring of the telephone woke you from your reverie, making you jump a little in your seat. You checked your wristwatch. 8pm exactly. You shot up in your seat and quickly moved to the wall where the phone hung, swiftly picking up the phone and placing it to your ear.

“Hello, this is a prepaid call from—”

Fez's smooth voice rang through as scratchy audio as he stated his name and surname. You almost wanted to start speaking immediately from excitement, even though you knew it was prerecorded.

“—an inmate at San Francisco County Jail, California. To accept charges, press one. To refuse charges, press two.”

Your hands were shaking as you pressed the button and placed the phone back to your ear, waiting impatiently for his voice to come through.

"Hey ma," he softly drawled through the receiver. "Fez, hi baby," you said softly, your voice audibly quivering. "You alright?" he asked, having heard your trembling voice. "Yes, yeah of course," you said, trying to pull yourself back together, "I should be asking you that. How are you?"

You could hear him sigh on the other side, and it broke your heart. Of course he wasn't alright, you thought, he was in jail. "I'm better now that I get to hear your pretty voice," he said. You couldn't stop the smile that crept onto your face. Leave it to Fez to still be a flirt regardless of what situation he was in.

"I'm so glad I get to hear your voice too, I missed it," you said, twirling the cord of the phone around your finger. He hummed in agreement. "How's Ash," he asked after a short moment of silence. "He's at a friend's, spending the night," you said, "he's alright. Just misses you. I sometimes don't know what to talk to him about, I don't really know what he likes. Sometimes wonder if he even likes me."

"He does, just don't know how to show it y'know," Fez said, "How about everyone else?" You took a breath before talking again. "Everyone's...okay considering the circumstances. Rue's been doing so good. She looks much better, happier." You could hear his hum on the other side. "How bout you?" he asked. "I'm writing in a few days," you said softly. "Oh yeah? You nervous?" he asked. "A little, but I'm more excited to just finish," you replied.

You were working towards finishing your ADN, and hopefully soon after finding a job as a nurse in LA. If you did well on this test, you could be calling yourself a RN soon. You were excited, but realizing you won't have your boyfriend there to celebrate with dampened the mood a lot.

"I know you gon' do great ma, gon' be the sexiest nurse in LA," he said. You could hear the smile in his voice and a matching one stretched across your face. "Shut up," you laughed. "I'm serious. Gonna be causing heart attacks and shit, walking around there with your fine ass in them scrubs." You couldn't help but laugh at his ridiculous claims. "Well, I'm not gonna be a very good nurse if I'm causing heart attacks," you said.

"Nah, you gon be the best nurse, I know that," he replied, "But you're okay, right?" he asked again. For a second you wanted to say no, that you weren't okay at all. That you missed him an ungodly amount and that you were stressing about what the future looked like for the both of you. But you didn't, because you didn't want him stressing about you, because he probably was stressed as hell himself. "I'm alright," you said. "Alright ma, I—"

“You have one minute remaining,”

The operator spoke into your ear. Your heart started aching all over again. For a while you had forgotten that you couldn't just talk forever, that he wasn't there with you.

"I gotta go, ma, but I'll call you back soon okay? Look out for me. And goodluck on that test, know you gon' ace that shit," he said. "Thank you baby, goodnight. Love you," you said, rushing the words before you could get cut off. "Goodnight, pretty. Love you."

The buzz from the telephone indicated that your call was over. You quietly put the receiver back on the wall and made your way to the bedroom. The soft dip of the bed next to you, once filled with Fez's soft, warm body was now vacant and cold. Sometimes it felt like him leaving also left a emptiness in your heart.

You didn't want to dwell on the feeling for too long, forcing yourself to stay as optimistic as possible. For Ashtray, for Fez, but mostly for yourself.

⋆˚⊹

You always looked forward to receiving letters from Fez. The messy handwriting had become like a second language to you. He usually kept his letters quite brief, always preferring to ask you what was going on in your life. They were usually written on whatever piece of paper he could find, and sometimes on a piece of neatly cut paper, feint and margin, and always signed off with a stay safe, love you.

In his most recent letter he had asked you for a few photos of you and Ash, so that he could put them up in his cell. You had gotten three pictures printed for him. The first one was a picture of Ash you had taken of him. It was a candid of him at a baseball game the two of you went to, where he was smiling and cheering.

The second one was a picture of yourself, one Fez had taken himself, and later sent to you, telling you how pretty you looked. It was one of the only candid photos of yourself that you thought looked nice, mostly because he was the one who had took it. The third picture was of you and Ash together. You neatly wrote the dates on the back of each picture and added a small message to the last one.

When Fez got your letter with the pictures, he beamed with happiness, finally being able see your faces, even if it was just on a photo. He flipped each picture around when he noticed the small scribbles on the back. When he read your message for him, he could feel the unshed tears pooling in his eyes.

He pasted each photo on his wall proudly, and slept peacefully that night, maybe the best he's slept since being there, your message replaying in his mind all night:

Don't loose faith. We love you, and we're waiting for you.

⋆˚⊹

When you arrived home for the night, you were more than ready to get into bed and call it a night. The only thing that was preventing that from happening was the bunch people currently standing in your living room.

When you opened the gate and door and went inside, you were bombarded by a handful of confetti being thrown your way and a yell of surprise! The suprise party your friends had thrown you for your birthday was a very pleasant suprise. Your initial reaction was a scared yelp, followed by an attempt to get the bits of confetti out of your face (and mouth).

When you realized what was really going on, your heart swole with joy and gratitude at the sentiment. "Thank you so much," you managed to squeak out. Everyone laughed at your obviously suprised reaction and soon you were bombarded by everyone wanting to give you hugs and wish you a happy birthday.

You managed to make your way to the kitchen, where an array of snacks were displayed on pretty pink paper plates and platters. Everything looked so yummy, but what caught your attention was the cake that was proudly displayed in the middle of the kitchen table. It was homemade, covered in a thick layer of white icing with pink and purple icing decorating the surface in shapes of little flowers. In the middle happy birthday was piped in cursive.

"Hey, Y/N." You turned around to find Rue standing with a small gift bag in her hand and a shy smile. You were so preoccupied trying to talk to everyone that you hadn't even noticed her between crowd. She looked nice, her pretty curls framing her face, wearing her usual get-up of baggy jeans and an even bigger t-shirt, her black Converse along with the maroon zip up she always wore.

"Hi Rue! It's so nice to see you," you smiled before going in to give her a hug. She returned it shyly, before pulling back and smiling at you. You truly were happy to see her, especially now that she looked so much better. "I, uh— I got you this. Happy birthday," she said handing you the small baggie.

"You didn't have to," you pouted, but taking the bag from her anyway, and placing it to your chest in appreciation. You always cherished every gift given you, no matter how small or big, and you already knew you'd love whatever she'd gotten you.

"I wanted to, it's not much anyway," she shrugged. "Thank you so much, I'll open it later tonight," you said. "Did you plan all this?" you asked, gesturing to the decorations that hung messily around the room and the people moving around. "No," she shook her head, "Ash did." That came to you as a major shock. "Ash?" you asked dumbfounded. As if on cue, Ash made his way towards the kitchen to the table of snacks.

"D'you plan all this?" you asked him quietly. He only nodded, peering towards the table once more. You wrapped your arms around him and placed a big kiss on his buzzed head. "Thanks, big guy. I really appreciate that," you said, tightening your grip on him and swinging you and him back and forth.

"Alright alright shit, lemme go," he said trying to sound irritated, but the small smile on his face betrayed him. You let him go and smiled down on him. "You're welcome," he said softly, "but you better eat that cake, I baked that shit myself."

"Actually, I helped," Rue chirped in. You smiled at the two, before you were getting called over by one of your friends. You thanked the both of them again before making your way over to your friend.

After a little while you made your way over to the couch, paper plate with a big slice of cake in your grasp. You've been on your feet all day, so you were dying to sit down a little. Rue was also sitting on the couch, by now probably ready to go home.

When you joined her, she gave you a small smile before turning her body a bit towards you. "Has Fez called you today?" she asked. You shook your head, swallowing down the last bit of cake you were eating. "No, I don't believe he will. He already called me yesterday." Not having Fez here for your birthday really bummed you out, you weren't even planning on celebrating this year. You knew it just wouldn't be the same without him, but the party had lifted your spirit a bit.

After everyone (finally) left, you found yourself in your comfiest pajamas, laying on the couch and watching TV. You hadn't even had the energy to clean up the decorations, and you found yourself laying in a living room full of pink confetti and streamers.

You were on the verge of falling asleep when the loud ring of the phone caused you to shoot up on the couch. You were so excited when answering that you hadn't even given him time to greet first.

"Hi Fez," you said. He could hear the cheerfulness in your voice, practically beaming through the phone, and it made him happy knowing that you were happy, even though he couldn't be there with you. "Hey ma, happy birthday," he smiled. "Thank you so much," you said contently. "How was your day?" he asked softly.

"It was fine," you said, "I got a suprise party. Ash planned it, can you believe it?!" You heard his light laugh on the other line. "Oh yeah? Told you he liked you." In reality Fez knew about the party his brother had been planning. He told him about it the previous week when Fez had called, but he wasn't going to tell you that.

He knew Ash actually liked you, because he told him, way before he was arrested. Sure it took him a while to get used to you once the two of you started dating, but he quickly grew fond of you the more time you spent together.

"I guess you were right," you said smiling. He hummed in agreement. "Y'know I would've spoiled you rotten if I was there, right?" he said softly. "Of course I know," you replied, "You always treat me right."

"That's right, and when I get outta here we plannin' that wedding, baby. Don't think I forgot," he smiled. "I'll be waiting," you said softly. The two of you talked a little more, and you called Ash to get a chance to talk to him aswell. You said your goodbyes before you made your way to the bedroom. That night as you laid your head on the pillow, your mind buzzed with ideas and fantasties of what your wedding might look like one day.

⋆˚⊹ part two

[tightjeansjavi]

Slow Hands | Chapter 3 “trust me to trust you”

A/N: I sat on this story for awhile as I’m already figuring out how I want to develop the plot. I can tell this is going to turn into another passion project for me as I love the idea of post!outbreak domestic Joel and finding love in his late age. This chapter you get a little glimpse into what outbreak day was like for Beanie. Please remember that the nature of this fic will have dark themes. I will mark the warnings appropriately, but please read with caution. 🖤

~word count: 5.2k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! Reader

Summary: early winter mornings, fear of the past, a felt fawn, and Maria’s egg casserole.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence from outbreak day, mentions of loss, carnage, brink of death, depictions of a knife wound, PTSD, panic attacks, trigger responses, mentions of a firearm, I am no expert on the subject but I have done some research as I know it’s a delicate topic, angst, Joel is struggling to adjust to living a domestic life, anxiety, feeling like an outcast, grumpy old man! Joel, shy! Joel, kinda mean! Joel, sunshine reader, flirting, fluff, awkward situations, reminiscing on the past, reader has no physical descriptions and is from Texas, reader has a nickname (beanie bc y’know coffee beans) no age gap, vulgar language, slow burn, this is a fic that takes place post-outbreak so please keep in mind that there will be dark/triggering themes, but to also remember that it is not the main plot line for the story. Please read with caution. (+18) minors dni!

main masterlist series masterlist playlist

It had been over 20 years since outbreak day, when your world and life as you once knew it, turned to flames and ash before the frightened whites of your eyes. Your coffee shop, Cuppa Smiles, was your little slice of heaven. You had put so much love, dedication, and passion into your establishment. Your coworkers were friends from college that were just looking for a change of pace from their 9-5’s just like the next person.

They all tried to kill you, whatever they were now. It had happened all so fast, and even now on the quietest of nights, you could still hear their snarls and animalistic growls. You could still remember the frightened screams, the chaos and destruction as a Boeing 747 collided into the earth and burst into flames, debris falling from the explosion, hitting those who were fleeing, and those who were no longer living. You remember tumbling along the concrete, rolling like a sack of potatoes as you struggled to breathe. To your direct left was a truck flipped over on its side.

Through the harsh ringing in your ears, you could make out two male voices on the other side of the truck. The one man was holding a young girl to his chest who couldn’t be more than 12-13 years old.

“I’m sorry, baby, I know, I know.” The man’s tone was urgent, rushed and laced with fear as he held his daughter close.

“We gotta get off the street!” The other man shouted desperately.

“Tommy!”

“Head to the river! I’ll find a way. Get her outta here, Joel! Go!”

Joel.

Joel.

Joel..Miller?

The last time you saw Joel Miller, all you could remember was the fear in his eyes, before everything around you went black.

When Tommy and Maria Miller discovered you on the outskirts of Jackson, looking like you were all skin and bones as you slipped off your horse's saddle and into the cool dirt. Your body was exhausted, your resources were spent and now you just hoped that you would die peacefully. That was until a strong pair of arms were gently lifting you from the dirt as your body laid like a limp fish.

“D’ya think she’s still breathin?’” Tommy asked his wife as she was quickly checking your pulse.

“Barely. She must have been riding for days out in this heat.”

“She showin’ any signs of bein’ infected?” Tommy knew the protocol of bringing in stragglers from outside Jackson, and if you were found to be infected..

Maria made quick work to check your body for any signs of a bite mark. She took sudden interest in a large bloodstain through the tattered fabric of your shirt. She gently lifted the fabric from the hem to discover a gruesome sight. What appeared to be done by the work of a sharp blade was a long semi deep, gnarly gash carving from your abdomen, up your torso, curving under your left breast and wrapped around your ribcage to your left shoulder blade.

“Fuckin’ hell. Someone tried to carve her up?” Tommy asked in disbelief as his wife gently pulled the hem of your shirt back down.

“Raiders, no doubt. She’s not infected. I can’t find any bite marks, but one thing’s for certain though, this woman has been through some hell.”

It was well over an hour till sunrise when Joel Miller lumbered out of his home, shovel in hand and bundled up fiercely in multiple thick layers to protect his skin from the harsh biting cold. His plan was simple, head over to your house down the street, shovel your walkway, and ask you to accompany him to breakfast. It really was quite simple, but despite that he was running a script over in his mind on exactly what he wanted to say to you.

Hey Beanie, was wonderin’ if you’d like to accompany me to breakfast?

Wait..what if she declines? Then what are you gonna say?

Uhh..

Oh, well that’s alright! Maybe another time? No pressure or nothin.’

What if..she thinks it’s strange that you’re shoveling her walkway at the crack ass of dawn?

Jus’ doin’ my neighborly duty. Besides, it’s jus’ a friendly favor, y’know cause we’re friends?

I sound like an idiot.

Maybe I should just..start off with saying good morning?

I’m hopeless.

Joel grumbled to himself as he trudged through the snow. The whipping wind bit at his exposed skin but he welcomed the chill without a complaint. The harsh elements were just another reminder that he was still alive and breathing.

The outside of your home was just as he expected it to be, quaint, yet quirky. He imagined that in the summer months your front porch would be scattered with flowers and plants. The mailbox just outside your gate was crooked and could definitely use a fresh coat of paint, and the wooden gate was a little creaky, but nothing he couldn’t easily fix. He was already making a little mental note of everything he wanted to fix on, and around your home.

The snow was a few inches deep, it stopped just below the top of his boots. His back already screamed a dull pain up his spine as he bent down with the shovel and got to work. The pain he felt in his muscles was just another reminder that he was still alive.

He gritted his teeth together, jaw clenched as he worked through the first section of your covered walkway.

You never considered yourself to be a heavy sleeper even before the apocalypse. A door slamming, or pots clinking in the kitchen sink at your long since abandoned apartment was all it took to stir you from your slumber. Now, even in the safety of Jackson, your brain was always ticking. What could be lurking behind that dark shadow across the street? Realistically, nothing. It’s just your brain playing a dirty trick on you. A branch outside your window snaps, it’s just the wind. It’s just the wind because it’s storming out, and a strong wind can break even the sturdiest of branches. That noise you heard in the dead of the night? It was just an animal. Maybe a raccoon or a screech from a barn owl. It wasn’t a clicker. You were safe, so why couldn’t your brain just..turn off? Why was it still stuck in this survival mode when nothing inside Jackson’s strong walls could hurt you.

This sound in particular was different. It was unfamiliar, and unfamiliar meant danger. Scraping, grunts, more scraping; man. The hairs on the back of your neck were standing up as you shot out of bed like a bat out of hell. You kept your shotgun next to your bed because well..you could never be too careful. You never had a reason to use it, but it brought you some form of comfort that you didn’t realize you so desperately needed until Tommy experienced your triggers firsthand when he had accidentally snuck up on you while your back was turned to him behind the counter of your shop. The last time he had seen fear struck that deep inside one person, was the night Sarah died in Joel’s arms. So, Tommy lended you a shotgun as an apology.

He’s out there. He’s trying to get me. I have to run. I have to hide. He’s found me and he—he’s going to take me away.

Your brain was screaming at you as you crept down the steps. Every step you took you feared would be your last. It had been sometime since you experienced an episode as severe as this one. Other times you were able to talk yourself back down to logic. Sometimes you’d resort to unbridled violence, usually on a sack of sugar. This time, you felt as if you had no control over your body's current state. It was as if you were reliving—

Joel had his bad ear facing towards your front door. Between the pain in his back, and the scraping of the metal shovel along the concrete, he wasn’t able to detect the front door creaking open.

His back was facing you as you shakily pointed the barrel of your gun at what you thought was an intruder. Due to the low light from the sun barely peeking over the mountains, all you saw was a darkened figure bent over in the middle of your walkway. Had it been brighter out, perhaps you would have recognized the lone figure to be Joel.

Your ears were ringing loudly as the inner voice inside of your brain was demanding you to shoot. Shoot him and then run, and never look back. Your breath grew shallow as the figure slowly turned around to start on the next snow patch..and then immediately froze.

Joel dropped the shovel with a heavy clank as he slowly raised his hands above his head to show you that he was no immediate threat to your safety. “Beanie? Hey, it’s alright darlin’ it’s just me.”

He’s lying

Your entire body was trembling at the top of the steps as Joel hesitantly took a few steps forward. “Darlin?’” I’m gonna need you to lower the gun now, okay? You’re safe. It’s just me. Nothin’ out here is goin’ to hurt you.” He spoke softly, yet firmly. He kept his hands where you could see them in direct view. He was close enough now that even in the low light, he could see the frightened whites of your eyes as you stood there, unblinking.

“I’m goin’ to take another step towards you, okay? Please don’t shoot me.”

Don’t trust him. He’s one of them. He’s here to hurt you. He’s playing a trick on you.

“Joel?” You stuttered shakily as you finally found your voice.

His heart sunk deep into the pit of his stomach when he picked up on just how terrified you were. He knew it wasn’t directly because of him. Something had happened to you, he knew the look on your face all too well, and it was a good thing he knew how to act calm in a dire situation such as this one.

“Yes, it’s Joel. It’s just me darlin.’” He responded as he took another step towards the foot of the steps leading up to your front porch.

“D—don’t come any closer, please.” You uttered just barely above a whisper as you kept the barrel of your gun trained on him.

“Okay. I won’t come any closer, but I need you to trust me to trust you. Do you understand what I’m saying to you Beanie?” He was careful with his choice of words. Anything too sudden might end up with him potentially getting a bullet to the arm or thigh. Not the chest, please. He silently thought to himself.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I trust you to not shoot me, so I need you to trust me to approach you. Okay? We can do this in baby steps. I just really need you to lower the gun, okay?” His eyes locked on yours as he gave you a reassuring nod.

You blinked a few times as your hands shakily lowered the barrel of the shotgun to the floorboards. Something in you suddenly clicked as the realization of what you had just done, more-so almost done, hit you like a freight train and suddenly you were crumbling right before his eyes.

He let out a visible sigh of relief when your gun was no longer aimed at him, but as soon as your body crumbled to the ground, he jumped into action. His gloved hands were gently wrapped around your shoulders as he spoke softly, yet urgently to you. “Beanie? Hey, you’re alright. You’re alright. I’m right here. You’re safe. You’re safe.” He felt like in those crucial moments it was necessary that he repeat himself just in case you didn’t hear him the first time.

Your eyes were frantically searching his own, pupils dilating under the low light that the early winter morning sky had to offer. He was holding your shoulders so delicately, as if you were fine bone china that would shatter just upon glancing at it. He could feel your muscles trembling under his loose grip. He could feel a hint of anger bubbling in the deep pit of his stomach. The same anger he experienced when he found Ellie— “d’ya..wanna take some deep breaths with me maybe? Or we could count? Sometimes I try’n pick a spot on the wall or somethin’ or count the steps it takes me to get from point A to point B. S’not the best method, but it helps bring me back down to earth.” His tone was so soft, sincere and genuine. If you weren’t such an emotional fucked up wreck, your heart would be melting into a puddle by now.

“Joel..I’m so sorry I-I—didn’t know it was you. I thought you—I thought..” You struggled to articulate a cohesive sentence as his espresso brown eyes bore into yours. He gave you a reassuring nod, and a gentle squeeze along your shoulders.

“Hey, it’s alright. I know you weren’t g’nna shoot me. You were just frightened. Your mind was probably playin’ some trick on you.” He murmured as his thumb was gently stroking back and forth across the fabric of your pajamas on your shoulders. “Y’sure you don’t wanna count?”

“Does..it actually help?” You whispered timidly.

“Sometimes..all depends on what it is that’s triggerin’ me.” He softly responded

“Can you start..please?”

“Course I can darlin.’ We’ll start at Ten.”

“Nine.”

“Eight.”

“Seven..”

“Six.”

“Five..”

“Four.”

“Three..”

“Two.”

“One.” You murmured in unison.

“Y’feel alright with me helpin’ you up? We can stay down here. S’alright with me.” His arms were fully enclosed around you now. He smelled better than you expected. Of course it helped that Jackson had an abundance of hygiene products available; soap being at the top of the list. He smelled earthy, rugged with a hint of minty freshness..toothpaste maybe.

“I really wasn’t going to shoot you..something just came over me and..I couldn’t stop myself.” You admitted softly.

“Would have been real hard for you to shoot me with the safety on darlin.’” He stifled a chuckle as he could see from the angle he was crouched down at, the safety on your rifle was in fact on. “Who gave you that rifle anyway? Someone outta teach ya to use it..never can be too careful.”

“Tommy gave it to me a few years back.”

“Ah. That does sound like somethin’ my brother would do.” He slowly stood to his feet as he offered you his gloved hand to help you up. “These floorboards are pretty damn wobbly. I can take a look at them when it ain���t so cold out? They probably started warpin’ from the changes in the weather. Might have a few boards that are rotted out.”

“Anything else you wanna fix on my house?” You teasingly asked as you grasped his hand, allowing him to help you up from the current sitting position you were in.

“Honey, I’ve got a whole mental list goin’ on in my head right now. The flood boards could end up bein’ a safety hazard if I don’t check ‘em sooner, rather than later. Your mailbox could use some sprucin’ up. Nothing a bit of paint can’t fix, and your gate is a little crooked. I’d uh—I’d be happy to do it though.” He was rubbing the back of his neck nervously with a sheepish look on his face.

“A whole list, huh? Is that why you were over here at the crack ass of dawn?” There was a ghost of a smile on your lips as you wrapped your arms around your chest to block out the bitter chill.

“Well, I gotta put my carpenter skills to good use somehow, right? Actually..I just woke up this mornin’ and wanted to do somethin’ nice for ya. Y’know after you came over and returned the mug..plus, I couldn’t really sleep all that much. I rarely do these days. Anyway, I’m ramblin’ yet again. The main reason I shoveled your walkway is cus’ I was goin’ to ask you if you’d like to accompany me to breakfast?” His face was flushed, and his cheeks were rosy, but he was certain it wasn’t because of the biting chill.

“You came all this way to shovel my walkway, and find an excuse to ask me out to breakfast?” You couldn’t help the smile that was slowly forming over your lips. It was crazy to think that just five minutes ago you were a complete cluster fuck of an emotional wreck, and now you were smiling like a fool because Joel Miller was proving to you that even in an apocalypse, chivalry was alive and well.

He ignored your question, at first. It wasn’t on purpose, he just was more tuned into your active shivering, and the way you tightened your arms across your chest in a weak attempt to block out the early morning chill.

“Are ya cold?” He asked with a soft rasp. He didn’t allow you the chance to answer as he was already slipping his warm suede jacket off and placing it over your shoulders.

“Thank you..” you whispered in a soft response.

“Of course. I’d feel pretty fuckin’ shitty if I caused ya to catch a cold out here.”

“And I’ll feel the same exact way if you catch one as well. Do you..want to come inside? I can put a fresh pot on?” You were already gesturing to your front door with a soft tilt of your chin in that direction.

“Let me just finish up with your walkway, and then I’d love to join you for a cup of coffee.” He was already heading down the steps to grab his discarded shovel.

“Wait! Joel, your jacket? Don’t you want it back?”

He glanced over his shoulder at you with a tiny grin playing on his lips. “Nah, s’alright darlin.’ The cold ain’t real botherin’ me anyway. Now please, go inside before you actually catch a cold.”

You weren’t one to argue at this early in the morning, and especially when you had yet to indulge in your cup of coffee. You slowly bent down and picked up your rifle and slung the strap over your shoulder before heading back inside. As soon as Joel heard the click of your front door closing, he continued on with shoveling the rest of your walkway.

The coffee grounds were just beginning to steep when he had quietly entered your home. He politely left his boots along the doormat next to yours. He didn’t want to be a rude houseguest and track in any snow. The first thing he noticed about your interior style was that you were anything but a minimalist. You had all sorts of picture frames hanging on the wall. Some were photographs but the others were paintings. Realism, portraits, landscapes, anything your heart desires, you painted it.

He especially took interest in all your knick knacks that were scattered in a clay bowl on the table in the entryway. Old keys, coins, lighters and paper matchboxes. Figurines, tiny porcelain coffee cups. The pads of his fingers brushed over a tiny felt fawn that was sitting atop of all the ‘clutter.’

“Ah. I see you found my bowl of treasures? Well, some people would probably call them junk, but I’ve always been a collector of oddities. Although, I wouldn’t really call them oddities. I think the proper term would be keepsakes?” You had two mugs of steaming coffee in your hands as you approached him. His jacket was still loosely hanging off of your shoulders as he looked over at you.

“Where did you find all of these treasures? Have you been collectin’ them through the years? Ellie’s obsessed with this kinda stuff.” He set the little felt fawn down gently as he reached for the coffee mug. Your fingers gently brushed against one another as he gingerly removed the mug from your hand. “Thank you, by the way. For uh, the coffee.”

“For the most part I have found all of these pieces on my own. Tommy actually found that felt fawn a few months ago. He knew it would bring a smile to my face. Do you want to take it home? I’m sure Ellie would love it. That’s kinda the whole concept of the bowl y’know? When I have guests over, I want them to pick something from it that really speaks to them. As you can see the bowl is quite full, considering I don’t get much company around here.” You brought the rim of your mug to your lips, softly blowing on the rising steam before you took a cautious slow sip.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that Beanie. I don’t wanna take somethin’ from ya that makes ya smile. That was awfully nice of my brother. Y’guys pretty close then?” He was gently leaning his weight back against the edge of the table, ankles crossed as he took a small sip from his own mug. For a split second you couldn’t help but feel the soothing domesticity from the moment you were sharing. Joel’s thick woolen socks, his flushed cheeks from the cold paired with his coat resting along your shoulders. There was something so tender to it all.

“Joel, I insist. Please, take the fawn and give it to your kid. I even have a little box for it so it looks like it’s a present. I’m sure she’ll love it. Anyway, Tommy and I are close. I suppose you could lay it out that way? I owe my life to him and Maria..they were the ones who took me in. I haven’t been outside Jackson since.”

“‘Course you got a little box for it and everythin.’ Alright, I’ll give it to El. You haven’t been outside Jackson in that long?..” He asked with genuine curiosity. He didn’t want to come across like he was prying either. He wanted you to open up to him not because he forced you to, but because you felt comfortable enough around him to show your vulnerabilities.

“I’ve only been outside the town one another time and that was when we found the coffee bean plants in the Colorado nursery. Tommy and Maria were with me of course and—” You paused, remembering how freaked out they were when you started to panic out of the blue. Neither of them could calm you down, and you passed out in Tommy’s arms.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anythin’ you don’t wanna tell me, alright?” He reached his freehand out and gently placed it along the side of your wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Let me..go get that box for Ellie’s fawn. Did you still want to do breakfast?” You set your mug along the table, you had barely touched it.

“If you’d like to. I’d thoroughly enjoy your company, and you ain’t lived till you’ve tried Maria’s egg casserole, darlin.’” He was grinning boyishly over the rim of his mug.

Man, was he handsome.

“Sounds like her egg casserole is to die for then. I’ll just grab that box, and then get dressed. You alright with hanging out here by yourself for a few minutes?”

“I think I can find a way to keep myself entertained till then.” He assured you.

“Perfect.”

Joel waited until you had disappeared upstairs before he let out a deep sigh as he looked down at the little felt fawn. His brow furrowed as he was deep in thought over what had possibly happened to you when you went outside Jackson with Tommy and Maria. He could connect the dots and piece the puzzle together, and the blaring answer was something bad had happened. What exactly? Now, that was going to take a little bit of time.

You came back downstairs a few minutes later. Dressed in some worn out jeans and a sweater made of pure sheep’s wool. Joel’s jacket was resting along the crook of your arm as you handed him a little felt box that went along with the fawn.

“Keep my jacket. I’ve got plenty at home.” Was the first thing that he uttered as he took the felt box from you and gently placed the fawn figurine inside before tucking it safely away in his pocket.

“Joel, I can’t do that. I’ve got plenty of jackets here as well.”

He wanted to tell you to keep it because he liked the way it looked on you. He kept those thoughts to himself for the time being.

“Alright, I won’t fight ya on it.” He shrugged.

“Good, cause you’ll lose every single time you try.” There was a playful edge to your tone as you placed the jacket back around his shoulders.

“Is that a challenge?” He mused, with his eyebrow quirked upwards.

“Nope. It’s facts.” You grinned.

Yeah, we’ll see about that.

More of Jackson’s residents began to emerge from their homesteads at the shrill sound of the breakfast bell chiming from the mess hall. Joel had respectfully offered you his arm as you descended down the porch steps, and past your crooked gate. You obliged to his offer, wrapping your gloved hand around the crook of his elbow.

You had never felt so many pairs of eyes on you since living in Jackson. Curious, envious, surprised, disgusted? Those were the types of looks you encountered from a handful of Jackson’s residents. The looks you received were mostly from women, and even though the world had ended, jealousy was still brewing.

It wasn’t everyday that Joel Miller came strolling into the mess hall with a pretty thing on his arm. You stood out like two sore thumbs, but it seemed like neither of you were paying much mind to it. Joel was used to the stares. People around here didn’t know much about him, other than the fact that he was Tommy’s older brother and Ellie was..like a daughter to him. They’d see the scars on his hands and arms and split like a sundae. He’d hear the whisperings of who he was, where he came from, and he’d shrug it all off. He much preferred keeping his family close, and everyone else at an arm's reach. He secretly relished in remaining a mystery to most.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Tommy spoke in a surprised tone as you and Joel approached the table that he and Maria were currently seated at. “Ya finally get Beanie outta her coffee shell?”

“It appears that I did. Told her about Maria’s egg casserole and she was sold instantly.” Joel reached over and gave his brother a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Ellie stroll through here yet?”

“She came in a few minutes ago with Dina. There sittin’ with their friends ov’there.” Tommy gestured with the end of his fork.

“Thanks. Got somethin’ I wanna give t’her.” He turned towards you then and gave you a reassuring smile. “Why don’t ya go and grab yourself a plate. I’ll come sit with ya in a minute.”

“Do you want me to grab you a plate as well?..”

“You’re a real doll. Thank you, that would be great.” He gave his brother a slight nod before he was sauntering away to where Ellie was sitting. Her and Dina were sitting side by side, shoulders touching.

“Hey, kiddo.” Joel murmured softly.

“Hey, Joel.” Ellie responded, not looking up from her plate. Things between them were..rocky to put it nicely. She loved her dad of course, and after what happened yesterday she thought she’d be okay, but the truth was she wasn’t.

“I uh—don’t mean to bother you and Dina or nothin.’ Jus’ wanted to give this to you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the little velvet box and placed it down in front of her. “Beanies got this collection of treasures and I saw this..little fawn, and immediately thought of you kiddo.”

Why can’t I just be good with my words for once in my fuckin’ life?

Ellie could feel tears pricking the corner of her eyes as she gently lifted the lid off the box to reveal the little felt deer encased inside. This small gesture meant more than Joel would ever realize..but Ellie kept her poker face strong.

“Thanks, Joel.”

His heart dipped and sunk like dry sand becoming wet and weighed down from tumultuous waves crashing upon the shore. It was a small step in what he hoped was the direction of forgiveness.

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” He cleared his throat before he ambled away back to the table where the rest of his family were sitting. He had only known you for less than twenty four hours, and he already thought of you as family. He didn’t count all the times before outbreak day only because that part of himself had died along with Sarah. Or, so he thought.

“El..he’s trying at least.” Dina was resting her chin along Ellie’s shoulder as they were both gazing down at the little felt fawn.

“He is.” Ellie murmured softly.

Joel took a seat across from you as you were sitting next to Maria, gushing over her egg casserole, and how Joel was absolutely right about you not living until you tried it.

He thought you looked so pretty with a soft smile on your face as you looked at Maria with genuine adoration.

At nightfall, Joel, Tommy and a few other men were out patrolling. With the winter being so harsh, there were more chances of man wandering through these parts. Stragglers were one thing, raiders? That was a whole other story. Joel and Tommy took to the east on horseback. The longer winter night was dead silent. There was no howling wind to whip against the bone dry branches. No low hoot from an owl. It was quiet, too quiet. Even the horse’s hooves were nearly undetectable from how soft and careful they were stepping into the snow.

The only light source they had was the brightly lit moon shining in the jet-black sky. The stars scattered about weren’t nearly as brilliant as the moon.

Joel broke through the silence as he adjusted the strap of his rifle over his shoulder. “Tommy?..” he started, “do you know what happened to Beanie?..”

Tommy let out a huff of air as the bitter cold burned his lungs. He averted making eye contact with his brother before he was met with no other choice but to finally make eye contact with him. “It ain’t my place to tell you that, brother. I’m sorry.” He sounded defeated with his words because he didn’t want to keep anything hidden from Joel. Not after all those years they had spent apart from one another.

“You better give me a real fuckin’ reason why you can’t tell me. Tommy, she nearly fuckin’ shot me this mornin’ because she thought I was a threat. That I was a danger to her life. You can’t tell me anythin?’” Joel whispered back, harsher than he had wanted but he didn’t like being left out of the loop.

“Joel,” Tommy hissed under his breath, “Even if I knew the exact details of what that woman went through, I wouldn’t be able to disclose them to you.”

“Why the hell not?” Joel quipped back.

“Because, because..she ain’t got’a fuckin’ clue about what happened to herself either, Joel.”

What?

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Chapter 4:

[dianawinchester03]

Season 1, Episode 15 - The Benders

Series Masterlist

Third Person POV

Hibbing, Michigan

"I know you're just doing your job, but the police have been here all week already. I don't see why we have to go through this again" A woman says to the three hunters posing as state police, who's neighbor had been kidnapped in Hibbing, Michigan. "The more he tells the story, the more he believes it's true" She says gesturing to her son who claimed to have witnessed the bizarre kidnapping of the man.

"Mrs. McKay...." Sam begins with an apologetic tone as the three take their hats off, dressed in state police uniforms. "...we know you spoke with local authorities..." He tells her but Dean cuts in. "But, uh, this seems like a matter for the state police. So..." Dean says calmly. Y/N looks over at the woman's son with a sweet smile on her face.

"Don't worry about how crazy it sounds, Evan. You just tell us what you saw" She says encouraging. The young boy nods with a terrified look on his face and begins to explain, "I was up late watching TV...when I heard this weird noise." He says cringing a bit. "What did it sound like?" Sam asks. "It sounded like a monster." Evan says and the three share a look.

"Tell the officers what you were watching on TV" His mother says, rolling her eyes. "Um....Godzilla vs Mothra" Evan answers gulping. Dean chuckles at the answer while Sam and Y/N smile in reminiscence of memories watching that movie with Dean growing up. "That's my favorite Godzilla movie. So much better than the original, huh?" Dean says smiling.

"Totally" Evan agrees with a heartfelt smile. "Yeah" Dean nods, looking over at Y/N at Sam, "They like the remake" He whispers to Evan who cringes in disgust, Y/N rolls her eyes at Deans childishness. "Yuck" Evan groans while Dean nods in agreement. Sam clears his throat disapproval and Deans face drop, realizing he strayed from topic.

"Evan, did you see what this thing was?" Y/N asks the young boy gently. "No. But I saw it grab Mr. Jenkins. It pulled him underneath the car" Evan insists. "Then what?" Sam asks and he sighs. "It took him away" He says, looking outside terrified. "I heard the monster leaving. It made this really scary sound" He further explains as Dean takes note of this on his pad.

"What did it sound like, Evan?" Y/N asks him. "Like this, whining growl" He answers, thinking back to that night. The three look at each other before nodding, indicating they got enough information. "Thanks for you time" Sam says kindly to Evans mother and the three leave, making their way back to their motel.

________________________________

Later that night, the three hunters are at a local bar, Dean playing darts while Sam and Y/N are at the table right next to him doing their research. "So the local police have not ruled out foul play. Apparently, there were signs of a struggle" Y/N tells the boys as she flicks the ash of her cigarette into the ashtray.

"You know, they could be right. It could just be a kidnapping" Dean suggests as he aims his dart at the board. "Maybe this isn't our kind of gig" He suggests, throwing the dart. "Yeah, maybe not" Sam agrees and Y/N nods, taking a drag from her cigarette. Sam then shows her Johns journal and points to a location. "Except for this. Your dad marked the area, Dean" She says, tapping the book.

This draws their attention and Dean stops throwing his darts and walks up to see the journal. "Possible hunting grounds for a phantom attacker" She says. "Why would he even do that?" Dean asks, picking up his beer and sipping it. "Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes out at night, grabs people, then vanishes" Sam explains.

"He found this too: This county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere in the state" Y/N tells them, flicking her ash into the tray. "That is weird" Dean agrees, walking back to play darts. "Yeah" Sam and Y/N say in unison. "But don't phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot" Dean points out.

"Well, they're all kinds, Spring Heeled Jacks, phantom gassers. They take people anywhere, anytime" Sam explains as Y/N crushes her now finished cigarette bud in the ashtray, outing it. Dean goes and pulls the darts off the wall, walking back towards them. "Look, fellas. I don't know if this is our kind of gig either-" Y/N goes to say but Dean cuts her off in agreement.

"Yeah you're right. We should ask around more tomorrow" Dean agrees, going back to throwing the dart. "Right" Sam sighs. "I saw a motel about five miles back" Sam goes to say, suggesting they shack up. "Woah, woah, easy. Let's have another round" Dean says defensively. "We should get an early start" Sam says, shaking his head. "You really know how to have fun, don't you, Grandma?" Y/N snickers sarcastically, sipping her beer.

Sam gives her a look and she sighs knowing he's right while Dean shakes his head, "Alright. I'll meet you guys outside. I gotta powder my nose" Y/N says, picking up her jacket. "I'll wait on you" Dean calls out to her. "Okay!" She responds, going into the bathroom. His eyes trail up and down her body as she walks away, the little sway to her hips seeing as she's clearly a little tipsy.

A blush rises to his face when he realizes he's staring at her, clearing his throat he takes a sip of his beer.

Meanwhile Sam walk out of the bar and approaches the Impala but some rustling nearby draws his attention, he looks around suspiciously and rests Johns journal down on the hood of the Impala. Taking out his flashlight, he turns it on and shines it around the parking lot.

He then kneels down to shine it under the car, only to be frightened by a stray cat underneath that screeches at him. He screams, chuckling to himself in embarrassment after the cat runs away. Getting back up, he dusts his hands off.

Dean and Y/N exit the bar, flirtatiously arguing, "You took forever in there, Princess. Did you drink a whole gallon of beer?" He teases her. She scoffs, rolling her eyes. "You try peeing in a crusty ass bars bathroom as a woman and then complain to me" She retorts back huffing. Dean chuckles nudging her a bit as they walk to the car jokingly.

She nudges him back, sticking her hands in her jacket pocket, hiding the blush that's taking over her face but Dean notices it, satisfied he made her laugh. They approach the Impala, John's journal on the hood and no sign of Sam. They share a puzzled look and Y/N goes to the passenger seat, opening the door. The car empty.

"He's not here" Y/N tells Dean, panicked. They look around the parking lot, no sign of him. A group of people exit the bar and they rush over to them. "Hey, hey. Have you guys been outside around here in, like, the last hour or so?" Dean asks the couple and they shake their heads.

"Sam!" Y/N calls out for him in the parking lot, her voice laced with concern. "Sammy?!" Dean and Y/N call out in unison but no answer. Y/N then looks up and sees a highway security camera above. "Dean, look" She draws his attention to the camera, pointing to it.

________________________________

The next morning, the two have gotten little to no sleep. They're now at a local Sheriffs Department. "So, what can I do for you. Officer Washington and Wilcox?" The deputy that they introduced themselves to as state police asks them. "We're working a missing persons" Y/N informs the woman. "I didn't know the Jenkins case was being covered by the state police" She says.

"Uh, no. No. This is someone else. Actually, it's my cousin" Dean informs her. "We all were having a few last night at this bar down by the highway. And we haven't seen him since" He further explains. "Does your cousin have a drinking problem?" The officer questions. "Sam? Two beers and he's doing karaoke" Y/N jokes, making Dean chuckle a bit.

The officer also laughs lightly, "He wasn't drunk. He was taken" Dean tells her and she nods. "Alright, what's his name?" She asks them, going over to her computer. They follow behind. "Winchester. Sam Winchester" Y/N tells her. "Like the rifle?" She asks, sitting my down at her desk. "Like the rifle" Dean nods, taking a seat, Y/N sitting next to him.

The woman types in his name and waits for it to load. She then clicks on a file, "Samuel Winchester. So you know that his brother, Dean Winchester, died in St. Louis..." She begins and the two hunters share a look of panic. "...and was suspected of murder" The officers eyebrows shoot up at this, looking over at the two.

"Yeah, Dean. Kind of the black sheep of the family" Dean covers. "Handsome, though" He adds cockily, Y/N rolls her eyes and scoffs at this. "Uh-huh" The officer responds dryly, typing on her computer. "Please, the guy was a cocky shit" Y/N chimes in, Dean shoots her a glare while she gives him a cheeky smile.

Her smile making his heart beat twice as fast. "Well, he's not showing up in any current field reports" The officer notifies them. "Oh, we already have a lead. We saw a surveillance camera out by the highway" He tells her. "Uh-huh. County traffic cam?" She asks. "Right. Yeah. We're thinking the camera picked up whatever took him...Or whoever" Y/N says.

"Well, I have access to the cam footage down at the County Works Department. But...well, in the meantime, let's do this the right way" The officer says, getting up to give them a report paper. "Why don't you two fill out a missing persons report.." She begins, the two share a look of unease and impatience.

Y/N gets up and takes it from her, "...and sit tight over here?" The officer says and Y/N sighs. "Officer, look, uh, he's my partners family. Basically mine too" She begins. "And I kind of look out for the kid. You gotta let us go with you" Dean pleads. The officer understand but shakes her head, "I'm sorry, I can't do that" She says.

They look down disappointedly "Well, tell me something. Your county has its fair share of missing persons. Any of them come back?" Y/N asks hopefully. The officer looks down and doesn't answer. "Sams my responsibility. And he's coming back. We're bringing him back" Dean says determined. Y/N heart aches, knowing that Sam going missing is definitely taking a toll on Dean.

Hell, she's worried off her ass, she can't imagine how Dean must feel. Deans probably blaming himself and he definitely is. Y/N knows he is because of his nature to protect and if shit it's the fan, he carries the guilt even if it wasn't his to hold.

________________________________

In an unknown location, Sam's eyes flutter open to a bright light shining in his face, he gasps jumping awake when he notice he's locked in a cage what seems to be made up of metal. It seems to be a barn of some sort hes in. Sam tries to stand up but he can only make it halfway up because it's so cramped in here.

He tries to push the cage open, rattling at the bars but it's locked. His eyes shift next to him to see another person, in a cage, unconscious and locked up. Sam assumes he's dead and sighs painfully. The light from the sun in the cracks in the wall of the barn. His chest heaving in fear.

________________________________

"Greg, Alex. I think we got something" Kathleen, the deputy, calls out to Dean and Y/N who are sitting on a park bench, outside of the County Works Department after convincing her to let them tag along. They stand up quickly and the officer hands the papers to Y/N, Dean peers over her shoulder looking at the images.

"These traffic camera take an image every three seconds. It's part of the Amber Alert program. These images were all taken around the time your cousin Sam disappeared" Kathleen explains but they're all just pictures of cars heading down the highway. "This really isn't what we're looking for" Dean says as Y/N flips through the papers.

"Just wait, wait. Next one" She tells them and Y/N flips the page. The image of an old van infront of the bar. "This one was taken right after Sam left the bar. Look at the back end of the thing" She informs them, pointing to the picture. Their eyebrows quirk up, "Now look at the plates" Kathleen instructs and Y/N flips to the other page.

The van was old and the plates were shiny. "The plates look new. It was probably stolen" Y/N points out. "So whoever's driving that rust bucket must be involved" Kathleen says, sure of her assumption. The screeching of an old engine from a van driving by surprises the two hunters. "You hear that engine?" Dean points out.

It clicks in Y/N's head where he's getting at and she nods. "Yeah?" Kathleen responds a little confused. "Kind of a whining growl, isn't it?" Y/N says, quoting Evans words from earlier. "Sure" Kathleen says shrugging, looking wth them confused. "Well, I'll be damned" Dean says in surprise and Y/N scoffs in disbelief as they share a look.

________________________________

Back in the barn where Sam is being help captive, he's trying to knock down the cage doors in anyway. Holding onto the top and kicking with all his might but it won't budge. He does this several times till he falls to the ground tired. The sound of Sam trying to knock the cage down wakes up the other victim that's being help captive.

He groans in pain getting up. Sam jumps in shock at the sound, "You're alive?" He says I'm relief. "Huh?" The confused man responds. "Hey, you okay?" Sam asks quickly. "Does it look like I'm doing okay?" The man growls back sarcastically. Sam chooses to ignore this, "Where are we?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. The country, I think. Smells like the country" The man answers and realization dawns on Sam. "You're Alvin Jenkins, aren't you?" Sam asks. "Yeah" Alvin confirms and Sam shakes his head. "Wow, I was looking for you" He tells him. "Oh, yeah?" Alvin scoffs. "Yeah" Sam responds. "Well, no offense, but this is a piss poor rescue" Alvin retorts.

"Well my brother and my best friend are out there right now too. They're looking for us. So.." Sam says. "So, they're not gonna find us. We're the the middle of nowhere, waiting for them to come back and do God knows what to us" Alvin says pessimistically. "What are they? Have you seen them?" Sam asks him lowly.

Alvin looks at him like he's nuts, "What've you talking about?" He asks Sam confused. "Whatever grabbed us? What do they look like?" Sam queries and the door opens. "See for yourself" Alvin says, scooting into a corner of the cage. Sam lowers himself to make it seem as though he's asleep.

A person in a dark hood comes in. Hitting against Alvin's cage with a large metal rod so he goes further back, resting down a tray of food and water. "Leave me alone. Don't you touch me. You leave me alone!" Alvin screams in fear but the person just closes the cage. Alvin then grabs the food and quickly eats it up. Clearly being starved.

The person then goes over to Sam's cage,

hitting against it with the large metal rod making him scoot into the corner. They go to a little box, pushing a key inside and turning the lock, Sam takes note of this. He looks at them in shock at they leave. "I'll be damned. They're just people" He says stunned.

"Yeah. What did you expect?" Alvin quips up from his cage. "How often do they feed you?" Sam asks. "Once a day" Alvin responds, stuffing his mouth with the sausage and bread. "They use that thing over there to open the cage" He points to the little box that they shoved the key inside and turned it.

"And that's the only time you see them?" Sam asks. "So far. But I'm waiting" Alvin says. "Waiting for what?" Sam asks. "Ned Beatty time, man" Alvin says and Sam scoffs. "I think that's the least of your worries right now" He remarks. "Oh yeah?" Alvin asks. "Yeah" Sam responds nodding.

"What do you think they want, then?" Alvin asks as Sam reaches upwards outside the cage on the top, trying to pull what seems to be a big chain. "Depends on who they are" Sam says. "They're a bunch of psycho hillbilly rednecks if you ask me. Looking for love in all the wrong places" Alvin says frustrated. Sam groans as he tries to pull the chain.

________________________________

"Okay, your next traffic came is 50 miles from here and your pickup didn't pass that one. So.." Kathleen tells Y/N and Dean as they drive down the highway in a squad car, Dean riding shotgun and Y/N in the back. "So it must've pulled off somewhere" Y/N finishes her thought. "I don't see any other roads here" Dean points out, canvassing the map.

"Well, a lot of these backwoods properties have their own private roads" She tells them. Dean and Y/N huff in frustration, "Great" Y/N mutters. The police scanner in the car beeps and draws the officers attention to it. She types and clicks on it and it opens up a file. She then looks over at Y/N and Dean suspiciously. "So, Gregory and Alexandra" She says.

Their gazes snap over to her. "Yeah" Dean answers. "I ran the both of your badge numbers. It's routine when we're working a case with state police for accounting purposes and what have you" She begins and Y/N begins to panic internally along with Dean. "Mm-hm" Y/N says casually, sharing a look of panic with Dean.

"And uh, they just got back to me.." She says, pulling over the car into an empty lot. "Says here your badges were stolen. And there's pictures of you" She says, they both cock their eyebrows in fake surprise as she turns the monitor to show them two pictures of a male and female State Police officers. Both the man of African American Descent and the woman of (another ethnicity), in no way fitting Dean and Y/N's look or description.

Y/N clears her throat awkwardly, no sure how to answer, "I lost some weight. And I got that Michael Jackson skin disease" Dean lamely tries to cover, Kathleen shakes her head and Y/N glares at Dean like, 'You're such an idiot'. "Okay, would you two step out of the car, please" Kathleen says firmly. "Look, look, look" Y/N stops her from getting out gently.

"You want to arrest us? That's fine. We'll cooperate. I swear. Right?" Y/N looks over at Dean and he nods, giving Kathleen his best puppy dog eyes he learnt from Sam. "But first, please, let us find Sam" Y/N pleads with the officer. "I don't even know who you two are. Or is this Sam person is missing." Kathleen says suspiciously.

"Look into our eyes and tell me if we're lying about this" Dean says. "Identity theft? You're impersonating officers" She says firmly. "Here's the thing. When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire" Dean begins, her eyes have a bit of pity and uncertainty in them while Y/N breath hitches in her throat at the mention of his moms death.

She's surprised by this, her heart pangs in concern for Dean. "And ever since then, I've felt responsible for him. You know, like it's my job to keep him safe" Dean explains, clearing his throat as he feels tears welling up in his eyes. Y/N notices this and chimes in. "We're just afraid if we don't find him fast..." Y/N adds, not able to finish the sentence at the thought of something happening to her best friend.

"...Please. He's our family " She pleads with Kathleen. The deputy sighs and then turns to them, "I'm sorry. You've given me no choice. I have to take you guys in" She tells them and their faces drop. She then looks up at a picture that's clipped in on the visor of the drivers seat and then sighs again, contemplating a bit. She shakes her head and then straps her seatbelt back on.

"After we find Sam Winchester" She says firmly. The two hunters sigh in relief at this.

________________________________

Back at the barn where he's being held captive, Sam is still trying to pull the rod attached to the cage. "What's your name again?" Alvin asks him. "It's Sam" He responds, groaning. "Why don't you give it up, Sammy. There's no way out" He tells him roughly. Sams gaze snaps over to him, anger rising, fury in his eyes.

"Don't call me Sammy!" He bellows and the rod snaps. It falls into the cage and Sam coughs from the dust falling from the roof. "What is it?" Alvin queries as Sam picks up the object examining it. "It's a bracket" He informs him. "Oh, thank God, a bracket. Now we got them, huh?" Alvin retorts sarcastically.

Sam rolls his eyes at his tone. Suddenly, Alvins's cage door unlocks. "It must've been a short" Alvin says, hope rising. Sam looks at the door, confused by this. "Maybe you knocked something loose" He says, going to the door and creeping slowly out of the cage. Something doesn't feel right about this to Sam.

Sam soon realizes that this could be a trap because pulling down the bracket with most likely have not unlocked the cage. "I think you should get back in, Jenkins" He warns him. "What?" Alvin says confused. "This isn't right" Sam tells him. "Don't you want to get out of here?" Alvin says frustrated. "Yeah, but that was too easy" Sam tries to reason.

Alvin looks back at Sam and back to the door in contemplation. "I'm gonna get out of here. And I'm gonna send help, okay? Don't worry" Alvin assures him going to the door. "No! Im serious, Jenkins. This might be a trap" Sam tries to warn him but he doesn't listen. "Bye, Sammy" He says quickly before creeping out of the door.

"Jenkins!" Sam calls out to him pleadingly but it's too late. He's now outside of the barn, looking around to make sure no one is around. He stoops and runs out. Back inside the barn the cage closes for itself, indicating that someone was controlling it and it was most certainly a trap. Sam huffs in annoyance, pained at fact that he couldn't get Jenkins to listen.

Alvin moves quickly around the side of a house as the rain is pouring. He stumbles upon a knife that so happens to be on the ground, picking it up he mutters, "Thank you" while looking up at the sky. He wields the knife and begins running through the busy area when suddenly the sounds of a man laughing loudly frightens him.

He runs quickly only to be struck in the face with a log by an unknown man. The man laughs as Alvin tries to crawl away, he goes to hit him again but Alvin quickly stabs him in his calf and runs. He makes it about 100 yards until another man comes up behind him and stabs him in the thigh, making him scream in pain.

The two men circle him while laughing and Alvin quickly gets up, holding his thigh, bolting in another direction. It's clear they're hunting like as prey because they let him escape only for Alvin to be tripped by a wire that was set up prior. The two men laugh when he falls, giving him a predatory look before stabbing him as he screams in fear.

Sam who is still in the barn, hears the screams of Jenkins, his heart beating out of his chest.

________________________________

The next morning, the two hunters and Kathleen are walking back to the squad car, coffee cups in all of their hands. "Okay, officer. Look I don't mean to press my luck" Dean says. "Your luck is so pressed" She retorts back. "Right" Y/N mutters, clearing her throat. "I was wondering, why are you helping us out anyway? Why don't you just lock us up?" Dean asks her curiously and she sighs.

"My brother Riley disappeared three years ago. A lot like Sam" She begins to explain, Dean and Y/N feels sympathetic towards her now. "We searched for him, but nothing.....I know what it's like to feel responsible for someone, and for them...." She says before stopping, thinking of her brothers disappearance.

"Come on. Let's keep at it" She changes the subject, jumping in the squad car. "Guess she ain't so bad after all" Y/N says to Dean. He nods, "I guess" He says sighing, jumping in the car along with Y/N.

Sometime later, they're driving down the stretch the van was last seen. Y/N notices a turn off and nudges Dean, "Look" She points to it. His head snaps in the direction and he says, "Wait wait wait. Pull over here. Pull over" He tells Kathleen and she obliges. They all get out, "This is the first turn off I've seen so far" Y/N points out as they walk.

"You two stay here. I'll check it out" Kathleen orders them. "No way" Dean denies while Y/N shakes her head. "Hey!" She calls out to them and they turn back. "You're civilians. And felons...I think. I'm not taking you with me" She says bluntly. Dean and Y/N share a look before turning back to her, "You're not going with us" Y/N says firmly and the officer sighs.

"Alright" She agrees. "You two promise you won't get involved? Let me handle it" She makes sure. They both nod quickly agreeing, "Yeah, we promise" Dean says. "Shake on it" She says and Y/N looks at her suspiciously when she says this but still, the two put their hands out.

Only to be handcuffs together before they could react by Kathleen. "Oh, come on" Y/N groans. "Seriously?!" Dean huffs as she drags the two of them to the squad car, holding Y/N firmly and uncuffing her, she then loops the cuff into the door handle of the squad car and re-cuffs Y/N. "This is ridiculous" Y/N grumbles as Dean rolls his eyes.

"Kathleen, I think you're gonna need our help!" Dean calls out to her. "I'll manage" She says plainly, locking the car with the remote and it beeps. "Thank you" She adds before walking off, leaving the two behind. Y/N begins to dig in her pocket and Dean tugs at the cuffs and goes "I gotta start carrying paperclips" He says angrily.

"Easy hotshot, I've got this" She says and he looks at her confused as she digs in her pocket. "You got an itch or something?" He asks her, cocking her eyebrow. "You're gonna lose that sassiness when- GOT IT!" She exclaims happily, pulling her Bobby pin from her pocket.

"You always carry that around?" He asks her curiously, smiling in joy. "Not the first time I've been in handcuffs" She retorts back, flashing him a coy wink as she begins to pick the lock. His eyebrows raised at her, now intrigued by her statement. A smirk over takes Deans face when Y/N says this, "Is that so, now I'm curious. When else have you been in handcuffs, Princess?" He asks in a sultry tone.

The thought of Y/N handcuffs to a bed making his chest heave and to be quite frank, turning him on a but while he tries to play it off cool. Y/N rolls her eyes, trying to subside her blush. "Don't be a prev, charming. I mean I've been arrested before" She tries to play it off, shrugging innocently but Dean knows that bullshit. "Ha, sure. That's what you meant." He scoffs ironically and she chuckles.

"You're gonna have to tell me eventually" He adds in a flirtatious tone. Her eyes flicker up to his. She pulls the corner of her bottom lip into her mouth, biting it lightly. "Why don't you find out" She retorts back in a low tone, Dean is stunned. The way Y/N is bit her lip just added fuel to the fire. "Meaning, I'll show you my arrest record" She adds innocently, his smirk widens.

"Sure, that's what you mean" He snorts. God this woman is really gonna be the death of me. Dean thinks to himself. "Shut up" She quips, Dean is trying hard not to blush at the way Y/N flirted with him. "You almost got that?" He asks her clearing his throat. "Patience. It's harder how she cuffed us together" She tells him.

Meanwhile, Kathleen walks down the track to find an old house. The truck from the video footage parked next to it. She walks up the porch of the house and knocks lightly at the door. Not long after a young girl answers, her skin dirty, her hair looking like it hasn't been brushed in ages. Kathleen is taken back by her state.

"Hi. How are you?" She says gently in a concerned tone. The young girl doesn't answer and just walks towards Kathleen, she backs up a bit, "Who are you?" The girl asks her, touching her badge on her jacket to check it. "I'm Kathleen, I'm a deputy. What's your name?" Kathleen introduces herself and now asks the young girl.

"Missy" The girl responds, a troubled look in her eyes. "Missy, that's a pretty name" Kathleen says nicely with a small smile, feeling a bit uneasy at the girl's presence. "Missy, is your moms home?" She asks her. "She's dead" Missy responds in a plain tone. "I'm sorry. What about you dad?" Kathleen says apologetically and Missy shakes her head.

"Can I come in for a minute?" Kathleen asks her, Missy shakes her head a bit more frantically. "I just want you to look at a picture" Kathleen says, nodding understandably. "Have you seen that guy?" She asks Missy, handing her a picture of Sam. "Look at that picture" Kathleen says gently.

Missy looks at the picture and back up at Kathleen, to the side of her and back to her, a smirk rising on her face, "What?" Kathleen asks her a bit hopefully. "That's gonna hurt" Missy says with a dark grin when suddenly a man comes up behind Kathleen, hitting her against her head with a shovel off guard, knocking her out cold.

"Missy, sweetheart. Go tell your brothers I wanna see em" Missy's father orders her. "Yes, Daddy" She obliges with a grim smile on her face, holding the picture of Sam as she walks back.

All while this is happening, Y/N finally gets the cuffs unlocked around her and Deans hand. "Hallelujah!" She exclaims in victory. "Good girl, let's go" Dean praises her, a blush rising to her cheeks as they run down the track.

Y/N's POV

Something about Dean calling me a 'Good Girl' gets me all jittery, it's irritatingly hot. Ugh, I need to get ahold of myself. We come upon a barn and quietly open the door. We look around in disgust at the barn to see empty cages and rotten food about. The place is heavy, the same feeling I get in places where tons of people have died is what I'm getting now.

I notice at the corner of my eye a bit of movement. "Sam?" I gasp in relief when I see Sam in one of the cages. Deans gaze snaps in the direction I'm looking at and we make way to his cage. Sam has a smile and a look of relief on his face when he realizes it's us. "Are you hurt?" Dean asks him concerned. "No" Sam responds and Dean knocks the cage a bit.

"Damn it's good to see you" He says relieved. "How did you get out of those cuffs?" I hear a familiar voice behind me. I turn around to see Kathleen in a cage across from Sam. "I know a trick or two" I respond smugly. "Alright, let's get them out" I tell Dean and he nods, taking a good look at the locks. "Woah, these locks look like there gonna be a bitch" He says and I groan.

"Well, there's some kind of automatic control right there" Sam tells us, point to a box at the other corner of the room. "Have you seen them?" I ask him. He nods, "Yeah. Dude, they're just people" He tells us and I cock my eyebrow at this. "And they jumped you?" Dean asks him surprised. "Must be getting a little rusty there, kiddo" He retorts and I roll my eyes.

"What do they want?" I ask Sam as we go over to the box. "I don't know. They let Jenkins go but that was some sort of trap. It doesn't make any sense to me" Sam informs us as we open the box and try to click to see if anything will open. "Yeah well that's the point. You know, with our usual playmates, there's rules. There's patterns" Dean says vaguely so it doesn't scare Kathleen.

"But with people, they're just crazy" I add scoffing and Dean nods in agreement. "You guys see anything else out there?" Sam asks us. "Uh, there's about a dozen junked cars out back. Plates from all over. So we're thinking when they take someone, they take their car too." Dean tells him. "Did you see a black Mustang? About 10 years old?" Kathleen asks us.

"Yeah, actually, we did" I tell her and her face drops. Realization dawns on me, "Your brothers...I'm sorry" I say apologetically. "Let's get you guys out of here and then we'll take care of those bastards" Dean says. "This thing takes a key? Key?" I turn to Sam asking him. "I don't know" He responds shrugging. "Alright. We better go find it" Dean says, nudging me towards the exit.

I follow behind and Sam calls out to us. "Hey" He exclaims. "Yeah?" Me and Dean respond. "Be careful" He warns us. We share a look before nodding. "Yeah" We respond before walking out the barn and breaking into the house, making sure not to draw too much attention.

We end up in a dark room so we take out flashlights out and begin searching around it. As we can canvas the room, we see jars filled with human body parts. Teeth, hair, ears, noses...brains. Dean grimaces, tapping the jar. "Yikes" He remarks. "Is that-" I gag. "Yup" Dean responds gagging. "That's fucking disgusting" I gag in disgust.

We scan the wall with our lights to see picture of some guys dragging dead bodies, cutting them up, posing with them like if they're some sort of trophy. I feel disgusted, angry, sad, an array of emotions at the blatant dehumanization they did to these people. I pick up a picture of a familiar face and show Dean. It was a picture of a now dead Alvin Jenkins.

"Jeez. Demons, I get. People are fucking crazy" Dean groans looking at the picture in my hand and I nod in agreement. "Crazy is an understatement. These assholes are psychotic beyond repair" I say. We hear a bit of creaking upstairs. "You hear that?" Dean whispers and I nod quickly. "Stay here, I'm gonna go check it out- And don't argue." He pleads, my mouth snaps shut quickly when he tells me don't argue.

"You don't know why they're capable of, Dean" I try to reason but he sighs. "Please, Princess. Just listen for once" He says and I sigh. "Fine. Be safe" I warn him and he flashes me a wink, "Ditto" before walking up the stairs slowly. I wait about a minute or two before I hear a young girl screaming "Daddy! Daddy!" Then I hear some grunting and tussling. My heart is beating out of my chest when I hear Dean groaning in pain.

With that, I bolt into action quickly run up the stairs and crouch behind the wall, "I'm gonna kick your ass first" I hear Dean say, "And the yours" He adds breathing heavily. Before I could go out to defend him. A man comes up behind him and quickly knocks him upside the head, blood dripping from the side of his head. I clamp my hand over my mouth to stop myself from reacting.

They all pick him up and then tie him to a chair, all surrounding him. I quickly formulate a plan in my head but I'm easily outnumbered. I can't take on three grown men. Maybe two if your throw in the little girl but they kicked Deans ass, much less mine. I mean I've got my gun but there's like two bullets in the chamber and three men.

Dean then comes too and sees me in the corner, poking my head out behind the wall. I bring my fingers to my lips in a 'shushing' manner. "Come on. Let's hunt him" One of the hillbilly's say, getting up into his face. "Yeah, this one's a fighter. Sure would be fun to hunt" The older hillbilly says a bit excited, laughing in a wheezing manner. I grimace at the way they said 'hunt'.

This means they were 'hunting' everyone else they killed. Sick bastards. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me. That's what this is about. You— You yahoos hunt people?" Dean groans. "You ever killed before?" The old man asks him. "Wha-" Dean says confused, chuckling humorlessly. "Well that depends on what you mean" He answers.

"I've hunted all my life. Just like my father, his before him. I've hunted deer and bear. I even got a cougar once. Oh boy." The man explains excitedly. "But the best hunt is human" He adds grimly. "Ohhh, there's nothing like it. Holding their life in your hands. Seeing the fear in their eyes just before they go dark. Makes you feel powerful alive" He says proudly and I grimace.

Once again. Sick fucking bastards. "You're a sick puppy" Dean voices my thoughts. The man gets a bit irritated. "We give them a weapon. Give them a fighting chance. It's kinda like our tradition. Passed down father to son" The old man explains and his son I presume, smiles proudly, caressing the little girls hair intimately that I assume is his sister. Now that's just weird, what the hell.

I mean sure, Sam ruffles my hair whenever we hug but it's usually in a messy way. That's just some incest level bullshit. "Course only one or two a year. Never enough to bring the law down. We never been that sloppy" The old man says. "Oh. Yeah, well, don't sell yourself short. You're plenty sloppy." Dean says sarcastically and I shake my head at his tone.

He's gonna get himself killed I swear. The man then gets in his face. "So, what, you with that pretty cop?" The man asks him and he doesn't answer. "You a cop?" He asks him again making Dean chuckle. "If I tell you...you promise not to make me into an ashtray" Dean says mockingly and I hold back a snort in laughter. A man then punches him straight in the nose making me jump back.

Dean whimpers in pain. That's gotta hurt. "Only reason I don't let my boys take you right here and now is that there's something I need to know" The man says angrily. "Yeah, how bout it's not nice to marry your sister" Dean says sarcastically and I try not to laugh again, putting my hand over my mouth. At least I'm not the only one that realized that was some weird incest shit going on.

"Tell me. Any other cops gone come looking for you?" The old man asks and Dean groans. "Ah, Eat me." He retorts before adding, "Nononono, wait wait wait. You actually might" He groans and I chuckle lightly shaking my head. The man then comes up infront of him with a hot poker and one of his son holds Deans face in place. All logic leaves my head when I see this and I draw my gun.

"You think this is funny? You brought this down on my family" He says and Dean doesn't answer. I go to move out from behind the wall and Dean gives me a look that says, 'Stay right there!'. I oblige hesitatingly but crouch back. "Alright, you wanna play games? We'll play some games" The old man says in a psychotic tone. "Looks like we're gonna have a hunt tonight after all boys." He says to his sons who look excited.

"And you get to pick the animal. The boy or the cop" He says to Dean and I gasp lightly. "Okay. Wait wait wait. No. Look nobody's coming for me, alright? It's just us" He tries to convince them, blood dripping down his nose. His breathing growing heavier. "You don't choose, I will" He says and touches Dean with the hot poker. Dean groans in pain and I clamp my hand over my mouth again, trying to think of what to do. "You son of a bitch" He hisses.

Remain calm Y/N. "Next time, I'll take an eye" The man says, putting to poker close up to Deans eye. "Alright. The guy, the guy, take the guy" Dean chooses Sam and this shocks me but it makes sense because Sam can quicker fight his way out over Kathleen. "Lee, Go do it" The man tells one of his sons, taking out a key from around his neck and handing it to him.

"Don't let him out, though. Shoot him in the cage" The man orders his son and I gasp lightly. "What? I thought you said you were gonna hunt it. You were gonna give him a chance" Dean argues shocked. "Too late. And when you're done with the boy. Shoot the bitch too" The man orders his son. I decide to shimmy out of the window and creep around the side of the house.

I follow his son into the barn, making sure he doesn't see me. When I enter, he's already aiming his gun at Sam in the unlocked cage. I think fast and pick up a shovel on the ground, "Hey Alabama!" I draw his attention to me, knocking him across his head HARD with the shovel. He falls to the ground and we wrestle for the gun.

In the midst of the fight, two shots go off from the gun. He punches me across my mouth and I quickly recover, then Sam comes up behind me, right hooking him in the nose. Knocking him out cold him out. I check the chamber in the shotgun to see if there's any more bullets left, "Damn" I groan in annoyance when I realize it's empty.

I take out my pistol and hand it to Sam. "Here, it's got two bullets. Make it count. Take her to safety." I instruct him, pointing to Kathleen. "I gonna go rescue Dean" I tell him. "What about you?" He asks me concerned. "I'll be fine little Winchester" I give him a smug smile before creeping back outside. I make my way around the side of the house. The old man and his other son come rushing out with their shotguns and I hide behind a barrel outside.

They don't notice me so I climb back into the house through the window I came out in. I crouch around the corner to see the little girl with a knife to Deans eye. "Hey Sasquatch!" I yell and the girl quickly turns around. "How bout you let my friend go" I grit my teeth at her. She then stares at me with a troubled look in her eyes.

She charges headfirst towards me, screaming like a banshee, with her knife in her hand. I quickly backhand her, knocking her cold out on the floor. Dean looks at me stunned as I go over to untie him from the chair. "Jeez, Princess. Didn't know you hated little girls so much" He snorts. "Only the knife wielding ones, charming" I retort back with a wink making him laugh.

When I untie him and he stands up, I wrap my arms around his shoulder, pulling him into a hug. He returns the hug, chuckling into my neck. "Don't scare me like that you dick" I tell him a bit angry. He smiles at me. "Awww you care about me" He teases me and I punch him lightly in his shoulder in mock annoyance. He chuckles more, groaning a bit when I punch him.

I lightly touch his cut on his forehead in concern and he hisses. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I apologize quickly. "I'm fine sweetheart" He assures me with a small smile. My heart pangs in relief to know that he's okay, witnessing him getting tortured absolutely torn into my heart. "Good" I say lightly. His arms are still wrapped around my waist and mine are still around his shoulder.

His eyes piercing into mine, his forestry green orbs swimming with emotion. I know for sure this time he glanced down at my lips but our moment is cut short when, "Oh thank god" We hear Sam breathe out in relief, seeing me and Dean. We quickly break the hug, clearing our throats. Sam's eyes glances between the two of us, a smug smile appearing in his face. "Crap, did I just interrupt something?" He asks us, cocking an eyebrow.

"No!" We both respond hastily, shaking our head. "Let's just lock her in the closet" I point to the unconscious girl, changing the subject.

________________________________

After locking her away, we all exit the house. We see Kathleen and walk towards her. "Where's the girl?" She asks us. "Locked in the closet" Dean informs her. "What about the dad?" He asks her and she has a slightly horrified look on her face. "Shot. Trying to escape" She says vaguely and I cock my eyebrow at this. I look over at Sam who has a guilty look on her face but I decide not to press.

"I think the cars at the police station" Dean tells Sam as we walk down the track while Kathleen is calling in backup. "So...state police and the FBI are gonna be here within the hour. They're gonna wanna talk to you." She tells us. "I suggest that you three are long gone by then" She says and I let out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks" I say gratefully. "Hey listen, I don't mean to press our luck. But we're kinda in the middle of nowhere. Think we can catch a ride?" Dean asks her and I shake my head. Kathleen looks at him in disbelief but also shakes her head. "Start walking. Duck if you see a squad car" She suggests. "Sounds great to me. Thanks" Sam says.

He and Dean go to walk off but I notice Kathleen is still a bit on edge. My gut tells to say something so I say , "Listen uh...sorry about your brother" my tone genuine. She nods tearfully, "Thank you." Her voice cracking. "It was really hard not knowing what happened. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth. But....it isn't....really" She admits and I nod understandably, not knowing what to say.

"Anyway, you should go" She says, feigning a smile. I return it and give her a hug. "You take care of yourself, okay?" I tell her sweetly and she nods, allowing her tears to fall. "You too, Y/N" She says genuinely and I smile. Following behind the boys.

After about 15 mins of walking, Dean finally quips up. "Don't ever do that again" He says to Sam. "Do what?" Sam asks him confused. "Go missing like that" He says and Sam smiles. "You were worried about me" He points out. "All I'm saying is, you vanish like that again, I'm not looking for you" Dean retorts and I shake my head with a smile. "Sure you won't" He retorts smiling.

"I'll look for you Sammy" I tell him with a sweet smile, wrapping my arm around his waist. "Thanks y/n/n. At least someone cares about me" He smiles back, teasing Dean as Sam wraps his arm around my shoulder. "Oh don't worry about your idiot brother. He loves you. He just needs to keep up his whole macho man facade" I tease Dean who has his head to the ground, fighting a grin.

This makes Sam laugh. "Shut uppp" Dean grumbles like a 10 year old. "Come here youuuu" I say to Dean jokingly, wrapping my arm around his shoulder and he wraps his arm around my waist. My heart skipping a beat slightly as his hand brushes my hip. We all continue walking, still in a group hug. "So, you got sidelined by a 13-year-old girl, huh?" Sam mocks Dean. "Oh shut up" Dean groans in annoyance.

"Just saying, you're getting rusty there, kiddo" Sam retorts, mocking Deans words from earlier. I burst out laughing at this. "Shut up!" Dean says again laughing, making Sam chuckle. I love these fellas with all my heart and moments like these are rare in our stressful line of work. So when we do have these, I appreciate them every single time.

________________________________

Authors Note: Finally!! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and I'm really excited to to do next. Be sure to check me out on AO3 and Wattpad❤️This chapter is unedited so any mistakes please point them out so I can fix them because I will be coming back to edit.

Xoxo

[ludinusdaleth]

i'm not interested in finishing watching c2 (first 10 episodes bored me to death) and i only know c3, so what's the deal with essek? did he have a bad redemption arc? did he have a good one? do people just not like him for some reason? because i keep seeing his fans say the only reason c3 fans are saying his redemption arc sucked is to defend imogen and her mom and that seems too shallow to be the real reason.

first of all thank you for trusting in me to give a nuanced answer. ill do my best. essek is one of my favorite characters, but also so historically loved by fandom it has led to altercations and the drowning out of pretty much any other character in fandom spaces. ill try to explain. im sorry for how long this will be.

he was already deeply beloved as an npc for a long while before campaign 2 episode 97 dropped the fact that he was working with ludinus. he had taken luxon beacons (the object ludinus used to power the malleus key, what made opal & ted, what's in ashtons head) from his people in the dynasty - these objects were considered completely sacred to them, and the realization the empire had them, and the dynasty retaliating to get them, led to the war of ash and light which permeates much of c2's plot. so, functionally, essek's action led to war. essek was also at times in charge of or allowed to run interrogations on dynasty prisoners including nott/veth's husband yeza. to keep suspicion off of him, essek shifted blame onto a man in the dynasty who he had a petty grudge against, changed his memory, and set the dynasty onto him - this man was later given to the empire in a peace negotiation, so ludinus then had all control over knowledge on essek's involvement (bar the m9).

his remorse began with the m9, and how their lives had been effected by war and what the empire had done, and there is some implication that essek realized he was perhaps groomed by ludinus (and to a lesser degree made uncomfortable by his cohort trent) - though i should note essek was a (young) adult in government when he gave his people's artifacts away. essek hated the fact that his people were religious in regards to the luxon and did not wish to research it, and thought the cerberus assembly would be able to learn more about it.

essek's arc has been long praised as a very good one, and i think it mostly is. while i cant say we really see his kindness & newly brimming empathy fully extended, he does learn to see others as more than tools. he is still smug over his peoples religion vs his knowledge of the luxon, but learns to respect his culture enough that ludinus probably would not be able to sway him from it by insulting it now. he fights at the m9's side during the last arc, defends caleb from trent & the vollstreckers, helps fix caduceus's home. he is loyal to them forever and not just a traitor any longer. i definitely see some holes in it as he doesnt show much care to anyone but the m9, it is relatively quick how he descends into self hate about his actions that hes generally comforted for, and i worry at times he sinks too much into the soft hot boy flanderization due to everyone even the cast pushing it onto him (yes, softness & being too harsh exist in his characterization and are disliked at once, i know they are opposite traits). but i think it's good when a character is still an ass after redemption and matt clearly wants to avoid him being a soft boi in c3 whilst also maintaining that he has learned humanity & love.

you can see how that would be compelling, along with his general personality and good looks. this made him so compelling that his fans got, uh.... interesting. and that is probably the base problem that sets this discourse. (be aware my experience of his fans is primarily on twitter and in chats.)

folk would get mad and call the show unwatchable without his presence as if every other character was disgusting & boring to them (as if calebs character arc is not. literally. a parralel to esseks). they only cared about shadowgast (but only cared about essek within it, not caleb) and would be furious these two deeply aloof traumatized men didnt fuck on screen after 6 episodes knowing each other, called caleb abusive for not messaging him after a few episodes, called liam (who is iirc bi) homo/biphobic and abusive to matt for not kissing essek at one point or another. when caleb & essek did bond at the end of c2 and it was said they got together for a time that was not enough for fans, who claimed it homophobic (this magically mostly disappeared when folk saw other mlm stories did and do continue to play out in cr, which they only realized when orym existed and was a gold star gay - i, as a gay man, do not care on the scale they do lol). astrid was completely slammed into the mud by essek fans for being his mirror but a woman (they magically did not hate wulf, the last mirror in this scenario, a man, as much). people were furious essek did not have merch at the point where not even many pcs did yet and said it was homophobic (this magically stopped when he eventually got a portrait and chibi). a few learned he was ace/demi and called it a cop out, or otherwise ignored any nuance of it because they were horny about wizard yaoi (im aware ace/demi folks do have sex, but sometimes folk use that as a justification for ignoring the ace spectrum part of an identity). from personal experience, essek fans can be..... very disturbing, predatory individuals with no regard for who they are deeply sexual around, but that is just who i met and i do not want to go into that experience. in short, a lot of c2 era fandom has BEEF with them. i cannot say it is unjustified.

so with all that context, where does that leave the character and why do people compare him to liliana & imogen?

it is my genuine opinion from observation a lot of fandom on here & twitter that essek/shadowgast/caleb fans can be.... sexist. it does not go unnoticed to me that imogen has an extremely similar moral arc to caleb and yet is called evil when caleb is called traumatized & struggling with demons but a good man. caleb was part of the vollstrecker (assassins for the empire) as a youth but broke, and ran, after killing his parents, and had to learn he was more than dirt, and learn to love again. imogen began easily jealous & in turmoil about herself and her mother, but has grown to be one of the most empathetic people who is constantly struggling between sacrifice and her simple wish to live with laudna, that it seems the universe wants to fight. both are aware they could be or are seen as living shit for their youth or conception and accept it. both dont really know how to find a way out of that. i think both are incredible characters. i notice when fans only acknowledge the hero's journey of one.

as for liliana & essek..... look, essek has a very defined character arc that we have seen come to fruition and end in redemption. liliana (and by extension bor'dor and other ruby vanguard folk) have not yet. essek was framed as neutral at first and liliana was framed as ludinus's ally. i get it. but it is impossible to me to not see liliana in the steps of essek at the beginning of his own arc. if anything i think her intentions (if not actions) are infinitely less selfish than esseks, as she wished to do this to save her daughter. ludinus has caught so many in his web, and essek got out, and liliana just realized she's in the webbing. whats interesting is how we see clear as day every conversation they have that liliana has been brainwashed into cult mentality & justification, and yet only had one or two conversations vaguely indicating this about essek, and yet essek is always praised as a survivor where liliana is not. bor'dor is very clearly like essek in being an oppressed young man who sees a calling made by a powerful older man, but entire breakdowns of how men of color are recruited into the far right have been written about essek where bor'dor (actual man of color) is despised by the same people. the tldr on this is i do think some folk can be so drunk on Hating Essek juice they swing too far in their assumptions, but the pattern of his fans misinterpreting everyone else to elevate him is based on precendent thats happened for years, and i think it is deeply.... disappointing? to watch such a nuanced story play out in c3 and refuse to engage with it whilst claiming anyone who wishes to analyze the way a cult breaks your brain is misandrist.

im so sorry this is so long, but i really do not know how else to describe all this without its nuance. i hope i wrote something that made sense.

[virizona]

Rest and Reassurance

Pairing: Luis Serra x Reader (AFAB)

Warnings: None; all fluff. Potential spoilers for the game

Summary: After the events of Resident Evil 4, you, Leon, Ashley, and Luis escape to a safe house off the horrific island to rest and recuperate, awaiting extraction.

Word Count: 2,270

A/N: This has been sitting completed since like June, so time to post my first ever Luis Serra fic! Spanish is not my first language, but I am learning, so I'm open to any corrections on the Spanish sprinkled in here.

— 

It was a long jet ski ride away from the plague-infested island. At least it and the cult were reduced to ashes now.

The mission you and Leon Kennedy were sent on should have been a simple fetch quest: recover the President’s daughter, Ashley Graham. But, of course, things always had to go sideways. The three of you ended up infected with Las Plagas, the mind-controlling, body-disfiguring parasite. Turns out, the leader of Los Illuminados, Osmund Saddler, planned to inject Ashley with the parasite all along as a way to get to the President.

It was a long and grueling mission between locating Ashley, finding a cure, and stopping Saddler (not to mention a run-in with Leon’s old Major, Jack Krauser). But, there was a silver lining to it all: you met Luis Serra Nevarro.

Luis was a charmer through and through. He was flirtatious from the very first moment you were introduced to each other. You thought his advances would be more distracting, but they were honestly a welcoming reprieve from the constant fight or flight moments. What sealed your trust in the Spaniard however, was he was the one who knew how to cure your Las Plagas problem. A former Umbrella researcher, Luis was tricked into working for Saddler after he fled his previous employer. Holding onto his belief that people can change, Luis brought you, Leon, and Ashley to his lab where he held the cure: a radiation procedure that targeted and eradicated the parasite growing within your bodies.

To say you owed the man your life would be an understatement. You glanced at his stubbled face from where he rested over your left shoulder, hair blowing in the wind as you zipped across the water. His arms held snugly around your waist as you drove after Leon and Ashley’s water craft. The rising sun brought a pleasant warmth to your face, as if the world was showing you there was hope on the horizon.

— 

Disembarking from the jet skis, you followed Leon ashore. He was saying something about a safe house that Hunnigan located you could use, just until she could send in a helicopter for you all. 

It was well hidden within a forest a few miles inland. The hike was worth it alone for the chance to take a hot shower and sleep in a clean bed. The safe house was sparse, but it held all the necessary amenities: a kitchen, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a tiny living space. Leon was quick to designate the bedrooms, one for you and Ashley to share and the other for him and Luis.

“Actually, Leon, I think I would feel better if you stayed in the room with me.” Ashley spoke up, sounding slightly embarrassed about her request. It wasn’t unreasonable though, the blonde man did protect and save her countless times in your efforts to escape the parasitic cult. It made sense she would feel safer sleeping with his presence in the room.

Leon opened his mouth to likely protest, but was cut off by Luis clapping his hands together once. “No problemo, mis amigos! Mi amor y yo can take the other room.” He flashed a grin that would have had you blushing if you hadn’t been solely focused on that much needed hot shower.

“You guys decide whatever, but I need a shower and then I’m going to sleep for at least 24 hours. Wake me when the chopper arrives.” You waved a dismissive hand as you made for one of the bathrooms. You caught the sound of a weary sigh from Leon as you left the front room.

— 

The hot water beating on your back felt heavenly after trudging through cold, rainy weather during most of the mission. You tipped your face up to the steady spray, sighing in relief as the grime ran off your body, pooling on the shower floor and into the drain. Now that you were no longer running for your life, exhaustion hit like a freight train and you had to steady yourself with a hand on the slick, tiled wall. You jolted as a knock on the bathroom door interrupted your peace.

“Mi amor, estás bien?” It was only Luis, his thick accent muffled by the barrier. “You’ve been in there for quite a while.”

“I’m fine.” You called out wearily. “Just tired is all.”

There was a long pause and you thought he was satisfied with that answer, except you never heard his retreating footsteps. Then, he spoke again. “May I come in?” You waited a few beats, taken slightly aback by his question and unsure how to answer. Luis continued talking. “I found some clean clothes for you.” You were a bit baffled as to how there was clothing stocked in the place, but you decided not to question it too much.

Taking a deep breath, you relented to the Spaniard’s offer. “Come in.” You turned your back to the semi-opaque shower door as a precaution as Luis entered the room. 

“Phew, you weren’t kidding about the hot shower!” He exclaimed as the steam and humidity hit him. His shoes clicked softly on the tile floor as he moved over to the bathroom sink, placing some folded clothes on the counter there. “I’ll leave them by the sink for you then get out of your hair.” You could practically hear the wry smile in his voice. 

Suddenly, the thought of being alone again clutched your chest like a vice. Just as Luis was about to step out of the room, you found your voice. “Wait, could you… could you stay a bit longer?” You hoped you didn’t sound too pathetic, especially after everything you went through, just as much as you hoped it wasn’t too weird of a request. You chanced a glance over your shoulder, peering at him through the fogged shower door. It was hard to tell, but he looked genuinely concerned.

“Sí mi amor, I can stay.”

—

Luis sat on the bathroom floor with his back leaning against the shower wall. Most of the time he spent in companionable silence, which was rather unusual for him. Perhaps he was exhausted like you were. Still, it made you ask, “estás bien, Luis?”

“Mi amor, I will always be fine with you by my side.” There was that charm again. It made you chuckle as you finally turned off the shower. 

Luis was immediately on his feet, towel in hand. You reached through the shower door, opening it just enough to take the towel from him. Murmuring your thanks, you briefly toweled most of the water off yourself before wrapping it around your torso, tucking the corner in just under your armpit. Stepping out, the tile floor was chilly on your feet. You suppressed a shiver as you came face to face with Luis.

He looked tired as you observed his face, though you couldn’t imagine you looked any better. Dark circles were forming under his eyes, his hair oily, and his skin grimy. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about any of that as you became trapped in his silvery stare. Hesitantly, Luis reached out a hand to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. Ever so slightly, you leaned into his touch.

“Tienes sueño?” He asked, and you gave a nod, eyes drooping as his hand continued to linger on the side of your face. “Why don’t you go get comfortable and I’ll join you after I’ve had a turn to shower, hm?” The thought of sharing a bed with the Spaniard wasn’t lost on you.

“Leon actually agreed to stay in Ashley’s room?” You asked with a breathy laugh in disbelief, picturing the special agent begrudgingly agreeing. It was also your way of getting around asking the obvious and hopefully saving yourself from any embarrassment.

“He took some convincing, funnily more from me than la señorita, but he came around to the idea.” Luis chuckled as well as he passed the folded clean clothes into your arms. “Now go, I won’t be long.” His hands were suddenly on your lower back, gently pushing you out into the hall and in the direction of the bedroom. You glanced over your shoulder to see him wink before shutting the bathroom door.

Face feeling hot, you shuffled down to the bedroom. Once inside, and with no more distractions for the moment, your exhaustion returned. It took all your effort, but you managed to change into the clothes Luis had found for you. They were simple: an oversized t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts, likely for someone more of Leon’s size, but you were just glad to no longer be wearing your muddied, bloodied, sodden outfit from the mission.

You crawled under the sheets and blankets, leaving your towel on the floor, too tired to care. When you had gotten comfortable, hugging a pillow under your head, that was when a soft rap on the door snagged your attention. You rolled over just enough to look back to the doorway. “Just me, mi amor.”

Luis, back from his shower, was wearing the same gym shorts but he had forgoed a shirt. You rolled back over quickly enough, hiding your face against the pillow. There was the gentle sound of the door clicking shut and Luis’ footsteps as he made his way to the other side of the bed. He pulled up his end of the sheets, sliding into bed with a groan, the mattress dipping momentarily from his movement. “Mierda, this is nice.” He spoke with a sigh as he finally settled.

It felt surreal. After days of running ragged around the island, fighting people and monsters alike, it was strange to be vulnerable again. You looked across the space between you and Luis and up to the man’s face. His soaked hair framed his visage and he still held that look of exhaustion. His expression was soft, however, his eyes casting a warmth as he stared back.

“Almost too good to be true.” You whispered, fearing that this may all turn into a dream should you voice it any louder. 

Luis gave his lopsided smile with an airy chuckle. “It’s like you read my mind.” He reached out to brush a strand of wet hair back from your face a second time. His voice dropped a pitch, almost matching the volume of your whisper. “Try to get some sleep, mi amor.”

You nodded and snuggled down further into your pillow. Just as your eyes were slipping closed, you were abruptly pulled against Luis’ chest into a strong embrace. You shot your arms out and wrapped them around his back, clinging to him as he buried his face in your hair and against your neck. You squeezed your eyes shut tight, willing yourself to not start shaking as fatigue and anxiety clashed behind your heart. Anxiety for everything you went through, anxiety for never feeling safe anymore, anxiety for the thought of almost losing Luis again.

The Spaniard in your arms shuddered as he seemed to hold in a sob and you only hugged him tighter, closer. “We’re okay.” You began in a murmur. “We’re okay… I got you and you got me.” You weren’t sure if you were trying to console yourself or Luis more.

“Sí mi amor, I’m not going anywhere. No te dejaré.” He appeared to relax little by little after each affirmation. You still clung to him, inhaling the scent of his shampooed hair and trying to ground yourself. 

Eventually, you were able to doze off, wreathed by Luis’ light snores.

—

You bolted upright in bed, no longer ensnared in the man’s embrace. Sweat coated your forehead and hairline, practically dripping down the back of your neck. Breathing heavily and in a panic, you check over your hands and arms before bringing your palms up to your eyes. It was just a night terror you tried telling yourself, and likely the first of many. Your rapid movements must have awoken Luis for he stirred with a hand reaching out for you.

“Mi amor, qué ocurre?” His hand found purchase on your knee as he pulled himself up partly to sit with you. 

Your hands remained pressed against your eyes as if you could push the horrid vision from your mind. “Bad dream.” You uttered, voice shaky. Gentle fingers grasped your wrists, lowering your hands from your face. You were met with Luis’ concerned, even stare. You thought he would press for more details, but he only waited for when you were ready to share. “It was um, it was Las Plagas… that thing was inside me again.” A sniffle escaped you as the adrenaline was finally wearing off.

“Oh, mi amor, I’m so sorry.” Luis crooned, coaxing you into a hug. “The parasite is gone, prometo. I made sure of it.” The hug shifted to you sitting in his lap, legs out to one side and his arms looped around your waist, hands clasped on your hip. He began to gently rock side to side, doing his best to be reassuring. “And, just think, if we’ve done it once before, we can do it again.”

You paled at the thought. “But I don’t want to do it again.” 

“Lo siento, but you know what I mean, yes? You’re so capable, strong, and brave. Much braver than I.” That got a little snort out of you. “You can take on the world, mi amor.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “And I will be by your side the whole way.”

[rambheem-is-real]

Gold Rings and Black Roses Pt 1

Pairing: Radha Rama x Aadhya

Warnings: siblings!Deva and Aadhya

Amma doesn't take pity on Aadhya. Deva never rescues Aadhya from Rinda and his men, breaking the seal. This changes everything.

-

If Aadhya was told two weeks ago that she’d willingly get trafficked to God knows where, she’d just laugh. However, as Aadhya huddles in the corner of a truck across from an unconscious Bilal, all she can think of was how stupid she had been. 

Two weeks ago, she was running herself ragged balancing work and her hours at the hospital. The doctors had been fairly confident, and Aadhya had believed them. They had said her mother’s chances of surviving the operation were on the higher side, and Aadhya was preparing to move her mother out of the hospital and into the spare room of her apartment in Brooklyn. She hadn’t even been worried about the costs. While her own field research kept her living reasonably, she knew that her dad could afford to, and would, pay whatever was necessary. After all, it was his fault that Aadhya and her mother were here.

Then, the call came. 

“We’re very sorry,” the doctors had said. “The patient passed peacefully,” they said. “Please collect her body,” they had said. 

Aadhya had arranged the cremation of her mother’s body, feeling entirely numb the entire time. The mortician had handed the ashes, whatever was left of her mother, to her, and all Aadhya could feel was denial. 

It had all been going well, and then her life had turned upside down in the span of a few hours. 

It was when she tried calling her dad for what was probably the fiftieth time in the last three days, and heard his standard voicemail response, that Aadhya felt frustration. One of the world’s most prominent businessmen, wealthy enough to purchase the entirety of her state and not have a dent in his finances, but what was it all for if he was too busy to even talk to her? 

Her mother had always talked about having her ashes deposited in Varanasi, constantly missing their home country. Maybe the homesickness had made her mother weaker, Aadhya would later wonder. For what her dad had done, they had all paid the price. Aadhya still didn’t know who her dad had offended, what trouble he had gotten into to have them all move to the US so suddenly seven years ago. She had been fine with the change, had given up her simple bank job to pursue a PhD in linguistics, and was now traveling the country doing various types of research. But her mother had always missed their home, the community she had left, to the point that she had always insisted on her final resting place being in India.

 Fuck it, she had thought. 

In the next few minutes she had airplane tickets, and in the next few hours she had a backpack and a suitcase ready to go. 

Aadhya wasn’t sure what she expected to happen once she landed in India. She knew it was dangerous for her to be there, but she had to do this for her mother. Aadhya only hoped she would get to the Ganga river before the consequences of her actions caught up to her, but her hopes were dashed once the trail of black SUVs surrounded her car. 

From there she had met Bilal, fought for (and lost) approval from Amma, and was now currently in a truck driven by strange men and a strange seal on her arm. 

Aadhya estimated it had been about a day since she was thrown into the truck, judging by Bilal’s sleep cycles. She didn’t know what was up with that man, why he was so willing to give up even his own life for her, but she was glad for the company. Even if all he did was look at her like she was going to die any second. 

They had stopped to give her food twice, and all in all it wasn’t a bad kidnapping experience. The drunk guy, Rinda, had made a pass at her the first time he saw her, but after she told him to fuck off he had just shrugged and staggered away, muttering under his breath about Nepali women being much nicer. The other goons had barely even looked her way the entire journey. 

As soon as she thinks about how nice it would be to see the sun again, the truck rolls to a stop, and some of the goons bang on the outside of the truck. 

“Get out, your time is up now!” They joke. Aadhya wonders who’s waiting for her outside, who she might have to gain approval from now to survive. 

She looks to Bilal as she jumps out of the door of the truck, wincing at the pins-and-needles sensation in her feet from sitting still too long. 

“Don’t piss her off,” he says. 

“Who?” 

“Don’t piss either of them off,” he amends. 

Before she can ask who once more, she’s led into another black SUV, and she can see Bilal getting into the one behind her. 

The truck driver is the same guy driving her to wherever she’s going now, and Rinda gets in the passenger seat. 

Aadhya stares at him, wondering if he at least would have some answers.

“Where are we going?” she asks in Telugu. “Who are we seeing?”

Rinda just laughs. “Lots of questions, darling?” He looks at her face in the rearview mirror, and her clear frustration must show because he takes pity on her. 

“You’re meeting with Obullamma,” he says. 

The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Who’s that?”

“Radha Rama’s maid,” he says, still annoyingly vague. But Aadhya can detect a tinge of fear, a sense of respect at the sound of the second woman’s name. 

“What do I have to do with either of them?” 

“...Your nanna didn’t tell you anything, did he?”

The mention of Krishnakanth hurts, making Aadhya turn to the window. Tears prickle at her eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, she misses her dad. He had sounded so worried on the phone, days ago. She wonders what he was doing now. 

It’s a short journey before they pull up to what clearly used to be a grand mansion, but had fallen into disrepair. 

“Well, bangaram, you’ll get answers now,” Rinda sighs. “And I need another drink.”

Aadhya needed a drink. But she probably wasn’t going to get one anytime soon, she thinks sadly. She really doesn’t want to deal with this shit sober. Alcohol had always calmed her down, soothed the always-tense bundle of nerves inside her. 

She and Bilal are guided up the stairs of the mansion, and Aadhya can hear the sound of a rubbu rolu clanging as she gets closer inside. Bilal is immediately ushered out of the main room, and Aadhya hopes that means they’re not going to kill him. 

Aadhya sees a woman first, sitting at a table, calmly grinding the pestle against her mortar. Is this Obullamma? she wonders.  

“Amma Aadhya?” At first, she thinks she mishears. That can’t be her dad, right?

“Dad?”

Standing in the corner of the room, surrounded by more men, is her dad. No suit, no tie, no advisors surrounding him. Her dad, just as he is. 

His button down is soaked through with sweat, and she can see relief and fear warring on his face. 

“Aadhya! You shouldn’t have come here, dear,” he cries. 

“Dad!” She tries to make her way to him, to fall into his arms, but one of Rinda’s men grabs her arms to stop her. 

“Obullamma!” Rinda calls to the woman, who stops grinding and glares up at him. “I’ve brought Krishnakanth’s daughter, I completed the job. Ika selavu [I’ll take a leave now].” Rinda walks out briskly, and oh, he did not like that woman. 

Obullamma keeps glaring at the disappearing silhouette of Rinda for a few more seconds, mouth curling into a sneer, before she turns to Krishnakanth. 

“Choosava? [Did you see?] I was able to bring your daughter in front of me within a few days. How did you think you could ever escape me?” Obullamma speaks slowly, but sharply, placing emphasis on almost every word out of her mouth. There’s a fascinating lilt to her accent that Aadhya would love to study some day. 

“Your quarrel is with me, not her!” Krishnakanth yells, but his tone turns pleading a second later. “Do anything you want with me, just please, let my daughter go.”

Aadhya looks at him in horror. “No, Dad! It was me who made the decision to come to India, it was me who put you and Bilal at risk by doing so.” She hangs her head, feeling the guilt and shame come back. Stupid, she had been so stupid. “I’ll face whatever punishment it’ll be,” she says, trying to project the veneer of calmness she had seen on Deva the past few days. If only she had his strength. 

“Is that so?” Aadhya hears someone new from the other side, and notices a woman sitting on the floor that she hadn’t seen when she had come in. This voice is commanding, and confident in a way that Obullamma or even Rinda’s voice hadn’t been. This was a woman who was used to taking, a woman who was used to others giving. 

The woman turns to face her, and oh damn she was hot. Dressed in an elegant black saree, the woman had beautiful kohl lined eyes, and power in every inch of her stature. She even sat with the straight back of someone used to a throne. 

“You offer to take his place, despite not knowing what he did. Why?” The woman asks. 

This must be Radha Rama then, Aadhya thinks. 

“It was me who made the choice, it was me who should face the consequences. Isn’t that fair?” Aadhya asks. “And…” she falters, looking at her dad, who’s staring at her with shame and regret. She straightens, and looks Radha Rama in the eyes. “And he’s my dad. I love him. I’ll do anything to protect him.” 

Radha Rama looks taken aback. It’s only for an instant before Aadhya watches the mask drop down over her face, as the surprise is replaced with contemplation. 

Obullamma sneers. “Like we want to make a deal with you, girl. We’re going to kill you in front of your nanna, and then we’ll kill him after. Both of you are dying anyway.”

Aadhya trembles at the mention of her death, but steels herself. There were worse ways to go. 

Like what?? Her inner voice says, and she ignores it. 

“I accept your deal.”

Radha Rama’s voice cuts through whatever Obullamma was going to say next, as she rises into a standing position, and turns to fully face Aadhya. 

“I- ammagaru?” Obullamma gasps. “You can stand?”

Aadhya frowns. What the fuck kind of question-

“Obullamma, make the necessary arrangements. Aadhya Krishnakanth,” she turns to inspect Aadhya from her head to her toes, and Aadhya blushes, “is going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future. At least until her brother shows up.” Radha Rama smirks at the sight of a gaping Krishnakanth. “Let the poor man go, he’s scared shitless already.”

Krishnakanth cries out, “No! Radha Rama! You can’t do this!” 

Radha Rama motions at the men near the doorway, and they bodily drag Krishnakanth out of the mansion. 

“Dad!” Aadhya tries to reach for him, to reassure him. “It’s okay!”

“Aadhya! Rama, she’s innocent!” Krishnakanth keeps shouting until his voice gets muffled by the doors of the car he’s pushed into. 

Aadhya turns to the woman that had just spared her dad’s life, who’s idly inspecting her nails. 

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” Too late, she processes what Radha Rama had said earlier. “And what do you mean… my brother?”

Radha Rama smiles at her, and Aadhya shivers. It feels like the smile of a predator that had successfully cornered its prey. She suddenly turns her head to Obullamma, who’s still sitting in shock. 

“I said, make the necessary arrangements.” Obullamma hurriedly agrees, earrings jingling with the force of her head shaking. “Show her to a room. Tell her to freshen up. I want lunch prepared in twenty minutes.” Radha Rama looks at Aadhya. “We’ll discuss business then.”

“Ammagaru, you want… lunch?”

“Did I stutter?” The temperature of the room drops about twenty degrees, and Obullamma jumps out of her chair. 

“No, ammagaru. I’ll have it prepared.”

Aadhya is led through a door near the entrance, to where she presumes she’ll be staying for the next.. few days? weeks? She can’t help but turn her head right before she leaves the room, to find that Radha Rama is already watching her. 

She shivers once again at the gleam in Radha Rama’s eyes, and hastily turns around. Hopefully she’ll find out soon, Aadhya thinks, about whatever the fuck was going on. 

-

tagging people that were on board with the ship @deadloverscity @ghostdriftexistence @greatkittykoala @nini9224 @just-call-me-ehre @recentinterest @looseukitty and others in the server i'm forgetting the handles now

[auspicioustidings]

The Eyes of God

Summary: You are a researcher separated from your group and hypothermic in the mountains. It would be better you had died than be taken into the remote Monastery nearby.

Words: 1.7k

CW: Catholic horror, non-con (for context there is oral sex that is very much unwanted, starts with reader unconscious so somnophilia), exploitation, non-con medical procedure, mentions of cannibalism.

Please be extremely mindful of the tags here, I am not messing around when I say this is horror. Alejandro and Rudy here are not going to be fun, attractive bad boys. I am being so dead ass when I say this is dark.

He sends out his command to the earth; his word runs swiftly. He gives snow like wool; he scatters frost like ashes. He hurls down his crystals of ice like crumbs; who can stand before his cold? Psalm 147:15-17

--

The blizzard had come without warning to steal away all of your senses. There was no sight but for the white in front of you, no sound but for the howling cold, no smell but that of ice, no taste but your own dry fear on your tongue and no feeling at all. How long had it been since you had been separated from your group? Seconds, days?

You knew the signs of hypothermia, had trained for the harsh conditions of this unexplored mountain, but your memories of it all scattered to the corners of your feebled mind as you shuffled slowly and aimlessly forward. Every step was a fight against an impossible foe, God like it it's strength. There was something in the white, a glow. You needed to reach it, you needed to reach it more than you needed oxygen.

Everything is too hot, you are burning.

--

Your nakedness shall be uncovered, and your disgrace shall be seen. I will take vengeance, and I will spare no one. Isaiah 47:3

--

"What have you brought before the eyes of God?" Alejandro asked of the man holding a naked figure tight to his chest.

"Wis hunting Father, as ye had asked" Soap replied, "found this woman naked in the snow."

Soap had found you as you started to tear at your clothes. He had watched. The temptations of the flesh had come unbidden to him, blood thickening his cock as your pale flesh met the deathly cold skin to air. It was kindness in the Lord's name to save you; at the Monastery they could cleanse you of this sin, of your whoredom. Make you clean so you could meet your end in a state of Grace. That was what he had told himself as he held you tight to his body, thinking if he could make you one flesh to save you from this cold he would.

"You've brought us something sinful Brother" Rudy said, emerging from the shadows and gazing hatefully at your nakedness.

"He has been righteous no Rudolfo? Something sinful is ripe for purification of the flesh and soul" Alejandro said, coming closer to run a hand up your arm and delighting in the coldness of your skin. A challenge from above he thought, sent to them on the brink of death to bring back and make whole.

"Of course Alejandro. Leave her here then, that we may make her well first."

Soap did not want to leave you with them. He knew that the Fathers could be cruel to sinners, they were so very cruel to him. He knew it was to serve a greater purpose. The unworthy and sinful must endure mortification of the flesh. But you were so soft and delicate in his arms, so decidedly feminine in comparison to everyone here. Did Adam feel like this when he willingly ate the sin offered by Eve?

"By one man's disobedience the many were made sinners. Is this pride Brother? Alejandro, perhaps we should call upon Ghost, ensure this is not able to spread as a sickness."

Soap felt the holy fear of God then. He loved Ghost as David had loved Jonathan, the covenant between them unselfish and everlasting. He felt at his most tested when he was called to watch him be purified. The last time Soap had disobeyed, the Fathers had hung Ghost on a hook and in the end taken a rib as God had taken Adam's rib. Only Ghost had not been deeply asleep as Adam had. His anguish had been loud and still tormented Soap even now after the place had been closed up with flesh.

He looked down at you, your eyes slowly blinking now that there was heat infusing into your skin. Perhaps this is what the Fathers had done with that rib, created another test for him. He laid you gently, reverently, on the alter.

"There now, it is not pride Rudolfo, merely care. By one man's obedience the many will be made righteous. You may go Soap, go to Ghost and pray."

Soap bowed his head in thanks before leaving. Ghost would be preparing his catch by now, no doubt he would have followed orders exactly and hunted down your group properly unlike him in his weakness for you. The Fathers had been diligent in teaching Ghost Genesis 9:2-3 after all.

--

So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great things. How great a forest is set ablaze by such a small fire. James 3:5

--

The first thing you felt was pain, followed swiftly by panic. You blinked rapidly then slowly, willing your brain to connect properly to your optic nerve and process where you were.

Staring at the ceiling. You felt your body on a hard surface, you were laying down. There was an unbearable pain in your chest and as you tipped your head forward to look you started to whine on each of your quick exhales, terrified. There was a tube piercing into your flesh, liquid flowing through it. The pain was dull and throbbing. You were completely naked, your skin illuminated and glowing from the hundreds of candles surrounding the alter you were laid on.

And then the true horror of it, two men dressed in the garb of priests, lapping languidly between your legs.

The third feeling was the perverse pleasure that came from their tongues on you. The animalistic sounds of wet lapping against slick folds. Your body did not feel like your own, your movements sluggish and heavy against your commands. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope and trying to see the original image, a sickly feeling of futility. Still, you stubbornly willed your panic to aid you and focused on lifting a hand to push away the men.

One of them lifted his head, chin dripping with you. In your delirium you swore his eyes were fully black, his teeth sharp and oozing ichor. Perhaps in any other scenario he would be handsome, a young man looking at you from between your legs. But not this one, not in the scenario where your hand finally reached his head to give a weak and pathetic push. Not in the scenario where he grabbed your wrist and twisted so hard it made you forget the pain in your chest.

"And if your hand causes you to sin, cut it off" he said, his voice ricocheting off of your skull and echoing there. It was too loud, too quiet, too soft, too rough. "Is that you yearn for? For me to relief you of your sin?"

You cried then, knowing deep inside you from his smooth grin that he would cut pieces off of you and consider it holy.

You are in a nightmare and you cannot wake up.

The hand dropped away to your side, terrified into submission. He went back to his task and now that you were conscious the rough texture against your clit made you want to throw up. You hated that it distracted from everything, that it felt good. Perhaps it was because the two of them were so close to one another in their efforts, but it felt like something wet and forked against you.

Maybe you could see salvation if you looked around, something to focus on other than the twisted flesh of your body and the twisted pleasure given by those pressed against it. Instead your eyes only landed on figures in the shadows.

Two men. One older and one younger. Looking on with something between horror and eroticism. The younger of them set his eyes to the ground when you caught them and sobbed out for some sort of help. The other took him by the scruff of the neck, pressing a forehead to his and mumbling something about Peter 5:8. After a moment they both returned to watching in silence. You could see it in them, the same fear you felt. The fear of something judging and all powerful bearing down.

It was as if the men lapping at you knew of your fear, as if they took pleasure in those who feared them. Their clever tongues were all at once precise and messy, forcing your body to ascend to a peak your mind found repulsive.

You came like it was written in scripture that you must; inevitable, horrific and erotic all the same.

"There now, warmed by the light of the Lord" came a voice. You felt your eyes move to the source against your will, seeing the second man now and feeling a primal fear at his face, blacked out with a golden painted skull catching the light. Below his chin was smudged obscenely.

He reached up and for a moment you thought he might caress you gently. In your state, you felt greed for such a gesture. The noise that left you was inhuman as he pulled the tube from your chest.

"Brother Price, fix up our guest and take her to her cell won't you?"

Price did as he was told, Gaz in tow. He wondered what name they would give a thing like you. You would be quick to learn the ways of this place he thought, not like him or the others. It had taken so much to redeem them into something that might see the Grace of the Almighty one day. He did not want that for you. He knew with certainty that Gaz did not either, the man had nearly went into a state of sin watching you. Price knew better than to feel anything like Pride, but at the very least he was pleased that he had been able to stop him from going to you for comfort.

It was such a wicked thought, but in his heart he felt it would have been better for you had Soap taken you for meat rather than for saving. It was a difficult and painful thing, being saved by the Fathers here.

--

Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Peter 5:8

But the one who endures to the end will be saved. Matthew 24:13

[thatumbrellaoni]

I didn't see this anywhere, so I decided to translate the tarot section of Yu-Gi-Oh! Bunkobon Volume 21, which provides commentary on Bakura Ryou as "The Fool" card. I was very excited to start this due to my longstanding disappointment with Ryou's general absence and lack of role during the Memory World arc, and I was interested in how he related to the tarot he represented.

Well, as I read and kept on reading, it became apparent that this was quite different from what I hoped for. "This isn't the content I was expecting to glean off of it," were my words when I was livetweeting my progress, and I'll elaborate later because this... went... somewhere, I guess?

Some caveats before we start:

This, and all the other tarot write-ups in the other Bunkobons, was not written by Takahashi-sensei but by a person credited as CoZo (see top left corner of the last image below)

Due to the amount of Japanese culture it absolutely immersed me in, I had this peer reviewed by a Japanese native (thank you, ash!) for errors and to make sure the translation was as accurate as possible without much loss to nuances

Related to point two, I also conducted my own research (I dug deep, starting from a JP YGO message board all the way to a 2009 blog post about these same tarot pages by screaming machine gun-san, a prominent YGO doujinshi artist at the time who created the Bakura/Atem books "STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN"), and links are available for clarification (mostly Wikipedia for ease of access, click on underlined/clickable words)

CoZo refers to the characters as such: Ryou as "Bakura Ryou" and Yami Bakura as "Dark Bakura"/"Bakura" (which was troubling and what confused me by the end of all this but more on that afterwards)

Quite the long post ahead! Please enjoy and share your thoughts! I'd love to hear them!

Yu-Gi-Oh! Tarot Theater 63 0　◆　The Fool　◆ The Fool's Journey―Joker―

Making an appearance this time is Yugi’s old friend who turned out to be his greatest enemy, Bakura Ryou. Looking back to when he debuted in the fourth paperback volume, his name quickly foreshadowed that he would be the final enemy.

After repeated mistakes, he should have lost face many times over, yet his steps remain light without a shred of worry on his face. So, who exactly is he?

The name "Joker" is a name familiar to all―they pretentiously sat among dignitaries in medieval Europe, greatly raised the gambling nature of card games, were viewed in contempt by the church at the time because of it, but remained the beloved star of the masses in countryside plays. They appear in folklore around the world, sowing discord unprompted and then disappearing once there is nothing else for them to do.

Neither good nor evil. Seemingly dense but actually cunning. Causes great strife yet garners no hate. Catching Shakespeare's eye catapulted them to stardom―the jesters who served King Lear and King Oberon added conflict and vitality to their respective narratives by speaking to their kings in sarcastic tones and intruding in affairs within the royal palace. They even made it to the operas and the big screen, like J. Nicholson in recent years, playing the archnemesis in Batman, and F. Mercury, who also sang and danced…

A truly unparalleled existence in the literary history of mankind.

"You think they're the enemy, but when you look at them, they're among your allies, smiling innocently." Is that not exactly what Bakura Ryou is?

Despite entering the story fairly early, his first appearance in this project was near the end… But that is what the illustration is all about―an irreverent man with all the worldly wisdom of a fool.

Yu-Gi-Oh! Tarot Theater 64 0　◆　The Fool　◆ Moral Neutrality―Tabula Rasa―

The card Dark Bakura and Yugi used in the Ultimate Dark Game… had a blank face. Thinking of a person or an object existing in memory will make them show up on it. But because only those that exist in memory may be imprinted on the card, Yugi cannot make something appear if it does not exist in memory.

Valuing the rules, Yugi is rendered at a loss. But Bakura, who does not care, summons and fuses non-standard monsters, steals Yugi's abilities, and counterattacks… all as he pleases. Bakura's resourcefulness and cunning stand out, and his mastery of mimicry proves itself as well, but this is where his weakness is exposed―even when nothing is off the table, Yugi is a cut above the rest in his ability to create original concepts that follow the rules and negate exploitative measures.

Tabula rasa… A blank slate. Where comic artists gladly bring their work to life. A pristine state where the greatest joy lies.

Nothingness… Ruin… A world stolen… I have seen heartrending paintings done by war orphans on the news and at exhibitions. Even the hearts of children suffering the ravages of war can be healed through art. Sadness unable to be put into words can only be expressed in pictures. While trying several strategies, therapists came up with "play therapy". Utilizing toys and games, it has been one of the few methods effective for young children with limited vocabulary and without ways to open their hearts though it has yet to be systemized.

Besides drawing, there are other means like creating miniature gardens, methods that use dolls and clay, and swordplay and playing catch for boys. The recent issue of Clinical Research in Psychology reports Saint Seiya as an example of a story wherein "an abandoned child becomes a hero", which was once represented by Susanoo. Perhaps it is for that reason that the series is popular even in South America. Even in Arab countries devastated by ongoing terorrism, one can see children's eyes light up at Captain Tsubasa.

The use of Yu-Gi-Oh! in psychotherapy is not in any way extraneous. On a cold, windy day a few years ago, over one hundred thousand children holding Yu-Gi-Oh! cards in their hands filled the streets of Makuhari, Chiba―and that sight, that excitement, is unforgettable.

Yu-Gi-Oh! Tarot Theater 65 0　◆　The Fool　◆ An Untainted Soul Adrift―Trickster―

Society has long known the true identity of "The Fool". Passed down through myths and folklore, psychologists called them "Tricksters". Puck, Kokopelli, Goku, Ivan the Fool, Hans… In Japan, Susanoo, Hikoichi, Amanojaku, and so forth would fall under this category. When the Trickster's wicked side surfaces, they are called… Villains. Thieves. Imps. Violators of order… Those hold true for Bakura as well.

Yugi is a boy with numerous "shadows", and Bakura can be considered as one of them. Men with a darkness to them are said to be charming, but I think the charm lies in those who have the capacity to keep that darkness under control and not let it show.

Yes. Yugi had several shadows. An evil existence… which was Marik. A pharaoh, a dark presence sealed within the tomb of memory living in hiding for years. And then Bakura, the childishness Yugi is now breaking away from. Whenever Yugi sees Bakura, immature and unfailingly blithe, it frustrates him because it feels like looking at his old self. Yet despite this bewilderment, he is unable to let Bakura go.

This time, Bakura's juvenile nature brought forth unfathomable terror. The insatiable monstrosity that is boundless, childlike enthusiasm was about to wreak unimaginable destruction upon the world. Bakura's occasional euphoric glee after a rampage is characteristic of how a child expresses gratification. To him, world war and total annihilation could be "playfulness".

Delighting in foul play and mimicry, Bakura does not actually know how to "play". Back then, children had an omiso―they could be a child from out of town, the youngest of the group, the slowest among them, and the like―in their games who was given more lenient and special rules, so they could mingle with the others and all play together properly. When the omiso unexpectedly played more actively, they were then allowed more freedom in games. But children nowadays do not know of the olden days, are less likely to play in groups outside, and only play games with peers that are on the same level as them. For example, even if the wind sprite Matasaburou or a zashiki-warashi spirit came to play, they would not have any way to do so… A wise mother could then only prepare an abundance of snacks and say, "This is for you, spirit. Thank you for playing with us."

In this day and age, we have lost the sense to accept unique individuals like Sendai Shirou, who may be slow-witted but pleasant. Getting along with them hinges on "fun". Can Yugi and his friends play well with Bakura?

Yu-Gi-Oh! Tarot Theater 66 0　◆　The Fool　◆ Bakura Ryou

"The Fool" is wise in the ways of the world and an excellent imitator. Sometimes it is even very powerful. When the great boom of the Middle Ages ended, it was the only one able to slip into playing cards and stay relevant after the tarot was in decline. It can substitute for a missing card in a row in "Sevens", surprise the player with a loss in "Old Maid", and turn the tables at the last second as a wild card in "Poker". It is an outrageous cheat. And quite the pest. But despite all that, it is a reassuring ally when a dealt hand is lacking. After all, it can become any card. Evidently, "The Fool" is ineffective on its own but suddenly becomes extremely powerful when borrowing the strength of others. There are people like that all over the world, so understand their nature and get along with them well. However, it could turn out to be an unfavorable yet inescapable relationship.

The Tarot Speaks―――

Upright

- New beginnings

- Blank slate

- Frivolous

- Reckless

- Innocent

- Immature

- Wasteful

- Deciding too early

- A love full of potential

- A love not yet awakened

- Elopement

- Be curious and go out into the world

- Journey

- Studying abroad

- Visionary

- Obsessed with something

- Over-the-top geek

- Job-hopping part-timer

- Careless with their health

Reversed

- Misjudgment caused by information overload

- Keep calm and decide

- Foolish choices

- Not being vague

- Failing because they messed around too much

- Moody

- Futile actions

- Interruption of studies

- Dropout

- Drifter

- Going the wrong way

- Runaway

- Reckless love

- Foolish love

- Show business

- Unemployed

- Head in the clouds

The young man's journey begins on a blank page. The magical items are long gone.

He has no destination in mind either.

Nevertheless, the young man heads for the wilderness alone.

No, he brought only one thing with him.

A writing tool. With it, he draws his own world on the blank page.

What could he be drawing…?

We will have to wait and see.

Works cited:

Clinical Research in Psychology, Volume 14, Issue 3. The Japanese Society for Clinical Psychology, 1996.

Concept by CoZo

END.

This was an accomplishment and a half. But I'm far from feeling accomplished, just frustrated. In the end, barely anything written on there was directly about Ryou because I feel like CoZo lumped Bakura and Ryou together as one, which really bothered me. If it wasn't about Bakura, though, it was about Yugi (or Atem, not sure which one CoZo was referring to at any given time, really, since they were seemingly lumped in as one as well). Even Marik got a mention ("evil", quite the disservice of a mention too)! Nearly lost motivation finishing the translation, to be honest.

Overall, this seemed... off to me, especially the "Tabula Rasa" and "Trickster" pages. I can see where CoZo was coming from? Maybe? "Play therapy" (Ryou's talent for creating figurines/dioramas) for Ryou after experiencing a family tragedy... He's the omiso... His language is through (his love for) games... But I can't see Bakura as simply not knowing how to "play" or that world war and annihilation are mere "playfulness" to him (with the Kul Elna massacre plot point and all that). Yugi sees his old self in Bakura...? You lost me.

I'm not sure who CoZo is. I searched them up, found someone similar in name, but ultimately didn't learn who they were or what their background was or why they were featured in the Bunkobons (and I just didn't care enough). CoZo might be a tarot expert for all we know, but they didn't know much about the actual character they were talking about to effectively relate "The Fool" to them. And it shows! Like I said, they just talked about Bakura like he was Ryou, like they're the same character (which made me think of the DSOD theory that there isn't a "Bakura", just a Ryou corrupted by the Millennium Ring's evil, but that's neither here nor there).

I mentioned that I came across a 2009 blog post by screaming machine gun-san while researching (it was through them that I realized why this write-up was so confusing to me), and they said it best:

"Hey, commentators... Can you please separate Bakura Ryou, Thief King Bakura, and self-proclaimed 'Zorc' Dark Bakura? You can separate your burnables but not this chaos!? No matter how chaotic these three are, this is not chaos!"

Look, I get it. The Bakuras are the most confusing part of YGO. But come on... You confuse the Bakuras, then you end up confusing the hell out of me!

We have three! They're distinct (see alt text lmao)!

Anyway, in closing, I was planning on translating the rest of the tarot pages for each Bunkobon, but if they're all going to be like... uh, this, I'm not enthusiastic about it.

Special thanks to Aariachang24. His translations of "The Magician" (Atem + BM + BMG) and "The High Priestess" (Ishizu) tarot cards inspired me.

[five-rivers]

Optimism Chapter 1

AO3

@warvikwrites

.

At heart, Vlad was an optimist.  Genuinely.  Really.  Truly.  He suspected that every ghost was.  How else could they linger after the cruelest thing in life had occurred to them?  How else could they survive after death?  How else could they keep going when all hope had been stripped away?

Optimism.  Pure and simple.  

Vlad was optimistic about many things.  His recovery from ecto-acne.  His business prospects.  His romance with Maddie.  His plans to murder Jack.  

The possibility of there being someone else out there who was like him.  

If anyone else was privy to his thoughts, they might have called him delusional.  Hah.  Could a delusional man have built such an empire of theft and lies?  Could a delusional man have risen from the ashes so majestically?  No.  But he was getting off track.  

The point was, Vlad had set aside some of his prodigious fortune for a search.  

Well, more of a listening station than a search.  A network of listening stations, stretching across the globe, reporting their findings back to him.  

Less metaphorically, Vlad funded a lot of hospitals.  A lot of doctors.  A lot of medical research.  He made sure those funds bought some very grateful people who were more than happy to let him know when certain interesting cases crossed their paths.  He also employed a number of ghosts via less monetary means.  

It was a great expense.  But Vlad thought - Vlad was optimistic that - if his search should bear fruit, that fruit would be priceless.  

It also gave him a great reputation for charity, which was more broadly useful than optimism.  

Still.  It was a longshot if there ever was one. As he approached the date of his Gatsbean triumph, his defeat of Jack and his reclamation of Maddie, he was beginning to doubt that anything would ever come of it.  Beginning, even, to start to neglect the reports his many listeners and watchers were sending him.  

But he was optimistic.  He hadn’t given up hope yet.  

Which was why, as he lounged in his velvet dressing gown, sipping a glass of port, he scanned morosely through a stack of medical reports.  The doctors were always very careful not to give him any personally identifiable information.  Just… points of interest.

So he paused and stared when he saw the summary ‘Adolescent male admitted to Amity Park hospital with electrical and chemical burns.  Chemical burns formed blisters filled with green, unidentified liquid within minutes of admission.  Liquid could not be removed from blisters.  Possible similarities to Study VM1984.  Electrical scars also carry unusual green tint.  Patient smells strongly of limes and peppers.’

Vlad read the summary half a dozen times, his heart beating faster with each readthrough.  He’d gotten his hopes up before.  He’d been led on before.  But even that history couldn’t stop him from tearing open the file and devouring it.  

And while the doctors had scruples, the ghosts did not, even if remembering human names were occasionally beyond them.  

Amity Park.  South Mercy Hospital.  Room 724.  That’s where he needed to go.  

.

Danny was miserable, but he guessed that it was better to be miserable and alive than… dead.  

He’d thought for a bit there that he was dead, on the floor of the lab, floating just above, well…  Point was, though, that he wasn’t dead.  Just miserable.  

Just miserable.  

He blinked slowly at the plastic sheeting around his bed and tried not to think too hard about why his skin felt like it was stuck to the sheets.  He’d watched a documentary once about Chernobyl.  It had been rated R, but his parents had thought that the educational value was greater than the risk of trauma or whatever.  The quarantine room he’d been shut into shared a great deal of similarities with the set of the hospital where the firefighters were dying.  

Then again, it also had similarities to sets in zombie movies, so what did he know?

Both of those things had a lot of death in them, though.  A whole lot.  

He should stop thinking about this.  

It was just too bad that there wasn’t all that much else to think about.  He was stuck in the bed, stuck in his head… and if he started to rhyme like that he’d definitely evolve into some kind of supervillain.  Maybe radiation man.  Evil ghost radiation man.  Whatever.  

The TV in the room was on the other side of the plastic sheeting.  The screen was distorted, the volume too low to accurately hear, except for commercials, because it was set to one of those channels that shifted the volume of commercials up about a hundred percent from the volume of the actual show.  They should be sued for that, actually.  Danny would sue them, if he had the money for it.  Maybe.  Something like ‘deafening a nation with cheese ball ads is still deafening a nation.’  

He didn’t have the remote.  Didn't even know if there was a remote.

The problem with this was that even for the most exhausted human on Earth - a distinction Danny was surely at least in the running for - there were a limited number of hours a person could sleep a day.  While in theory that number was twenty-four, in practice it was generally lower.  

Danny knew he was feeling sorry for himself, but he thought he deserved to feel sorry for himself.  He couldn't even roll over.  On the last video call, his parents had said they’d had a friend in college who’d recovered from something ‘similar,’ and they were desperately trying to contact him to see how, but Danny had his doubts at this stage.  No way something as serious as this had a name as dumb as ‘ecto-acne.’  ‘Green bubonic plague’ seemed more appropriate.

But it was better than the alternative.  A shiver rolled through him, and suddenly he was so cold he’d almost swear he could see his breath.  That split second where he was dying, dead, a ruined ghost in the mirror, the hallucination of falling through his friends hands…

Or, worse, the second before it, when, hearing Sam and Tucker scream, he thought he’d killed them, too.  He really hoped they didn’t have any side effects from standing so close to the portal.  He didn’t really remember what they looked like when he saw them, after.  

Someone would have told him if they weren’t okay, right?  Except that no one seemed to want to upset him.  As if he could get more upset.  

Okay.  Actually, he’d give them that one.  

He shifted his weight slightly, half intending to get up despite the way agony shot through him whenever his blisters brushed against anything.  But even as he did so, grogginess swept through him, and the little weight he’d managed to lift sank back onto his pillows.  His eyes drifted closed.  

.

Vlad reset the dial on the morphine drip carefully.  He might have given the young man, the boy, a little more than the doctors would have prescribed, but Vlad had been there.  He knew what it was like, the feeling of your skin swelling, peeling, rotting, dying, the ectoplasm worming its way ever-deeper, and, more selfishly, he also wanted a chance to… observe.  To see.  

To determine if his first impression was at all correct.  

He reached down, and gently lifted the boy’s hand from where it lay limply on the bed, the ectoplasm-pus-filled boils on it glowing weakly where they intersected with Vlad’s aura.  If anyone looked in, it would look like the boy was raising his hand on his own, but Vlad doubted they would.  He’d passed something of an argument on the way in.  

The boy’s ecto-acne had spread all the way down his arm.  It must be progressing much more rapidly than Vlad’s had.  Or… no.  It all looked like it was at about the same stage of development, although it was somewhat less severe than it was on his face.  He must have gotten a massive dose, but perhaps he had been wearing some form of protective gear on his body and hands.  Or simply clothing and gloves.  Whatever he’d been wearing, it had protected him from neither the ectoplasm nor whatever had caused the Lichtenberg figures forking down along his arms and up his neck.  

Had he been hit by lightning?  On his chest or torso?  Had he stepped on an electrical wire?

He put the boy’s hand down and circled the bed, observing further, taking in the distorted lines of the boy’s face, the fall of his hair, the soft, slow rise and fall of his chest, the muddled and, possibly, transitory ectosignature.  

Vlad was optimistic that the ectosignature was not transitory.  That it was permanent.  That it would stabilize.  That the boy would, after a fashion, live.  Always optimistic.  He brushed his fingers against the boy’s cheek.  The boils here flared brighter than the ones on his hand.  

Lovely, in some ways, disgusting in more.  He withdrew.  

As miraculous as all this was for Vlad, he couldn’t help but wonder how the boy had come to be so contaminated, and in such a way.  All his attempts at making half-ghost animals or even plants had met with limited success.  Had he been intersected by a natural portal?  Struck with lightning while passing through one?  

Briefly, Vlad entertained the idea that the boy might be from another time period.  How fortunate that would be for him.  Vlad, of course, would serve as his guardian as well as his mentor in that most ideal of situations.  

There was always the outside chance that the boy had somehow managed to find himself in the same situation as Vlad, in the path of an artificial portal, but, surely, that possibility was beyond laughable.  Even Jack wouldn’t let a child into a lab researching the nature of death, to say nothing of Maddie, and no one else had the knowledge.  

The strange thing was, the boy almost seemed familiar in some ways… Incredible, verging on impossible, considering the swelling caused by the ecto-acne, but, still, there was something…

The door of the room burst open, and the devil himself walked in, wearing a biohazard suit.  

A devil who went by the name of Jack Fenton.  

Vlad threw himself out of the way.  He could have gone intangible, yes, but he didn’t want his molecules to touch Jack’s at all, even intangibly, thank you very much.  

Jack was followed by two others.  A smaller figure, a teen, and…

… Maddie.  

The love of his life.  She was as radiant as ever, even through the plastic faceplate of a full hazmat suit.  

But why was she here?  Why were any of them here, in this room, with his boy?

Transfixed, Vlad watched the tableau.  Jack, Maddie, and the teen in their biohazard suits, leaning over the boy, holding his hand, whispering to him, tears impacting the insides of their face plates.  

Rage boiled within him when he saw Jack, the fool, the oaf, take his boy’s slender, delicate hand with no regard to how painful the ecto-acne on it must be.  But that rage was equalled, if not exceeded by the confusion engendered by the presence of Maddie and the girl.  

Surely, they couldn’t have been called in as experts.  Vlad would have been contacted long before them, as the only survivor of this kind of poisoning and pioneer and patent holder for its treatment.  

“Mister and Missus Fenton!” snapped a doctor wearing similar garb.  “I don’t care if you’re ‘properly dressed,’ you cannot be here until we figure out what the contaminant is!

“This is our son!” said Jack.  “We can’t not be here!”

“And we’re the experts in this ‘contamination!’  It’s ectoplasm.”

The doctor looked like he wanted to strangle them.  Vlad sympathized, but he was still reeling from the revelation.  His boy?  Jack’s… son?

Maddie’s son.  That was a much more comfortable thought.

“I thought you said we had permission,” hissed the… daughter?  Yes, surely, that young lady must be Jack and Maddie’s daughter.  

Wonderful, in some ways, disgusting in more.

“Why should we need permission to see Danny?”

“That question would make more sense if it wasn’t your fake ‘ghost portal’ that did this to him!”

“With the hazmat–”

“What if it’s not safe for him?”

That shut Jack up.  

“Thank you,” said the doctor.  “We will let you know when you can come back and visit properly.  In the meantime, you need to leave.  You can keep having video conversations like you have been.”

They left.  Vlad dropped himself into a nearby visitor chair, just outside the plastic sheeting they had the boy surrounded by.  Maddie’s son…  And he had been changed by a portal.  

Incredible.  Beyond optimism.  

On the counter beside him, there was a folder.  Probably a copy of something that had been left behind accidentally.  He picked it up and opened it.

At the very top of the first piece of paper, was the name Daniel Fenton.  

Daniel.  

Daniel was a lovely name.  Maddie must have chosen it.  

Daniel Fenton.  

Daniel Fenton.  

Daniel.  

Soon enough, it would be Daniel Masters.  

Vlad liked the ring of that.

.

Danny was nervous.  His parents had gotten in touch with their friend who’d had ‘ecto-acne’ and he was coming to visit the hospital to do an assessment.  His parents hadn’t mentioned before today that he was the patent holder for the only effective treatment of ecto-acne, and that the treatment was still classified as experimental, so he could withhold it, if he decided to.  They hadn’t mentioned that he was the only expert in the disease, and that he’d virtually cured himself.  They hadn’t mentioned that the treatment was extremely expensive and their insurance wouldn’t cut it.  They hadn’t mentioned that their friend was Vlad Masters.  Or that he payed most of the bills for this hospital.  

Danny was realizing that his parents had a tendency to not mention really important things.  

Like, hey, the stuff we sometimes store in the fridge can cause a debilitating and potentially fatal illness!  Yeah.  That would have been great to know forever ago.  

… the CPS case that was taking up so much of their time recently might hold more water than Danny had originally thought.  

One of the nurses, wearing a huge, bulky version of hazmat, had brought the video call computer up to his bed.  She’d be assisting Mr. Masters with his assessment.  

Mr. Masters.  Danny was a bit confused that it wasn’t Dr. Masters, when he’d gone through most of the same schooling as Danny’s parents and then learned at least enough about medicine to be considered an expert in something like this, but apparently the man preferred it that way.  

Danny didn’t get it.  

But Danny had other things to worry about, like not annoying the man who could decide whether Danny could get better now or if he’d have to wait until his parents figured something out.  Danny… was not particularly optimistic about his parents figuring anything out.  At the same time, he could read between the lines.  Mr. Masters had cut contact with his parents for nearly twenty years and then only responded to their frantic calls about Danny after days had gone by.  

Danny didn’t think Mr. Masters liked his parents very much.  

But he was seeing Danny, so… Maybe Danny could be optimistic.  Less pessimistic.  Whatever.  

The loading circle on the screen vanished, replaced by a picture of his parents sitting side by side.  

“Oh, Vladdie’s not here yet?” asked Jack, his voice tinny through the speaker.  

“No, you’re the first ones on,” said the nurse.  

“Hi, Danny,” said Maddie, giving him a little wave.  “How do you feel today?”

“Tired,” said Danny.  It was a real question, but he didn’t have the energy to describe the… everything.  His skin was too hot, his insides too cold, every movement was pain, sometimes he’d randomly be freezing for no reason, and he wasn’t sure if he had started to have hallucinations, or if the awful green stuff had migrated to the inside of his eyes, because it looked like there were blobs of it everywhere.  

She smiled halfway.  “You just have to hold in for a little bit, Danny.  I’m sure Vlad won’t be long.  He’ll see the same things we do.”

Just as she finished her sentence, another loading circle popped up and was quickly replaced by the image of a silver-haired man in an expensive-looking suit.  He sat in an opulent office, backed by shelves full of books and knick knacks.  

“Hello, Maddie.  Ah, you must be Daniel.”

“Yeah,” said Danny, he tried to smile, but the motion pulled at one of his blisters, and he stopped.  

“Vladdie!” exclaimed Jack.  “It’s been forever!  It’s great to see you looking so, so–”

“I would say that it was nice to meet you, Daniel,” interrupted Mr. Masters, entirely ignoring Jack, “but under the circumstances… It probably doesn’t feel nearly as nice to you.”  He looked down at something below the range of his camera.  “Now, I have a few photographs here from your parents and your doctors, but I will need to get a better look at some things and ask some questions before I can really tell if your contaminant is ectoplasm based, and, if it is, whether or not your problem is the same as mine.”

“Vladdie?  Does he not hear me?  Is our microphone not on?”

“I can hear you just fine, Jack, but there are more important things at hand.  Daniel, is it alright for me to examine you?  I know this is all very irregular.”  Mr. Masters looked up.  “This would be so much easier if I could do this in person, but time is of the essence, unfortunately, and this is such a surprise.”

Danny understood.  It was a surprise for him, too.  

“Yeah… It’s okay.”

“Good.  Then, if you’re ready, let’s begin with…”

The assessment was blessedly brief, mostly consisting of the nurse helping Danny move to show off different blisters.  

“Well,” said Mr. Masters, “I have to agree with Maddie’s diagnosis of ecto-acne.”  He shuffled together a sheaf of papers.  “I had been optimistic that my sickness was a one-off, a fluke, but I’m glad I prepared for the worst.  “Daniel will need–”  Mr. Masters started to rattle off a list of… It was a list.  

“Mr. Masters,” said the nurse, “I don’t think this hospital has all of that equipment.”

“I am aware.  I will, of course, arrange for you to be moved to my private clinic, near my home, Daniel.  It’s where I get treatments for my flare ups.”

“Oh, Vlad,” said Maddie, “I don’t know if we can afford–”“Nonsense, Maddie, dear,” said Mr. Masters, smiling.  “I’ll pay for everything.  Transportation, board, treatment… Even a place for you and your daughter to stay nearby.  After all, I know exactly what Daniel is going through.  I could never leave someone to suffer like I did.”

[jasmineshaven]

brando by lucy dacus being my jo harvelle and dean winchester song but in the fucked up one-sided pining way and not the relationship way

[zhongliologist]

Not a Fairytale | Alhaitham

Pairing: Alhaitham x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1.1k

A/N: I just had a sudden idea and went with it. Unfortunately, I dont think I can write any longer than this for now. I'm still deciding if I should just let this be a drabble or if I'll turn it into a series, but yeah here you go.

At first, you thought it was simply a figment of your imagination.

Who wouldn’t? You can’t even remember when was the last time you had a proper rest. In fact, you were practically living in the Akademiya’s library because you just can’t be separated from your work. You don’t have much time to waste—there were exams to study for, theses to complete, and references to pour into. Much like every scholar of the Akademiya, who can blame you?

So when you saw the scroll you were studying glow golden; the specks of light floating in the air until they merged to form a silhouette of a man, you just sat there on your seat thinking that you had finally lost it.

“What are you gawking at?”

The being from the scroll asked, his peridot eyes scrutinizing you as if you were some insect on display.

“Oh!” You shifted positions on your chair, totally unbothered. “You can talk.”

“Huh. What do you think?”

The man was tall and fit with good features, while his ash colored hair was parted by large headphones over his ears. It seemed like he was some sort of Akademiya scholar as well, but it was weird that he came from inside the scroll. You had no explanation for that except that you were possibly hallucinating.

You hummed at him, eyes heavy and deflated. You didn’t have the energy to reprimand the mysterious entity for being rude, instead you just watched him taking the nearest seat and opening some book to read.

“How peculiar,” you remarked, head leaned on the side to study him. “I’m not sure if you really came from the scroll or if you’re just part of my imagination.”

The man arched a brow at you. “Oh? What if I really did come from the scroll. What then?”

You shrugged, as if this was some commonplace conversation. “I guess I have no choice but ask how that’s possible. Besides, you haven’t even told me who you are.”

“I could say the same to you.”

You exhaled. Immediately, you knew the man was a handful, and you don’t need a handful—not on top of all the work you had to do.

“I’m Y/N. I’m a scholar in the Akademiya and I’m working on a research project which involves the scroll you came from. Your turn.” You replied curtly, and straight to the point; leaving no room for snarky remarks.

“Huh. So that explains it.” The man closed his book and turned his head towards you, though he still looked unimpressed. “I’m Alhaitham. I’m the Akademiya’s Grand Scribe, that is until that scroll absorbed me.”

For the first time in forever, you were at a loss for words. “The—the scroll absorbed you?”

“In my own research, this scroll is a malicious object from the era of the first sages. Perhaps a lesson for the overzealous scholar, who much like I did, spent too much time studying it until I was seeped into the pages.”

You hummed. “Interesting.”

It would be great to learn how to imbue an object with leyline energy; enough that it can trap souls in it. But just like what Alhaitham had said, that could be quite hazardous.

“So, what are you going to do now? How can you get out of there?”

“Currently, I see no way out, except…”

Alhaitham’s words trailed off as he glanced over at the mountains of books and papers strewn around you both.

“Except what?” you asked, curious.

Unbeknownst to you, a thought was running inside Alhaitham’s mind. It could work, but he was not a hundred percent confident that things would fall into place. But if he was right…then…

“Say…YN,” the man turned to you. “You said you’re currently in the middle of a project, is that correct?”

You leaned your head to the side, wondering why the topic was suddenly changed. “Huh…well, yes. I’m struggling though.”

“I can help you with it.”

The suddenness of his suggestion made you pause and consider what he was saying. There was an incredulous look on your face which Alhaitham thought was amusing. Standing up, he strolled closer to where you were sitting.

“…in exchange for what…?” you asked, sure that no offer was with no catch.

“I think I know how to get out of the scroll but I need your help.”

 Considering it for a few moments, you felt that there was no harm in helping the poor guy. He was probably trapped there for a long time now, who knows. And besides, he did claim to be a grand scribe, which meant he had enough brain power to help you in all the research you need. It was tempting.

“Oh fine. As long as it doesn’t involve killing, sacrificing or any untoward harm to me or anyone, I guess I can help you.”

Alhaitham made a small smile, which seemed more like a smirk to you. “Excellent. Then we have an agreement.”

He held out his hand at you for a shake, which you took.

However, instead of letting you go, Alhaitham leaned forward and pulled you towards him. Perhaps you were just exhausted but the speed of what happened prevented your brain from processing everything. With hand now holding you firmly behind your back and another one cupping your cheek, you saw peridot eyes right before you.

“What are you—mmph!!”

In a split second, you felt his soft lips on yours, melding together seamlessly. Every nerve in your body sent waves of electricity down your spine; waking you up from your fatigue. You were confused, and tried to push him away yet his body was as hard as rock and his grip was tight and firm that there was nothing you could do.

You felt him waver for a moment, lifting his lips from yours, yet suddenly, Alhaitham dove right back in, kissing you more deeply and roughly than before. He bit and nibbled at your lips, his tongue prying your mouth open. Feeling lightheaded, you never had a chance. The man easily slipped his tongue right in, finding yours and playing it until he was satisfied.

As it happened, your shock turned into confusion, which turned into giddiness. The kiss may be sudden but it was good, and you probably needed it for some time. You reveled in the feeling of sexual pleasure and ecstasy until it was taken from you as fast as it came.

When Alhaitham pulled back, he gazed into your eyes, still dazed and breathless.

“Perhaps my theory was wrong then.”

Your brows knitted together in bewilderment. “W-What…?”

Alhaitham grinned at you. “The only way to get out of the scroll is through a ‘true love’s kiss’.”

You grimaced.

“Are…are you fucking serious…?”

[bhawk-goose]

I've just started watching the Pokemon anime from the beginning for some reason and I already have some thoughts. I'm just using this post as a journal.

Firstly, Professor Oak is a cruel man, he knew all the pokemon other than Pikachu were taken and still made Ash go through the process of picking up each.

Also, this show is like 30 years old so you'd think comedy would be different, but for some reason Pikachu playing baseball with is pokeball is the funniest shit ever to me.

Pikachu has already shown it is far too powerful. I get that pokemon are generally more powerful than humans, there's a reason trainers have their pokemon beat the shit out of wild pokemon on their behalf instead of just doing it themselves, but god. Pikachu knocked out twelve people, most of which were probably adults. AND Ash is also godlike, he was the closest to Pikachu. He was the one that the electric current went through to knock out the twelve people in the crowd, but he was fucking FINE. Just some scorch marks, that's it. This is a ten year old child, with that level of current he should be dead. He should be just a charred skeleton.

Has Ash done no research or is only being able to say their name specific to Pikachu? It's an animal, what the fuck did he expect? Does he also expect a response when he asks a dog who the goodest boy is?

Next, Pikachu hates being confined, so removing the waist-leash made sense, but why the gloves? They weren't even touching Pikachu, they were on his hands.

why is there boss music playing when Pidgey appears and Ash thinks he's gonna fight it? He's specifically fighting it because it's easy. Also I'm putting it on the same line cuz it's the same scene basically, what kind of yawn was that? Pikachu's "cha" was clearly supposed to be a yawn, but that did not sound tired at all. That is what yawns would sound like if we did them when we had too much energy.

remember when I said trainers have their pokemon beat the shit out of wild ones on their behalf? Apparently not Ash. I'm convinced that Ash is from our world, but doesn't know much about Pokemon, so he's just heard of it in passing and knows nothing. And when he was in our world he never encountered any non-human life.

"enjoy your last moments of freedom"? Ash isn't even trying to be a caring pokemon master, he is just straight up has no sympathy for them. I'm glad this kid never met an animal in the real world, at least pokemon can fight back a lot better.

What was that laugh at Ash's failure? That was far too human. I hate that. Pikachu is a straight up demon. New theory, ontop of Ash being from our world, there are demons(or some kind of demon equivalent) in the pokemon world. Pikachu is one of them, and pokeballs are like holy water to them. That's why Pikachu doesn't want to be in the pokeball.

I know this is pokemon, and there are tank turtles with no clear sign(to my knowledge) of how they get the water they shoot, and rats with unlimited supplies of electricity, and sentient magnets, but Pidgey is none of those. Pidgey is a normal fucking bird, nothing special about it. Where the fuck did it get that sand from??

the pokedex is fucking amazing. Earlier I thought it was just coincidental that it was a bit late, but no. That thing is alive, and it fucking HATES Ash.

why the hell do wild pokemon get jealous of trained pokemon? Just get in the ball and you'll be a trained pokemon. And trainers openly do not care about the pokemon they catch, Ash already showed that.

the way it cut straight from Ash and Pikachu passing a Magikarp in the river to a gyarados makes it look like that thing just evolved on the spot.

Misty not caring about Ash at all is completely fair. I don't care if she doesn't have any context to know what happenned, there is a hurt animal.

"Pikachu, this can't... happen" he's not wrong, it can't, it's only the first episode of the show and Pikachu's a main character.

"the town of pallet" sounds completely different from "pallet town", and why does Ash think he's a noble defender, he's ten, and he's defending a rat that kocked out twelve people.

Pikachu just created a giant sky beam. That was not a lightning strike, it was like a mile thick. Pikachu is not a demon, it's far too powerful, it is satan himself.

anyway, those were my thoughts on the first episode of the pokemon anime. It was like 11 minutes long, but I took like 30 to write about it. If I get any likes on this I'll keep posting my thoughts as I watch it.

[llau-ren-ti-a]

Bad Batch Headcanons - Skin Conditions

I’ve had this on my mind for way too long now and I NEED to write it down.

For context: I think that their mutations and “enhancements” had some side effects and actually made them more sensitive or gave them some other issues, this is one of many. Maybe Regs have to deal with this too, but I’m running with the Bad Batch for now.

TW: skin conditions, acne, eczema, a little blood? self-harm and injury

Hunter

first of all - he has like the most sensitive skin ever

I’m talking unscented, only natural ingredients, ph-neutral, everything you can imagine

soap made from ash, lime and oil, like, really specific and gentle shit

but on the other hand worst mixed skin ever, goes from crazy oily to dryer than Tatooine at least once a week

he’s either looking like a glazed donut or a shedding lizard

he’d straight up put cooking oil on his face bc “oil is good for dry skin, right?

someone tell this man how to take care of himself istg

bandana hides his greasy roots

bandana may be tied in different styles to hide his dandruff

he‘s highkey insecure about it

he‘s shedding like a dog, his hair is everywhere

in the shower, on the bed sheets, in the food if he cooks

if he ever shaves, doesn’t matter where or how he’s getting the worst razor burn and ingrown hairs ever

he’s getting all the issues

also, a big candidate for body acne?

he gives me back acne vibes

doesn’t wash his bedsheets or towel nearly often enough

they actually all (accidentally?) share a towel and never wash it, I’m convinced

Tech

his skin is dry af like, eczema / neurodermitis / psoriasis dry

especially his hands and joints, like the inside of knees and elbows

and around his eyes, especially because of his goggles/glasses, but also in the corners

he researched everything but sometimes just can’t help it and almost scratches his skin off

Hunter makes him wear cotton gloves when he goes to bed

that’s why he never sleeps

Crosshair straight up ties his hands with bandages so he can’t scratch himself

also a very dry scalp / dandruff candidate

should spend all of his time moisturising

tinkering around the marauder and getting into contact with motor oils/hydraulic liquids/fuel only makes it so so so much worse

doesn't wear skin protection, especially not gloves because it 'inhabits his motor functions'

don't get me started on his nails and nailbeds, because I can see how inflamed and irritated the skin is

the skin also peels off

sweaty hands

has a lot of moles?

stresses about said moles

Wrecker

has the nicest skin ever

except for a big pore / blackhead here and there

usually around the nose or on his forehead

literally the guy who either doesn't use soap or uses the same bar of soap to wash everything

it works

healthy glow might be mistaken for oily skin but it's actually not

actually gets a sunburn often, especially on his head, but refuses to do anything about it

turns into a lobster on uv-light-intense missions

red skin, really tight and shiny

sometimes, if crosshair is feeling really mean he gives him a brotherly slap on the sunburnt shoulder

he gets mouth sores sometimes, like cold sores?

also very attractive to mosquitos? he sweats a lot

scratches his mosquito bites so there are little scars all over his body

really random but occasionally he gets like one big aggressive butt pimple and can't sit for a few days

is very vocal about said butt pimple

Crosshair

my beloved

he's also getting all the issues

had very bad acne as a cadet

especially around his chin and cheeks to the point he straight up refused to take off his helmet

now that he's done with puberty he has a bunch of acne scars left

still breaks out sometimes

very sensitive to water - he just washes his face like usual and suddenly breaks out because that particular planet's water is 'weird'

so much acne but dry af skin, it's hard to combat

skin picking as self harm

aggressive nail biter; not only the nails but the skin around it

he's actually one big hangnail

and his nailbeds and sides are always inflamed

toothpicks to stop him from picking his skin

or to try to stop him from smoking but this is not a mental health / addiction headcanon

I'm convinced he has the ugliest, driest old man elbows and knees, I just know that they look weird

Echo

technically a reg, I know

but his prosthetics sometimes don't sit right, so there's a lot of friction and a high risk of irritated skin, blisters and sores

he's so pale - not surprised at all if he gets sunburnt quickly

reminds everyone to use lotion / sunscreen

learned the hard way bc he listened to Fives

tries to keep everyone from making stupid mistakes

buir mode activated

Omega

baby

baby skin

for now

Echo attempts to keep her in check

gets one really bad sunburn and learns her lesson

can't move for 3 business days

also, not a skin condition but she spends 5 seconds in direct sunlight and is just covered in freckles

[charlottedabookworm]

Ok, now I've got to ask: how would you write that Eos in Pegasus crossover?

i think-

i think it would depend on what type of story i was trying to tell

am i writing fic about the stargate crew meeting eos? am i writing a fic about the people of eos meeting stargate, and the universe beyond that? is it a full fusion? if eos is in pegasus, how haven't they already been culled to near extinction? do they have stories of the wraith?

but- i think maybe the story i'd tell is that eos is a planet on the distant edges of the pegasus galaxy

once upon a time, long before lucis, long before even solheim, it was... probably a planet of the ancients. maybe a research facility, maybe they lived in harmony, who knows? the ancients are twats but eos had to get it's gate somehow anyway

the wraith already existed when the ancients flee, near ten thousand years ago from canon. the wraith are why they fled after all. so, once upon a time, the people of eos had stories of the monsters in the night, the creatures who stole away their children adn their loved ones to eat them. daemons, they were called by the people of eos all those years ago

eos forgot this, after the ancients left

(how could they not, when their gate became nothign more than a monument? how could they not, when the controls that powered the shield around their whole planet were long forgotten?)

(the ancients isolated eos as an experiment)

(it saved them, in the end)

the ancients left and eventually the civilisation of solheim fell and lucis rose in its ashes and the scourge, discovered when some unknowning travellers visited a small island that had buildings made of clear stone and brought countless riches back to the mainland with them, spreads

it mutates

(as ancient experiments so often do)

they mutate

the creatures born are called daemons, after the monsters they told their children about at night, a myth older than memory

bahamut, ramuh - the astrals, all of them, (ascended, all of them) stare, some in horror and some in fascination. they debate on what to do. they are not supposed to interfere

they do anyway

(eos is, perhaps, worse off for it)

time passes. ardyn and somnus are born. a betrayal. a monster born of ancient experimentation. a bloodline gifted from ancient experimentation

time passes

canon approaches

the astrals, the ascended, they are still not supposed to interfere . they are supposed to be distant, recorders of history, detatched. except they have watched this planet for two thousand years now, daring not to rejoin the others for fear of their first interference being noticed. they are supposed to be above the mortals below them

eos is dying

bahamut is certain in his plan. with it, eos will be saved. the survivors can rebuild. and, with ardyn adn noctis and lunafreya sacrificed at the labratory alter, well. they can finally return to the other ascended as all proof of their interference would have passed

bahamut is certain

the other astrals are... less so

they are worshipped here (like the ori and they flinch from the comparison, flinch from the power it gives them) and their people beg them for aid and they-

bahamut is certain

(bahamut is drunk on worship, he becomes less and less the man they knew with each day, just as ifrit had before they had been forced to intefere and they-)

they interfere

ships are guided to that small island with its laboratory. the notes on the scourge are conveniently written there in Sol, a language only their scholars would know but still one translatable

a new path is found

(bahamut rages-)

they interfere

(the gate is unearthed)

they interfere

(the block, the disconnect that had removed it from the rest fo the pegasus system, fades away)

the stargate lights up in the centre of a field in lucis, in an eos that is scourge free if not daemon free, and the man who happens to see it is a man old enough to remember when daemons were myth

to remember the stories of world travellers told to him by his father, by his grandmother, passed down from century to century until there was no one left to tell them

(atlantis' system flickers, releasing a hidden file, a hidden address)

the stargate lights up. AR1 steps through

Ardyn Lucis Caelum meets them when they do