#<- the last two are the titles for the stories

[whumpster-fire]

Oh boy okay I think my smallest / least known fave is Ambersun (formerly known as Albion, changed because of how many other bands have the same name), and I am begging everyone to listen to this band because seriously it is so good.

Summary: it's a power metal band which I think may be basically a one man show plus various guest vocalists I'm not sure, which does story-based concept albums based on different works of fiction. Possibly qualifies as Rock Operas? Anyway I love "fandom music" and this is one of my all time favorites even though two of the albums are for "I don't even go here" fandoms and the other is for a book I found through the music, because the sound is awesome, the lyrics are awesome, and you can just hear the passion put into them.

I'm now going to post a bunch of lyrics under the cut please please please listen to these songs. Actually just listen to the albums in order, this is one of those bands where the songs are already good as standalones but you really need to listen to the full album to get the full experience.

We are lost, in an endless night, the sun drained from our eyes

Gone, when we sold our lives to the plague that stole the sky

"Life Before Death," from The Poison Skies

Erased and they don't care, but you would still be here if only you'd stayed, been mine only mine

It's so unfair to leave me, the tribe I formed deceived me, but now I'll fight in your name

There's no way to hide from their stare,

I still feel their eyes everywhere

And the hatred that clouds all their minds, it hides the truth of it all

"Out In the Wilds" from The Poison Skies

The one to keep the noble name, to carry all their hopes and dreams, a future severed when one night became forever

"Run" from The Poison Skies. This. Freaking. Song. Has changed me. "Run" is a banger on its own, but reading The Afflicted and reaching the scene this song is about made it so much better and also slightly painful. Which can be said about the entirety of The Poison Skies but this song especially, because the entire song is a character high on adrenaline, deluding himself into believing he can actually pull off the promise he made to his friends that he was going to survive the badass self-sacrificing stunt he was pulling. Also I have no idea how I have not gotten a speeding ticket while playing this in the car yet.

Visions that I can't erase, every time I see her face,

She reminds me of how I never tried

Now I watch us as we fall, can't help anyone at all,

Why did I alone survive?

Survivor's Guilt!

"Survivor's Guilt" from The Poison Skies

This worthless weapon symbolizes who I am

Remaining silent, offer no resistance,

And I become the iron mask

"Disappear" from The Poison Skies

Survive one last dance through the wind and the cold,

We can't change our stories, but they still can be told

"Snow" from The Poison Skies

Sealed in cryogenic cold, I'll dive into the dark, reanimate your soul

Together we will rise up hand in hand this blackened night

"Morning" from The Day the Night Slept

I'll burn in the night, I'll light up the sky, you'll see,

And I'll be the Scorpion's Fire!

"The Scorpion's Fire" from The Day the Night Slept

Lost in the night, but still he survives

I'll tear apart time so his heart never dies

"Asriel Must Be Saved" from Buried Souls. Yes this is exactly what it sounds like from the title. A 15 minute musical fix fic about finding a way of saving Asriel Dreemur from Undertale with some sort of timeline fuckery I don't understand because I haven't played the game. And it's glorious.

Mighty wheels will turn again, flames of faith ignite

Chase the legend of the sun, and bathe our world in light

"Bring Back the Sun," currently a single release.

enough about taylor swift already. reblog and tag the smallest, least known artist you listen to

[youryurigoddess]

Good Omens Christmas jumpers, because of course they are a thing now

Glad to see that I’m not the only one clowning about the Good Omens Christmas jumper designs! You know what it means — putting together everything in one thread to make the further speculations more streamlined and, obviously, fun.

On November 20th, Rob Wilkins was present at the “Designing Terry Pratchett’s Discworld” event at Brendon Books. Probably not much to talk about from most of the Good Omens fans perspective, if not for the journalist Kat Brown posting on Bluesky the next morning:

But wait, something’s wrong. Or maybe not wrong, just… different. Why is Crowley the one shielding Aziraphale with his wing in his demonic, black-clothed, black-winged form? That’s a clear deviation from the pattern established in Eden and Before the Beginning.

There was barely enough time to discuss this phenomenon properly though. In the afternoon of November 21st, Rob made a previously unannounced appearance at the Paul Kidby’s “Designing Terry Pratchett’s Discworld” event at Waterstones Piccadilly, where he presented the Aziraphalean version of the jumper. On it — one Forty Years of Discworld pin and a second one in preparation for 2025 as The Year of the Luminous Lemur. Thanks to the phenomenal @basement-jax (I’m not exaggerating, I’ve seen her perform live on stage with Michael Sheen last month) present on site, we got the next photos in real time:

Let’s compare both designs, starting with the most noticeable difference — their color schemes. Both consist of six different swatches, three of which (white, black, and skin tone) repeat. The remaining three are two shades of the fourth color (brown for Aziraphale and red for Crowley) and a fifth, contrasting color (blue and yellow, respectively).

Six is obviously a very important number in terms of the Good Omens lore. Six episodes per season, 666 as the number of the Beast (Antichrist/Adam), 668 as the original title of the unpublished sequel — the ending of this story that will be finally adapted and revealed very soon. Not accidental.

Which brings us to the question of the left angel’s hair. Changing two brown shades to two golden ones, one already used in the other color scheme, not only shouldn’t be a problem for the designer, but would be a cheaper option and ensure consistency with the right angel’s design.

Some netizens have suggested that this discrepancy is caused by the left design representing the book iterations of the Ineffable Husbands. Book Crowley’s hair is dark — could be black, brown, red, even dark blond — and book Aziraphale’s hair is blond, which logically could be depicted as white or light brown.

Their graphic novel iterations created by Colleen Doran use black for Crowley’s hair (much longer than that of the left jumper demon) and blond for Aziraphale, close enough to the yellow yarn already used in this project and not quite the same shape as the jumper angels’ hairstyles.

Since neither seem to be an exact match for the design, could it be reverse Omens? The answer is not as simple. The characters aren’t just swapped; both of their hairstyles have been redrawn, at least partially. Unlikely a technical issue, when wings and clothes stayed exactly the same.

That would be the facts. Now onto the silliness!

My clowning theory is that we’re dealing with two alternative timelines or retellings here.

For Christmas, Crowley wishes for things to stay exactly the same as they are — but with him as Aziraphale’s protector, the romantic hero his angel needs and deserves.

Aziraphale wishes for a past where he doesn’t exist, or at least never meets Crowley. That’s how the latter would stay an angel and his role of the Serpent of Eden would be taken over by someone else — someone like Beelzebub, perhaps, with their small frame and short black hair?

@bardraelyn kindly suggested yet another option, purely out of amusement: “What if the “Aziraphale’ sweater depicts Lucifer and God?”.

What about you? What are your theories?

This clowning is now officially approved by Rob:

[lvrrgirlll]

Tolerate It (series)

Synopsis: Life as Patrick Zweig’s controversially young girlfriend should have been a dream, but it was anything but. He was a broken man. You were a girl who knew all too well. Who’s to say whether you’ve got it wrong now…

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Pairing: Patrick Zweig x reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, reader is jealous and somewhat paranoid, references to cheating, creepy old men hitting on reader, both Patrick and reader get much needed wake up calls…

Notes: This entire part is kind of frustrating BUT it’s so necessary in the progression of the story y’all! It will all come together trust!! (Also I’m on Thanksgiving break soon so I’ll be able to write more)

Previous part

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Part 3: Things fall apart

2029:

Weeks before you two had agreed to the interview, you already knew Patrick was going to retire. It hadn’t been announced at that point, but you knew. It had come after a particularly bad fight.

“But you don’t understand, Patrick! You’re not listening to me! It’s not easy for me, I feel like I drop everything to be there for you all the time. When was the last time you honestly did anything for me?” You shouted at him, frustrated at the fact that you were even having this fight. He had complained that you didn’t seem so supportive of him going for a spot in Wimbledon in the upcoming season, which you hadn’t been because you were tired of traveling all the time and being alone during the day while he practiced incessantly. That didn’t seem so hard to understand to you. He had won several titles over the past few years. What was one other?

“Oh, I don’t do anything for you? Who payed for the house we’re in right now? Who bought you that dress? Who bought that huge fucking rock on your finger?” He fired back angrily. You hated fighting like this. It always reminded you of the power imbalance between the two of you.

2020:

After finding out what you did, you decided not to confront Patrick. It must’ve been your mistake. You wrote it off as foolish assumption on your part. In your gut, though, you knew better.

You two went on like normal for a while. He went back on tour for a bit. With this newfound information, you definitely called him more often than before. He didn’t seem to mind though, which honestly surprised you for a bit. You half worried about annoying him, seeming like just some ridiculous kid, but at the end of the day, you did really care about him, and would do anything to make sure he stayed with you.

On a cool, Spring Saturday evening you called him, knowing he shouldn’t be busy given the time. Much to your dismay, though, no answer. Fuck. So you called him again. Still no answer. Doing what any rational person would, you checked his location. He was at some bar. You felt defeated. Surely he was with some whore. Then a terrible, horrible idea came to you. What if you drove out to where he was playing? What if you drove out to that bar? …No, you couldn’t. But then again…it was a Saturday night. You weren’t busy. And he was far, but realistically, not that far. A 4 hour drive. So maybe he wouldn’t be at the bar by the time you got there…but then again, maybe he would be? Your curiosity jealousy got the best of you as you grabbed your keys, slipping on your shoes and heading out to your car.

You drove like a bat out of Hell, surely speeding, but you hardly cared. You were fueled by your paranoia. What was he doing at some random dive bar? Why wasn’t he answering your calls? You intended to get answers to both of these questions.

Driving so quickly, you shaved a whole hour off the drive, arriving at the run down looking bar a little past midnight. When you got there you parked, slamming the door before marching into the building with purpose. Upon entering, you took in your surroundings. It was dim, most light coming from neon signs for different beer brands. There were a few pool tables off in one corner, an empty stage, and the bar, which looked to be the type that really only served beer or whiskey. Why on earth would Patrick even be at a place like this? He’s gotta be with some girl…

It wasn’t too busy. There were a few older looking guys at the end of the bar, not “older” like Patrick— actually older— and several ladies who looked to be in their 40s, loudly cheering with margaritas in hand. Still no sign of Patrick. You were still stood by the door, looking down at your phone to check his location, which still pinpointed him right at the bar, when you noticed the older men leering at you.

“Hey princess, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here,” one of the men hollered. You tried to avoid eye contact, walking further into the bar and therefore away from them. There were several guys who looked to be closer to Patrick’s age crowded around the pool tables, so you walked in that direction, hoping Patrick was among them. With your luck, however, none of the dark, curly haired men were Patrick.

“What’s your name sweetheart,” one of them purred, leaning on his pool cue and eyeing you up and down. You felt uncomfortable, but definitely safer here than with the old guys from the front.

“Um- I’m looking for my, uh, boyfriend. He’s been here for a while, supposedly, and I was just kind of worried about him. H- have you seen a guy like this?” You turn your phone, then, showing off your lock screen which is a picture of you and Patrick cuddling in bed.

The man laughs in response, nodding his head in the direction behind you. “There’s your man, but uh, I don’t know if you’ll wanna see him…” he said smoothly, with a sense of pity filtering through his words. Your heart sank before you even turned around, and everything felt like it had just become slow motion. You turned around, seeing Patrick in a dark corner making out with another girl. You could hardly see her with his hands all over her face, but she looked to be sort of young like you. What the fuck?

“Hey, I’m sorry-“ the man behind you offered, but you walked away from him without another word. You approached Patrick quickly, reaching him finally. Despite your loud steps against the creaky wooden floor, neither he nor the girl he was currently kissing turned in your direction. Before you could even think of a strategy, you just let out a defeated assertion.

“Patrick.” His eyes immediately opened as he practically pushed the girl off of him, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Fuck, uh, what are you doing here?” That was all he could offer?

“You didn’t answer my call,” you replied as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You weren’t even sure why this hurt so much. You knew he was fooling around on tour…it was just something about him avoiding you to do so that really got you. The whole thing got to you, honestly, but you had been kidding yourself for months. It just finally fell apart.

“So…you came to my fucking location,” he questioned, looking at you with wide eyes. ‘He thinks I’m crazy…’ you thought. You looked up at him, tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t want to cry here in this stupid dive bar in the middle of nowhere in front of him and his girl of the night.

“I didn’t know what else to do…I- I was worried,” your words were shaky as you spoke, your lip quivering. The girl he was with had walked away at this point, presumably assessing the situation enough to decide that it was best for her to leave. Patrick’s expression had changed from shock to pity.

“Baby, c’mere I’m so sorry…come on,” he tried to pull you into a hug, but you pushed him away.

“No Patrick, I don’t- I don’t want to just hug and forgive you all over again,” you sniffled, looking at him not with anger, nor sadness, but betrayal.

“Again?” He asked, looking confused.

“I saw your texts with that other girl from Savannah months ago when you came to visit. I’ve known for a while…” you murmured quietly. His eyes widened again, clearly shocked by this information.

“Shit- uh, you saw that? Fuck- why didn’t you say so sooner, oh my god.” You looked at him and no longer saw that man who could’ve hung the moon and stars. Now when you looked at him, you saw him how he saw himself: a pathetic loser who was in need of a serious reality check.

“Fuck you Patrick. I’m done.” With that, you moved to leave the bar, but he gripped your wrist as you turned, stopping you. “Let go of me,” you ordered, looking at him sternly as tears rolled down your cheeks. He did as you said, letting you go before chasing after you. In the parking lot he met you by your car, leaning on the door to keep you from leaving. “Move,” you muttered angrily.

“Baby, come on, just tell me what I can do. I can change, really, I promise. Please, I don’t wanna lose you.” It felt like bullshit, but it was honestly the truth. You were the most consistent thing he’d had in his life for a long, long time. I mean, hell, you two had been together for 9 months now. For him, that was like forever.

“You want to change, Patrick? Really, you want to change? Well here’s some advice then: get your shit together. I don’t care what you have to do. Go talk to your rich old daddy, ask him for a loan, and actually get back to where you deserve to be in your career. Fix your fucking relationship with your friends, because I know there’s still something there that you won’t tell me about, and I’m sick of it. And finally, actually learn how to be a good boyfriend. Don’t be such a man whore, it’s really not as attractive as you think it is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving. Give me a call when you’re a changed man.” And with that, he silently moved out of your way, watching you get in your car and reverse, leaving him standing there alone in the parking lot.

[cator99]

please finish your wedding story, i so badly want to hear the rest of it. i await eagerly.

>everyone lived happily ever after

>a few weeks pass

>I write the brides a lengthy and detailed letter of recommendation to their immigration lawyer

>they're overjoyed and think its a beautiful letter, and I'm glad to help because I hope they last forever and get everything they want in life, if I may drop the act and be sincere for a moment

>a few days pass. the bride I've known for over 15 years messages me

>however... she doesn't care. she's on her honeymoon. and I'm just some chick she was friends with as a kid. what does upset her is how she found out.

>at first I assume that the woman who reached out to her (who I knew back in jr high, and is a few years older than me) was just trying to upset her

>bride tells me about how this woman was her best friend and then suddenly blocked her out of nowhere, which was (and is) still very painful for her

>the woman, who we will refer to as "A" whips up a story about being concerned for the bride's safety and privacy or something

>bride is confused. there's no identifying information. the post is a nothingburger to her. what's important here is that she's upset that this woman messaged her after 4 years, not to make things right..... but to talk about "zander"

>right, this is about me, because this is "A" we're talking about here...... hell hath no fury like a closet case scorned

how did she find my blog?

I assume it went like this:

>"A" goes to peek at her ex-bestie's wedding photos

>"Zander" Spotted

>runs to LC

>"hey does anyone remember Zander who I used to post about on here all the time 7 years ago? I may have found an update!"

>"that's terf cator99 who was posted about on the Women Youre Ashamed To Want To Fuck thread you fucking idiot that looks nothing like her"

>no here's proof!

>autism ensues

>several replies get deleted, other responses indicate they're "A" sperging and linking my blog

>people argue if I deserve to be there anymore

>"she's a tif"

>"no"

> yes"

>"no"

>"I used to know her" ["A" posting]

>"tell us more!"

>"she used to have this one pair of glasses and then she had this other pair of glasses that looked really good on her..."

meanwhile:

>assume she's probably back on her LC shit

>find and link bride to the LC thread and explain to her that "A" has just been trolling for fun and to pay it no mind, you're better off without her in your life

>"hey bride-chan, not to be weird but I'm just trying to understand this shit, do you think A ever had a thing for me... I always kind of assumed she was bi or gay when we were younger and thought it was cool that she was androgynous and went to school dressed as Kaito from vocaloid all the time so I wanted to be her friend but she was pretty rude to people and I backed off"

>"well i dont know but she's married to a man now..."

>yet here she is trying to get under the skin of two women who are with other women

to be fair I earned the lolcow title fair and square years ago all on my own, and really do feel I owe "A" a favor for introducing me to the site. it was very formative for me to find out places like that existed right at the moment I was starting to have conflicting thoughts about the trans shit so I could gain some self-awareness (and general awareness overall) (shout out to "A"s friend who cowtipped to me.....)

meanwhile, on LC:

>"well done ladies, we've figured it all out. Butch Lesbian cator99 is currently partying with gay men, and It is common knowledge that "gay men" are all secretly bisexuals who are looking to hook up with women who say things like "I'm a lesbian" and "I am not attracted to males". That is their mating call, in fact. These words activate the Hetero gland in the Amygdala like a sleeper agent who has been biologically programmed– as we all are– to stop the kiki-ing and split off into heterosexual pairings at the end of a poppers-fuelled night assless-twerking to Britney."

>"good work. But I'll one-up you: look at this screenshot."

[photo from an instagram account, featuring a photo of 17 year old Zander's legs in the bath. "I Am Totally Into Epic Awesome Penis Now!!!!!!" (She had never seen a penis)]

>"yes, this is definitely a normal thing for a straight woman to say. I always knew she was a faker."

>"yes. as im sure you're all aware, there are many social and career benefits from pretending to be a lesbian."

>"doesn't that idiot know that she can't just lie and change her orientation? I can't believe she's been straight this whole time."

>"what does she have to gain from lying?"

>"She's so adamant about being a lesbian, which is a dead giveaway for a cover-up operation. The more they resist, the more evident it is that they are lying in order to gain access to that highly lauded Online Lesbian Following, which is something every straight woman wants deep down."

meanwhile:

>call gf

>"bad news. I just found out I'm actually straight."

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

I'm not kidding this might be my favorite gif ever lol. BUT I am so excited to read the last chapter of this series!! I mean, I'm sad that it's coming to a close, but I'm hoping that in the future there might be a fic with a little Elijah (or a little Jude) running around. 😏

I love the little details about him and Benny pranking each other, but it really just made me sad because Dean left them 😭 But at the same time they are opening up with one another and sharing their life stories and I couldn't be happier.

“I will protect you,” she says. Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

Again I stan a strong woman and Mila is just so stinking badass that I love her so much. Also yes girl, PROTECT 👏🏻 YOUR👏🏻 MAN👏🏻

But if he only has two choices, then he at least wants to make sure Mila gets home safely…even if that means he won’t be. He’s come this far. If his career is worth the price of what he feels is right, then his life is worth it too.

Love that you're referencing the honorable choice title here, and showing that Dean is a man of honor and that he did make a choice that maybe messed up his life, but he cared more about doing the right thing. And I think you did a great job of titling the series and the chapters in general. Each one corresponds beautifully to the themes in the chapters so you should be proud!

It’s good that Mila rides that giant mustang; if she were on a mare, like Dean, she’d already be sunk up to her shoulders. Baby’s a big girl, to be sure, but Mila is nearly a foot shorter than him, with a smaller frame. He watches her carefully as she makes her way ahead of him.

I know that something dramatic is about to happen and that I shouldn't be thinking about this right now, but I just love height difference so much😭. When a guy is bigger than his girl oh wow it sends me to the moon. I think it's so cute and goodness the cuddles must be so fun.

“Dean!” Mila yells, for the first time using his name. The last thing he registers is the fear in her eyes—afraid for him.

Again, devastating moment, but... SHE SAID HIS NAME FOR THE FIRST TIME! And the running her fingers through his hair?!?!?!?!

Dean wants to sit up and take an inventory of his injuries, but he can’t make his body move just yet. He’s too tired and bruised. He also likes being in her arms. He likes her fingers in his hair, now moving to his cheek. He sighs through his nose in contentment as her thumb drifts over his overgrown stubble. 

“I guess you are pretty, for a White Man,” she says teasingly. Her fingers trace his brow, his jawline, even the tip of his chin. She seems to be avoiding his plush mouth, even though her gaze keeps dropping there. Dean pretends to frown. “Sweetheart, that’s not the way you talk about a man,” he says. Her brows raise. “No?” “Handsome. Strong. Toothsome, if you will,” he says, enjoying the way she begins to blush. “That’s what you wanna call a man."

I'm cackling. I love Mila so much. The sass, the teasing. Oh goodness they're so cute and I am so scared that there's going to be a last minute perilous situation and somebody is gonna die.

“It’ll be faster to dry our clothes if we’re not wearing ‘em,” Dean rumbles. His voice is deep with desire. He presses kisses along the side of her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck and shoulder. He earns her pleased hum, her heavier breaths, and her fingers once again in his hair.

Excuse me sir? SIR?! You know... he's right Mila. You should listen to your future husband.

Also him respecting her when she said that she doesn't have sex before marriage is just so HONORABLE AND WORTHY and why can't there be men that respectful all the time? Dean Winchester is really just ruining other men for me everywhere. 😭

She will bring him home to her tribe, and she will explain. If they still don’t welcome him, then she prays for the strength to keep to her honor. Because now, she begins to realize… Her heart has already chosen.

Girl it's chosen correctly. No remorse. No regret. Please oh my word let them both live at the end of this fic. 🙏🏻

He grunts in acknowledgement, but he turns on his heels and storms out of the tipi. Her mother comes forward next. She examines Dean from all angles. She takes his face in her hand, somewhat squishing his cheeks, so she can look deeply into his startled eyes.

So... the face squishing is a family trait I see. But man, Dean standing there while a random lady just squishing his face while his eyes are wide in horror is so funny to me.

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. “I’m pretty sure that’s where this was going anyway.”

AWW YEAH IT WAS GOING THAT WAY! lol

“Do you regret?” she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. “Do you regret helping me?” Dean considers her question. He knows he’ll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others. It’s already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life.  “No. Never did,” Dean replies. “Not even once.”

This bit is so good. It's so true and honest and a little heart breaking, but it's such a wonderful thing for them to talk about, because Mila knows that he's thrown away his life to save hers. And it's so wonderful that he's able to give her that confirmation and reassurance that he doesn't regret the choice he made. Because it was the right choice, the -AHEM- Honorable Choice lol 😂

“If I’m your husband now, that means I get all of you,” he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection. “All of me,” Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. “Then I want all of you.” 

Oh this chapter was so good my sweet friend! I'm a little sad to see that it's ending, but it was so wonderfully written and neither of them died. I was really scared about that 😅. AND it ended with a wedding (sort of?). Now little Elijah can run around the camp helping his mother and learn how to break in horses with his father. ❤️

The Honorable Choice - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: June 1872. Captain Dean Winchester of the U.S. Cavalry is tasked with one job: break a wild mustang. He just didn’t expect the woman who infiltrates his camp, intent on freeing her tribe’s horse.

AN: The last chapter! Hold on, it's about to get bumpy...

Disclaimer: I got inspired after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (literally a perfect movie), as well as having Yellowstone in the back of my brain. I’ve done extensive research for this one, both on the American Indian Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s (AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars and the Sioux Wars). Of course, one of my main goals is to avoid inaccuracies, both historical and cultural.

**Pronunciation guide at the end!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: @jacklesversebingo Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 5.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, smut (mutual masturbation, fingering, and more), angst, and fluff.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

🎙️ Listen to the podfic version here!

Part 3: Worthy

They travel together for two more days. Dean isn’t really a talkative man, but inevitably, he finds himself speaking to fill the comfortable stretches of quiet plodding across the grasslands.

He tells her about growing up on his family’s farm, where his father was firm but fair, and a larger-than-life presence when Sam and Dean were kids. His mother though, she was the only one who could ever go toe to toe with John Winchester and win.

“She tamed him,” Mila remarks with a smile. Dean’s lips quirk in response.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he chuckles, “but he knew he couldn’t pull a whole lot of shit with Mom. She’s a real pistol when she’s gotta be.”

Talking about them makes his heart heavy and sobers his mood, so he deflects with other stories, other chapters of his life. 

He talks about going through basic training alongside Benny Lafitte. As privates, Dean pranked his friend by filling his lumpy old pillow with raw eggs and chicken feathers. In retaliation, Benny swapped Dean’s morning coffee with actual dirt and hot water. Their boyish games escalated until they were nearly kicked out of the military.

Dean managed to smooth things over though. He’s always had a way of charming people, even the gruff Sergeant Major, Bobby Singer.

Mila admits that she and her cousin Šóta used to sneak out of the village when they were younger. He taught her how to climb trees, how to fight and protect herself, and how to ride a horse astride, like a man. He was the only one who ever encouraged her to have the “free mind” her mother dreamed about.

The more she confides in him, her eyes sparking with life and her hands gesticulating along with her words, the more Dean listens.  

On the third day, it’s nearing mid-afternoon when Dean slows Baby to a stop. After miles and miles of forest and grassland covered, they’ve finally approached a large, wide river. Mila stops beside him.

“My tribe lives beyond the river,” she says, “but the current is strong now.”

Dean looks over at her. A question he hasn’t wanted to ask crops back up. He feels that now is the time to voice it.

“Yeah, about that…I’m thinking your tribe doesn’t take very well to outsiders,” he says. “White men in particular.”

Mila presses her lips together. He can tell she’s been thinking the same thing, but she turns to him with a determined set to her features.

“I will protect you,” she says.

Dean frowns. He doesn’t like the sound of that. On one hand, it warms him that she seems to really mean it. On the other hand, he doesn’t want to know what it’ll take for her to protect him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

She turns her face away and doesn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Mila…”

“The Chief is my uncle,” she says at last. “He will listen to me.”

Dean blinks. Well, that changes things…maybe.

He’s still not convinced, but at this point, he really doesn’t have many options. It’s either take his chances with her tribe, or become a vagabond. He’s not sure how long he could survive in wilds of the West alone, especially while trying to dodge military patrols.

In the past three days, it’s taken Dean all that time to come to terms with a simple fact. He’ll likely never see his brother again, or his mother. It’s a pain that cuts into him deeply, down to his bones. It stings behind his eyes.

But if he only has two choices, then he at least wants to make sure Mila gets home safely…even if that means he won’t be.

He’s come this far. If his career is worth the price of what he feels is right, then his life is worth it too.

With that decision made, Dean expels a long, somewhat faltering breath. He locks away the rest of his uncertainty, his apprehension, and even his grief. He hides deep inside, where she won’t see it. 

“All right, the current doesn’t look too bad over here,” he says, pointing to farther north along the river. “The horses can make it.”

Mila nods in agreement. She still looks uneasy, though she tries to hide it too. She ventures ahead into the river. Dean follows close behind.

The water is shallow at first, but it all too quickly gets deeper. The horses plod over the river stones and vegetation under the surface, and the humans are led deeper, until they’re submerged into the water up to their waists.

It’s good that Mila rides that giant mustang; if she were on a mare, like Dean, she’d already be sunk up to her shoulders. Baby’s a big girl, to be sure, but Mila is nearly a foot shorter than him, with a smaller frame. He watches her carefully as she makes her way ahead of him.

That’s why he’s able to act fast when Mato slips, dunking Mila under the water. She gasps and tries to cling onto him, but the current is fierce. It pushes Mato down the river no matter how much he scrambles and kicks at the water, braying wildly in distress.

Shit! Dean tugs sharply at Baby’s reigns and strives to catch up to them. He grabs Mato’s reigns and pulls and pulls, until he and Baby are able to drag him to the other side of the river where he can get a foothold with his hooves.

Mila is starting to fall off his back. She struggles to cling on while the river pushes at her, with her wet hair falling in her eyes. Dean leans back as far as he can to try and pull her up.

“It’s okay, I’ve gotcha,” he calls out, even though his heart hammers with alarm.

She reaches out for his hand in turn. Just as his fingers begin to close over hers, a wave from the current crashes into her. A short scream tears from her throat after she loses her grip on Mato’s neck. Without her weight, he’s able to pull himself back up onto the bank along with Baby.

Damn it! Gut-wrenching alarm spears Dean into action. He leaps down from Baby and removes his gloves, his hat, and his uniform jacket, so he can dive into the water. Thank God he’s a strong swimmer.

Mila seems to be too. She carves through the water against the current the best she can and tries to keep her head above the waves, but Dean can see it’s a losing battle. He manages to grab hold of her arm, and then wraps an arm around her waist to keep her close. Both of them work together to try and cling to any passing rock or low-hanging vine as the current sweeps them out toward an ultimate end.

A waterfall.

Of course. Goddamn it. Dean doesn’t know how steep it is on the other side, and he doesn’t want to know. All he’s trying to do is keep himself and Mila above the water.

She hooks her hand around a sharp rock. It bites into her hand, making her cry out, but she clings to it for all she’s worth. She holds onto Dean just as tightly, even though the current wants to take him. She tries to pull him closer, close enough for him to get a hold on the rock as well.

This time, it’s Dean who loses his footing. The rocks slip beneath the soles of his feet when he attempts to gain some leverage.

A shout of surprise escapes from him when he fails, and it gets swallowed up by water rushing down his throat.

“Dean!” Mila yells, for the first time using his name. The last thing he registers is the fear in her eyes—afraid for him.

The river takes him over the edge of the abyss, and he falls.

He never expected that he would get to open his eyes again, let alone to the sight that greets him. Mila’s familiar face, framed by the dark, drying waves of her hair, is bright with firelight. It dances in orange-gold across her features. Her eyes are warm like rich molasses when she looks down and finds him awake.

She smiles in relief.

He realizes that he’s lying on soft grass with his head pillowed in her lap. She’s taken off his boots and half of his white undershirt; she tore one of his sleeves to wrap around a mercifully shallow gash in his shoulder.

The horses are drinking from the river nearby, with a pile of apples split between them. There’s a fish roasted over the fire, but all Dean cares about is the way her fingers are running through his hair. She sings a soft song under her breath while she passes her other hand over his injured arm without touching it.

He doesn’t understand the words, but he thinks she might be trying to heal him. He’s heard plenty of stories about the Sioux people, most he’s taken with a grain of salt. He does remember Cas saying that their healers are different from doctors.  

Dean’s never given their hoodoo much thought, but right about now, he hopes it works.

“Mornin’,” he croaks.

Mila’s relieved face becomes touched with amusement.

“It’s night,” she says. “You slept for a long time.”

Dean wants to sit up and take an inventory of his injuries, but he can’t make his body move just yet. He’s too tired and bruised. He also likes being in her arms. He likes her fingers in his hair, now moving to his cheek. He sighs through his nose in contentment as her thumb drifts over his overgrown stubble. 

“Thank you,” she says. Emotion is thick in her voice.

Dean meets her eyes again, and he smiles. He raises the back of his hand to touch her smooth cheek, gently. He lets his fingers glide across her tan skin, down the column of her neck. Her breath hitches.

She takes his calloused hand in her slender one. Her long hair falls like a curtain over her shoulder, almost like it’s shielding them from whatever is left to come for them beyond the forest. Dean wraps an ebony strand around his finger, just to feel it fall loosely again.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he says.

Mila graces him with another smile from her lips. He wants to know what they taste like.

“I guess you are pretty, for a White Man,” she says teasingly.

Her fingers trace his brow, his jawline, even the tip of his chin. She seems to be avoiding his plush mouth, even though her gaze keeps dropping there. Dean pretends to frown.

“Sweetheart, that’s not the way you talk about a man,” he says.

Her brows raise. “No?”

“Handsome. Strong. Toothsome, if you will,” he says, enjoying the way she begins to blush. “That’s what you wanna call a man.”

“Toothsome. I don’t know this word,” she admits. “Am I supposed to eat you?”

Dean resists the urge to say the first incorrigible thing that pops into his head. Instead, his body shakes with laughter.

It’s difficult at first, all his muscles pulling at him in protest, but he raises himself into a sitting position. He cups Mila’s cheek, dragging his thumb across her lower lip. Her lashes are dark and long. They move when she looks up at him. He knows the look in her eyes, wanting, desiring, but also unsure of what she should allow him.

Dean leans in slowly, giving her time to decide.

She tilts her face up to his. He noses at her cheek, his eyes falling closed along with hers.

He finds her lips with his own on instinct and feeling alone. Soft and tender movements, testing, asking.

She answers him. Her fingers tangle in the front of his tattered shirt as her lips begin to move against his. Dean wraps an arm around her waist and gathers her against his chest. His other hand glides down her arm, down her side and along every soft curve. Her clothes are still damp, and so are his.

“It’ll be faster to dry our clothes if we’re not wearing ‘em,” Dean rumbles. His voice is deep with desire. He presses kisses along the side of her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck and shoulder. He earns her pleased hum, her heavier breaths, and her fingers once again in his hair.

“I can’t,” she gasps. She says something in her native tongue, too fast for Dean to even register. He slows down so he can meet her eyes.

“What was that?” he asks. Her face falls, and she starts to trip over her words.

“I am not…how you say, married. I have to be…”

Dean smiles ruefully, sliding a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Chaste?” he offers. She nods, her brows furrowed. Her grip on his shirt tightens.

“Yes,” she says. “In the eyes of my people, it is…”

“I get it,” Dean says. When she still seems conflicted, he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“Really, I understand,” he says.

His problem is that he stares into her eyes too long, and at her kiss-swollen lips. He dives back in for another taste.

This time, he’s a little less gentlemanly than he promised. His tongue sweeps along her lower lip, begging entrance. She makes a sound of surprise, but she opens up to him. Her gentle hands slide up his chest to hold his face, and her thumbs stroke his cheeks. He holds one of her wrists to keep her there as his tongue dances with hers. She tastes like the river, and like salty tears.

Had she cried for him? How long did she sit with his body, waiting to see if he would wake up?

Despite those worrying thoughts, Dean knows this feels right. More right than he’s ever felt.

It’s harder than he might’ve imagined, but he still pulls away, before he won’t be able to stop himself. Mila pants for breath. She seems to feel she should let him go, but also doesn’t show any sign of wanting to. Smiling, Dean caresses her cheek one more time before he turns to the fish she roasted.

“This looks good,” he says, clearing his throat. “What kinda fish is this?”

With a sigh, she attempts to steady herself and moves to join him by the fire.

That night, Mila dreams.

She dreams of wings, white and beautiful. She hears the cry of an eagle before she sees his great wingspan take off in flight. He soon finds his mate, and they dance together in the sky. 

When she wakes, the fire has gone out and it’s still dark in the night. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s safe. Finally safe.

And she’s lying securely in Dean’s arms.

She’s no longer conflicted when she stares up at his face.

She will bring him home to her tribe, and she will explain. If they still don’t welcome him, then she prays for the strength to keep to her honor. Because now, she begins to realize…

Her heart has already chosen.

“Kimmímila, what have you done?” her uncle asks in the language of their people.

He is Tahatan, Chief of their tribe.

Mila’s father, Chatan, and her cousin Šóta have tied Dean Winchester to a post in the center of the Chief’s large tipi. Dean kneels with his head bowed in respect, even though he keeps sneaking looks at Mila to try and gauge what’s happening. He doesn’t understand a word of any of it.

“You’ve brought this outsider into our village, this White Man!” Tahatan shouts, his voice deep and resounding.

Mila steps forward, despite her mother’s embarrassment and her father trying to grab her shoulder. For the second time in her life, she defies her father for what she believes is right. The first was to rescue a member of their tribe—because even a horse’s spirit should not be broken by greed.

“Uncle, I’ve told you the story, though you don’t want to believe it,” she says. “Dean Winchester saved me when he could have killed me, or worse. He defied his own people. He is dead to his own people, for me, and because of me. You may think they lack all honor, but this man is different.”

She looks over at Dean, and he meets her gaze. He wears an anxious frown as he looks between her and the chief, but she has a feeling that his fear is for her, not for himself.

She kneels beside him, then looks up at her uncle with all the stubbornness she’s ever possessed in her life. She feels it’s led her to exactly this moment.

“And we are one,” she says. Nerves trill up her spine as she says it. She predicts the way shock falls over the room. The way her father curses out loud, angry. The way her mother covers her mouth in dismay. The way the Chief takes a step back, tilting his head at his niece.

“You would take it that far?” he asks.

Her face doesn’t change. “It’s already done.”

Tahatan is beside himself, both angry and perplexed. He goes back to his chair of wicker and wood that lies centered in the room. He drops heavily into it. After a long while, in which he thinks in silence…he releases a heavy sigh. He gestures for his brother and his son to untie Dean. The men do so, but they don’t let him go free. They force him to stand and bring him forward to kneel again before the Chief.

“Dean Winchester,” Tahatan says.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies.

“You prove yourself to be a man with honor,” he says in English. “Kimmímila has chosen you. She claims you have chosen her in return. Do you deny this?”

Dean glances over at her. She bites the inside of her lip, a bit worried about how he’ll react. She’s not sure he completely understands what Tahatan is telling him, but he nods, regardless.

“No, sir. I don’t deny it,” Dean says.

“Then, you will be allowed to stay, and live among us,” Tahatan declares. "We will see for ourselves what you are. We will see if you are worthy."

Dean gives a nod, crossed with a bow of some kind. He obviously isn’t sure of what he’s supposed to do, but he does say thank you. Mila wraps her hands around his uninjured arm and helps him to his feet. She smiles at him to let him know that the worst is over. He blows out a breath in relief.

“Is that it?” he whispers. He expected more of a thrashing, if he’s honest.

“Almost,” she replies. The two of them stop short before her father, Chatan.

Dean straightens up and holds out his hand. “Sir.”

Chatan glances down at the white hand extended toward him. His gaze raises back up to Dean. 

He grunts in acknowledgement, but he turns on his heels and storms out of the tipi. Her mother comes forward next. She examines Dean from all angles. She takes his face in her hand, somewhat squishing his cheeks, so she can look deeply into his startled eyes.

She seems satisfied by what she finds, and she lets him go. Afterward, she takes Mila’s hand and heaves a deep sigh.

She kisses her daughter’s hand and says nothing else, leaving them to find her husband and calm him down.

Dean turns to Mila with a look that says, please tell me that’s it.

She smiles more genuinely.

“Come,” she says.

She leads him by the hand out of the Chief’s tipi and through the village. Dean takes in the rows of other tall, cone-like structures covered in buffalo skin, as well as all the faces that turn to stare at him in a mix of curiosity, wariness, and even fear. Some of them whisper to each other, taking their children by the hand and keeping them close.

Dean’s still on guard himself, even when Mila takes him to a smaller tipi. It’s been closed up for a while now, by the look of it. Weeds have grown right outside the entrance. 

“This one’s yours?” Dean asks.

She pauses, giving him another small smile. “Ours.”

Dean raises a brow. Ours. Really?

She opens the flap in the front and beckons him inside. There’s still enough daylight to shine through the outer lining. Inside, his gaze flits over the old pile of stones in the center for heating, clothes folded in the corner, some cooking pots and utensils, paintings on wood and clay, and a couple of beaded decorations. Buffalo skin bedding is laid out on the other side with a couple of soft looking furs. 

Son of a gun. Dean doesn’t even blink as he processes it all. He’s in a damn tipi. This is really about to become his life.

Shaking his head a little, he forces himself to focus on Mila. She’s his anchor, and she seems to sense that he’s reeling. She guides him to sit beside her on the bedding, holding his hands in hers. After a moment, he reaches up to tuck a curling strand of hair behind her ear.

“You didn’t get in too much trouble because of me, did you?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “No. My father and uncle are very similar. Strong to anger, but it is quick to run out. At least with me.”

Dean thinks he understands. Short fuse, quick fizzle.

“There is just…one thing,” Mila says. Her eyes fall away from his, like she’s embarrassed. He squeezes her hands.

“What?” he asks, his brows furrowing. It gets her to look at him again, but she seems worried to tell him.

“To convince my uncle to let you stay, I told them that we…” she trails, trying to find the right words in English. “That we are married.”

Dean’s brows raise high. His heart trips up faster. Okay, “ours” makes a lot more sense now.

“I am sorry,” she says quietly. “I didn’t want you hurt—”

“Sweetheart,” Dean says, cupping her cheek. Even with the hammering of his heart, he grins. “I’m pretty sure that’s where this was going anyway.”

In fact, this is a best-case scenario, as far as he’s concerned. He leans in to kiss her, and it doesn’t take long at all for her to sigh in relief, melting against him.

“We’re married, huh?” he asks. “No ceremony? No white dress?”

“We are bonded,” she replies, nodding as she meets every one of his kisses. “Or, we will be.”

She tugs him closer and revels in the feeling of his hands beginning to roam her body, sliding down her waist, her hips and thighs.

“Guess that means we have to seal the deal,” he grins. His lips drift away from hers to burn a familiar path across her cheek. He takes to nibbling her ear, making her flinch and laugh as it tickles.

“Seal-the-deal. What does that mean?” she asks.

Dean chuckles lowly in her ear. “Oh, I think you know.”

He guides her onto her back, over the comfortable mess of furs. He wants to take his time exploring every inch of soft, tan skin, but he first sweeps her hair away from her eyes, the back of his hand brushing against her cheek. She smiles up at him softly.

“Do you regret?” she whispers, reaching up to touch his chin with two slender fingers. “Do you regret helping me?”

Dean considers her question. He knows he’ll carry his family in his heart until the day he dies. His brother, his mother, the memory of his father. Benny and Cas, even Jack, and so many others.

It’s already a heavy burden, but he had always been prepared to lose his life on the battlefield, in service of his country. At least this way, he gains a new life. 

“No. Never did,” Dean replies. “Not even once.”

He bows his head toward hers, and he proves it to her. His lips capture hers, fueled by passion and wanting. Mila’s hands slide over his shoulders and down his back. Maybe without her realizing it, she implores him to let go of the weight heaped on his shoulders.

When he begins to bunch up the hem of her dress, she sits up to help guide his hands. Her quickening breaths mesh with his as the first layer of clothing drops beside the bedding. His tattered shirt joins her dress, along with pants and shoes and boots, until all that’s left is skin against warm, bare skin. He lays on his side right beside her and explores wherever she lets him begin.  

“Beautiful,” Dean murmurs, as his lips follow the column of her neck, down between her breasts. Her breaths rise to meet him, especially when he begins to toy with a dark, pebbled nipple. Her fingers slip through his hair, and his name falls from her lips. He palms one breast while kissing and gently teasing the other, exploring sensitive flesh and grazing her sensitive fleshwith his teeth.

“No man’s ever touched you?” he asks, despite knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, her fingers gripping his hair tighter as his lips and tongue move against her skin.

“No,” Mila gasps a reply. Her hand slides down the back of his neck, and the more he teases her, her nails soon create faint red lines down his back, her thighs squeezing together. She feels a throbbing ache at the very center of her. Despite her inexperience with men, she knows what it means, and she knows what she wants.

Dean’s mouth drags away from her breast. He pulls back so he can meet her eyes. A smile curves his lips, and he takes one of her hands from his shoulders. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asks. He guides her hand down her body, brushing over a wet, sensitive nipple, down her stomach, and between her legs. This time, Mila nods in answer. She stares up at Dean with eyes like molten honey. He leans in to kiss her neck.

“Show me,” he says.

She shudders at the depths in his voice. It increases the flood of wetness she already feels, even before she slips two fingers between the folds of her sex. She gathers some of that slick and circles it over the source of her pleasure, the small nub above her entrance.

Dean takes his hardened length in his hand. While she writhes by her own hand, he drinks her in with his eyes. A soft groan falls from his lips as he pumps himself a few times, sliding a thumb across the weeping head of his cock.

He can’t be a spectator for long though. He nips tantalizingly at her neck, creating a zing of added sensation across her skin. She whimpers, though she tries to stifle it, her knee bending further.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Dean says. “Let me hear you.”

He releases himself and replaces her hand with his own. He slips two long fingers inside her drenched entrance, earning a gasping moan from her. She latches onto his shoulders and buries her face into his neck. She whispers fervent things he doesn’t understand, but it only spurs him on.

His thumb circles insistently over her clit as his fingers pulse inside her. Her hips buck a needy rhythm against his hand, until her thighs begin to shake, and her inner walls squeeze even tighter around his fingers.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he pants gruffly against her cheek. “Let go for me.”

Warmth snaps and floods from her throbbing core, and she cries out near his ear, her nails biting into his skin. Her release coats his fingers.

Mila drops her head back against the furs underneath her. Her chest rises and falls quickly while she tries to catch her breath, her eyes tightly shut. Dean surprises her with a soft kiss.

“Mila,” he prods. He wants to see her eyes again, so pretty and wanton when she comes. He veers away from her lips to kiss her cheek, and then the other side of her neck. “Let me see you, sweetheart.”

She huffs a small laugh. Opening her eyes, she gestures to her bare body. “This is not enough?”

Dean’s lips tug at a smile. He shakes his head. “As a matter of fact, no.”

He shifts over her, finding his place between the cradle of her thighs. His elbows come to rest on either side of her head. She feels trapped by his body, even as she welcomes his weight and the feeling of his arousal, long and heavy and hard, trapped between their bodies. This man fills every corner of her world in this moment.

“If I’m your husband now, that means I get all of you,” he says with a grin. She gazes up at him, both in blushing amusement and affection.

“All of me,” Mila repeats. She takes his face in her hands and brings him closer, until her lips are a whisper from his. “Then I want all of you.” 

Dean chuckles. “You sure about that?”

She smiles in satisfaction, and her lips claim him this time. One kiss turns into many, each one mounting in passion and desire. Dean groans into her when she begins to touch him. Her hands are soft, but direct in their seeking; they caress his shoulders, run down his chest and stomach, and then, more tentatively explore the now painfully hard length of him pressing against her.

He makes a grateful sound of pleasure when her hand wraps around his cock, squeezing gently. His fingers bury themselves in her hair.

“I want all of you,” she says, this time a plea and a demand all at once as she strokes him.

Dean nods in agreement. He’s come this far. He can do that for her too.

He spreads her thighs a bit wider and encourages her to adjust the angle of her hips for him. His hand glides down her plush thigh and gets a healthy grip. Then he slides his hand under hers and guides his cock through her folds, first just holding himself at her warm, wet entrance.

He manages to wait for a second, in order to meet her gaze. She’s already holding onto his arms tightly, like he’s become her anchor. Her thighs wrap around his hips and beckon him closer.

Slowly, he pushes inside. He takes care in how he works her open. She winces at the sting of his girth stretching her, but his fingers once again massage her clit, stroking her arousal back into a keening flame. He swallows her gasps and moans as he bottoms out inside her, fully sheathed. Tears prick at her eyes, but not from pain.

Mila’s dream flashes like a waking vision behind her eyes. Wings take flight, along with the gleam of a golden beak and a sharp eye.

She blinks, and the image disappears. She’s left with the man who has become hers, making love to her with every stroke of him deep inside her. She presses grateful kisses across his neck and shoulder, wherever she can reach while she clings to his strong arms.

The thick head of him brushes a sensitive place over and over, one that tightens the coil in her lower belly and makes her core tremble again with warmth, until her body convulses against him, pulsing in pleasure, gripping him tight from the inside. Mila’s fingers clench in his hair just as tightly as her release hits her in a powerful wave; even her voice becomes lost to it.

Gritting his teeth, Dean grips the soft flesh of her hip and chases his own end. The way her inner walls choke his cock, he has no choice but to come hot inside her, his spend mixing with her own release. A strangled shout tears from his throat.

He has to brace himself before he crushes her. With his forearms resting on either side of her head, he lowers his forehead against hers. Her legs slip from where they’ve been tightly molded to his hips, her feet meeting the floor. Eventually he slips out of her. He watches his seed drip out and create a mess on the dark furs. The sight of it satisfies something primal deep inside him.

Later he’ll ask her about washing up (and about supper), but for now, he just turns onto his back beside her. She inches toward him, and he raises an arm so she can splay out against his side. They both lay there for a moment in the quiet, just catching their breath together. It marks the end of a long journey, and yet, the start of one too.

Mila turns to raise onto her elbow. She reaches over to wipe the sweat from his brow in a tender touch. Dean smiles up at her. He takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm.

“I could get used to this,” he says.

Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she laughs softly. “Yes.”

Her hand moves down to his chest, over his heart. She sobers as she considers her people, and how much trust has yet to be bridged—not only her own father and uncle, but the entire tribe. When she led him through the village, they called him wašíču.

Fat-taker. Greedy White. Not one of us.

“It will be hard for you here,” Mila says. She worries it will be too hard for Dean.  

He just squeezes her hand, earning her attention through tumultuous thoughts.

“I’m not afraid of a little hard work,” Dean replies. His usual confident charm is infused in his smile, but she has a feeling he’s just trying to reassure her.

Sensing she’s not convinced, Dean reaches up to hold her cheek, guiding her to look at him and not the floor.

“Listen. I made my choice, and I’m sticking it out, come hell or high water,” he says.

Mila’s brows knit together. “Hell-or-high… What does that mean?”

Dean sits up on his elbow along with her. He takes her chin between his fingers and meets her gaze.

“It means if you want me, you’ve got me. The rest, we’ll figure out as we go along,” he says.

A smile slowly lightens Mila’s face. She tilts her chin up to meet him with a kiss.

“I will be with you,” she says. It’s a promise.

Dean smiles back.

“Good,” he says. “Because that’s just about all I need.”

AN: There we have it, friends. 💜 I really, truly hope you enjoyed this mini series! To be honest, I have more ideas for this little world (like how Dean might try to assimilate into this culture), but I'll leave it to you guys to let me know if that's something you'd be interested in reading.

Until then, I would love to know what you thought of this chapter! 

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew")

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[ballinandcantgetup452]

I legitimately hope that BNHA takes from American comics and allows for several people to work on the title. Vigilantes is proof that Horikoshi will allow for legitimate spin-offs and not just "oooo they're chibi" type spin-offs. I honestly think that Horikoshi would be okay with more spin-offs if they were good ideas. Here's some ideas that I would want to see get greenlit in order of what I want the most to least:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Boku No Hero Career:

Basically just Deku trying to be an adult, while being a teacher, while being a hero. Basically, I'm asking for J. Michael Strazinski's run on Spider-Man. But I could specifically see somebody having a field day with how this new society works, and how hero-work is moving more towards helping the oppressed rather than fighting sludge monsters. There'd still be sludge monsters, I'm not trying to de-comicify My Hero, but it's a whole lot more of trying to fight the root of the problem. I think a strength of this potential story could be the use of non-violent conflict resolution. There'd obviously be action, but nothing bigger in scale than say the Overhaul fight. If you want to add inherent stakes, you can always have Deku's armor get damaged or something. Gun to my head, I could see the first long running arc about Deku and crew trying to end a prostitution ring. I also wouldn't mind an Izuocha subplot, but that's just my personal preference. I admit that part of this is just me missing JMS' Spider-Man run.

Skycrawler Adventures:

Okay I only had one cool title name; sue me. But I just want more of Koichi, man. Horikoshi has said he's a sucker for Spider-Man and at the very least one cover is literally a direct homage to Ultimate Spider-Man Vs. Venom. If BNHC is JMS' run on Spider-Man, this is Tom DeFalco and JM DeMatteis' runs on Spider-Man. It's that early 20's, post-college and in your first big kid job vibes. Maybe we start with Koichi starting up his own hero agency and struggling to maintain it. Maybe we finally make him canonically autistic? I admit I'm projecting with that one. But I think that Skycrawler Adventures could be like Chainsaw Man Part 2. Not exactly, but in terms of making this into an epic.

Boku No 52

This title requires some light explaining. Back in the day, DC had an event called 52. This came right after the event Infinite Crisis. After Infinite Crisis, the DC universe had a one year time-skip. However, 52 also released at the beginning of said time-skip. The premise of the book being that each issue would cover one week, and by the end of the series (which had 52 issues), you would know everything that happened during the time-skip. The only real caveat with this book being that Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman were practically off the table. So, you had to use more minor characters. The book had 4 all-star writers and it was an absolute smash hit. It's still beloved to this day. I think that BNHA could use something like this. It can even fit my prior two pitches in there. But you can also have chapters about the new class 1-A, Bakguo yelling at clouds, is Endeavor still trying to be a father, what is Momo up to, literally anything. You can have it showcase a bunch of new mangaka. I'm sure that Horikoshi had drawing assistants, let them have a shot at this. This one is definitely the least likely to get passed. But, I also think it has the highest potential.

I'm willing to bet that Jump DESPERATELY wants to have another Naruto or Bleach or One Piece. Specifically a manga line that lasts for a STUPIDLY long time that's extremely popular that they can ride into the sunset. I think that My Hero has that potential. I just think that they should keep Horikoshi as a consultant, and do brand new things.

[gummysharklover]

OBVIOUSLY !

summary: ᯓ˚࿔ you've been dating schlatt for two years; his daughter eliza calls you mommy for the first time

notes: ᯓ˚࿔ single dad!schlatt ᯓ˚࿔ fem!reader ᯓ˚࿔ fluff :3 ᯓ˚࿔ this is actually so cute i am going to pass out ᯓ˚࿔ thank you guys for being so patient with me while i get my life back together <3 ᯓ˚࿔ not proofread!

wc: ᯓ˚࿔ 878

It's past midnight when Schlatt feels a gentle tug on his shirt, pulling him from the depths of sleep. With heavy eyelids, he groggily blinks his eyes open to find his five-year-old daughter, Eliza, standing beside his bed. Her small figure shakes slightly as she softly cries, clutching her well-worn stuffed rabbit.

Her lower lip quivers, "Daddy, I had a bad dream," She whispers, her voice trembling.

Schlatt yawns, sitting up and rubbing his face, "Alright, kid," He softly croons, "Whaddya wanna do?"

As she stands on her tippy toes, Eliza's eyes dart to the other side of the bed where you lie, "Can I sleep with you and Mommy tonight?" She sniffs, harshly wiping at her tears.

"Of course," Schlatt reaches down to pick her up and places her snugly between you and him.

Eliza snuggles between you and Schlatt, whispering, "Goodnight, Daddy. Goodnight, Mommy," Before quickly drifting back to sleep.

Eliza was three when you first met her. At the time, she was a wide-eyed toddler, full of curiosity and innocence, who clung to Schlatt like her life depended on it. She would shyly hide behind him whenever you came over, little fingers grasping at his shirt, seeking refuge. She would peek out cautiously, big eyes filled with uncertainty as she contemplated whether it was safe to let you into her world. And during those early encounters where Schlatt would momentarily step away, Eliza would watch you closely with wide eyes. Her expression was always a mix of wariness and curiosity.

You, on the other hand, felt an instant connection to her. Your heart would swell with affection each time she slowly came out of her shell. And the first time she threw her tiny arms around you in a hug, you knew she was far more than your boyfriend's daughter—she was your daughter as well. And with more bedtime stories, more kissing her scrapes better, and more quiet moments where she would curl up next to you on the couch, her trust in you slowly solidified.

However, you always took great care with how you approached the situation, particularly when it came to labels. You understand the significance a title can hold, and you’re deeply aware of the emotional weight they carry. Your priority was to take care of her—to love her unconditionally, and you never wanted her to feel pressured to see you in a certain light if she wasn’t comfortable with it. You were on a unique journey together, and she would need time to find her feelings towards you.

The next morning, the sun pours in through the window, casting a warm glow across the dining room table. Schlatt sips in a coffee watching in delight as you sit at the dining room table next to Eliza as she hunches over her paper. She sticks her tongue out in concentration as she scribbles with her crayons.

"What're you drawing, sweetheart?" You ask, trying to catch a glimpse of the drawing. But as you lean over, she covers the paper.

"No peeking, yet," She whispers.

You sit patiently with a smile as you wait for her to finish her artistic endeavor, and you're elated when she turns to you with a smile and holds up her creation with pride. It's a drawing of three stick figures: a tall figure with Schlatt's unmistakable chops, a smaller figure with messy brown hair, and a thirds figure with features strikingly similar to yours. Each figure is labelled. The tall one says "Daddy," the shorter one says "Me," and the last one says "Mommy."

Your breath catches in your throat as you read the innocent word Mommy.

"Eliza, sweetheart?" You ask, heart racing.

She looks worried that you're not smiling, providing a coy, "Yes?"

"Who's Mommy?" You manage to ask.

Her expression turns into one of confusion, "You, obviously."

Tears well in your eyes as understanding dawns on you, "Oh, Eliza," You whisper, beckoning her over.

Carefully placing her drawing down, she hops off her chair and walks over to yours. You scoop her up, placing her on your lap, and hug her so tight she whispers, "Mommy, I can't breathe."

You let out a wet laugh as your heart squeezes at her new declaration.

Schlatt walks into the room, footsteps quiet against the wooden floor, and glances between you two, "What's goin' on here?"

You shakily hold up the drawing with a smile breaking through your tears. He squints at it, corners of his mouth twitching upward as his gaze softens, Looks like we have a little artist on our hands," He says, ruffling Eliza's hair, causing her to errupt into giggles.

Eliza beams with pride, her laughter ringing like music in the air, "I made it for you and Mommy."

Schlatt's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world around you fades away. His eyes sparkle with a depth of emotion unspoken yet undeniable as he walks over to you and envelops his two girls in a tight hug. You lean into him with Eliza nestles between you, and in this perfect moment, you realize you're more than just a figure in Eliza and Schlatt's life—you're woven in the tapestry of love and belonging, a truth you hadn't fully grasped until now.

You're home.

thank you so much for reading. reblogs are hashtag appreciated so very much <333

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters): Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Story Synopsis: 

R&B singer/songwriter, Jameson Lucas, is well known as a charming playboy. The latest in his line of ‘loved em and left em’ behavior? Imani St. Cirie, an emotive singer/songwriter herself. A common sense pulls them in opposite directions – friendships are tested, old flames resurface, and new opportunities threaten to tear them apart for good. In this industry, dreams can make or break you – but what happens when love becomes the gamble of a lifetime? Chapter I // Chapter II // Special Edition

Chapter Synopsis: Jameson finds himself in New York for work and gets distracted by an old friend. Warnings: toxic relationship, possessiveness, profanity, usage of the n-word (if you’re white and read it, you owe us $20), manipulation – if we missed anything, let us know! Word Count: 4.1k Divider Template: @cafekitsune Notes: The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

There will be alternating POVs between our leads.

Chapter III: Fade Away

the chatter at her weekly brunch with friends was distracting. sloane lennox glared down at her phone as if it was the reason she was so pissed. jamani back on? what a terrible title for an article. what a horrible idea for jameson. imani st. cirie was everything that jameson didn't need. he was irresponsible, childishly demanding, and easily distracted. he was an artist with an artist's temperament. from what she knew of imani, the woman was the same. they just weren't a good couple. anyone could see that. she didn't get why jameson couldn't.

sloane! we're out of champagne!

"am i your mother? do you need permission? just order another bottle." sloane snapped, rolling her eyes as she continued to scroll.

she got to the images -- proof that jameson was sniffing around his ex. this was bullshit. sloane closed out of the site, scrolling her contact list and finding jameson's name. it rang in her ear, her agitation increasing the longer it went on. his smooth baritone was nowhere to be heard. the phone beeped, indicating she should leave a message so sloane simply hung up.

she stewed in her agitation, forcing herself not to call again. this was critical. jamie couldn't be pushed. if she told him to do something, he went the other way. this was going to take some finesse but sloane knew she was up to it. she had loved jameson since the first time she saw him. she knew him better than anybody

fifteen years old and shy, sloane hadn't made friends easily. only one gravitated towards her: genie adesanya. genie took sloane under her wing, welcoming her into her life with ease. it was because of genie that she'd met jameson. he had been seventeen and practically genie's stepbrother. handsome, and he knew it, jamie had charmed sloane. he'd been flirtatious but never inappropriate. eventually it settled into him cracking jokes and playing protector with she and genie. for two whole years, jamie had been hers. her friend, her protector, her crush. it all changed when he released his first album.

then he belonged to the world. jamie became james lucas. the crooning falsetto that she'd known intimately had finally been heard by the world. jamie's career took off then. sloane never had a chance to make him hers fully. her crush lay dormant, unfulfilled, while he dated his way through hollywood. models, actresses, singers. they came and went. sloane always remained. he eventually left them but he never left her.

sloane had finally gotten up the nerve to tell him how she felt in 2020 -- the same night he met imani st. cirie. she watched him walk into another woman's life but knew it wouldn't last. it never did. three years later, sloane had gotten nervous. jameson rarely lasted a year with a woman and there he was celebrating three with imani. it had practically driven her insane...but then they had broken up. she'd been so relieved that she didn't bother hiding her joy from anybody who'd listen. it caused the destruction of her friendship with genie -- but jameson remained.

he jumped into another relationship and just like clockwork -- it ended before a full year was up. sloane decided not to watch anymore. 2024 was her time with him. he had to see for himself that she was the one and only constant in his life. the only woman he could rely on.

the phone vibrated in her hand and sloane peered down at the screen with a smile. jamie was calling. now all she had to do was...shift his perspective.

it had been years since jameson was inside the moma. he spent many afternoons sitting in front of claude monet's lillies canvas when he was trying to establish a career on broadway. it felt good to return to his old stomping grounds -- this time from special invitation.

sloane had fussed and pouted until he promised to stop by and see her after his gq interview. he was jetlagged after flying to new york the day before and only planned to have a short visit before collapsing into the expansive bed in his suite.

it had been so long since he saw her face to face that he had been successfully guilted into making the time. texts and calls here and there filled the void in their friendship but it always felt better to see her in person. twelve years after they'd met, sloane was different. at twenty-seven, she'd grown up like they all had. she was an art dealer, smart as hell and sophisticated. glasses had been replaced by contact lenses. hasty ponytails had been swapped for expertly styled hair. converse sneakers turned into muaddi heels. but no matter what, she was still the girl who was trying to find her place.

he waited for her on the first floor, hands braced behind his back as he watched bustling crowds of people behind his sunglasses. several slowed to peer at him and jameson easily avoided eye contact. he didn't mind being a celebrity but he was too tired to be charming.

"jamie!" he heard called out and turned to see sloane heading his way. she wore a bright smile, expensive clothes, and heels that he was sure cost as much as her outfit. jameson quickly moved towards her, not letting her pull him into a hug. he turned her around with his hand to the small of her back and quickly walked her up the stairs. "what are you doing?" sloane laughed and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure they weren't followed.

"why'd you tell me meet you at the front door? hella people were down there. i don't feel like signing shit today." jameson fussed, not surprised that she laughed louder. sloane did what she wanted when she wanted.

"i'm sorry." she said softly, grasping his bicep as they moved to the second floor. there were still crowds there but they were much more interested in the art than they were in him. "i'm glad you came." sloane continued. "i missed you."

"i missed you too." jameson grumbled, walking along the floor with her. "we both live in cali though. why'd i have to fly to new york to see you if that was the case?"

sloane quirked a brow at him. "you tell me. last i heard, you were working on album, completely locked in, but then i find out you got time to get imani back?"

he scoffed, shaking his head but not denying the accusation. he had seen the same article and didn't give a damn about it. he didn't feel he needed to explain himself to sloane either. "you called me here to talk about my ex?"

"of course not." sloane told him. "i called you here to talk about me. my favorite subject." she let his arm go, framing her face with her own hands and jameson couldn't help but laugh. "i didn't know you'd be out here anyway until you mentioned the interview. i just wanted to see my friend. make sure he's okay. you know?"

"i'm fine." he told her, stopping in front of a painting and peering down at the brunette by his side. confiding in sloane wasn't strange. he told her and ej everything -- even shit he didn't tell genie anymore. "me and mani aren't back together. she's thinking about giving me another chance."

"i'm happy for you, jamie." she said softly. "but..." "but what?" "it didn't work the first time..." "because of me. i fucked up." "even so. love shouldn't be hard. you and imani? your love is hard." "but worth it. i love her." "i know you do. and you should. she's a wonderful girl. but what about you?" "what about me?" "you're an incredible man. exceptional. singular in every way. i think you deserve to be happy. you shouldn't have to make yourself small to make it work." "that's not what's happening with imani." "no?" sloane questioned. "what is she doing to make sure you guys have another chance? is she reassuring you? is she talking to you? it takes two to be in love."

jameson was quiet for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. no, imani didn't seem to be enthusiastic about their chances of trying again but could he blame her? "you don't understand, lo. i...i cheated. when we broke up? i cheated. it's my fault."

he watched as her eyes go wide with the information and she lapsed into silence. it didn't last long though. she stepped closer to him, wrapping her arm around his waist as they stood together. "that doesn't change the fact that you're a good man. so you made a mistake. anybody who knows you knows that you're good."

her constant belief in and support of him was invaluable. jameson wrapped his arm around her shoulder and hugged him briefly. "thank you for saying that. but anything she says or does to me, i deserve it. and i'm going to take it -- if it means we can start over."

sloane gave him a brief nod of her head and leaned her body against his. "i understand. i still don't think she's right for you. you need someone to believe in you. i think too much has happened between you and imani. i don't know if she's that woman for you anymore."

he hoped like hell sloane was wrong. imani was the only woman he'd genuinely loved. his selfishness had robbed him of love and he was feeling the consequences heavily. she walked ahead, pulling him with her and jameson went -- his mind on imani and if he was fooling himself by thinking they were going to get it right the second time around.

"c'mon. let me buy you lunch. i made reservations at gramercy tavern." sloane told him sweetly as she wrapped both arms around him, stilling his movement. "i didn't mean to upset you. i just want what's best for you."

jameson peered down at her to say no, to make his excuses. he was exhausted and wanted to sleep but one look at her pouting face -- and he couldn't do anything but laugh. "i know you do. let's go eat now. i'm tired." he said softly, pressing a kiss to her head and wrapping his arm around her shoulder before leading her down the grand staircase.

with a kiss to her head and a brief hug, jameson had left her outside the st. regis hotel. as she made her way upstairs, her phone pinged yet again in her purse and she ignored the sound until she crossed the threshold of her suite. once she was comfortable, she unlocked her phone and stretched across the couch.

[ e. ricardo ] : he's not here yet [ e. ricardo ] : if this is bullshit, i'm going to write my next column about you and you won't like the details i give [ e. ricardo ] : he's in place. my photographer is there. [ e. ricardo ] : snapped you two. how cute. [ e. ricardo ] : where are you going with him? [ e. ricardo ] : hello?? my photographer lost you two on 53rd st

sloane sighed, deleting all the texts from her phone. calling the paps wasn't out of the unusual for her but this one was a pushy bastard. she did it when she worked with particularly high profile clients and when she just wanted her name circling with people who could boost her career. but she had never called them about jamie. ernest had practically salivated at the idea of getting exclusive pictures of jameson doing anything. even if it was just a lunch date with a friend.

she pushed call on the contact, listening to it ring. when he answered, sloane didn't bother acting friendly. "are the pics good?"

ernest quickly reassured her they were. he even offered to send them to her but she quickly denied. the less proof they had of a connection to one another, the better. she told him she wanted them up online before the next morning and he obliged before they ended the call. the pictures weren't scandalous but she knew it'd shake imani. cheating boyfriend in another city with pretty friend? wrapping his arms around her? she knew it'd do something to the other woman.

was it a move that could backfire on her? yes. imani could decide to fight for jameson but sloane was okay with that. she had decided to fight for him -- why not have a worthy opponent? she knew jameson would be asleep soon. he probably wouldn't see them when they were posted. even if he had, she could always pretend to be just as dismayed as him. she'd even take to social media to help clear up any rumors.

the pretty, kind hearted friend of james lucas. the classy girl that people would make people say "well why isn't he with her?". that was going to be her new image. and she knew it'd change if those pictures looked as cozy as it felt being with him. suddenly, people would wonder about them. he would wonder about them. all she needed was for that switch to flip in his mind.

sloane rose from the couch and went to run herself a bath. she ignored the buzzing of her phone for the next few hours -- realizing the article had clearly come out. now she had to be careful if she was going to make this happen. jameson would never forgive her if he knew she was going to do her best to stop a reunion with imani.

the familiar ringtone echoed throughout the room and jameson smiled in his sleep. it was the song he'd written for imani. he played it as the ringtone anytime she called. it'd been so long since he heard it playing from his phone. imani didn't call him anymore. he called her. he texted her.

still -- he could hear it and it stirred him from sleep. jameson stretched across the bed, sitting up in the darkened bedroom. he fumbled across the bed, reaching for his phone. by the time he snatched it up, the ringing had stopped. he could see the time on his screensaver and blinked the sleep from his eyes. it was six in the morning...which meant it was around noon for her in italy. they had exchanged texts since she'd been gone. it had only been three days but he had missed her deeply.

seeing he had two missed calls from imani made him frown. he wanted to hear her voice. he unlocked his phone to call her back but then the text came through. he opened it -- thinking it was more of cute and humorous conversation they'd been having for the past few days.

[ mani ]: i don’t know what type of bitch you take me for, but a stupid one, you know i’m not that. i told you no more bullshit so why i’m seeing pictures of you cuddled up with sloane at the fuckin moma? like i said i’m not a dumb bitch. you want to cuddle up with her, then be with her. i’m done.

jameson read the text twice, confusion making his brows furrow. "what the fuck?" he muttered to himself. it felt like somebody had put his ass in the blender and he was all mixed up. he immediately tried to call imani. no ringing. straight to voicemail. he'd been blocked by her enough to know the hallmarks of it. "fuck!" he cursed angrily, pulling the phone from his ear to send her a text that he knew she wouldn't see.

baby, i don't know what fuck you're talking about. ain't no bullshit with me and her. you know that. call me back.

he waited a few minutes but with no response, jameson climbed out of bed as he clicked his way through social media. it wasn't hard to find the 'just in' and tmz articles complete with computers. he and sloane talking. he and sloane laughing. he and sloane hugging. the kiss to her head. jameson groaned. actions he thought of as friendly definitely looked like something more. even he could admit that. reading the comments would do him no good but he saw that each had thousands.

even his instagram had an influx of activity. people commenting on pictures from months ago. even sloane had issued a statement of sorts where she asked people not to speculate about her personal life. this was bad. and he knew there was only one move he could make now.

he scrolled through his contact list and looked for genie's number. it rang -- a sign that she hadn't blocked him -- but she didn't answer. jameson left a terse message, telling her to call him back before he hung up and called ej.

sloane had played her part well. she'd been shocked and aghast. properly outraged on behalf of her famous friend. she scrolled through the comments with relish. for every one that called jameson cheating scum, there were two that said they looked cute together. for every comment that said imani deserved better, there were two asking what sloane's instagram was.

she had posted to her story, demanding an apology for the invasion of privacy and ensured that she named jameson as her 'close friend' -- nothing more, nothing less. that was enough to set speculation off once more. not the conversation wasn't just about "jamani" -- it was about imani, jameson, and sloane.

just as she was about to scroll more comments, a call came through on her phone. genie's name flashed across her screen and she froze before answering it. the two girls hadn't spoken in a year. sloane's opposition to imani had put her on the wrong side of genie. for some reason, genie had chosen imani over her and sloane never forgot it.

still, she answered the phone with a kind, curious tone -- interested in what her former friend could possibly have to say.

"are you sleeping with jameson?" genie asked abruptly and sloane laughed. no hello. no how are you? no fake bullshit. she got right to the shit and sloane knew she had to handle the other woman carefully.

"are you out of your mind?" "that's not an answer." "genie, you know jamie and i aren't like that." "no. but i know you want to be."

sloane frowned, annoyed at the fact that genie would so bluntly state the facts. she couldn't have genie running around telling anybody that. especially jameson. not before she could fully get imani out of the picture.

"that was a stupid crush, genie. and it's cruel of you to bring it up. jamie and i have a real friendship and you know that. or you would if you hadn't cut me off for imani." sloane disputed, pleased when genie didn't say anything for a minute.

"he loves imani, sloane." "but does she truly still love him?" "that's for them to figure out." "i don't think it's hard to decide if you love someone or not." "that is for them to figure out, sloane. you cannot get involved." "i'm not involved. he's my friend and i'm going to protect my friend. just like you're doing now." "it's not protecting him if people think you guys are fucking. if you care about jamie, help him."" that's exactly what i'm doing."

sloane hung up the phone, taking a deep breath as she tried to regain her composure. she wasn't wrong. jameson and imani were too ill matched to make it work. she was just helping him face that fact. the sooner he did, the better it would be for him.

"yerrrrrrr" ej answered the phone unseriously, already knowing why jameson was calling. he had seen the articles and the posts. he'd seen the comments and wondered -- was his best friend holding out on him? jameson and genie and sloane had a shared childhood that ej didn't quite get. but he didn't try very hard to understand. he didn't really care.

"mani blocked me. i need you to call her for me."

ej snorted, shaking his head. "nah." he heard his best friend sigh loudly, frustration covering every inch of the sound. "i don't want to get cursed out by proxy. it did look like something was up with you and sloane."

"it's not! at least call her then click me in on the call."

he could hear in jameson's tone that he meant it. there was nothing happening with sloane. that was good. sloane was a pretty girl but ej could tell that if jameson broke her heart, she'd never recover. she'd never be able to give him what he got from being with imani. what that was...only jameson knew. still...ej denied him. "that'll be a hell nah."

"ellington, i swear to god..." "nigga done forgot his manners and everything, that's crazy." "mani is about to walk away from me for good. and you not gone help me?" "calm your ass down. you said nothing happened so that's one point in your favor. just...gimme a minute. i'll call you back."" i'm serious, man. i gotta -- " "i know, bruh. just...trust me. give me ten minutes."

reluctantly, jameson agreed. it took ej five minutes to calm him down. he had to promise to call back within ten minutes. ej went down his contact list and landed on the only one without a name. she simply had glasses, needle and thread, and a purple heart emoji where her name should be. it was foolish but it summed up their relationship pretty well.

she answered within three rings and ej smiled as he stretched across his bed. "ms adesanya. how you doing?" ej heard her sigh and knew she was already annoyed with him. good.

"let me guess. jameson told you to call?" "how'd you guess?" "she doesn't want to talk to him." "i figured. i had to give it a shot tho. that's my boy." "tell your boy to stop cuddling with bitches in public." "oh, she's a bitch? i thought you and sloane were cool." "we were. then we weren't." "shame. i remember when yall were the three musketeers. you, her, and jameson." "was there anything else you needed, ellington?" "yes, imogen. i'd like you to convince imani to let jameson explain."" i'll take it under consideration. anything else?" "yeah. are you in la? let's grab a drink. we gotta figure out how to help our dumb ass friends." "i'm out of the country. we'll be back next week." "we? you in spain with imani?" "not spain. italy. we're in rome." "oooh. yeah yeah. i remember now. rome. hotel...the fancy place with the birds and the steps." "what? there are no stairs outside here." "yes, there are. they're on the east side of the hotel." "ellington, there are no stairs here." "baby, i googled the hotel. it's hotel danieli, ain't it?" "he told you wrong. we're at the st. regis rome." "ohhhhhh. oh shit. that was somebody else i was thinking of. well -- we should get a drink when you're back. our best friends stress us out. let's relax together." "um...okay. sure."

he could hear the confusion in her voice and ellington grinned, knowing that he had agitated her into telling him what hotel they were at. he'd always thought genie adesanya was gorgeous. everything was beautiful about her. her grace, her kindness. even the way she got her damn nails down. nothing but pure elegance. she stood on the fringes of his friendship with jameson. they never truly got to know one another. so he settled for being the annoying friend of a friend.

over the years, he'd periodically pop in, send her an annoying text, and then pop right back out. she probably didn't even know he liked her and ej wanted to keep it that way. friend groups mixing were messy -- clearly evidenced by the newest round of bullshit with imani and jameson. he was content to tease and provoke genie until she furrowed her pretty eyebrows. that would have to be enough.

once he got her off the phone, ej called jameson back -- two minutes before the ten minute deadline was up. he knew his friend was close to a crashout and figured the only way to stop it was for him to get active. a phone call wasn't going to get it.

"get your ass on a plane, fix it, and then get back before the weekend is over. we got shit to do."

[bardic-tales]

I figured today I would focus on some facts about Bianca that I have been developing recently or over the last few months. They are going to range from romantic to the mundane. Also, there is mention of BDSM practices below.

While Bianca is a demisexual, I also label her as pansexual, too. Bianca does not care what anyone's orientation is. As long as a person developed an emotional bond with her, she could become attracted to them.

Bianca is also demiromantic. She made her living for six years as a romance author. I am a sucker for sticking an author / writer character into my stories.

Both Sephiroth and she are touch-starved, but to varying degrees. Sephiroth is not use to physical contact. When Bianca first hugged him, he was stiff and leaned away from her touch.

However, they do engage in BDSM practices. He is the dominant partner. Bianca would be considered an alpha submissive. She enjoys her bratty role.

Sephiroth will manifest his wing as a sign of dominance when she is too out of line with her brat persona. He has also used his telekinetic abilities to hold her down. This is never down in an abusive way. She consents every time. Sephiroth is the only being she trusts, which is ironic in its own way.

However, one of her 'rewards' is she gets to brush and style his hair. It's a bonding experience between the two. He also likes to brush and braid her hair, placing flower crowns on her head in their dreamscape. This keeps the Hades and Persephone theming of their relationship.

Bianca sees herself as an avenging angel, as well as the self-imposed title 'Priestess of Jenova' to honor Sephiroth and their plans. She harbors a hatred for humanity after everything that happened in her life.

Bianca prefers to wear Sephiroth's clothing when she can. He does NOT mind sharing his clothes, as he sees this as claiming her in a way. She loves to envelop herself in his scent, as she has heightened senses due to her demonic heritage. His scent provides her comfort on those days when her past is just a little too much for her. She boasts that she can smell him 100 miles away. This has lead to a nickname 'his bloodhound'.

Fun fact. I was going to make FWC an isekai in this newest rewrite. I found it funny that with Bianca's reality bending powers that she could have made 'One-Winged Angel' play on the Planet when Sephiroth fought Cloud. There are times when she does play music from her world, but seeing that they are on a different planet, Cloud, Sephiroth, and the rest do not understand the music.

Her favorite music is gothic rock and darkwave, industrial rock and metal, alternative rock, trip-hop, and symphonic metal. As she was teleported onto Gaia in '96, her musical tastes stay stuck in the 90s.

Bianca is 5 foot even. I often head canon Sephiroth to be 6'5". Since she is so much smaller than him, she will often levitate off of her feet to hug him or give him a kiss.

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @littleshopofchaos @serenofroses @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@nightingaleflow @prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap @glbettwrites

@seastarblue

[aenariasbookshelf]

Fic: The Intern (MCU/911 ccrossover)

Finally posting this here because I have apparently lost my goddamn mind and it's all @typhoidmeri's fault.

(Also I have had an absolutely terrible last few months and could use some validation, pretty please.)

Title: The Intern

Summary: “Okay, wait, why the hell is your name popping up in a SHIELD file, of all places?”

All right, so maybe there are still one or two secrets in Buck’s closet. But in his defense, they’re all Darcy Lewis’s fault anyway, so the blame lies solely in her hands.

a/n: I plead temporary insanity, that’s the only explanation for this piece, which is probably only of interest to me and like three other friends. But, given the last few months I’ve had, I figured it was worth it to exorcise some demons and get this piece out before I chicken out.

Timeline wise (which, dear god, trying to figure out timelines for this show gives me a migraine), this takes place very early in S1. Like first couple of episodes early. As for the MCU, we’re going with a kinder, they all lived in the tower sort of a universe, no Civil War, no Thanos, etc. Because that’s how I roll.

More notes after the piece to avoid spoilers.

*

“Okay, wait, why the hell is your name popping up in a SHIELD file, of all places?”

Buck looks over Hen’s shoulder at the tablet in front of her, a page of search results front and center on the screen. Halfway down the page, past a few youtube entries of his spiderman interview, is a link to a searchable database full of files from the massive 2014 document leak that emerged when SHIELD had collapsed in on itself.

Ah, shit.

“Why the hell are you googling me?” is all he asks instead, because this is a story that he really doesn’t want to get into.

Actually, he may not even be able to get into it, considering the approximate 5 billion NDAs he   had to sign before he closed the book on that so-called vacation. None of which were his fault, thank you. He was just an…innocent bystander. Ish. He really just followed his cousin straight into the midst of trouble. So really, it was all her fault.

“Because that’s what we do with the new people around here, probie,” Chimney adds. “So what exactly were you doing in the UK in 2013?”

Buck just gives them a wink instead, because that’s what they’d expect from him. “Well, I’d tell ya, but then I’ll have to kill you.”

I mean, it’s not like people haven’t heard about aliens by now, especially in light of what happened in New York in 2012. Which was another incident that was also his cousin’s fault, though it doesn’t look like Hen and Chimney have found that link yet. So that’s one small mercy, at least.

“Just like a bargain basement James Bond.”

He’s ready to fire back another retort at Hen, but then the alarm bell goes off and it’s time to go to work, all talk about mysterious files forgotten.

(Though, to be fair, before Buck skips down the stairs he makes sure to wipe the history and cookies from Hen’s tablet. Just in case.)

*

It’s well after ten by the time Buck gets back to the frat house, which is still buzzing because his taste in roommates isn’t exactly the greatest (look, he knew at least one of them before he got there from Peru, and the room was cheap enough that it totally didn’t obliterate the meager salary he got as a probationary firefighter) and, well, it was a Thursday. Any excuse for a party, really. He doesn’t bother to hang around, just gives them a wave and heads up to his room.

He tosses his duffel into the corner, and is sure to lock the door behind him, because no one needs to witness the call he’s about to make.

With an exhausted sigh he flops down on the bed, but he can’t sleep. Not yet. Not if he’s going to speak to his cousin and annoy the hell out of her in the process. He pulls up Darcy’s entry in his phone, flips over to the text message thread.

>> hey u up?

Is what he texts, solely because he knows it’s going to annoy the hell out of her.

About ten seconds later his screen lights up with an incoming FaceTime call, followed quickly by Darcy’s familiar face. Brown hair tossed up into a messy bun, glasses, pursed lips, and definite dark circles under her eyes from some inevitable late nights.  He can’t see much of the room behind her, but there’s plenty of glass and steel and sterile white walls, which doesn’t exactly scream astrophysics to Buck, but then again what does he know?

“Hey, fireboy!” she says, far too chipper for the late hour.

“Really? That’s the best you can do?”

“It’s after one in the morning here, cut me some slack. Science and Jane Foster don’t sleep, therefore neither do I.” To emphasize the point, she picks up an iced coffee and slurps loudly on the straw, echoing loud and clear over the call. “So what’s up, cuz? Why are you calling at this stupidly late hour?”

“Did you know that my name is apparently showing up in SHIELD files online?”

“What??”

Buck nods. “Yep. My co-workers were having fun during some downtime today and decided to google everyone’s names. And there in a database of all the files from the 2014 data leak from the Triskelion is a file that mentions me, the UK, and 2013.”

“Goddamnit,” Darcy mutters, wincing and running a hand over her forehead. “What, you mean you’re not showing up as L.A.’s finest Spiderman knockoff anymore?”

“Oh, don’t start. Also, it’s after those entries.”

There’s the telltale clicking of a keyboard coming from Darcy’s side, then a few seconds later Buck sees her grimace again, looking none too pleased. “Yeah, that is definitely your name showing up in the leaked database. Well, shit.”

“Yeah, understatement. Is there anything you can do about this? I don’t exactly want my new coworkers to…know any of this.”

“I mean, the internet is forever, so I don’t know if there’s any putting this back in the bottle, so to speak.” Buck just groans at that, falling back on the pillows and falling out of the frame of the call. He pulls a pillow over his face, because this is just what he wants to hear. Really. So much. “You mean you don’t want everyone you work with to know that you helped defeat an invasion of alien elves from before the dawn of time in London one year?”

“It’s not exactly something easy to explain,” he shoots back, still offscreen and muffled by his new face covering.

“But it’s still a hell of a story.”

“A story that not a lot of people will believe, even now.” Because even though it feels like the world’s gone mad, more than once, these days, what with aliens and superheroes and killer robots, sometimes it’s still hard to believe the stories when they happen to someone they know up close and personal.

(Happens twice, really, but the first time he legitimately was just a bystander. Not the only one, not by far, but just an observer rather than a participant. Unlike the second time. That one they were well into the thick of it, hence the interviews, NDAs, and eventual SHIELD file.)

Buck sighs again, pulling the pillow off his head and sitting up so he can look Darcy straight on through the phone screen. “Are you sure - are you absolutely sure that even with all of your alleged connections that there’s nothing you can do?”

Darcy glances off camera again, followed by a few more keyboard clicks, and she chews at her lips. “I may be able to tweak the optimization so it gets those entries buried a few pages further back, get the L.A. Spiderman entries further up the list to take priority, but there’s not much else I can do.” She sighs heavily, pursing her lips and blowing air through them. “I might - and this is no guarantee at all - be able to ask someone else to help.” This statement is followed by another grimace from Darcy, and a muttered “I am going to owe Nat so much for this.”

“I will owe you so much for this,” Buck insists. “Even more than the fake ID debacle of 2007.”

Darcy smirks and jabs a thumb at herself. “Bucks County’s finest teenage fake ID forger, that’s me.”

Before any more words can be said, there’s what sounds like a small explosion offscreen on Darcy’s side, followed quickly by an “Oh, shit!” and scrabbling feet.

“Everything okay?” Buck asks.

Darcy flips the camera to the other side, revealing a slender brunette woman whacking at a smoking piece of technology with what appears to be a damp towel. “Lab’s on fire. Again. It happens a lot with our homemade equipment.” She flips the camera back to her face, rolling her eyes at the sight in front of her. A loud, strident alarm sound erupts from somewhere on her side, accompanied by rapidly flashing strobe lights in the reflection of Darcy’s glasses. “And there’s an Assemble call. Just fucking ducky. Gotta go, fireboy, we’ll talk soon!”

With that the call ends, the screen going black and silence descending on the bedroom. Buck flops back again, dropping the phone on his chest with a sigh. “That was not helpful.”

(And what the hell did she mean by an Assemble call anyway? Whatever, half the things Darcy says don’t make sense anyway, and he pushes the thought aside.)

Still, the matter of Evan Buckley’s SHIELD file never comes up again at work, so Buck figures that the matter’s over and done with.

Until it isn’t, of course, but that’s a story for another day.

*

a/n part two: So while it may not be entirely obvious here, but this universe has spun out in my head over the last few weeks and has become its own, canon divergent mash-up crossover of an alternate universe beast. This is just a little part of it, to test the waters and see the story come to life a little. A kinder, gentler universe where some characters get treated a little better than in canon (because this is fanfic and I can do what I want). Though there may be one or two hints in here about this alternate universe…

And yes, just picture Thor: The Dark World with a younger Buck in there playing the role of Darcy’s intern, with a lot more personality and a bit more sass. The movie would play out exactly the same way pretty much (except for the kissing bits because ewwww no. They are family, people.)

No constructive criticism please, gentle readers. I’m just here to have fun. Thanks for reading!

[lanalaynetalks]

Tenrou Island is one of my favorite arcs! I love this arc so much. I think this is possibly a controversial take. I don’t know. My favorite thing about shows is learning more about systems in the world. I think it’s just so interesting to see how wizards become s-class. This is going to be long. I am so sorry I love this arc so much. It’s a lot of Cana… I ADORE CANA. Plus a lot of Levy and Gajeel! I just think this arc features so many fan favorite characters so well. This is also before The Thunder Legon was nerfed so they have some cool moments. Just I love this arc so much!

1. I do think it’s crazy that they really just throw us into the arc with no filler episodes/arc between. I think this is one of the only arcs that doesn’t have filler episodes before or a filler arc.

2. Fairy Tail having a sacred place implies that other guilds do as well.

3. Something I find weird about S-Class wizards is why does the title follow you from one guild to another. Juvia and Gajeel were S-Class in Phantom Lord, but not Fairy Tail.

4. Silly thing time! Hiro Mashima trying to put all the main characters and main side characters on the island.

5. Lisanna and Juvia. I wish we kept seeing them as friends.

6. Evergreen and Elfman are one of my favorite ships and should be a main ship. It should be the big 5 instead of big 4. They were more together by the end than any of the other ships! I LOVE THEM!

7. Oh Mest… I miss your silly personality. Also how did he go from ok looking, to hot, to Nastu wannabe. I will be mourning when we see hot Mest for the last time.

8. Why did Makarov keep picking Cana? It seems a little cruel.

9. First Mavis mentioned. Mavis is one of my favorite characters of all time. I love her so much. Fairy Tail Zero is so good and made me love her more.

10. While pacing was my biggest issue for the last two arcs I feel like this is when the show found its pace. Without this arc the grand magic games would have not been as good as it was. I said what I said!

11. If I walked into the route and saw it was Mira I would have just walked away. Mirajane scares me the most out of all characters in the show.

12. I’m going to say it! I ship Lily and Carla! I said what I said!

13. I never got why Hades was so obsessed with Zeref. Because Zeref literally taught him how to use magic. I also wish we got more info on why he turned evil. It’s hard for to believe e he would attack Fairy Tail because he was a founder and was like best friends with Mavis. Him being Precht makes no sense because we never get a full explanation on how he turned evil other than he basically accidentally went down the alt right pipeline

14. I will never get over the Iron with a heart in the O. When I saw it for the first time I screamed and I still scream and fangirl over it!

15. Makarov talking Gajeel into joining Fairy Tail will forever be one of my favorite Gajeel scenes.

16. This arc is really when we start seeing Wendy come into her character and she becomes less of just the little kid to a true character.

17. It’s heavily implied you can’t say no to being Fairy Tail’s guild master. We see Makarov be like lol no and Precht being like lol too bad. Then we see Guildarts being like lol no and Makarov being like lol too bad! Then we see Guildarts being like lol as master you are now master again! Like can they really not say no?

18. I wish we could see Makarov in his prime. I know there has been discussion about how the series is going to continue. I don’t want next generation Fairy Tail I want to see old generation Fairy Tail. I want to see Makarov and his old team beating people up. I want to see Precht as guild master. Or even early days of Makarov being guild master! I would even be ok if it was like Fairy Tail Zero where it was a one arc story.

19. I do have a theory that Precht made Fairy Law. I don’t think it’s stated ever that Mavis made all the grand fairy spells but I maybe wrong. So that’s how he was able to make Grimoire Law.

20. Another theory I have is that Precht took care of Makarov after Yuri’s death.

21. Now this is an out there theory. I know it. I believe that Yuri called Laxus back to the island. HEAR ME OUT! We know that some things just happen in Fairy Tail especially with the living and the dead. Yuri promised to always protect Mavis also his son was in danger. His legacy (Fairy Tail) was in danger. I also think that it could have been Mavis, but I think it’s more poetic coming from Yuri.

22. Makarov saying it’s up to his successor and us being shown Laxus… I am going to call it right now. The end of 100 year quest we will be seeing Laxus becoming master. This would be a perfect way to end his character. This is not the post to get into it, but ya that’s my prediction.

23. God Slayers… oh the magic that was sort of forgotten about. How sad.

24. I will die on this hill. Laxus should have been the Lightning God Slayer. This would had been able to connect him, Ivan and Hades together in a perfect way.

25. This arc also has some of my favorite speeches.

26. One thing about me is I am absolutely sat every time Mirajane transforms.

27. Elfgreen is such an underrated ship.

28. I love Evergreen so much.

29. Capricorn is cool! I really like him even if he isn’t used enough. I love him! Probably second favorite spirit. First is Aquarius because I am an Aquarius and she is just awesome.

30. Favorite Juvia moment is when Meredy said she was wanting to kill Gray.

31. Also wow the show that has shown over and over again to become more powerful is to channel your emotions is showing how emotions makes people more powerful. I really don’t get why people give Fairy Tail so much hate using the power of friendship. It’s almost like we are shown over and over again that is literally how it works. More emotion = more power. It also makes me more mad now knowing the show was created because Hiro Mashima was lonely.

32. One of my favorite things to come out of this arc is Juvia and Meredy’s friendship.

33. Honestly Juvia vs Meredy is my favorite Juvia fight.

34. Cana my love. We both have daddy issues. She just like me for real!

35. Me realizing I’ve misspelled Gildarts name this whole time… oops

36. Seeing Cana’s mom’s will and seeing Cana’s cards being around it. I think her mom also used card magic.

37. Can we talk about how Cana was defeated by Laxus in her first S-Class trial. We don’t talk about this enough!

38. I truely believe that any minor inconvenience Cana threatens to use Fairy Glitter.

39. Fairy Tail having grand spells implies that other guild have grand spells

40. Rip thunder legion…. They aren’t dead they just get hella nerfed after this arc. Well more than they already were after the battle of fairy tail.

41. One thing about Gray is going to try to cast ice shell.

42. I love Ultear so much. She is one of my favorite villains.

43. Lily being scared of thunder and lightning. Adorable. I love him.

44. I do think Hades being a founder was added later on because when he revealed he was the second guild master he didn’t mention being a founder and I think that’s something that would have been mentioned.

45. LAXUS IS BACK BABY! ONE THING ABOUT LAXUS HE KNOWS HOW TO MAKE AN ENTRANCE!

46. We are so spoiled in this arc. We got so much of side characters showing their skills.

47. So Nastu just got the flame lighting power. Honestly don’t understand how it worked! But I don’t care because it’s cool! Wanna know what’s not cool? The fact that Wendy is the only 1st generation dragon slayer to not get an extra dragon slayer element. I hope by the end of 100 year quest she gets something. I want cobra to give her poison. Because that would be badass.

48. The exceed side mission is so adorable and goofy. I LOVE IT.

49. To think of Hades just kept his Fairy Tail emblem he would have been able to win the final fight because the tree was restore

50. People say it’s a plot hole that Ultear was able to restore the tree because she said she can’t use her magic on living things, but I think it was just bad phrasing and really it’s like humans and animals she can’t us her magic on.

51. The Laxus ship that makes the most sense to me is that him and the thunder legion are just a poly relationship. Yes Elfman is apart of this.

52. Another reason why I don’t think Hades was always supposed to be a founder of Fairy Tail is because how did he not recognize Zeref as the man who taught him magic?

53. I love Gildarts and Cana so much! I know if Cana told him from the start he would have stopped going on his long jobs to take care of her. He is such a girl dad.

54. Everyone begging Makarov to let them stay and fight is another moment that makes me cry every time. Honestly the whole episode does.

55. Most iconic scene in Fairy Tail is them holding hands and no one can change my mind.

56. Mavis protecting her guild. Her babies! I love her. The foreshadowing of fairy sphere being more powerful than Acnologia.

Tenrou Island is one of the best arcs. It is also a soft reboot of the show. I can’t wait for the grand magic games. I don’t know if I’ll watch the clock arc. I haven’t watched it in years. It is always a skip for me because I want to get to the grand magic games. I know I missed a lot during this arc and forgot to write things down. I watch the show while working on my school work. I love talking about Fairy Tail so don’t be shy send me things! Thank you for reading me fan girling over my favorite piece of media! The grand magic games post will likely be multiple parts because I think it’s peak Fairy Tail.

[l-e-morgan-author]

If I was to start up a writing newsletter, what features would be interesting? Spitballing at present. They're not mutually exclusive.

drabble

writing update/s

life update/s

excerpt

photo of Ransom

other photo/s

art/s

poem/s

free short story

reading updates

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Party of one (divided into four)

[half-shadowgalra]

Sally Jackson, Maria di Angelo, and Naomi Solace would be badass, bestie, wine mamas if they got to meet each other

[ghosty-schnibibit]

on the one hand i knew from the get go that realistically they were going to have to cut things from both the suffering game and lunar interludes IV and V if they were going to attempt to fit all three into one graphic novel, especially since reunion tour was a two parter

but, with all of that in mind, i did not think those cuts would include pivotal character developing moments for multiple main and side characters, so many fan favorite lines that at some point i gave up keeping track, key pieces of foreshadowing and themes that come into play during the finale, and literally every side character introduced in the original arc are you fucking kidding me

[mofffun]

Rainoir's last words - King-Ohger movie full cut extended scene (subs by me)