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penvisions · 14 days ago

Text

services requested {chapter two}

Pairing: Older! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: With the flourish of a contract that contains a section titled 'Intimacy Clause' and a quirk of your lips, you turn Joel Miller's life upside down.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: no outbreak au, modern au, age gap (joel is mid 50's, reader is late 20's / early 30's), reader is more of an oc written in the x reader style, reader is described to have a scar and tattoos, mommy vibes, reader see's joel and knows she wants to provide for him, joel is older and tired, his life beginning to slow as his body aches, power dynamics, sexual undertones, instant connection, mutual pining, flirting, casual touches, mutual attraction, angst, family drama, strained family dynamics, mention of pregnancy (not reader or joel), verbal threat, argumentative language, joel and tommy y'all good god, think that's it!

Fic Notes: please, if you have any qualms about the setting of this fic, do not reblog or comment with hate. my dms are open for discussion if you feel like you need to say anything. let's be respectful going into a new year, there are ample warnings and you are in charge of the content you consume

A/N: hi, i'm back with chapter two for y'all! ♡

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You can’t help but feel a bit shy around him, with a contract being looked over by one of your friends who works in the more…lucrative business of strip clubs and the party scene. She’s around the same age, working alongside the owner of one of the classier and legitimate night clubs, where she acts as a legal representative for the girls that work there as well as others who come through the doors looking for a little adult fun.

She had arrived just as Joel was leaving for the day, her eyes widening as she watched him toss a out a bag of garbage into the outside bin on his way out of the door and off the job for the day. He had nodded politely at her, though his lips didn’t lift quite as much at the corners as they did for you. Her squeal the second the front door was loud, and you immediately shushed her and clamped your hands over her mouth while peering through the blinds to see if he heard it. Thankfully he hadn’t turned at the rather alarming sound as he loaded up into his truck and took off down the street.

“That’s the Mr. Miller I keep hearing about?!”

That was days ago, and the renovation is in the last stages. New walls are up, drywall and mudding complete. All that was left was the kitchen downstairs and the tiling in the bathroom. Painting was tomorrow, once the colors were picked out too.

Today you were going to tag along with the older man to the supply store to look over tiles, none of the ones in the catalogue he had left on your desk in the study popped out at you. He’s been working hard, to get everything done on schedule. Your parent’s return is in two weeks and he’s determined to have it all polished and shining by the time you head out to get them from the airport.

Professionality and friendship seem to be a good mix for you. Calling him Mr. Miller when he reminds you to call him Joel, him lingering at the end of each day to make sure he gives you a run down of what got done and what will be on the agenda of tasks for the next one. He playfully calls you ma’am in return, though he uses your name sometimes too.

A running joke of sorts, between the two of you. But also, it’s not really a joke at all. But a way to draw an invisible line- no physical contact has happened since that day your composure cracked and fell into tiny pieces around you alongside your hot tears. But you swear you can feel his eyes trailing after you when you’re working around the house.

You’re both jokingly picking out the most garish colors and saying they would look perfect in the living room, the bathroom, the upstairs bedrooms. His own thick fingers brushing yours as you both huff laughter and reach for new swatches. The attendant behind you is smiling at the scene, younger than you and stuck at such a boring job of mixing colors for people that seem too focused to have fine like you two are. But the bubble of easy going fun is broken by a man donned in a grey sweat pants and a plain tee.

He calls your name, in question. As if he doesn’t quite want to bother you if you don’t hear him. But you do, and so does Joel. With laughter still on your tongue, you turn with a wide smile in the man’s direction.

“Micheal! Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you.” You don’t move to shake his hand, something Joel’s stomach flips over noticing. You keep the tight curl of your fingers over the swatch of blinding yellow he had jokingly suggested for the kitchen that you had pried from his own grip. Your long nails, done up in a soft pink this time had scraped against his skin and nearly short circuited his thoughts. But they’re back now as he watches you interact with this random man.

“I just wanted to say hi and thank you again for the session. It was such a dream, honestly.” The man’s words are genuine, his expression one of open awe. It has Joel stiffening behind you, aware that this may be awkward for him.

“I’m so glad, it’s always a fun challenge when someone comes to me with an idea like that. But I’m glad we could execute it perfectly for you.” Behind you, you can feel Joel stiffen. His entire body goes rigid and you sneak a look at him over your shoulder, but he’s seemingly fascinated by the color samples in his hands…

The rest of the trip around the store is strained, Joel won’t look you in the eye and you feel like he’s avoiding brushing up against you. He assures you he can load everything up into the back of the truck so you’re stewing in the passenger seat waiting for him to finish. The ride back isn’t nearly as happy and easy-going as the ride there and you can’t get the words out to ask if everything is okay, your fight or flight triggered and flight is your go to nowadays. It didn’t used to be…

He gets to unloading as you hide yourself away in the office, sketching app open and stylus in your immobile hand as your back twinges painfully. The scar dug into the skin there feeling like it was just carved your mind replays the event on a loop. You can faintly hear the soft squelch of the paint rollers working, an easy day of work all in all.

But he doesn’t come to bid you a good afternoon, nor does he seem to stop for lunch.

Too caught up in your memories, you sit in the locked office until well after the sun goes down. Reaching out to your assistant to reschedule your consultations booked for that afternoon and evening with a quick text the second you got back from the store…

Two weeks fly by, your little spell invigorating you after wallowing.

It wasn’t productive and it hadn’t helped anything, but it was necessary. Processing and resting, giving your mind and body the chance to work through something is important. Realistically you know that, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Anxiety and trauma are always something you will have to struggle with, no matter how big of a name you make for yourself.

The walkthrough in the morning goes okay, almost back to the comfortable and borderline flirtatious camaraderie you and Joel had established early on. Everything was perfect, the colors, the tiling, the patterns, all of it amazing and beyond what you had expected. Even if you actively watched Joel create the cabinets with his hands, seen the sketches of what he envisioned for the space based on your words and description.

“I really appreciate all the work you put into the renovation, it came out so amazing.” You shuffle the papers in your hand, knocking them against the top of the desk to straighten them out before stapling the bunch of them together. Reaching for an envelope, you place the card you had taken out in his name- attached to your expenses account that you used for your own supplies. That was secured to the top of the stack with a binder clip. “And I was wondering if I could hire you.”

"What do you mean, you want to hire me? I'm already workin' a job for you." His confusion is clear, brows furrowed and lips slightly pursed. His hands are secure on the arms of the chair he occupies. He only needs one or two more days of cleaning and wiping everything down, ensuring no dust from the construction work lingers, no nails or screws are prominent, sand down a few edges here and there. And then of course he offered to help put away what appeared to be a whole new kitchen in the form of pots and pans, cutlery and serve wear, fancy glasses and a set of ceramic mugs that looked hand painted. Everything had come in boxes throughout his workdays, piling up in the garage that contained most of your stuff from when you moved back.

"For your...services, Mr. Miller. To be called upon at any time." You try to keep your excitement from showing too much, not wanting to weird him out or make him feel any more awkward with what you are just about to do. You’ve never offered someone such a thing before….to be their sole provider and essentially a sugar momma. Though you did explicitly claim there was no pressure or obligation to be intimate in exchange for the funds you wanted to provide him. He’s just a handsome man whose lived a full, busy life and you wanted to offer him a much deserved break.

But as soothing as you keep your voice and even as you keep your tone, based on the way his face falls from a small grin to a frown and his demeanor shifts from friendly curiosity to irritated, you see that you’ve already failed.

“Listen, I don’t know what kinda man you think I am but I don’t run in the same circles as you. And as flattered as I am that you think-“ He looks a little flustered, obviously upset enough for his face to contort into something you would call grumpy. Would normally tease him about if you walked into a room and saw him making the same expression as he looked down at something or over some blueprints.

“What kind of circles do you think I run in?” You cut him off, unwilling to let his mind run away and taint the professional friendship you two have been cultivating over the last month. The incident at the hardware store crops up in your mind and suddenly everything clicks into place. He most likely thinks you work in the same business as your friend.

“You uh- well, you dress kinda fancy all the time and you’re off during the daytime. Always got your hair and nails lookin’ nice….kinda figured you-“

“I’m not a stripper or dancer. Nor do I do porn or escort services.” Your brows furrow, it should be funny- the mistaken identity, but the truth is that it hurts a little.

You lean back, unable to quell the unease of even entertaining the idea of offering him a contract if he felt so strongly about what he thought you were asking of him- of his assumption of who you were.

There was nothing wrong with anyone who chose that lifestyle and employment, but you had made a name for yourself doing what you did best. The constant under the breath and snide comments about how you carry yourself is the only reason for your success still stings. The notion that you use your looks to get clients, that it’s the only reason they seek you out; it completely diminished the passion and love you pour into every single job you take on for a long while. And Joel is voicing it right alongside the countless others that have before him. “My services are in the art industry. I’m a tattoo artist.”

You know that your eyes are focused, not quite on him but on the curls that still frame his temples. Too long, as you very well know from one of your casual conversations. It’s…not a good feeling to hear the words so many have said before coming from him. He’s been a constant in your life since the beginning of the renovation and he’s seen parts of you that no one has in a long time. For him to openly share his thoughts causes a tightening in your chest. A twinge in your back along the sensitive skin of the scar that sits there as a constant reminder to be careful.

“Mr. Miller, I can assure you that I’m not trying to get you to do anything untoward, there might be a little paragraph in there but you dictate the parameters of the contract. Completely. Everything is up to you and you certainly don’t have to accept it or even entertain the thought if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” Joel feels like a fool, a damned fool for letting his mind run away from him and his tongue for blurting out probably one of the most insensitive things he could’ve said in response to a new job offer from you. He can see the way you withdraw slightly, probably offended but trying to keep your composure. You’re too good for him and this just proves it even further.

“Assumed. Yes, I can see that now. How things look, maybe this was a bad idea.”

Fuck. No, no, no- he doesn’t think it’s a bad idea to offer him another job but…his mental calendar is full for the next six weeks. One job scheduled after this one, his expenses a little tied up after that with his birthday coming up soon- he had told Sarah he would come visit with Ellie, he hasn’t seen where she’s settled with her boyfriend. It…it’s a lot to handle on his own. Keeping track of one rotating crew with him and then two others working on other jobs around the county.

“No, I- sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m old okay? I don’t know what I’m talking about but the only services I offer are contracting and repair work." He brings a hand up to run a thumb underneath his bottom lip, eyes taking in the flutter of your lashes as his apology soaks into your skin. The almost...yearning look about your soft features. Younger than he is, in full control of those should you choose to lay that look upon. He's sure the boys your age would fall over themselves to see it again, to see more. Hell, he's ready to fall over himself and he's surely twice your age. “I’m not sure how useful I’d be if-“

“I’m in the process of obtaining permits to build on an empty city block. Two buildings. Two shop fronts. I figured you would be able to help out, but I understand if it’s not something you’re interested in. Really.”

And now you’re backpedaling, he feels like such an asshole for what he said. You…you’re an artist. A tattoo artist and really, he doesn’t know how he hadn’t picked up on that. You’ve decorated your skin with beautiful pieces, the sketchbook and tablet you’re always scribbling away on. The mention of clients, long hours, charges, the constant ink stains he sees on your clothes when you get home from work…

He doesn’t want to turn you down, can’t really turn you down. You hadn’t batted an eye at the quote he had given you for the work on your parent’s house. Nor had you argued anytime something needed an extra cushion to get the better quality option of supplies. When he had offered a discount, you had waved him off but he planned to do it anyway. You were sweet, you were considerate and he knows he wouldn’t hear the end of it if his brother found out he had a soft spot for you. But honestly? With the way his brother had been pulling away, taking on less jobs- answering less calls and responding with messages at odd hours or even the summary and final check stapled to paperwork of the rare job he takes on is the only form of communication he’s been getting from the man. So, who cares what he thinks about a discount, when it was Joel’s company.

One he had been fully prepared to hand over to his brother once upon a time. To help straighten him out, give him a hand in a world that demanded so much from him as a soldier and then turned its back on him as an honorably discharged veteran.

You take it all in stride, keeping your composure as best as you can, shoving all the negative feelings down. He’s a good man, he just…he just assumed like he said. Blinking away the unease and slightly awkward tinge to the air you tell him that you understand what he’s saying. He would be perfect for the job you want to offer him, even still. Joel’s ears turn pink at the top, his throat bobbing as he sits there and takes in all the kind words you have for him- even after he basically called you an adult entertainer asking after him to partake in…. something he wasn’t even sure he had a clear idea of.

All so he could see that smile grace your lips and see a flash of teeth he can't help but stop picturing what they would look like holding tight over your own bottom lip, depraved sounds slipping between them as he pressed tight and heavy over you. As his hips slam into yours, his co-

Jesus, he needs a minute to get a handle on himself. Everything is all consuming with you, feelings bubble up, urges strike him strong enough to wear down any thought of resistance. You make him feel like he’s seen, like he’s important, like he matters. It’s no wonder his little crush on you has manifested.

He shakes his head, aware of the watching gaze you don't let up from him as you sit serenely at your desk. The top of your shirt dipped low as you lean forward to rest your chin in the cup of your hands, taunting him. What little power he feels from his larger frame, his years over you, his skills he knows you don't share- they diminish as he glances down to the new skin before meeting your eyes again. You’re too enamoring, too ingrained into his mental space to feel like he’s got any sort of control- even if the working relationship is good, not awkward and even friendly like he wanted it to be.

Small conversations, coffee some mornings as you hang around and watch him place tiles into designs that you request, take out boxes with either your name or his scribbled on them and scattered around the coffee table in the living room. The guys never stay for lunch, opting to go out and get some fresh air.

You tilt your head just a bit, and like a match catching, friction igniting it- his stomach jolts as he pictures that same look aimed up at him as you sit on your knees in front of him. Good god, his mind needs a good rinse. Especially if he’s going to consider accepting the more than generous offer on guaranteed continued work.

"I have a company to run, can't exactly turn down an offer for a job."

"This would be more of an... open-ended contract. I would reach out for any repairs your capable hands are able to work on. From mechanics of vehicles, to construction work, to repairs on established properties. New properties that waiting on permits, like I mentioned. I’m also finalizing the sale on a personal property, so I would need help with getting that up to code as well. I would pay you a going rate of..."

Joel's mind goes blank, the amount offered per week is astronomical. As much a single job he’s taking one at a time with how he’s got to schedule everything. The same amount he would earn from weeks, if not months of working day in and day out. The way you go on about how even if you didn't have any jobs for him during a week, he would still be compensated. His meals provided and a company card with his name plastered on it in silver on a slick black is flashed at him atop a neat stack of papers with bold print.

"For you to look over, Mr. Miller. There is no rush, nor does the offer expire. Please get back to me at your convenience."

"Uh, well-" He isn't sure what to think, how to feel at the moment. The offer too good to be true, the amount of money would allow him to only work for you. His own clients are willing to pay for his work but not to wait for the time frames he's been giving lately. It's only him in command of three crews, they can only work so fast, and he's seeing them get poached by other companies with better hours, more pay.

Joel's made a name for himself with 'Miller Contracting'. But as the years go on, his hopes to pass it on to his younger brother become a more silly notion than something that could happen. A person who has begun to see his life toward a different path, one of less hours and more focus on his wife and unborn baby. He sighs, knowing that the thoughts would circle endlessly in his mind should he let them begin. The whole reason he has the job for you now is because his brother bailed…

"There is absolutely no pressure, just wanted to extend the offer. I have found that...other men have embellished their skill sets in order to receive the same offer. Jokingly claim they don’t care but then become petulant when it’s obvious it’s not going to happen. But you have the skills, you are competent."

"I'll-I'll get back to you, ma'am."

"The number at the top of the contract, it's an all hours one. Feel free to reach out with any questions or concerns, any stipulations or changes you'd like to make. I hope you have a very good rest of the day, Mr. Miller." You smile at him, eyes bright as you watch the way his throat bobbed with a harsh swallow.

Later that evening, two drinks deep and another poured into his cup, he settles into the worn leather of his couch with the contract in his hand. He's flipping through the many pages, preparing to read through it when a certain word catches his eye, making him choke on the drink swallow he had just taken.

Intimacy Clause

His skin is suddenly hot, fueled by the liquor he's already ingested, his thoughts turning to filth as a flash of pleasure flares brightly in his belly. Oh....he's certainly in over his head. He's heard of this- what was it called? Sugar daddy dynamic, but if he's the one getting the benefits and wages in exchange that would make him- no, he doesn't want to think about it that way. It's a job offer, a working contract.

He's got half a mind to deny the contract outright, but he can't help the way his eyes devour the words in front of him, from the first page to the last. It’s the perfect opportunity to keep you in his life, a way to keep you as close as his heart begs him too. Friendship something he wants, but the appearance of what it looks like on the outside bothering him still as he realizes how much older he is. Sure, he could run into you when around your parents and at neighborhood gatherings…but if he were to be your personal contractor. Your go-to man for construction and repair work, for…anything really- now that would really make him feel like he was worth the attention you seem to want to dot on him.

His phone is in his hand, thick fingers dialing the number you had provided, no regard for the late hour of the night. He's downing the last bit of his drink, grunting around the sting of it as he hears the ringing loud in his ear.

His heart is beating heavy, slowly, anticipation making him feel like there are far too many rings for there to be an answer on the other side of the line. He's about to cancel it when there's a click and your melodic voice greets him, pleasure flaring up in his belly again.

"Been thinking about me, Mr. Miller?" The coy tone causes a shiver to run down his spine.

Oh shit, he's definitely in over his head.

He looks good, but he doesn’t feel good. You can tell by the grimace marring his plush lips into a frown and the tension he holds in his entire body. Joel is casually walking across the street to where you’re sitting on the porch with a cup of steaming coffee. The house is being cleaned by the company you hired to detail everything. Not that it was particularly dirty, the crew had helped you to dust and wipe everything down as well as possible. It was more of an extra step for your parents to know that you want them to come back from a well-deserved vacation with no worries to even think of. Groceries are stocked in the fridge and pantry, bottles smoothies and juices at the ready for them to slip back into their lives.

It would be your last morning here, fresh from a late night at work and then doing inventory of all your supplies. A huge order loaded up on your phone that you needed to place once you settled into the home you had just finalized the sale on last week. It was finally ready for you to move in, though you suspected the work you wanted to enlist Joel’s help with would take some time.

But you both had it now, in spades. To be with each other, to work alongside each other.

He’s in a pullover sweatshirt that allows for the collar and hem of his shirt underneath to peak out. A little large on him, but not slouchy. He looks like he’s trying to not put too much pressure on his joints and you quickly set a reminder on your phone to schedule a massage for him sometime in the next week. A little gift to help ease some stress. You could use one too, you think as you see the barrage of missed calls from a blocked number. The area code for the city you had just moved from…

“Hey there, rough morning?” His voice is coarse, filling in the humid morning air with a little more warmth as he approaches and stands at the bottom of the porch steps. He’s got on a pair of glasses…and you’re thoughts are swirling in the gutter as you imagine him staring down through the lenses at you as you kneel before him…

Swallowing the sip you just took, you tilt your head toward the other side of the patio lounge you’re on, legs curled up beneath you. Large cardigan keeping you comfortable over a pair of jeans and a tank top. There’s ink stained on the front, the collar dipping low as you had moved around to finish a giant custom piece for most of the evening.

“It’s been alright, can’t really call it ‘morning’ if I haven’t been to sleep yet,” You feel a thrill down your spine as he sits, his thigh brushing up against your bare knee where a hole in the denim exposes it. You don’t move and he doesn’t shy away either. He’s got the thick stack of papers in his hand, but the envelope with the check for his renovation and the card with his name on it are gone.

“We can make this quick, then, if you want to get to bed.”

“No need, I’m moving today and then work later.” You offer him your mug and he gingerly takes it from you to slurp the sweetened and creamed coffee inside. His thick moustache catches a few droplets and as your eyes linger, his tongue sneaks out to capture them. “I’ll catch a nap in the afternoon, no need to worry, Mr. Miller.”

“Sweetheart, told you to call me Joel.” He hands you back the mug. His brown eyes catch yours and you feel your entire body go still, worry igniting you that he’s about to tell you he’s thought the contract over and wants nothing to do with it…

“Especially if I’m gonna hand this back over with my signature scrawled on it.”

“Really?” Your eyes widen as you turn to face him completely.

“You seem surprised.” He’s laughing as he flips to the last page to show you and it releases all the tension in your chest. He’s got such a good laugh, hearty and full. You want to do everything you can to hear it more, to give him a reason to laugh more. More time to focus on what he wants, not worried about keeping up with big projects that take so much time to complete. Not that he minds, like he’s assured you, he loves the work and wants to do it. But it’s getting to be a lot to handle, his brother is finding himself a different path- something he mentioned when you had asked after the other Miller brother and why he hadn’t been the one to take on your job.

“I was a little worried, it’s not exactly a normal thing to be offered. But like I said, everything is up to you, the jobs are the jobs, the work is still work, everything else is completely up to you.”

“Don’t think anything can be considered normal these days, but,” He’s reaching to place his palm on your knee in a comforting gesture. “I could honestly really use the break you’re lending me. Gives me the chance to be more present in the girls’ lives. I’ve got one last job I’ve already taken a deposit on, a small trip out to see Sarah and then I’m all yours. It’s a generous offer and I’d be a fool to turn it down.”

“What’s the last job?”

“An above ground pool and deck, shouldn’t take more than two weeks. Give me until next month, then we can get everything settled. If that’s okay?”

“I don’t mind how long it takes, I was going to pay you the first month upfront, even if you didn’t want to do this. As a bonus of sorts, for the amazing job you did here.” You wave your hand behind you toward the house. The cleaning crew is already busy, their chatter and light music filling the home with life.

“You really are somethin’, you know that?” He’s tipping his head down, looking at his scuffed and paint stained boots. Pink tinging his ears as he does so, the fingers over your knee digging in and then releasing in move you aren’t sure he’s aware of.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller. And I want you to see that, you deserve the chance for a slower life, for a life you want. Now let’s go.” You gulp down the last of the coffee and set it down on the patio table to your right. The contract slides into the bag at your feet and you’re standing.

“Where we goin’?” He’s sill got those damn thick rimmed glasses on and he looks good enough to eat as he looks up at you from his spot still on the whicker couch. He hasn’t gotten up alongside you, unsure what’s going to happen now that the paperwork is officially signed and accepted- a date for the next month picked out for him to officially be on your payroll. As a sugar baby. Well, a contracted workman but the reality of the situation isn’t just that.

But you do, you’re going to take care of him. Exactly like you promised.

“To the salon. You said you’ve been putting off a trim.”

“We don’t have-“

“Joel. You said you don’t much like your hair as long as it is, it’s an easy fix.”

“I don’t…got a meeting with my brother this afternoon.” He shuffles on his feet, boots scuffing the new coat of sealant on the porch he put on with his own two hands. “Gonna tell him about the business.”

“It’s only ten, we’ll be done by then.” You go to grip his shoulder with a light hand. Your nails grazing his arm on the way up. The reassuring smile you give him melts him, you can see it. “I promise.”

A short drive later and a more than enthusiastic interaction in the industrial and modern looking salon, Joel sits with a grimace into a chair and lets the hairdresser fasten the cape securely over his throat. The place is so fancy, certainly not the master bathroom or the corner barbershop tucked into the end of a strip mall that he normally frequents. He’s tense and you feel bad so you hold up a finger to motion for the woman to pause for a moment. She smiles at you, noticing his unease as well.

“Hey,” You whisper as you come to stand behind him. He’s watching you with his dark eyes through the mirror, noticing the grays that make up most of his facial hair, steel tone that gives away how dark his hair had been once upon a time. His curls too, are the same dark gray intermixed with ash strands. Thick and erring on the side of ringlets if they should grow any longer. Your fingers gently scratch at the back of his head as you dig them into his hair, thumbs massaging up the back of his neck in a soothing gesture.

His hair is as soft as you imagined, like silk against your skin and you hum a little as you notice his eyes flutter at your ministrations. His shoulders drop and he let’s out a deep breath he must’ve been holding in.

“It’s just a trim, okay? Whatever you want, however you like it. You deserve it and you’ll feel so much better, I promise.”

And goddamn, if it’s not hard to keep promising things to one Joel Miller.

He’s so flighty, so nervous when he doesn’t know what to expect in a situation like this. Out of his depth and a little uncomfortable with the first outing as you go-to guy for all things. A paid companion of sorts. A strong contrast to the confidence he struts around with and moves through a space he’s working on, through the hardware store, as he drives his truck expertly throughout the suburban and city streets.

And when his eyes open back up, he’s returning your gentle smile with one of his own. Completely as ease. It makes your heart speed up and warmth pool in your middle.

Joel’s not nervous, but he’s not exactly thrilled to share the news of his company becoming an- contracted one he guesses would be the right term. One that has the sole purpose of fulfilling your every need, no matter now small or large a scale the project or task is. A way to provide for you and be a friend to you, to keep you close like he can’t seem to resist. He’s made peace with the decision, he’s comfortable in his decision. But his brother is…

“Why didn't you come to me, brother? I would've- I would've done anything to help, hell, I would've jumped back into working jobs everyday with you if that's what it took to save the company.” Tommy is certainly playing the part of the concerned younger sibling, professing empty words that Joel knows he wants to mean. But he doesn’t. He’s been struggling since coming back from his last tour and Joel’s done just about all he could to help in that department. Up to and including helping him with financial stuff and hiring a district attorney to help him when it had gone too far…

“Tommy, c'mon.” Joel tries to keep his tone in check, but Tommy is more than a little upset that he hadn’t known how stressed his brother was. How could Joel have told him? When could he have even told him, this is the first time to two of them have actually sat down and not just traded half conversations over the phone or even at the sad excuse of an office rented for the business. It was easier for them to work out of a trailer they would park at job sites, more secure for them to have eyes on the space that helped them to operate, well Joel to operate.

“Don't you do that, act like I don't care.” Wide brown eyes are turned toward him, the same ones that worked to get him to take the blame for too many eaten cookies before dinner, a broken lamp when they were too reckless running around the house, or when paired with a wobbling lip and tears that Joel would take make sure no one but him got into trouble. The big brother, always looking out for his younger one.

“I couldn't get you to even answer the damn phone, let alone work anymore 'n you wanted to.” A harsh scrub of his palm against his chin rustles the stubble there. Honest and reality checking words simmer in his belly, heating him up from the inside out and he realizes that there’s no stopping them from bubbling up.

He’s hurt, dammit. By the fact that after everything he’s done, his brother still decides to be selfish in a way he wished he could be proud of. Family is important, but the woman that Tommy is choosing over everything else…It just doesn’t sit well with him. “The business is good, just getting a little back logged and people aren’t willing to wait that long for certain work. It’s tough with just me and the crews, really expected to have a little more help.”

“That's not fair, I got...I got things I'm taking care of, Maria she-“

“This isn't about her, Tommy! This is about you doin' whatever the hell you wanna do, just like fucking always. your whole damn life, you've been like this.” He feels the words surge through him, spurred on by the sheer contrast of interacting with you and then his brother. One was family and yet…you treated him with more respect, you seemed to care enough to offer him a way to support himself better, to provide for him, to help him.

And the man across from him is doing nothing but making excuses as to why he hasn’t offered more.

“Joel, if I had known-“

“But you didn't! Didn’t even bother to ask how all the jobs you kept bailing on got done, how they got managed into my already full schedule. You know Ellie is thinkin’ of moving out because she thinks she’s too loud in a house that’s quiet when I’m not there and even more so when I am? She feels like a burden on me because I’m workin’ so damn hard and I pass out the second I get home.”

“Ellie’s an adult, but I’m sorry the work has you feeling like an absent father. Maybe you shouldn’t have-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Tommy. I love that girl with my whole fucking heart. I made the decision to transition to contracted work, to help out a friend with her business and personal projects. She’s supplin’ me with enough cash flow to make it worth my while and give me more down time.”

“Yeah and what, you think some pretty, successful woman is gonna be the key to keeping your company. You sold out, man, she's gonna be changing things, controlling things, you don't even know the half of it. You should've-“

“You weren't there!” Joel hollers, his patience gone and his head pounding. He realizes that the table next to them looked up from their menus at his outburst but he doesn’t care. “You weren't there, mentally, physically, you were gone off in your own little world, Tommy! She was....she saw me struggling and she treated me with kindness and respect- she was there to help! She was fucking there, Tommy!”

“You really think she gives a shit about you? Cause she don’t! She just sees an old man to buy out and take over a company because she’s bored, needs something to play with. The girls are going to flip when they find out how weak you were when a pretty little thing flashed a smile at you. All cause you think she cares about you, but she ain’t your family, Joel. Stop lookin’ for it in all the wrong places.”

“You ain’t been much of family lately, Tommy. But go ahead and judge me all you want, this is something I want to do.” He slips the envelope from his back pocket, the logo for his company branded in the top corner, your name beside his above the contact number. It was something you had mocked up for him to look over once the visit to the salon finished. He had liked it, maybe a little too much- to see your names beside each other.

Joel takes the check out from it, so the amount written out is visible. “This is for you and Maria, for my nephew, once he’s born. It’s the severance amount everyone is getting and then some. Cause I take care of my own.”

Joel is shoving up from his seat, jaw muscles twitching. Tommy’s eyes roll up from the check to his older brother looming over him. “You’re no better ‘n me, Tommy. You chased after Maria the second your case was settled.”

He’s not even in his truck for a second before he’s pulling out his new phone and hitting the call button.

All the tension leaves him from the heated interaction the second your voice filters through the line.

“Hey, hey! I’m a little tied up at the moment so you’re on speaker, I hope you don’t mind?” It’s then that he notices the background noise: soft music, the sound of something liquid being shaken up in plastic, and the tacky stretch of cling wrap being unraveled.

“Tha’s alright, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ of coming by, check out those permit applications for you and make sure they’re getting processed okay.”

“Oh! That would be lovely. And you could check out the space I’m renting. So you know where to find me if I’m with a client. I’ll text you the address, yeah?”

“Want anything from the coffee shop?” Joel’s eyes glance across the street. His brother is gone from the table they had shared outside the café. The truck he had seen him pull up in gone as well. He should probably do the right thing and apologize to the server for taking up a table and then not ordering anything. Might as well get the coffee he had intended to as well.

“Mr. Miller, you are too sweet. I’ll text you my order. See ya in a bit!”

The line doesn’t hang up right away and he catches the soft words you speak next.

“He sounds handsome, was that your husband?”

“Oh! No, no, that was my friend. He’s my personal contractor and go to maintenance man.”

“I’m so sorry, I just assumed because I was looking back at your profile before the appointment and noticed the wedding photos on your feed.”

And then the line goes dead, the call ending as his thumb punches the red circle on the screen.

Joel’s heart thuds harshly against his ribs, his insides all twisted up. The way you sounded when you talked about him had been so warm.

My friend.

But then the person sitting in the studio with you had said the very last things he had ever anticipated.

Your husband. Wedding photos.

Were you married and neglected to tell him? Was this all some sort of game you were playing? Did you even have a need for him if you had a man who you called your own already? Where the hell did your husband fall in all of this? Was Tommy right and he was being played like a giant fool?

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megbanned · 1 month ago

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Hi Meg megbanned! It’s a pleasure to meet you. I just wanted to ask something. Your UWD concept fascinates me. How did you come up with it?

Hi hiiiiii!

Time for loreeeeeeeee XD

This is kind of old but basically- before entering the fandom I was creating a new fursona and sonicsona

Thiis one

But after knowing the series 1 year ago (November 1), it occurred to me to make my fursona into a drone, but I wanted it to keep their design.

So then I did this first concept for my drone

It looks a little weird since I didn't know how to draw the drones body, so I just made it similar to the Sonic style, I even included 5 fingers and the paws X'D

Although its appearance changed when it became a drone, I had more in mind that it would be like a small demon drone, something silly.

This was the first reference I made about my OC, it still had 5 fingers at that time and the design of the body where the lava was was different (I didn't know that drones had cores or the sign on their chests) and also my own oc was the first post about murder drones that I had made on twitter X'D and I call it just "A worker drone from the underground"

After creating this OC I said to myself "why don't I make more OCs with the same concept?" So I created 3 more

Although after a while I got a little annoyed that they looked so similar in terms of "drone model" and eventually differentiated them slightly in markings and colors (ABS was the second OC I created, so she is still very similar to her first concept and MB), I think by this point I was starting to think more that they were already a different type of Worker drones x'D

I mean: -They have Worker Drone bodies. -They have horns. -They have tails. -They have lava characteristics and different abilities and weaknesses.

They were definitely another type of drones and to clarify the above I had made this information sheet since I had been asked what my OC was about.

Pretty old information and designs x'D

And then I wrote a little more about my drones here https://www.tumblr.com/megbanned/744965835843649536/i-got-a-qeustion-so-pretty-sure-your-mascot-is?source=share

So after this I already had a simple base about what these drones were, they already had their first part of the lore and what they could do.

After a while, some friends and other people started asking me if they could create a drone similar to mine I didn't know what to answer because at first I only kept them for myself and my stories.

Unfortunately it took me a while to think about what to do…

After that I thought I could do something more with them, create more lore for them, establish their abilities and weaknesses a bit more, more basic information and more freedom regarding their designs. So I started making some custom designs for close friends.

Plus I also did some roleplaying since that helped me figure out what else they could do while answering my friends' questions.

In addition, other friends gave me advice on how to balance the drones and bring them closer to the Murder Drones canon but also leaving some artistic freedom.

Also, something funny is that at one point I got to write a script for a fake analog horror video about these drones XDDDDDD doing that helped me clarify more information.

And well, after a couple of months, having free time, and with my knowledge of closed and open species, I was able to compile all the information in this Guideeee

And that's how this subtype of drones appeared x'D

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

#asks!#UWD

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myladysapphire · 8 months ago

Text

His Sapphire Princess (IX)

After the night in the brothel Rhaenyra is married to Laenor Velayron to protect the birth of her child. who in the years to follow is the only one of Rhaenyra's children that is believed to be his, she is loved by all in the red keep, even queen Alicent adores the girl, so when Rhaenyra proposes a marriage between Aemond and Rhaenyra's daughter Visenya, Alicent happily agrees.

The children having been best friends in their youths are more than happy to be wed but when the incident at drift mark occurs things change, will it be for better or worse?

word count: 2,455

CW: angst? some fluff (like they reunite and don't hate each other and decide to start over), tensions, refrences of past SA, not proofread!

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclaimer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

a/n i hate this, but it's kind of a filler chapter anyway

Aemond

Aemond had been both eager and nervous for her return.

Though counting down the days, planning on how he would greet you, he also was scared.

He know she felt ignored by him, betrayed by how he had just stopped replying to her letters. Ignored her name days, ignored her completely.

But that was not entirely true. He had wanted so badly to reply, writing letter upon letter, though some were just mindless scribbles. But not once did he find he wrote a letter worthy of her, worthy of the emotions he felt. He needed space and he had shown he needed it in the worse possible way.

He had hated how he knew some version of her, a guarded version. Her letters expressing less and less, over time just mere updates of her life before stopping altogether. And he hated that the version she knew of him was the scared little boy he had tried so hard to get ride of.

The version of Aemond he had gotten ride of, in all ways but with her. He wanted to be the old Aemond with her, but hated that he did. It was why he needed the space, the time to heal, the time to become the man he is today.

But as he stood in the training yard, staring at her as she talked to him, so ddiffernt, so cold.

He knew he made a mistake.

She was so different, she had changed, and not just her personality.

But her looks also. Gods she was the most stunning and beautiful woman he had ever seen, he had always thought it impossible for her to become more beautiful.

But her beauty was clouded by the look in her eyes, the anger, the hurt and the loneliness.

She looked so alone, even as she walked out the courtyard with her brothers, laughing. She same old melodic laugh that could capture a room. The loneliness ceased slightly when he looked into them, as if she was finally being seen.

He understood. There eyes always talked to each other, expressing their true emotions, it why he knew his eyes mirrored hers, but they also showed another emotion, regret.

Regret for reading your letters time and time again, annotating them as if they were quotes from his favourite novel. Regret from the stack of unsent letters he kept in his bedside draw.

Each filled with his thoughts. Most mindless scribbles, unfished letters ending with angry scribbled out words as words escaped him, as fear filled him.

He had tried to write of the events in his life even detailing his fights with Ser Criston, his rides with Vaghar, the books he read. And yet he could never send them, fear of her seeing his liefe and not understanding why he needed the space, or fear that he would see the darkest parts of his mind grew as the years went on. The sweet kind boy she had once new fading, and a cruel, vengeful man taking his place.

He had once longed to be a protector, her sworn sword, doing good in her name. now…now he revelled in fear. He loved how the woman would run at the sight of his sapphire eye, a sight he knew deep down she never would. He revelled in revenge, revenge by going to the brothel, the place of his hurt, and burning it.

It was ruthless, but the second he had done it, he felt free, healed.

And yet fear still gripped at him, fear of wheat you know thought of him.

Fear that she would not accept the new him, but as he had started at you he felt like the old sweet Aemond was still in there somewhere, but only for her, his Sapphire.

Watching her sway away he knew he had limited time, this week was the first week of their official courtship, but the week after they would begin the moon long celebrations for their wedding.

Celebrations were they would spend day after day, hour after hour together being the perfect couple.

And he didn’t want it to be an act.

He had returned to his rooms, opening his bedside draw, but instead of reaching for her letter he reached for his own, and realised what he wanted to do.

He waited, two days. Two days of agony.

He had somehow hoped those two days he would be able to approach her, talk to her. But now, all he could was watch her. Watch her spend day after day in someone else’s company

Whether it was one of the tens of ladies begging for her favour and chance at becoming her lady, or her brother Jace, or even Aegon.

Gods he had forgotten about Aegon’s obsession with her. He knew they wrote, Aegon often bragging about it. With Aegon telling him about her, their little jokes, their shared secrets.

Not that he was jealous, no. He was not jealous of how Aegon seemed to act as if they were betrothed to each other. For two days they seemed to walk everywhere together, sit with each other at dinners. Though her eyes were often searching for Aemond’s, Aegon’s eyes were always firmly planted on her. And whenever she wasn’t with him, he was like a lost pup, waiting for her to appear.

Those two days, though never alone they often found the other staring, their mouths would being to form words that they were never able to form. And so he finally built up the courage and sent her his letters.

Visenya

When she had received Aemond’s letters she did not know what to expect.

They had appeared on her dresser, all 112 of them. Though some were scrapes of paper with random thoughts scribbled across them. One just one word repeated, 110 times.

Her name written, again and again, in the same neat, perfect handwriting Aemond had always had.

She then realised what this was, an apology.

She found the first letter he wrote that was left unsent, and she felt her heart break.

Dearest Visenya,

I am so sorry, I can not say why it has taken so long for me to only now reply.

Prepahs it was the guilt.

I never should of come to Winterfell, You had been kind and sweet, but I fear your kindness is unwarranted. I do not desire pity, I regret coming that night, I regret allowing you to see me so weak and scared. My whole life I have sworn to be your protector, your sword. And that night as I cried in your arms I felt like a small child, I felt smaller than when I did when Lucerys tore out my eye. And I hated it.

I have tried to look past it, look at it in away where I do not come across a whiny little boy and I am nothing but ashamed.

I had hoped to write you, bragging of my successes and yet all I can do I wallow In self pity at how I acted that night.

It matters not that I bested ser Criston for the first time, or how often I ride Vaghar.

For all I can think about it the look of pity you gave me.I do not need nor want your pity, my sapphire.

You gave me a place to stay and a place to cry, but I shall make it clear to you that the Aemond you saw that night is long gone. And shall never return. He can never return, not for you not for anyone.

So sweet, I shall not answer your request to come to Winterfell, I need the space, the time and so do you.

I fear distance is what we need, though we may hate it, I need to become Prince Aemond, and not just scared little Aemond, the boy who lost is eye, the boy who cried in your arms.

Yours, whether I say it or not,

Aemond

Dearest Visneya,

It has been near six moons since I last wrote you, and you are writing less and less.

I have been cruel, I know. I have ignored you in the favour of bettering myself.

I do not deserve you, or your kindness even still.

You seem to be doing well, a fact I envy not too see. But I myself am not.

I miss you more and more each day, I find myself looking for you ate very turn. And yet it has been over a year since you were at the red keep.

So much has changed, Aegon and Heleana are to wed soon, I have started training with a real sword.

I no longer wake in sweats from that night.

So much has changed and yet I have so little words to say, I hate it!

I used to have all the words in the world for you, never once fearing how you viewed me. For I knew how you viewed me then.

And now I fear you will judge me.

Hate me.

Resent me.

I fear I have become a stranger, and yet I have a dozen unsent letters all addressed to you, read and read time and time again your own.

I know you, and I fear you.

Fear your opinion of me, how you view me.

I fear-

Most of his letters just ended, frustration finding him far to quickly, some were just mindless words and phrases.

Visenya,

I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you .

Some were hateful, words said in anger, at how she still cared.

Dear Visenya,

Stop writing me.

How long must I ignore you to realise I want not to know you as we once did.

How am I to become the man you desire we spend all our time writing each other, stuck in our silly little heads!

Then gossip filled the red keep, gossip that Cregan had asked for your hand.

Visneya,

please, my sapphire, I beg of you do not marry him!

Your mother bids it but I do not!

Please.

And then her letters had stopped and he left once last letter to her.

Visneya,

Please, don’t stop writing me!

I know I have not been a friend to you but a stranger but without your letters the world has stopped.

I now I am a hypocrite, a hypocrite who cannot find the words. Who never has been able to speak his feelings, but show them.

I know not of a gesture to prove I want you till, I crave you and I need you.

but please, I cannot live without you, knowing you, please.

Please!

forever your Aemond.

Gods, she thought, he had to been hurt. Though not by her, and she had resented him for it. Resented how he had opened up to her, and then abandoned her ignored her for so long.

She knew it was hard for, he was never one for words. Gestures yes, but words? They always frustrated him, he could never formulate his feelings and yet this, the scribbled erratic thoughts and letters, unedited and rushed. They showed so much but also so little.

She has spent the whole day reading those letters, seeing no one bar her maid delivering her meals. And had it not been for her mother coming to grab her for dinner, demanding her presence, she would have sat on her thoughts all day and night.

But as she was sat next to Aemond she realised she would have less time to think on what Aemond’s gesture meant and what it meant for them.

“Aemond” she greeted, flipping her hair to the side as she sat.

“Senya” he greeted in response, eyes firmly on her.

She squirmed in her seat, unsure on where to start. “Senya” he said again, capturing her attention, as they made eye contact some tension left her body.

“why?” she asked, its all she could think of, why?

He coughed awkwardly, clearly not expecting this conversation now, “I was never one for words, Visneya. But gestures, have always been something I excel at.” He moved his head closer to her, their conversation too private for prying eyes. “ I never should have ignored you, I know realise, it hurt us both, more than I ever thought” he shifted in his seat “seeing the look in your eyes when you arrived and realising I had made a mistake”

She nodded, urging him on, as she began to plate up her food.

“I focused solely on myself, I was selfish, but I won’t lie to you, my sapphire”

My sapphire, she liked that.

“I have become selfish and cruel, I have become a man who craves fear, but not from you, never from you”

“then what do you want from me?” she asked softly, before nervously looking to make sure no one else was listening to their conversation. “you did not want companionship from me, you ignored me for years on end, and yet by the end of the moon we will be wed!” she took a breath “if you have truly become selfish, and cruel, how do I know that it is for your betterment? And how will I know that you wont ever make me fear you?”

“because I became that person, so that I never have to feel fear again, feel the fear I felt at Driftmark, at that… at that brothel” she sighed, taking her hand in his “ I want to be your protector, it is all I have ever wanted, and how could I become that if I remained that scared, naïve little boy?”

Everything he was saying was true, but it also made her realize she did not know him anymore.

She breathed in “perhaps we should start over? Get to know one another again?”

He nodded, “I would like that”

next part

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alicenpai · 2 years ago

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"Lament! Terror! Despair! I shall kindly teach them all to you! And in your final moment, I... shall kill you by my own hand!!"

pandora hearts print for anime north this weekend 🥀🖤🤍

I also put this up on my inprnt! there's a sitewide sale for 40% off right now 🌟

For this drawing, I really wanted to emphasize the gothic and chaotic, convoluted nature of the series. Pandora Hearts has become a lot of things to me, as someone who's read it since I was like, 14 years old. but I eventually found the perfect words to sum up the series - a cross between a Shakespearean tragedy and a Grimm fairy tale.

The ink brush + watercolour brushes I used turned out so well together!! I wanted the style to be kind of a nod to like the manga cover art you'd see from the late 90s to 2000s, kind of like Mochizuki's early approach to traditional art.

A lighter approach to both the lineart + coloring also helped me not strain my arm too much - besides work, I stopped doing full illustrations due to the amount of work being heavy on my arm/shoulder T__T. my last full illustrations were the TGAA/DGS zine + WHA zine pieces back in Dec-Jan, but my heart really lies in illustrations more than anything and I definitely want to get back into it!! (as long as my physical health allows it!!)

anyways, above is the thumbnail/inspiration board for this drawing! I also did some quick chickenscratch studies of others' drawings to help me get a sense of their composition. I started on the top left and then made a sort of meandering curve through... definitely went through a lot of ideas for this one. If I explained the intended symbolism.. I would be here.. all day..............

the candles were definitely first inspired by an animation of a lighter I did during art skool... and then I did this AA Dahlia animated illust... and then this OC charm (below) I did in 2022...? maybe I should draw fire more often. it's like, the way that fire looks in animated keyframes that I really like drawing out, and I guess I kinda really enjoyed translating that into a non moving visual medium??

This drawing simultaneously took SO long but I also sped through it?? I had to like... not dwell too long on certain parts... like for example I think some individual character compositions really could be a lot stronger... because I knew this would be a beast of a drawing, I didn't want to spend an unnecessary amount of time focusing on details when I should be looking at the big picture. and I know that's a bad habit of mine!! I'm trying to unlearn my perfectionism!!

thanks for reading if you got this far, hope ya enjoy it!! and I hope I'll keep drawing Pandora Hearts in the future (clearly I haven't stopped since high school omg) and I hope to draw some more Vanitas someday beyond just chibis!

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bonefall · 2 months ago

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Unrelated to the new book blurb:

do you have any tips on processing the absolute mess that is the family tree? Like, how does one put it into smaller bites for re-doing/adjusting? How does one even begin to rework it when it's such a confusing tangle?? I'm just so overwhelmed by the tree(s), and I've read the whole series (because I would love to re-work it, but FUCK).

I will be 100% earnest with you; reworking the tree from scratch as a single person is both difficult and time consuming. I have a penchant for it, and even I'm not completely done. I make my reduxed trees totally free to use so that others at least have a jumping-off point for your own "cleaner" Clans.

So my most helpful tip would probably be Don't. PLEASE take my trees and cut them, prune them, bonsai them, clean them up even more than I did, anything you'd like. I do not wish this fate on my worst enemy.

That said-- let's say you love pain as much as I do, or you just want to see how much work I put into these trees. I'll babble about my process.

This is my WIP file for the ShadowClan Family Tree. Consider this image a content warning for self-inflicted pain and suffering 💕

Uhhh and also; an ACTUAL, serious content warning. Because of the nature of them asking how to fix trees on their own, I have to talk a little about incest. It comes with the territory.

A few things to know before you start;

You will need a FUCK OFF MASSIVE monitor for this. Mine is an ASUS a little under 2 feet long-- I've tried doing this on my smaller, secondary monitor, and these trees just get too big to work on.

FamilyEcho will not cut it. You NEED an art program. You will have to do this by hand, because there is no lineage-drawing tool that can handle families this large and tangled.

You will need to decide your "rules" beforehand. How closely related are you allowing valid couples to be? Are you allowing Queen's Rights? Can you add OCs, and if so, how often? On this point-- I have my Three Strict Rules, and do not use OCs. Because of this, I do a LOT of research beforehand and usually have the wiki open as I work on these. I'm always scouring for forgotten warriors to use for this.

There are going to be multiple drafts. You will not do this in one go. That does not mean you "failed" or you're "stuck," that's a good thing.

With all of that out of the way.

Usually, the first thing I do is pick a Clan to work on. There's over 1,000 cats in this series, so I break that up by picking one group at a time. Once I do that, I draw out the canon chart.

In this case, I've already drawn out all of the canon charts. River, Thunder, Shadow, Sky, Wind.

I call this a Diagnosis because I'm taking a look at what the problem is, so that I know what I'm fixing. In Shadow's case, it's a solid brick of inbreeding with a "missing generation" line. In ThunderClan's case, it's mostly a Robinwing x Fuzzypelt problem. Each Clan has its own unique issues.

Once you know the issue, step two, start drawing out what you want to do and keep. For example, let's say that you want to use the Ivy/Dove as Holly/Cinder kittens idea.

I generally try to start with the "modern" cats and work backwards, but it can also be helpful to just doodle out floating "branches" that you want to work in backwards.

You can see examples of those in my ShadowClan draft, up there, but I've zoomed in and circled them.

Don't be afraid to draw "notes" like this. You can just grab them and drag them around when something clicks!

Getting back to our "example" tree with Holly/Cinder Ivy/Dove, you might notice now that Lionblaze has no mate. Another thing I do when I see an immediate problem but don't have a solution in mind yet is use a little ? mark. You don't want to get hung up on deciding everything RIGHT away.

Now, this is where my 3 Strict Rules would come into play, in two ways! I'm sure you'll be able to spot them. For one, Lionblaze has waaaaay too many kids here who would go on to have kittens of their own, so I'd start breaking them up. For two, this tree makes Ivypool and Fernsong a first cousin pairing, something I don't allow.

You can fix this in any number of ways, and I'm sure there's someone out there shouting their preferred Lionblaze ships and Alt Fernsong Parents like they're the crowd on a game show, but for this demonstration I'm going to do this;

Here, I decided I didn't want to undo FernIvy, but I still want Fernsong to be Clanborn with two parents, so I have removed him from Lionblaze and given him unknown family. I've also taken Sorrelstripe and Spotfur, and moved them to a little spot on the side. I can now use them to patch up the little ? placeholders.

You'll also notice this is already becoming a mess. This is why you will need to redraw this a few times, for readability. The best tip I can give you for that is that families who only have one kit to carry on the lineage should go in a long line in the center, but otherwise, offspring who do not have kits should go between their siblings who do.

It's easier to visualize it imo, so here's what I mean;

The vast majority of the time I spend doing these is just "puzzlework." Trying to figure out a way to make line connections look good, making sure cats are far enough apart, trying to make "wishlist" stuff work.

Here's some insight to that with the big ShadowClan mess I showed at the beginning of this post;

And, mind you, this is Draft 3 of this tree. Those grayed-out parts of the first image were my first two. I wasn't satisfied enough with them, so I started from scratch several times!

I wish I could share some kind of good, simple process for this, but unfortunately I don't have one. It's just a lot of work, familiarity, creativity, and problem solving. I spend days, sometimes even weeks on these. My intention is that they can be a fandom resource that's easier to read than the website tree, less carelessly inbred with more thought given to immediate family units, AND more comprehensive.

In any case, I hope this was insightful, or these tips I share helped in some way!

#wc family tree #Bones Gives Advice #And Yes this is why the ShadowClan family tree is taking so long lmao sorry everyone #This one is the absolute worst. It's the final boss of WC family trees.#Warrior Cats Family Tree #It has EVERY problem of the other trees PLUS barely any cats to work with #It's so SMALL #It keeps being called strong and a massive clan but that is straightup not true!#It's WEENIE HUT JR

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deliciousangelfestival · 7 months ago

Text

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 11

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky had no idea that someone was making an evil plan against him. He had been advising you on managing Velari’s business for the past few days.

You quickly grasped the management concepts, learning from the best, Bucky. Another reason for your quick understanding was your previous business studies at a prestigious university. However, you couldn't continue your education due to internal conflicts within your family.

That was your biggest regret. You only bark but never bite. You managed to continue your education only because Cassandra sold her jewelry. You will never forget the sacrifice she made for you. You clenched your fists, remembering the heartbreak in her eyes when she sold her cherished possessions.

But still, whenever you tried to rise, life seemed determined to bring you down again. Genevieve used all her connections to prevent you from learning business and management.

You discovered this when you confronted the dean, who said, "Mrs. Sinclair donates a lot to this university, and we don’t want to disappoint her." You had felt a cold rage, your hands trembling as you realized the extent of her influence.

Most prestigious universities denied you. The only place that accepted you was a community college, where you randomly chose to study health and physical education because, at that time, you felt utterly lost and alone.

You just wanted to get a degree, any degree. You sighed, recalling the sense of defeat and the hollow feeling in your chest as you enrolled in a field you had no passion for.

Sometimes not expecting anything gives the best gifts. The lecturer and friends you met were the most supportive and kindest people you had ever encountered. That’s how you got the job as a teacher at Granite Hills Reform School, where problematic, delinquent students from all over the country were gathered.

It was tough at first; your teachers and the principal had warned you to be careful. But you felt like you could make some changes because you knew how the students felt: not being listened to, getting bullied, not being appreciated, and being ignored. You remembered the frustration in their eyes, a mirror of your own past struggles.

Comparing the discipline required for dealing with delinquent students who always gave outrageous excuses, working at Velari seemed easier.

After redefining the clothes' design with Andrea, you felt like the old Velari was back. You never thought redoing the design would be easier than looking at the accountant's records.

It was a mess. You ran your fingers through your hair, your brow furrowed in disbelief.

You scratched your head, unable to believe how much the business was bleeding. Bucky was also reading the numbers. "If you don’t do something, Velari will be closed in two years." His tone was serious, and his eyes met yours with concern.

"Urgh." You threw your head onto the book on the table and hit it a few times in frustration.

Bucky extended his hand and placed it on your forehead. His warm hand held your head gently. "Don’t worry, you can fix this." His touch and reassuring words made you pause, feeling a flicker of hope amid the chaos.

You felt your face warm up. Bucky noticed too. "Are you having a fever?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes.

You quickly moved your head away from his hand and shook your head. "No, I guess I hit my head too hard," you replied, trying to downplay your flustered state.

The chat between you and Bucky didn’t go unnoticed by Andrea, the senior designer. She bit her lip and continued drawing, stealing glances occasionally.

Bucky cleared his throat. "If you want, we could make a press release for a new rebranding for Velari."

"That’s a good idea," you nodded. "Can we also include AstraNova Group in the press release?"

Bucky nodded. "Sure." He looked at his watch and got up. "I’ll send the PR team to help you with the press release."

"Thank you," you said, your gratitude showing in your smile. Bucky smiled back and left the room.

"It was so sweet, I can't even describe it," Andrea remarked, taking off her glasses and smirking at you.

You felt your cheeks warm up again. "It's not..."

Andrea raised her hands in a mock surrender. "I won't tease you, but I saw how he always comes here and even stays with you until late at night. It says something."

You sighed, looking down at your hands. "I don’t know... To be honest, I don’t believe in romance after what I saw happen to my parents."

Andrea nodded sympathetically. "I understand, but not every story ends the same way. Sometimes, you just have to take a chance."

Andrea sighed, then approached you and gently took both of your hands in hers. She looked at you with a mix of concern and nostalgia. She remembered the first time Ophelia brought you to the shop.

You were cheerful, always laughing at the most minor things. But everything changed after Ophelia died, and not even a year later, your father remarried. Understandably, you have trauma around love and opening your heart to another person.

“Give it a chance,” Andrea said softly, squeezing your hands. “If both of you share the same feelings, that’s good. And… if Bucky cheats, I’m sure you could give him a lesson.” Andrea chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

You chuckled too, the tension easing from your shoulders. It would be a lie if you said you didn't have feelings for Bucky. You glanced down, your cheeks flushing slightly.

Andrea noticed your expression and gave your hands another reassuring squeeze. “You deserve happiness, just like anyone else.”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Thanks, Andrea. I'll think about it."

Andrea smiled warmly, patting your hands before letting go. “Good. Now, let’s get back to work. We’ve got a lot to do.”

👗👗👗👗👗

Since his memory returned, Bucky has been practicing touching other people. He started with his parents first. Though he still couldn’t hug them, he could hold their hands without feeling disgusted. His mom and dad were astounded and cried at the same time.

Finally, they could have physical contact with their son again without Bucky feeling nauseated or acting like they were germs. As parents, it was heartbreaking to see him struggle. The kidnapping stole Bucky and their chance to be an average family.

Juliana sipped her tea while watching her son read the newspaper. "So, today you’re going to be the honored guest at Velari?" she asked with a teasing smile.

Bucky nodded, not looking up from the paper.

"I never thought my son could be interested in fashion," she teased again, her eyes twinkling.

"Mom… I’m just… repaying the favor," Bucky replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah… right," Rowan and Juliana murmured together. Because of Bucky’s condition, he never had the chance to have an intimate relationship with someone. He spent his youth only studying. So now, with Bucky and you? They couldn’t be happier.

Bucky wanted to smile at his parents' teasing but held it in. He stood from his seat, adjusting the buttons on his jacket. "I don’t want to be late."

"Why so early?" Juliana asked, looking up from her tea.

Bucky kept walking toward the door where the car was already prepared for him. "I have to stop by her house first."

"Tell her I said ‘Hi’," Juliana called after him, a knowing smile on her face.

Bucky paused at the door, turning slightly to nod before stepping outside. As he approached the car, he couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing you.

🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖

Bucky arrived at your house and, as usual, greeted Cassandra first. She looked much healthier, having gained some weight since the first time he met her. Even with her dementia, Cassandra was always friendly to everyone. She was sitting in the garden with a blanket on her lap.

“Hello, Grandma,” Bucky greeted her warmly.

Cassandra’s eyes widened with recognition. “Ah, Patrick. It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it? Did you have breakfast?”

Bucky smiled softly, though he didn’t understand why she called him Patrick. After meeting a few times, she started using this name. He had mentioned it to you, but you didn’t know who Patrick was either.

“I’m sorry I made you wait,” you said, walking into the garden while adjusting your earrings.

Bucky fell silent, momentarily mesmerized by how different you looked today. Cassandra noticed, too, and clapped her hands in delight. “You look so beautiful, Ophelia. Did you make the clothes from my design again?”

You bent down and kissed her cheeks. “Yes.” Bringing your mother’s and grandmother’s designs to life was one of your greatest joys.

At least Genevieve and Victoria had never gotten their hands on the earlier designs. Kneeling beside Cassandra, you took her wrinkled hands and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to revive the old Velari.”

Cassandra tilted her head and caressed your hair gently. “I believe in you,” she said softly, her voice filled with warmth and trust.

🚗🚗🚗🚗🚗

The ride to the press release was quiet. You kept silently memorizing the speech you were going to deliver to the journalists and critics. In the fashion world, critics' words held significant weight.

Bucky sensed your nervousness. “Don’t worry. You can do this,” he said, his voice steady.

You took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Yes, I can do this.” Then, you looked at Bucky, feeling a surge of gratitude. You had reached this point mainly because of him.

“Bucky… I…” Your eyes widened when you saw Bucky’s intense focus on you, and he reached for you. “Wait…”

“Get down!” Bucky shouted, dragging your body away from the door. The movement was swift. As the car stopped at a red light, a big SUV suddenly rammed into Bucky’s car.

The car window shattered, showering you with glass. “What the fuck?” you exclaimed, feeling a mix of shock and fear.

Then you realized the person who had shielded you was trembling. You looked up to see Bucky, his face pale, his body rigid.

The traumatic memory of his kidnapping had resurfaced with startling clarity. He had just wanted to go home early from an event hosted by AstraNova, finding the party boring with no kids his age. But that decision had led to his abduction, a memory now mirrored in this moment. The nightmare was returning: the darkness, the cold, and fear.

“Bucky?” you called, trying to snap him out of his frozen state.

‘Bang.’

You hear the door closed from the SUV and see three big guys coming into your car. You saw the driver is fainted. “Shit.”

You touched Bucky's face urgently, trying to break through his fear. "Bucky, look at me! I know you're scared. Me too! But we can't stand still. We have to run. Argh…" Suddenly, strong arms grabbed you from behind.

The person was big and rough, wearing a ski mask. He muttered, "You're a firecracker, aren't ya?" His confidence wavered when you stared directly at him.

You continued kicking and squirming to escape his grasp, but his strength was overwhelming compared to your students'. Where was Bucky?

“Bucky!!!” you screamed, desperately searching for him.

“Don’t worry about him. We just want you,” the abductor sneered as he dragged you toward the waiting car.

Fear surged through you as you realized what was happening—had you just been abducted?

You kept kicking and struggling against the abductor, but he gripped your leg harder. “Be good, or I’ll break your fucking legs…”

“Help!” A voice suddenly cried out, weak and desperate.

You and your abductor both turned toward the sound.

What you saw was beyond anything you could have imagined. Bucky, whose body was smaller than the abductor's, had launched himself into action. With surprising strength and speed, he grabbed the other abductor and threw him in a wide arc.

The abductor struggled, choking and gasping for air. His resistance faded, and he went limp, unconscious. Bucky discarded him like a sack of garbage.

Your abductor's voice trembled with disbelief and frustration. “Fuck, she didn’t mention any of this.”

You were equally shocked. You had never imagined that Bucky possessed such strength and skill.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky had been quietly preparing himself for such situations. He had learned various martial arts and survival techniques, practicing diligently despite his physical limitations. Unable to spar with others, he had honed his abilities with machines and workout equipment, constantly pushing himself to the highest levels.

Now, faced with real danger, Bucky's training revealed itself. His strength and determination were beyond anything you had ever seen from him.

Andrea echoed in your mind, "If Bucky cheated, you could give him a lesson." If she could witness this moment, she would indeed be astounded.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

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rockybloo · 4 days ago

Text

I feel like bitchin so I'mma bitch bc I always see people going on rants on their Tumblrs and I'm long overdue for one. Anyways, this is a long one so be aware you are gonna be scrolling for a good bit if you view under the cut.

ANYWAYS, I know that that rude anon from last week is old news but their whole "I'm sad that Glitter and Guilt is a m/f relationship" thing is just a part of a never ending situation I am going to experience til the end of time (or til I stop posting stuff online) just because I focus on primarily m/f relationships in my art.

And they aren't even straight m/f relationships, which is what annoys me the most about comments like this. They're all bisexual. But because people see bisexual characters as better than straight but less than same-sex attracted orientation, I will always have to deal with these passive aggressive ass comments.

I dealt with this typa stuff SO OFTEN in my early days on Instagram, especially when I posted some of my gender nonconforming OCs like Danny (my pink demon man who dresses like a bimbo Barbie doll). It got to the point I stopped sharing him over there for a bit because I would get comments where people were hoping he had a boyfriend in the past, or they were disappointed I "never" drew any Sapphic couples because they mistook Danny as a woman in a pic where he was kissing Karrie.

And I get the whole desire to want more representation. Trust me, I'm bi, black, and nonbinary. I am NEVER going to get any type of representation outside of the indie artists I find in small niche circles online. I completely get the whole "m/f relationships are EVERYWHERE in mainstream media" mentality because I also agree but only to a point.

There's a ton of trashy m/f media, but there's also good shit when you dig because you can find people who don't just shove a guy and girl together and call that a done deal - they actually give them personality and chemistry and a fun dynamic.

I'm a firm believer that the gender of a ship shouldn't dictate if it's good or not. An interesting dynamic is what motivates me to care about a couple of characters dating. That's why it bugs me whenever someone suggests any kind of series to me and simply tells me "It's gay" before telling me the actual plotline. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT A SERIES IS ABOUT! DO NOT WASTE MY TIME!!! (Please do not pop into my inbox after reading this and suggest me stuff btw because I've never been a big suggestions unprompted person - I typically find stuff myself bc I have weird tastes ANYWAYS BACK TO MY RANTING)

When it comes to my art, I draw m/f relationships as a primary focus because it's fun to mess with gender dynamics and flip them on their head, as well as to give younger me the food I wish I had. Growing up, before I realized I was nonbinary, I rarely saw any black girls in loving relationships in animated series I enjoyed. And occasionally I would get flash banged with the long despised trope of "Disposable Black Girlfriend". So I never felt like m/f relationships were oversaturated in my eyes because there were barely any good ones that featured a black girl with a happy ending - which means from DAY MOTHERFUCKIN ONE I was starving for content.

So that obviously means that when I grew up and adopted my "Make your own food" mentality, I started cooking. AND COOK I STILL DO! Because in the end, I make all this food to please myself. OTHERS MAY EAT OF COURSE - I am always happy when people come to my restaurant to dine because they enjoy my meals, but I hate how every blue moon I will get someone who waltzes into my little eatery and tells me that they wish I cooked the meal they get from other restaurants.

Because it would be so much more productive to just go eat AT those restaurants since they already got the food you like.

Having people comment their displeasure about me drawing a guy and a girl together in a healthy (and occasionally insane) relationship is always baffling to me. It's never going to make me stop, it'll only make me draw more Red Beans or more Licorice. It's also so baffling because I know that if the tables where flipped - and I was drawing primarily same-sex bisexual couples (OR JUST SOME GAY OR LESBIAN COUPLES IN GENERAL BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE JUST DON'T CARE ABOUT BI FOLKS AT ALL), it would be so fuckin' frowned upon to comment "I wish you drew more m/f! 🥺"

But because I draw m/f bi couples, it's totally free game. IT'S DEF STILL FROWNED UPON but one is way more likely to make you look like an asshole than the other. Because even in cases where people have said they agree it's a dick move to complain about m/f from me, there's still that vibe of it being more acceptable just because of mainstream media having so many m/f couples and that being the standard of offline society.

But I'm not mainstream media. And I disagree with a lot of standards of offline society which is WHY I poke fun at gender norms with my OCs.

That's why getting a ton of new followers is such a "oh boy here we go" thing for me, because with old followers that have been around for awhile, they know what's up. They understand what I draw, what I write, and how my OCs typically behave. They get that my m/f ships have rabies.

But new followers don't know this. And this has led to some real big "OOF" moments. Like people calling Jack and Nana a "het" couple. Yes, I know that that's a term that doesn't JUST mean "heterosexual" and can refer to them being different genders. It still feels hella weird for me - it's why m/f is my preferred descriptor because it lacks that confusion.

New followers are typically the ones that leave the passive aggressive comments about me mostly drawing m/f. OFTEN because they think I am one of those artists who will draw whatever it takes to please my audience. BUT I AM NOT - THERE IS NO AUDIENCE INFLUENCE HERE ☝🏾

I am not a taxi where I pick people up whenever they call me and I drop them off wherever they tell me.

I am a roller-coaster. Specifically those ones where you can see the entire track layout in the distance so you know what you're in for. You may sit in the front or the back or somewhere in the middle but that is the last input you got before I take off at my own speed (that will be stated RIGHT on the warning sign you read as you walked in) and once I am done, you may get off and carry along your merry way through the rest of the park OR you may get on to ride again.

This entire passive aggression towards m/f ships is just so tiring to deal with because there will never be an end to it. Even after I post this, I know days, weeks, months, YEARS down the line - someone will see some Jack and Nana art, or some Bitterbat and Sweetheart comic, or ANY of my other m/f couples, and type up some comment about how they wish the couples were same-sex. Or someone will lament over the fact they thought a couple was same-sex but it turned out the dude was just hella feminine.

Because it just ain't enough to have bisexual characters that are dating the same sex because then people will call them "straight passing" and not count them as being queer. And having all my OCs being bisexuals ain't enough to mark me as a queer artists in some eyes because "making all your OCs bi is just lazy" and not me representing an aspect of myself that I constantly see sidelined online.

Me drawing bisexual m/f couples is viewed as something that can be tinkered and tampered with so I can be more appealing and inclusive to others like I'm some mainstream Hollywood series and not just some random person online who draw the fictional beings in my mind kissing each other whenever I got the crumb of free time. Primarily drawing m/f couples means I gotta just vibe whenever I see a moot or a friend post or reblog some weird sentiment referring to how lame m/f couples are and I just gotta HOPE that they aren't including bisexuals when they engage with stuff like that.

I'm in this weird space where I am wedged between "You're not a straight artist" and "You aren't drawing enough gay stuff" online.

And I'm fine with this since I've been online for over a decade at this point. This isn't a vent post, this is a rant. I don't need cheering up or comfort after posting this. This is just some real talk because I typically post lighthearted stuff since I like to keep my blogs positive.

But I also like to keep my shit honest and I think it's important to just state a piece of my mind. I wouldn't say I'm being vulnerable, this is just some insight to why I draw what I do and why I get so annoyed by certain interactions with people and certain sentiments online that are antagonistic of m/f ships that put them all down without hearing them out.

Blah blah blah I'm tired of typing and I've said most of the main points I've needed uuuummm

If you read this long have some m/f fluff

#rocky rambles #important rocky post

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bookuce · 9 months ago

Text

Change My Mind

SUMMARY: Josh and Alina are great friends most days. Other days, they want to tear each other apart. Some days, they’re in love with each other, but neither of them will admit it.

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OC. The book also uses the actual names of the wrestlers. Gionna is Liv, Austin is Xavier Woods, Josh is Jey Uso, Jon is Jimmy Uso, Trinity is Naomi, Alina is just Alina. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO POST MY WORK ON ANY SITE*

PAIRING: Jey Uso x Black OC

TROPE: Friends to Lovers

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 2,297

PART ONE

PART TWO

“One! Two! Three!” Shouts the crowd. The bell would ring, signifying the end of the tag match. The Usos rolled out the ring quickly before an angry Street Profits could reach them. The tag match ended dirty. Montez’s shoulder was up, but the referee didn’t see it. Josh and Jon knew they got off without being caught and were celebrating on the ramp without care. They would eventually run to the back, vanishing behind the curtain.

Alina is informed to be at the gorilla for Josh and Jon for a backstage interview, and she can hear them as rowdy as ever, drawing near. They would pop out from the dark ramp, bouncing around with their championships in their hands. “Jimmy, Jey, can I get a word? What happened out there?” She says, catching their attention. Jon would drop his sweaty arm across her shoulders while Josh snatched the mic and her hand up.

“What happened out there? What happened out there, Uce, is that we won! Ain’t nothing else happened out there. The Street Profits thought they could hang with us, and what happened!”

“They got dropped!” Jon chimed in.

“They got dropped!” Josh repeats. “Ain’t no one taking these from us, Uce!”

“Yeet!”

“And if you think you got a chance,” Josh takes the mic out of Alina’s hands, blocking her from the camera. She took this as a chance to rid her hand of the sweat he left behind.

“Yeet!”

“You can get dropped too!”

“Yeet!”

“Cause at the end of the day, Uce, you the number twos, and we the ones!” Josh would end his promo with a raise of his pointer finger. His twin would follow suit before they both walked off towards the locker rooms. The cameraman would put his camera down, and the light on its head turned off.

“That was good.” Alex, the cameraman, would say, causing Alina to nod in agreement.

“Ay, Lina!” Josh shouts from across the large hall. “We going out tonight! Don’t make no plans!” Every time they successfully defended their championships, they wanted to go out. Though their night was ending, Alina had to stick around for the last two matches in case the company needed her for backstage interviews.

“Too late!” She teases.

“Cancel that shit, Uce!” Jon shouts, making Alina chuckle softly.

“Text me the details!” She shouts back.

———————————————————————————

Alina didn’t do much clubbing anymore. As she got older, she noticed the club crowd got younger. At thirty-two years old, she just didn’t see the hype anymore. That and it always took her days to recover. Getting her out of the house or a hotel room wasn’t an easy accomplishment, but somehow, Josh could do it every time. Maybe it was because he would harass her until she said yes; He always knew how to make her say yes.

She didn’t like that, but he loved it.

Here she was, standing in a nightclub surrounded by sloshed party-goers, and she had no idea where her group was. What she did know was that she needed a drink. If she was going to be able to tolerate being here, she needed to join the masses. She moved through the crowd, her eyes fixated on the glowing bar at the back of the large room. She hadn’t received any text messages from Josh in over forty-five minutes. All he had to say the last time they spoke was that he was here. When she gets to the bar, she squeezes between two people. They didn't pay her any mind, but the bartender saw her just as she got in.

“What can I get for you?” He asks.

“Vodka sprite, please!” She answered. The bartender quickly moved from her sight to prepare her drink for her. While Alina waited, she took her phone out of her pocket. The screen lit up, showing that she still had no new messages. Her thumb swipes up to unlock it, tapping the messages icon immediately after. Josh’s name was at the top of her inbox, her last message still there. She’d click on the message thread to type up a new message.

Alina: Hey, I’m here at the bar.

The screen would go dark after she sent the message, but she would keep the phone in her hand. The bartender would return with her drink, a smile on his face. “Thank you.” She says. She’d hand over her debit card, allowing him to swipe it. He asked her if she would want to start a tab, but she’d declined. She knew her drinks were on Josh once he found her. She glanced down at her phone; Still no new messages.

A hand would touch the small of her back, causing her to jump. Alina glanced over her left shoulder to find a man who wasn’t her best friend. This man towered over her. If she had to guess his height, she would say he was six foot five inches. He gives her a grin. “Hi,” He greets her.

“Hi.” She returns.

He leans down slightly; his mouth is in listening shot of her ear. “I’m Gavin, and you are?” He holds his hand out for her to shake.

“Alina.” She says, taking his hand. She shakes it gently before letting go of it. “Am I in your way? I can move.” She begins to make space for him. Gavin’s hand rests on her shoulder, stopping her from moving more.

“I came over here for you,” He starts. “I couldn’t walk away without telling you you're beautiful.” Heat began to rise in Alina’s face as her eyes shifted to the floor.

“Thank you.” She says, looking up at the guy again. Gavin wasn’t bad-looking. His black hair was shaggy on his head, his eyes a deep brown that looked almost black. His skin was pale, but his cheeks were faintly pink. He had a nostalgic feel to him overall.

“Are you here with anyone?” He asks.

“I…”

“Yeah, she’s with me, Uce.” A familiar voice chimes in. Josh eyes the man in front of him before holding out his hand. “You good, baby?” He asks, glancing at Alina. Took him long enough, she thought. She slips her hand into his warm one, instantly pulled to the Samoan. Once she was near him, he would slide his arm around her waist. Mentally, Alina took a deep breath to steady her now racing heart.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She says, leaning in to kiss his earlobe. Josh’s collected demeanor wouldn’t falter at the action, but boy, was he doing somersaults in his head. Gavin glances between the two before letting his brown eyes settle on Alina.

“Lucky man.” He says before turning to vanish back into the crowd.

Alina turns to look at Josh. “Damn, I thought you forgot how to use a phone.” She takes a step away from him.

“My bad, I didn’t know you texted me.” He says. Josh takes in Alina’s appearance. He couldn’t verbally tell her how good she looked, but he’s sure she knows. Of course, she knows how attractive she is. He was always having to fight off men on her behalf. Was he fighting off men for his sake or her own? Both? Both. He was selfish like that. Selfish, possessive—whatever you wanted to call it, he was that.

Alina noticed his staring. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide that he was doing it. He was blatant about things he did when it came to her. “Where is everyone?” She asks, snapping him out of his trance. He looks in two directions before allowing his eyes to settle on her.

“Oh, uh, we got a section. Come on.” Josh snatches up her hand again, pulling her through the crowd. They would zigzag through the dancefloor before making it to a set of stairs. A security guard stood there, blocking people who weren’t them from going up. He would step to the side to allow Josh and Alina to pass. They’d climb the stairs, finding themselves in an area lit up blue. In the corner was a bar that resembled the same as the bottom but smaller.

“Yay, he found her!” Gionna exclaims, jumping up from her seat on a white couch. With one hand, Alina hugs her friend. Josh stood to the side of them, watching the two women interact.

“You gonna let her go, Uce?” Jon shouts at him. The eldest twin always had time to tease Josh and Alina about their relationship. It wasn’t a friendship to him. He was beyond calling it that, as was everyone around them. The only two that were fighting for the title of friendship were the two people involved. Josh reluctantly lets go of her hand, and Alina notices instantly. Her eyes meet his back as he’s walking towards the couch.

“Have you gotten a drink yet?” Gionna asks.

It was then Alina realized she left her drink downstairs at the bar. She looks over the ledge, spotting the small cup sitting at the bar with no one around it. Well, she wasn’t going back for that. “No.” She answers, looking at the petite blonde in front of her. Gionna snatches up the same hand Josh previously held and pulls her over to the bar.

“Alina looks good,” Austin says, watching Alina and Gionna walk towards the bar. Josh and Jon look at each other before Josh looks off in the distance. He could feel his blood pressure rising by the second.

“Not too much on my sister-in-law, Uce,” Jon says. Trinity would slap Jon’s chest, making him bring his hand up to cover himself. Josh looks at his brother, pointing his finger at him.

“Quit playing with me, Jon! I done told you!” His brother would laugh, kicking his feet slightly at the reaction he’d gotten from his little brother.

“Oh, so she’s free game?” Austin asks, standing up.

“This ass whooping can be free game.” Josh snaps, rising with him. “Try it if you want to.” He warns. Austin lowered his eyes at Josh, a mischievous grin on his face. Slowly, he sits down. He wasn’t in the loop about what happens within The Usos friend group, but this little interaction told him everything he needed to know.

“So, like I said, not too much on my sister-in-law,” Jon repeats with a smile. “He don’t play about her.” Josh shoots a glare in his brother’s direction before sitting down.

Gionna ordered a tray of tequila shots at the bar for their group. She got twelve shots for six people. She was on an unspoken mission to loosen everyone up. Now that Lina was here, Gionna knew that the energy in their space would be different. Without fail, Josh and Alina always get weird around each other. “What’s new with you?” She would ask, making a quiet Alina speak up.

“Nothing,” She breathes. “I’m not complaining, though. After that last attempt, I decided to take a break from dating. It’s not worth it.”

“Why? Because of Josh?”

Alina was quiet for a moment. That was part of the reason, but not for what everyone’s thinking. She brings her index finger to her mouth, rubbing slightly at the bottom of her lower lip. It was something she often did when she was choosing her words. “I’m due for some much-needed reflection.” She settled, glancing at her friend. Gionna grinned, her lips twitching as she fought a laugh. “What?”

“Whatever the fuck that means.” She says, laughing at Alina. “I mean, I’m not one to judge…”

“You are right now!” Alina exclaims, causing Gionna to laugh more. The bartender places a tray of shots on the bar before them. Gionna grabs them, moving off her seat. Without another word, she turns to go back to their group. Alina follows behind her, quickly downing the Sex On The Beach cocktail she purchased. She’s going to need more by the end of the night.

“I come baring gifts!” Gionna shouts when they get back to their section. She places the shots on the table and drops down next to Austin, leaving a spot next to Josh open. She sits down, her body turned in towards everyone. Everyone reached for their two shots.

Josh sniffs his shots. “Girl, is this tequila?” He asks.

“Oh, hell nah, Gigi,” Jon says, shaking his head. “This ain’t gonna work for us.” The twins are both leaning to put their shots down.

“No balls.” She says. They pause, glancing up at her.

“Who!?” They shout in unison. They sit up again with their shots in their hands, ready to toss both back. Reverse psychology beats their asses without fail each time.

“Ooh, let’s toast, y’all!” Trin shouts, scooting to the edge of her seat. She holds a shot glass up. “Congrats to my honey and his brother for retaining their championships! Here’s to another successful defense and friendship!” She exclaims. Everyone cheered, leaning in to toast their glasses.

Josh turns to toast his shot glasses at Alina before they both toss them back. The alcohol warms their chests, but they both make a face of disgust before setting their glasses down. “You want another drink?” He asks, tapping her leg. “Vodka Sprite?” She nods. He stands to his feet, moving around her to the bar. Alina watches after him, a soft smile on her face.

“Alina,” Austin sings, sliding over to her. “How are you?” He asks.

“I’m good,” She answers. “You?”

“Oh, never better.” He replies. “Say, I have a question for you…” The pair wasn’t aware, but Jon and Trin were watching. The eldest twin had a grin on his face, not because Alina was talking to anyone, but because Josh was going to lose his fucking shit when he got back.

NEXT PART

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A/N: Hi! This chapter is a little long! It would’ve been longer but I chose to stop here! I’m sorry if it’s awkward or anything!!

Jey (Josh) is gonna blow a gasket LMAO

Comment to be in the tag-list!

🏷️ list: @wrestlingprincess80 @venusesworld @fearlesschimera @tbmotw @paigereeder @yana3sworld @truefant4sy @sisinever @empressdede @thesamoanqueen

#jey uso fanfiction #jey uso x black oc #jey uso x oc #jey uso #main event jey uso #jeysuso #wwe fic #wwe fanfiction #jey uso fic #jey uso fanfic

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hideawaysis · 7 months ago

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i miss my old ocs so here's a list of all of them

lizzy the labrador: THE OG!!!!! MY VERY FIRST FURSONA!!!!!! she was a fnaf oc at first (hence the animatronic versions of her) but eventually she just became a Regular Dog. she had a sister named lisa i think and she was dating littledawg (pictured below)

littledawg (second image made by jennycaro70 on scratch): he was a character i got as a prize for winning a coloring contest! i remember i couldn't think of a drawing i wanted as a prize so i just said "a green dog with a red paw screeing at the camera" and that's what i got! he died in a car accident and came back as a zombie demon dog :3

cotton candy: she was a fox who was lizzy's ex-girlfriend and she was CRAAAAAZYYYYY and liked to kill people. i think she was a princess too. also heterochromic...smh what's wrong with a man and a woman marrying... /joking

shigo: another old fursona! he was just a wolf with cool dyed hair, didn't really have any lore apart from being Me. i originally made him for an old youtube intro where his name was rika and then i picked him back up when i first came out as trans and renamed him to shigo! i love him

kaiz and snake (they're heavily related so i'm listing them together): these two were brothers! i originally made them for someone else but then i got too attached and they gave them back to me...snake was based on a childhood drawing apparently but my memory is so bad i don't remember which one lmao

lillypad: this character was originally a warrior cats oc! but then she became a fursona of mine not related to warriors. i honestly don't remember much abt her, but she still means a lot to me.

nyx/jinx: i don't remember much abt this character either apart from the fact that she used to be named jinx until i gave her the name nyx instead...also she was CRAAAAAAZYYYY and liked to kill people ig. she had a half cat half dog son iirc. girlboss. let her kill

flappy: THIS IS THE ONE THAT HAD ADHD AND STIMMED BY FLAPPING HIS ARMS. he's so silly i love him. he was CRAAAAAZYYYYY but he did not like to kill people. also he was friends with littledawg

REV (second image drawn by moonpaw12345 on scratch): OHHHH THIS GUY he was a robot dog that was nervous more than half the time but was so so sweet...i remember when i was younger i got a popular person on scratch to draw REV (the person who drew the second image) and i was SO excited about it...i need to draw him again he was Cutes

miriam: i originally made miriam for a series of horror games! she was the result of a father experimenting on his own daughter and killing her and so she turned into an evil dog demon that haunted an old video game and would break through the screen and kill people. moral of the story: human experimentation is bad and also don't abuse ur kids

i owned way more characters than just this but it'd honestly take forever for me to list them all LOL so here's all the main ones i owned and the ones i cherish the most!

#hideawaysisposting #boydarts #ocs #long post #all of the art in this is so old godddddd #all of this is from like 2015-2019 i think #like. jesus christ #cw: blood #cw: abuse mention

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ninjagirlstar5 · 3 months ago

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EDIT: Art requests are OFFICIALLY CLOSED as of December 7th, 2024! This post is left up as an archive for future reference if I ever open up requests again, so please do not send in any more requests! Any asks sent for art requests while they are closed will be deleted on sight.

So, uh, I know recent news have been...not great. Particularly in the US. And I think it's important to acknowledge that.

However, I also think it's important to take care of our mental health and do something fun since we'd only be hurting ourselves with constant doom scrolling and fixating on the bad stuff 24/7.

So, I decided to officially open up simple Art Requests! And what I mean by that is I'm going to be drawing characters in the style of AVA/M stick figures! Both regular and in chibi style.

Examples:

(If you follow @/a-student-out-of-time, you probably already seen this little chibi drawing of Umeko Hayase, who belongs to the mod himself, I made for fun since I sent this in an ask yesterday. I'm using this drawing since it best represents what I will do for the chibi sticks.)

All art requests for this will be digital and fully colored, but won't be fully rendered. I want to keep the drawings simple and easy to make for myself for as long as I keep requests open.

With that out of the way, here are some rules for what to send in:

Requests for AVA/M characters are obviously welcome and I will be using my own designs & headcanons for them when completing your requests.

For those who followed me for my DRA & SDRA2 stuff (mostly SDRA2), I will also do art for characters from the duology! They will just be turned into stick figures, hehe. (I may even do canon characters from the Danganronpa series in general if anyone sends requests for them.)

(Also, if you want either AIkado or IRLkado in your request, please specify which one you want. Same goes for other characters in SDRA2 if you want their teenager or adult versions.)

OCs (and sonas) are also allowed, whether Danganronpa, AVA/M, or not! A reference is required, though. And if your OC isn't a stick for AVA/M, I suggest giving me a specific color you want me to use for the OC that you feel fits them best since these will be done in the stick figure style.

No NSFW! I do not make that kind of stuff in my art, and anyone that requests that will be ignored or blocked if repeatedly asked.

Shipping is allowed, but anything that involves incest, child/minor x adult, and abusers x victims will be ignored and blocked. And yes, that includes adopted siblings/children, so no Mikako X Yamato and Mango X Purple nonsense. I will smite you on sight.

While I do enjoy toxic yaoi/yuri (*gestures to my Sannotori stuff*), the point of these art requests is to make fun and fluffy stuff, so if you request a ship like Sannotori, I will make sweet and kind art for them.

I have the right to NOT do a ship if I'm uncomfortable with it or just don't like it. (ex. Mango X Navy, Alan X Anyone, Chosen X Second/Orange, Mikado X Sora or Yuki, Mitch X Anyone, etc.)

(This includes shipping in SDRA2 in general due to a certain twist that makes it...a little strange. While I'm pretty sure all the characters are adults, I decided that it's best to treat it as more of a case by case basis and how big the age gaps are.)

I will draw a max of three characters per request.

If the request is a ship, please specify it to be romantic, otherwise I will assume it's just a friendly interaction between two (or more) characters. Or use their ship name (with the characters' names as well just to make sure I know which ones I'm doing).

If you have a specific scene for a request, tell me in your ask. Otherwise I will just do whatever comes to mind first. Edit: I forgot to mention this but this applies to which style you want me to do between regular stick or chibi. My bad. ^^;

Requests will be fluff and kind only! As mentioned before, the point of this is to do something nice and relaxing for everyone involved. And personally, I am not in the mood to make angst. Please respect that.

(Funny shitpost requests are also allowed, of course.)

I will only take requests through my asks, no where else.

And I believe that's it. This list of rules may get updated if anything else is brought to my attention, but yeah! I think I'm gonna leave these requests open for about a month so this will last until December 7th, 2024, at midnight! Any requests I haven't gotten around to by the deadline will still be completed if they're ones I want to do but anything sent after the date will be ignored.

Feel free to send in requests!

#AVA #AVM #SDRA2 #DRA #Animator VS Animation #Animation VS Minecraft #Super Danganronpa Another 2 #Danganronpa Another #Danganronpa #Star's Art #listen. i am not gonna be a doomer about this. i am going to live my life and do what i need to do to get through this.#even if it's out of *fucking spite.*#so let's just take care of ourselves and have a little bit of fun around here to help cope okay? ^^;

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non-plutonian-druid · 4 months ago

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[ID: Several sets of drawings from the TUA Paranatural au, drawn in a style resembling Paranatural's.

The first are two drawings ofLila as an adult; one in casual clothes and short partially bleached hair from season one; and the other in a commission-style suit with two long braids.

The second is a very sketchy comic. Klaus asks, "You're MARRIED??? To a WOMAN?" and then continues, "Wait Five, are you straight??" Five, looking disgruntled, replies, "Oh my fucking god Klaus." Later, Five lies on the floor and googles "Are you still straight if your wife is a centipede."

The third is a pair of drawings of the Handler harassing Five; the first ten years before the second. In the first, Five is a teenager and the Handler has long hair and is wearing a suit. She is pinching his cheek. In the second, Five is an adult and the Handler now has short hair and is wearing a gown. She is booping his nose.

The last is a set of drawings of @sharkneto's oc's from his series Holding It Together; Sarah, Amanda, and Rob. Sarah is checking her phone, Amanda is holding a piece of chalk, and Rob looks spooked and is saying "...Ghosts?" End ID.]

i call this the Paranatural Au: Dubiously Canonical Edition

aka over the course of drawing this au ive accumulated stuff that isnt super canonical, or is out of date, or is just. too dumb. to really post on its own, so i decided to toss them all together in one go!

the ID is long so the context is going under the cut

the adult lila designs are from when i wasn't sure what exactly i was going to do with her, whether she would be a kid or an adult. Now that i've decided she's twelve like most of the rest of the cast, this design is noncanonical but i do still think it was fun!

five being harassed by the handler isnt *precisely* noncanonical, but in the absence of the crazy assassin skills/wanting to kill her combo, she probably wouldn't be as fixated on him. Like, thats not a hyper successful assassin she can match wits with, thats a teenager. who gives a shit about teenagers.

The idea behind her outfits is that ten years ago the handler wasn't as high up so she had to wear a suit jacket like everyone else, but now that shes been promoted a few times she can wear whatever she wants.

the comic is a really stupid idea i had the other day that i decided to make into reality because i have infinite power to make any image i want. it's really dumb tho. also ftr my five is always aroace, but if he weren't aroace then being attracted to a sapient centipede monster with no human features is. Not straight. its not gay or bi tho either it's.... Something Else Other Than That.

also, i drew sharkneto's ocs because, once again, i have infinite power to make any image a reality. i havent decided yet if theyre canon, but if they are, then amanda teaches physics (i guess this is a middle school? so actually shes probably just a general science teacher lmao. but her year focuses on physics), sarah is a professor at a nearby college, and rob is the school counselor. (sorry guys yall are demoted, but its just because this is effectively a middle school au). also, none of them can see ghosts but are aware they exist, although i did kick around the idea of one of them developing that ability later (not rob). unless sharkneto has notes about all that lol

#tua #the umbrella academy #lila pitts #the handler #the handler tua #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #is there even though he is drawn very poorly #parantural au #my art #almost forgot that tag as usual #i really like the grid effect on lila's overalls i need an excuse to do that with actual lila

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choicesficwriterscreations · 4 months ago

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October Creator of the Month: Tessa-Liam

Please welcome this month’s Creator of the Month: @tessa-liam

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists. The writer or artist is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTMs can be found here.

Tumblr Blog Name: Tessa-Liam

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Tessa

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog

Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

Christmas 2017, I was scrolling FB and saw an ad for Choices featuring The Royal Romance Book 1. I downloaded the app and started reading TRR right away.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I was hooked on that series and was waiting for a new chapter to release. I was desperate for more and my sister suggested that I try searching Tumblr for fanfiction in 2021.

3- How did you pick your blog name?

Liam was my LI, so I joined his name with mine!

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

My very first post was the masterlist to @ao719's series ‘The Invitation’. I found her treasure trove of Liam Rys/TRR stories very quickly! I couldn't get enough!

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both?

I write fanfiction. I wish I could draw…the best I can do is create moodboards.

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

I started writing my own stories for Choices pretty much at the same time I found the app. Publishing those stories started with prompting and encouragement from Anitah [@ao719] & Emmy [@txemrn]. I posted my first on October 28, 2022, ‘October Weekend Retreat’. I have also written for ‘Game of Thrones’, ‘Twilight’ & ‘The X-files’. These stories are all published on AO3 with other pseudonyms

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

My favorite book(s) to read and create for: The Royal Romance Series. Favorite = book 3

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

I do still like it! The changes I would make…I would add more ‘Would You Rather’ questions and dialogue.😁

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created?

My favorite: ‘All is Fair in Love & War’ …and I won an art commission (my center pic) for it from CFWC, by ArtbyAinna (IG).

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

I am always honoured whenever anyone takes the time to read, comment, or share my stories!🥰

11- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Definitely angst❣️ I love writing/drama about a group of characters in a series with various sub plots and relationships over time.

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yes! My OC Sophie Taylor from Marabelle.

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

Writing…Definitely 😏 smut! ….but practice makes perfect, right!? 😉

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Oh geez, so much!? My one drive is well stocked! 😂

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first?

Yes! My sister. No, not necessarily…I know she reads AO3, cuz she posts there too!

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing? Are there any writers that influence you?

Anitah @ao719, my fellow Liam stan definitely inspired me to write TRR stories here on Tumblr. She is a phenomenal writer!💖

17- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Marabelle …it's still a W.I.P. right now and I have so much story to tell!

18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art?

I have started a framework for a novel and have created storyboards for it.

19- What other hobbies do you have?

I love horses and am learning dressage. Reading, writing, politics.

20: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to)

I adore royalty in real life and follow news on William & Kate. They toured Canada in 2016. I was in Victoria, BC on vacation when they were here, but I couldn't get anywhere near that area of the city. 🤷‍♀️

#cfwc creator of the month #playchoices #creator of the month #the royal romance #pixelberry #choices fic writers creations #tessa-liam

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scarletqueenx · 2 months ago

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chapter eleven - danger zone

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: After a few months dating, Dean abandoned you in a motel room without giving you any explanation, years later his brother and he saved you from a demon and now you hunt with them discovering every day new mysteries about your family and the destiny that awaits you. Heaven, hell, demons, angels, vampires, witches and much more.

Author’s Note: English is not my first language. This is my first time writing in the readers perspective, as i'm used to write oc´s.

series masterlist

You were in the middle of a nightmare while asleep in the Impala's back seats when the ringing of your phone woke you up. Although to Dean and Sam it looked like you were sleeping peacefully, the memories inside your head wouldn't leave you alone. And just as he had done the night from which all those bad dreams came, this time it was also your father who woke you up.

Henry had an idea.

It was an idea that solved one of your greatest fears. What if a demon possessed you? You didn't want to end up like Carter. You didn't want to hurt anyone.

But the solution your father was proposing also forced you to face another of your fears. A more common, mundane one. Stupid compared to the other. But still, you felt the anxiety run down your spine as you let an unknown man, full of tattoos, put one on you.

It had been pathetic, you thought. How you'd looked at Dean with teary eyes, pleading for him to hold your hand in an even more pathetic silence. You had a habit of playing tough. It was in the DNA of older siblings, you assumed all your life. You never asked for help for anything and Dean knew that. But he also knew the look you'd given him that night in the tattoo store. So accepting your silent plea, Dean intertwined his hand with yours as he gave you a small reassuring smile. His touch like a soothing to your pain and fears. You felt safe as that scary needle stabbed your skin multiple times to imprint that strange drawing on your back.

Dean and Sam were the next to get the same symbol tattooed, this time is their chest. Right on the side of their hearts. Both facing that situation with much more composure than you. Or than your little brother.

"But... tattoos hurt, don't they?" Peter shifted nervously next to Maddie as they walked into that tattoo store in San Francisco.

"It depends on where you put it." She replied. Peter nodded slightly as his head continued to race with thoughts.

"I just don't understand why we have to do this. My father said there are charms."

"He also said it's easy to get them taken away from you."

"Yeah, but... You didn't want to have anything to do with this world. Why would you let them put a mark on you that would remind you forever of what happened? About your mother, about the other night?" Peter asked, genuinely confused.

"I'm going to remember it anyway." Maddie shrugged. "At least this way I'll be safe."

"Even if they can't possess you they'll still be able to attack you, you know that, right?"

His words were like knives through her chest. Of course she knew that, but to think that tattoo would be the solution to all her problems made her feel somehow better. Even if it was only for a few days, hours, seconds.

"I know you're scared, but you don't have to be a jerk about it."

Peter immediately felt bad when he saw the pain in the her eyes. He had seen that look before in other people. Every friend he ever had would end up walking away from him with that same look in their eyes. Peter was his own self-destruct button. You were the only one who had never left his side despite how badly he sometimes treated you.

But for the first time, Peter didn't want to lose a friend that way either. So he reached out to Maddie and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze.

Surprised by the gesture, Maddie turned to him, seeing the look of regret in his eyes. She quickly gave him a reassuring smile, tightening her grip on his hand to make sure he knew that everything was okay and she wouldn't leave his side.

Her hand remained clasped in his as the tattoo was being done. Because if there was one thing the three Holloway siblings had in common, it was their fear of needles.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Bela had a funny way of making the Winchesters' lives impossible. First she stole the Colt from them. Which left them without a weapon to kill demons if it weren't for the fact that they still had your knife. And then, just when they finally thought they had found her, she had exposed them to the police. To an agent especially determined to find them after they had committed illegal actions to solve two supernatural cases that were very difficult to explain to someone who had nothing to do with that world.

Now, Agent Henriksen wasn't looking for you for any reason, but being with two criminals like the Winchester brothers gave him the authority to arrest you as well.

He seemed very pleased watching them from outside the cell of that police station in Monument, Colorado.

"You know what I'm trying to decide?" Henriksen asked.

"I don't know. What? Whether Cialis will help you with your little condition?" Dean said sitting next to you.

"What to have for dinner tonight." He corrected. "Steak or lobster, what the hell, surf and turf." He smiled while Dean smirked cynically. "I got a lot to celebrate. I mean, after all, seeing you two in chains..."

"You kinky son of a bitch. We don't swing that way."

"Now, that's funny."

"You know, I wouldn't bust out the melted butter just yet. Couldn't catch us at the bank, couldn't keep us in that jail." Dean pointed out.

"You're right. Screwed up. I underestimated you." Henriksen admitted. "I didn't count on you being that smart but now I'm ready."

"Yeah, ready to lose us again?" Dean raised his eyebrows

"Ready like a court order to keep you in a Supermaximum prison in Nevada till trial. Ready like isolation in a soundproof, windowless cell, so that between you and me... probably unconstitutional."

Sam and Dean looked at him in silence, realizing that Henriksen was in fact been serious.

You on the other hand felt strangely calm. Henriksen had nothing on you other than having found you with two criminals who had escaped from a prison. Meaning, you could lie and say you had been kidnapped, although that didn't make much sense given the close relationship you seemed to have with the Winchester brothers. Stockholm Syndrome, you could plead. If they set you free you could look for a way to free Dean and Sam. Though that didn't seem very possible if they were put in such a secure prison as Henriksen was describing.

"How's that for ready?" Dean remained silent at his question. As he also tried not to show any expression of fear or defeat. "Take a good look at Sam – you two will never see each other again."

Sam and Dean stayed silence as they looked at Henriksen, disconcerted.

"Now, you." Henriksen turned to you. His eyes scanning you, looking for anything that would confirm that you were just as guilty as them. "What are you, the smart girl hacking and helping from the outside, huh? You got them out of that bank and that jail, didn't you?"

Letting out a sigh, you shifted in your seat, raising your gaze to him.

"I'm sure you'd love for my answer to be yes, but you're wrong. I barely know them." You said in a calm tone.

"Oh, is that so?" He raised his eyebrows skeptically. You nodded. "Well, that may be true, but it doesn't erase your past. Tell me, does this sound familiar?" He questioned, pulling a page of an old newspaper from the inside pocket of his suit. " 'On the night of May 2, 1994 Carter Holloway woke up and inexplicably began attacking and chasing his entire family around the house in what could be described as a scene from a horror movie. Laurel Holloway, his mother, was found dead in the kitchen with several stab wounds. His sister, the middle child of the couple, was found with her baby brother Peter. She was bleeding while holding the child in her arms after her brother had removed her spleen with the same knife used to stab her mother. While the father, Henry Holloway, was found in the backyard of the house, unconscious'."

Noticing the confused and doubt-filled looks from Sam and Dean, you shifted nervously in you seat. Which only confirmed to Henriksen that he was in fact right.

"There was no sign of Carter. Still to this day they hadn't found him." Henriksen continued speaking. "A lot of us cops are obsessed with this case. Why would a kid everyone described as kind and good do something like this? To the little sister that he protected and cared for so much. He had to be a psychopath who just snapped, god knows why. Maybe it runs in the family. What do you say? Was it all a plot? Did you all want your mother dead? Because if not I don't understand why your father has made sure over the years that no one remembers that tragic night."

Dean watched you closely. Noticing how you clenched your fists in frustration, how your muscles tensed and the red color of anger rose in your cheeks.

So before you snapped, Dean interrupted Henriksen's interrogation, drawing his attention back to him.

"You got the wrong guys."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot. You fight monsters." Henriksen nodded. "What? Are you going to tell me that her brother was also a monster?"

"Possessed by one." You corrected in a whisper, answering one of the many questions in Sam and Dean's heads.

"Possessed." Henriksen repeated in disbelief. "Sorry, guys. I think the truth is, your daddies brainwashed you with all that devil talk and no doubt touched you in a bad place. That's all. That's reality."

"Why don't you shut your mouth?" Dean complained, annoyed by the mention of his father.

"Well, guess what. Life sucks. Get a helmet. 'Cause everybody's got a sob story. But not everybody becomes a killer."

The sound of an approaching helicopter could be heard from outside at the same moment a shiver ran down your spine. It wasn't like the one you had felt at Mystery Spot, but it was just as disturbing.

"And now I have three less to worry about." Henriksen smiled before looking back at you. "That's right, sweetheart, three. Because thanks to you I have closed one of police's oldest cases." He looked down at his watch and tapped it. "It's surf and turf time." He laughed as he left the room.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Dean and Sam didn't ask any questions for the next several minutes. You didn't know what was worse, the silence with which they were treating the situation or the alternative of them uttering a million questions to you. It didn't matter much either, as soon the door to the cell room opened again. You were the first to look up towards it, watching as a man entered in the company of someone you immediately recognized.

"I can walk, thank you very much." The boy grumbled as the man pushed him towards the other cell. Letting out a snort his blue eyes met the confuse gaze of his little sister. A smirk peeking through his lips as he saw you locked in a cell. "Hi, Smarty."

Dean and Sam, who watched the scene in silence, looked over at you as they noticed how you uncomfortably shifted next to them.

"I'm Deputy Director Steven Groves." The policeman spoke, closing the cell where he had locked Carter. "This is a pleasure."

"Well, glad one of us feels that way." Dean was the one to respond.

"I've been waiting a long time for you two to come out of the woodwork." Steven said as he suddenly raised his gun and shot Dean in the left shoulder. Dean grunted as he fell back, while Sam jumped up and grappled with Steven through the bars.

You had barely processed your older brother's arrival when Steven fired several more shots into the cell. Thankfully missing you as Sam gripped his arm. Regaining control of your body and mind, you leaned toward the man across the bars of the cell, beginning to recite an exorcism in Latin. That caused Steven's head to whip from side to side.

"Sorry, I've gotta cut this short. It's gonna be a long night, fellas." The demon inside him spoke as he flashed his black eyes at them before leaving Steven's body.

"Yeah that sucks." Carter commented as they watched Steven's body hit the floor. "At least he's dead."

Sam, Dean and you turned your gazes towards him just as two officers walked into the room with Henriksen behind them. Seeing the gun in Sam's hand, the latter didn't hesitate and pointed his gun at him.

"All right, put the gun down!" One of the officers yelled.

"Wait. Okay. Wait." Sam pleated as he move to put the gun down.

"He shot him!"

"I didn't shoot him, okay. I didn't shoot anyone."

"He shot me!" Dean pointed to Steven's body as you reached his side with a concerned look in your eyes.

"Get on your knees, NOW!" Henriksen exclaimed.

"Okay, okay, okay. Don't shoot. Please. Look. Here. Here." Sam did as he was told and passed the gun through the bars. "Look. We didn't shoot him. Check the body. There's no blood. We did not kill him. Go ahead, check him."

With hesitation, one of the officers decided to listen to him, kneeling down and checking Steven's body.

"Vic, there's no bullet wound." He then said.

"He's probably been dead for months." Carter said, leaning against the bars of his cell.

"What did you do to him?" Henriksen turned towards him.

Carter raised his hands.

"We didn't do anything." Dean spoke gaining his attention back.

"Talk or I shoot." Henriksen threatened, now pointing his gun at him.

"Why? You won't believe us anyway." You noted. "He was possessed."

"Possessed? Right." Henriksen scoffed. "Fire up the chopper! We're taking them out of here now."

"Yeah! Do that!" You exclaimed, starting to get angry. Still, you tried to remain calm as you tried to check Dean's wound.

"Bill?" One of officers said over the walkie-talkie. But all he received in response was static for the other end. "Bill, are you there?"

As the other agents continued with their guns pointed at the four of you, the officer left the cell room after getting a nod from Henriksen.

"They're dead. I think they're all dead." His voice came over the walkie-talkie a few minutes later. Your eyes quickly met your older brother's. Carter had taken a step back into his cell, realizing what that meant. If one demon had found them, others had too. And that scared the hell out of him.

Suddenly, a loud crash came form outside.

"What the hell was that? Reidy? Reidy?!" Henriksen asked over his walkie-talkie but no one answered him. "What the hell was that? Come in? Reidy? Reidy?"

"We're all going to die." Sam, Dean and you were able to hear Carter's mumbling more clearly once Henriksen and the officers left. The oldest of the Holloway siblings was curled up in one of the corners of his cell, his hands on his head as he slightly rocked. "We're all going to die. He's going to make me kill you all. It's like May 2, 1994 all over again. May 2, 1994 all over again."

Pulling away from Dean, you gripped the bars of the cell and looked at your older brother in pain.

"Carter, listen to me. It's not May 1994, okay? No one is going to make you do anything."

"He's going to get inside me and he's going to finish what he started that night. He's going to kill you." Carter assured sharply as his gaze rose to meet your.

You gulped harshly at his words. You blinked several times and took a step back as you remembered the night your brother was speaking of.

As soon as your back bumped against Dean's chest, you seemed to snap back to reality. Quickly, you gave him a small reassuring smile and began to treat the bullet wound on his shoulder without another word. Sam narrowed his eyes, watching you and Carter silently.

Neither he nor Dean could help but notice that that date was also significant to them. May 2 was also the youngest Winchester's birthday.

"All right, don't be such a wuss." You chuckled when Dean grunted once again.

"What's the plan? Kill everyone in the station, bust you two out?" Henriksen walked back into the room.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean grunted,

"I'm talking about your psycho friends. I'm talking about a blood bath."

"Okay, I promise you—whoever's out there? is not here to help us."

"Look, you got to believe us. Everyone here is in terrible danger." Sam tried to make him understand.

"You think?" Henriksen looked back at him.

"We're all going to die. He's going to kill us all." Carter mumbled once again.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Henriksen asked, looking at him with confusion.

"What? Did you think my father put him in a mental institution just for fun? He's mentally ill and traumatized." You looked back at him.

"He shouldn't have killed your mother then." Henriksen scoffed. "Are you really defending him, after what he did to you?"

"He didn't do anything. I already told you. He was possessed." You rose back to your feet as Henriksen rolled his eyes. "Why don't you let us out of here so we can save your asses?"

"From what? You gonna say 'demons'?" Seeing that you remained silent, Henriksen snorted in frustration. "Don't you dare say 'demons'. Let me tell you something. You should be a lot more scared of me." He said before turning around and leaving.

Letting about a sigh, Sam sat next to his brother.

"How's the shoulder?" He asked.

"It's awesome." Dean answered, tossing the blood stained paper away. "I'll live. You know, if we get out of here alive. So, you got a plan?"

Sam shook his head as he checked Dean's exit wound on the back of his shoulder, which caused Dean to grimaced in pain.

Leaning against the bars of the cell, you watched your older brother with pity. You had never seen him like this. So traumatized and frightened. A part of you had always wanted to keep seeing him as the villain, but now you saw more clearly that he had just been another victim.

Then you saw her. From the corner of your eyes, you could see how the girl who clutched her rosary when Sam, Dean and you had enter the police station was now peeking around a corner, watching you from a distance.

"Hey." You spoke. Scared of being caught, the girl backed off. "Hey, uh, please. Please. We need your help. It's... it's Nancy. Nancy, right?" She kept quiet, but you were positive on your guess. "Nancy, my... my friend's been shot. He's... He's bleeding really bad. You think maybe you could get us a towel? Please? Just one clean towel? We're not the bad guys. I swear." You pleaded while Sam and Dean gave her a little smile.

Despite your efforts, Nancy kept looking scared, watching you for a few seconds before turning around and leaving.

"Nice try." Dean looked up at you.

Letting out a sigh, you sat down next to him. But then, as you turned around you saw Nancy approaching the cell with a clean towel in her hand.

"Thank you." Sam stood up as she carefully came closer. "It's okay." Sam held out his handcuffed hands.

With slow, careful movements Nancy put the towel inside the bars as Sam smiled at her. Slightly calmer, she smiled back at him. But then, suddenly, Sam grabbed Nancy's arm and dragged her against the bars.

"Let her go! Let her go!" One of the officers approached them with a rifle after hearing the girl's scream. Sam did as he was told and let go of Nancy. "You're okay, Nance?" The man asked, pointing the gun at Sam. She nodded as he looked back at Sam. "Try something again, get shot. And not in the arm."

"Okay." Sam nodded, watching them walk away.

"What the hell was that?" You hit Sam's arm in confusion.

Sam looked back at you, holding Nancy's rosary.

You sighed as Dean let out a soft chuckle. The rosary, even though it seemed useless, was your best weapon now that you knew there were demons around. And after yours had been taken away, stealing Nancy was your only option.

Sitting back down next to Dean to continue nursing his bullet wound, now with the help of that towel to stop the bleeding, you let out a deep breath.

Dean looked at you with concern.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, just fine. It's not like we're locked up and threatened by demons. All while Henriksen exposed my family's biggest trauma and brought in my formerly possessed, murderous and traumatized older brother." You sighed.

"Well, at least you haven't been shot." Dean commented.

"I think the shot would hurt less." You admitted, shifting your gaze to Carter.

Dean nodded slightly, looking at him for a few seconds before turning his gaze back to you.

"So this is what you've been hiding, uh?" He asked.

"Yeah." You nodded, letting out a sigh.

"Salem?"

"My father had him locked up in a mental institution to protect him. I had the great idea to visit him after more than 10 years without seeing him." You explained.

Sam, who had been listening to your conversation, sat next to you.

"Why would a demon want to kill your mother? Your whole family?" He asked with confusion.

"She broke a deal." You explained. "My mother wasn't allowed to use her magic, which belonged to Ophelia, after they brought Christine back to life after the camp massacre."

"A bit macabre, don't you think?" Dean scoffed.

"What else did you expect from demons?" You pointed out.

"They wanted to punish me too." Carter spoke, gaining their attention. "They wanted to kill Peter, punish you and transform me into one of them."

"What?" You frowned at him.

"I still don't know why, but I heard him say that in my head." He said in a low tone as he looked down at the floor. "And now they are coming for us all."

"Did you heard him say that too?" You rose to your feet alarmed. Carter nodded. "When?"

"Right now."

"Wait, what? You have some kind of connection to the demon radio?" Dean looked at him in disbelief.

"Yeah, something like that." Carter nodded with an amused smile on his lips that could only be compared with Peter's. Their resemblance brought a warm sense of familiarity to you, calming your nerves and giving you exactly what you needed to trust him.

"They could be possessing anyone now. Anyone could just walk right in." Sam said.

"It's kind of wild, right?" Dean looked back at his brother. "I mean it's like they're coming for us. They've never done that before." Dean smiled. "It's like we got a contract on us. Think it's because we're so awesome? I think it's 'cause we're so awesome." He lost his smile as soon as Sam looked at him, unamused.

You ignored their conversation, fixing your gaze on the man that had just entered the cell area. You quickly recognized him as the sheriff and thought he would ask you some questions. However, the man approached the cell where the three of you were locked up and opened it.

"Well, howdy, there, sheriff." Dean said, standing up.

"It's time to go, boys."

"Uh... you know what? We're – we're just comfy right here. But thank you." You took a step back with a little smile on your lips, trying to keep things smooth.

"What do you think you're doing?" Henriksen asked, appearing at the cell's door.

"We're not just gonna sit around here and wait to die. We're gonna make a run for it." The sheriff answered, looking back at him.

"It's safer here."

"There's a SWAT facility in Boulder."

"We're not going anywhere." Henriksen stated, coming inside the cell.

"The hell we're not." The Sheriff reached out to grab your arm, holding you tightly. But before he could do anything else Henriksen pulled out his gun and shot him in the head.

As soon as that happened, Dean and Sam grappled with Henriksen. As he tried to break free from their grip, you grabbed his head and plunged it into the toilet water. This water, now holy thanks to Nancy's rosary began to burn his skin as you said the exorcism.

Dean crouched down and grabbed Henriksen's gun to point it at the officer coming toward them with a rifle.

"Stay back!" Dean yelled at him.

The demon in Henriksen lifted his head up out of the water. Skin burning as he yelled. Replacing you, Sam shoved him back into the toilet bowl as you continued the exorcism.

"Hurry up!" Dean exclaimed as the demon lifted his head back again. His eyes completely black.

"It's too late. I already called them. They're already coming." He said before Sam shoved his head back into the water and you finished the exorcism.

Taking a step back, Henriksen screamed. Black smoke came out of his mouth, shooting up into the air vent in the ceiling.

"Is he... is he dead?" Nancy asked when she saw Henriksen's body fall to the floor. Before any of you could answer, Henriksen regained consciousness and coughed.

"Henriksen! Hey. Is that you in there?" Sam looked at him.

"I... I shot the sheriff." He mumbled as he got up to sit on the bed.

"But you didn't shoot the deputy." Dean joked with a smile and you and Sam glared at him in disbelief.

"Five minutes ago, I was fine, and then..."

"Let me guess." Carter spoke form his cell. "Some nasty black smoke jammed itself down your throat?"

Henriksen looked up at him and nodded.

"You were possessed." Sam said.

"Yeah, welcome to the club, buddy." Carter smirked.

"Possessed, like... possessed?" Henriksen looked up at Sam.

"I owe the biggest 'I told you so' ever." Dean said as he handed back his gun to him.

"Officer Amici." Henriksen stood up and addressed the other officer in the room. "Keys..." Officer Amici handed him the keys and he unlocked Sam, Dean and your chains. "All right, so how do we survive?"

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

"Are you seriously going to leave me in these handcuffs?" Carter complained, following your footsteps through the police station.

"I got you out of the cell, that's the best you're going to get. Stop complaining." You replied, walking past Henriksen and Officer Phil Amici, who were preparing their guns.

"Oh, great. So your boyfriend, his brother and you can fight demons, but you leave me defenseless."

Letting out a sigh, you stopped and turned around to look at him.

"Stay by my side. If they come in, I'll take off the cuffs. I promise."

Carter narrowed his eyes, watching you for a few seconds. He could sense the lack of trust in your eyes. He couldn't blame you, he didn't trust himself either, much less with that many demons after them.

"Fine." He sighed.

Carter stood still there in the middle of the hallway while you walked over to Dean to tend his wound now that you finally had a first aid kit. It was the sound of the spray paint Sam was using to draw devil traps on every door and window that snapped him out of his thoughts and made him continue his walk to catch up with you.

"Well, that's nice. It's not gonna do much good." Dean commented as he saw Phil and Henriksen enter the room with a lot of weapons.

"We got an arsenal here." Phil said.

"You don't poke a bear with BB gun. That's just gonna make them mad."

"What do you need?" Henriksen asked.

"Salt. Lots and lots of salt."

"Salt?" Phil frowned.

"What, is there an echo in here?" You snapped at him, making him roll his eyes.

"There's road salt in the storeroom." Nancy spoke up.

"Perfect. Perfect. We need salt at every window and every door." Dean said. Henriksen and Phil left the room to get the salt, walking past Carter, who was just walking in.

"How you holdin' up, Nancy?" You asked when she handed you the tape for Dean's bandage.

"Okay." She paused "When I was little, I would come home from the church and start to talk about the devil. And my parents would tell me to stop being so literal. I guess I showed them, huh?"

"That's a good way to look at it." Carter commented, receiving a warning look from his sister. "What? I used to tell Dad that I heard voices in my head and he ignored me completely until one day that voice took over my body and..."

"Okay. I get it." You cut him off, turning your attention back to Dean's wound, placing the last piece of tape over his bandage. "That should hold."

Dean looked back at you giving you a soft smile. "Thank you."

You nodded, stepping away from him as Phil came back in the room with some bags of salt.

"Hey, where's my car?" Dean asked him.

"Impound lot out back."

"Okay." He nodded, putting on his shirt.

"Wait. You're not going out there are you?"

"Yeah, I got to get something out of my trunk." He answered, walking out of the room.

"Wait, are you serious?" You followed him with concern under the watchful eye of your older brother.

"Our weapons are there." Dean pointed out. "Your knife is there. It's the only thing that can kill demons."

You sighed, knowing he was right. "Okay, but be careful."

"I always am."

As you rolled your eyes, you let out a sigh before getting up on your tiptoes to press your lips together in a kiss.

Taken aback by that gesture, Dean took a few seconds to react, but soon his hands found your cheeks, pulling you closer to him as he deepened the kiss. It was Carter's throat clearing behind you that forced you two to separate. Annoyed by the interruption, you turned around to look at him as Dean took that as an opportunity to leave and get the weapons.

"Sorry, sis." Carter said as you let out a frustrated sigh seeing Dean leaving the police station. "I thought you might want this back."

Seeing your mother's necklace in his hands, you walked over to him to grab it, but Carter took a quick step back.

"Take off the handcuffs."

"We've been over this. Not unless it is necessary." You responded.

"It will be." He assured. "You're forgetting my... how did Dean call it? Oh, yeah, demon radio connection."

As if he had summoned him, Dean walked back into the station much faster than you expected, interrupting your discussion.

"They're coming! Hurry." He exclaimed, running past you carrying a bunch of weapons and other things in his hands.

Black smoke hit the window near Nancy, making her scream as Sam, Dean, Carter and you ran to the main office area, where Henriksen was. Without wasting another second, you pulled the handcuff keys from your pants and released your brother while Dean tossed a gun to Sam.

The lights in the main room started to flicker, making the room much darker as Nancy clutched the cross she wore around her neck. Moments later, as Dean handed you your knife, dust rained down from the ceiling and the building shook.

"Everybody okay?" Sam asked when the black smoke in the windows disappeared and everything became quiet again.

"Define 'okay'." Henriksen answered.

"All right, everybody needs to put these on." Dean turned, giving each of them a protection charm from the ones Bobby had given Sam and him. "They'll keep you from being possessed. There you go."

"You'd think Dad would have known about this kind of stuff and given one to me." Carter commented when Dean handed one to him.

As if he had opened your eyes, you turned your head to him, looking at him carefully as you took in his words. He was right.

"What about you three?" Nancy asked with concern and confusion.

Dean and Sam tugged the collar of their shirts down to show the tattoo of the protection symbol that was printed on the left side of their chest. As you came back to reality, you turned around and moved your hair out of the way to reveal the tattoo on your upper back.

"Smart." Henriksen admitted. "How long you had those?"

"Not long enough." Sam sighed.

"Yeah, definitely, as soon as I get out of here I'm getting one of those. Can I take a picture of it?" Carter looked at you.

"I'll draw it for you." You replied, walking over to one of the desks. Carter smiled, following you.

"Thanks, Smarty. I love you."

"Whatever."

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

A few minutes had passed since the black smoke attack. The police station had been silent ever since and everyone had spread out around the place to cover more territory in case any of them came in.

You had decided to stay close to your brother, so at that moment you both found yourselves sitting on the floor of one of the hallways, right next to one of the entrances.

"You think Peter will like me?" Carter broke the silence between you.

"Sure, as long as he doesn't know what you did to mom." You replied with a snort. "Why do you even care? Do you really think dad will let you come back home?"

"With a tattoo like yours? Why wouldn't he?" Carter answered. "That will block the demons, right? They won't be able to possess me or get inside my head."

"I don't know." You shrugged.

"It doesn't matter. I don't know if I want to go back either." Carter admitted. "I just... Sometimes I like to think about Peter, you know? Imagine what he's like. Tell me, does he look anything like me?"

"He has your eyes. Blue as the sky."

"That's my boy." Carter smiled proudly. "Wait, don't tell me, he's blonde?"

You nodded. "And curly-haired, like dad."

"Of course he is." He sighed.

"He is like mom in so many ways." You recalled. "Too smart for his own good and full of witty ideas. He loves scary movies too."

"Of course he does, those are the best ones." Carter smiled.

"He's expanded your DVD collection, by the way."

Carter looked at you in surprise. "Dad didn't throw it away?"

You shook your head. "He told him it was Mom's."

"Well, either way. I'll probably never meet him, and if I do he'd probably hate me, but... I like knowing we have somethings in common."

You closed your eyes in frustration.

"Those demons robbed us of our childhood, of our family. Why? Why us?"

"I told you..."

"Yes, we're special. Or so they think. But... why?" You asked. "Because mom was a descendant of witches? That's Ophelia's fault to begin with."

Carter shook his head.

"I think there's more to it than that. When Dorian talked to dad the other night while he was in my body, he talked about a prophecy. He and Ophelia want to destroy God's creations."

"God's creations? Like the Heavens and the Earth?" You frowned.

"Yeah, I think so."

"That sounds like fiction."

"Sounds like an omen."

Before you could say anything there was a loud crash. Getting up to your feet, Carter and you ran into the office where Dean, Sam and Henriksen had just walked in.

"How do we kill her?" Henriksen asked pointing his rifle at the woman trapped inside a devil's trap.

"We don't." Sam answered, lowering Henriksen rifle when he recognized the woman.

Ruby.

"She's a demon." Henriksen pointed out.

"She's here to help us."

"Are you kidding?" Phil asked from around the corner, where he stood next to Nancy.

Dean and you sighed in exasperation.

"Are you gonna let me out?" Ruby asked.

"Yeah, right." Carter snorted before he watched as Sam scratched the devil's trap on the floor with his knife. "Wait, what the hell are you doing? Are you serious?"

"And they say chivalry's dead." Ruby spoke as she took a step out of the trap. "Does anyone have a breath mint? Some guts splattered in my mouth while I was killing my way in here." She walked past everyone and into the main office. Dean, Carter, Henriksen and you followed her, while Sam stayed to fix the salt line and the trap.

"How many are out there?" Dean asked.

"30 at least." Ruby replied, looking back at him. "That's so far."

"Oh, good. 30. 30 hit men all gunning for us. Who sent them?" You asked. Ruby looked past you to Sam who now stood by the door with a guilty look on his face.

"You didn't tell them?" Ruby asked him. Dean and you shared a confused look.

"Tell us what?" You asked.

"There's a big new up and corner. Real pied piper." Ruby answered.

"Who is he?" Dean looked back at her.

"Not he. Her. Her name is Lilith."

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me." Carter said, running a nervous hand through his hair as he sat down in a chair.

"I'm not. And she really, really wants yours and Sam's intestines on a stick. 'Cause she sees you both as competition." Ruby explained, looking back at Carter.

"Wait. What?" You frowned.

"You knew about this?" Dean asked his brother. However, Sam didn't answered. "Well, gee, Sam. Is there anything else we should know?!"

"How about the two of you talk about this later? We'll need the Colt." Ruby spoke, looking at the Winchester brothers. "Where's the Colt?"

"It got stolen." You answered for them.

"I'm sorry. I must have blood in my ear. I thought I just heard you say that you were stupid enough to let the Colt get grabbed out of your thick, clumsy, idiotic hands. Fantastic. This is just peachy..."

"Ruby..."

"Shut up." She snapped at Sam, raising her hand. "Fine. Since I don't see that there's no other any option. There's one other way I know how to get you out of here alive."

"And that is?" Carter looked up at her.

"I know a spell." She answered, looking back at him. "It'll vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius. Myself included. So, you let the Colt out of your sight and now I have to die. So next time, be more careful. How's that for a dying wish?"

Feeling her eyes on him, Dean smirked. He actually looked quite pleased to be able to get rid of Ruby once and for all.

"Okay, what do we need to do?" Dean asked.

"Aww... you can't do anything. This spell is very specific. It calls for a person of virtue."

"I got virtue."

"Surely not the kind she's talking about." Carter chuckled, standing up. "You're not a virgin."

"Nobody here is a virgin." Dean laughed. "Are you a virgin?"

"Because I have been locked up for almost half my life? Nice try, but no."

Ruby sighed looking at Nancy, who quickly looked away.

"No. No way. You're kidding me, r–. You're..."

"What? It's a choice, okay?" Nancy cut Dean off.

"So, y-you've never... Not even once? I mean not even – Wow."

"Can we not... judge people by their decisions?" You asked, coming to the girl's defense. "Thanks."

"So, this spell. What can I do?" Nancy smiled at Ruby, happy to be able to help.

"You can hold still... while I cut your heart out of your chest." Ruby smiled back at her.

"What?" Nancy lost her smile.

"Are you crazy?" You looked back at Ruby.

"I'm offering a solution."

"You're offering to kill somebody."

"And what do you think's gonna happen to this girl when the demons get in?" She argued.

"We're gonna protect her. That's what." Henriksen said.

"Very noble." Ruby scoffed.

"Yeah, how exactly do you think you're going to fight those demons, huh?" Carter looked at Henriksen. "They're not as friendly as they look inside human bodies. They will kill you slowly and painfully. They will chase you and torment you and..."

"Would everybody please shut up?!" Nancy cut him off. Everybody looked at her with surprise. "All the people out there... will it save them?"

"It'll blow the demons out of their bodies. So if their bodies are okay... yeah." Ruby answered.

"I'll do it." Nancy stated after a few moments.

"You really don't have to." You said in a soft tone. "We can find another way."

"There's no other way." Ruby and Carter assured at the same time.

"We don't sacrifice people. We do that, we're no better than them." You looked back at them.

"We don't have a choice." Ruby said.

"Yeah, well, your choice is not a choice." Dean looked at her.

Seeing that Dean and you were completely against her idea, Ruby turned her eyes towards Sam looking for support. "Sam, you know I'm right."

Dean smiled, in the expectation that Sam will agree with you two.

"Sam?" He called his name, but Sam stayed quiet. "What the hell is going on? Sam, tell her."

"He doesn't want to disappoint you, but Sammy knows we're right." Carter said.

"You shut up!" Dean and you exclaimed at the same time.

"They're the only ones who can call me Sammy." Sam complained simultaneously, pointing to his brother and you.

"It's my decision." Nancy spoke.

"Damn straight, cherry pie." Ruby smirked.

"Stop! Stop! Nobody kill any virgins. Sam, I need to talk to you." Dean yelled, before walking off the main area with his brother.

"Do not touch her." You pointed toward Nancy before following the Winchester brothers into the hallway.

"Please tell me you're not actually considering this. We're talking about holding down a girl and cutting out her heart." Dean looked at his brother.

"And we're also talking about 30 people out there, Dean. Innocent people who are all gonna die, along with everyone in here." Sam argued.

"It doesn't mean that we throw away the rule book and stop acting like humans. I'm not gonna let that demon kill some nice, sweet, innocent girl, who hasn't even been laid. I mean, look, if that's how you win wars, then I don't want to win."

"Exactly. Ruby's plan is stupid." You said, gaining their attention. "And even if you guys agree, I won't let you touch Nancy."

"Then what? What do we do?" Sam asked with desperation.

You sighed as you turned away for a moment.

"I got a plan." You said after a couple of seconds. "I'm not saying it's a good one. I'm not even saying that it'll work. But it sure as hell beats killing a virgin."

"Okay, so, what's the plan?" Dean asked.

"Open the doors, let them all in and we fight."

"And Ruby's idea is the stupid one?" Carter scoffed behind you. You rolled your eyes, turning towards him. "Come on, sis. You've gotta have something better than that.

"I do." You assured. "Remember how I got Dorian out of your body that night?"

"Oh, we're going to pull one of Mom's book plays?" Carter smirked. "Sounds cool. I like it, Smarty."

"You guys mind sharing that idea with the group?" Dean asked.

"Get ready. Carter and I will take care of it. Trust me." You pleaded, looking back at him.

Dean sighed, looking into your eyes for a few seconds.

"I trust you." He then said.

When Ruby heard your idea, she clearly didn't like it, so she decided to leave. Meanwhile, the rest of the group prepared to fight. Henriksen, Sam and Dean positioning themselves at different spots of the building.

"All set?" Dean asked.

"Yeah!" Sam answered form the main area.

"Ready!" Henriksen replied.

"Let's do this." Dean sighed before breaking the salt line in front of him.

Sam and Henriksen did the same. Breaking the salt lines and the devil's traps near them. A few seconds past before the demons started to get in. Pointing their guns filled with salt bullets at them, Sam, Dean and Henriksen shot.

"God, I hope this works." Henriksen muttered as he opened a flask full of holy water and splashed it on the demon near him.

Meanwhile Nancy and Phil were on the roof, watching as more demons ran into the building. When they saw them all go through the doors, they both went down and closed them, putting lines of salt on each one before doing the same thing in the windows.

Just as all the demons surrounded Dean, Sam and Henriksen, Carter activated the station's speakers and you began speaking into the microphone, pronouncing an exorcism. The demons stopped their movements and covered their ears.

You said the exorcism several times before the demons began to scream in pain leaving the bodies of their vessels in several shots of black smoke that soon disappeared into the night.

The bodies dropped to the ground and there was an explosion of light on the ceiling before everything went still.

Sam and Dean slid down the wall to the floor and looked at each other. Carter and you then emerged from the microphone room. You crouched down next to the Winchester brothers, looking worriedly at them as the electricity flickered back on. Henriksen walked into the office and chuckled slightly as he wiped blood from his lip.

"We need to start listening to you more, sweetheart." Dean smile at you. "That was a hell of an idea."

Letting out a small chuckle, you shared a relieved look with your older brother.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

You were surprised when Carter decided to join the three of you at the motel. You figured that after everything your brother would leave as quickly as possible, taking advantage of his freedom and his newfound knowledge of anti-possession symbols. Despite what he had done, Carter deserved to live his life away from the supernatural. But his big brother instinct, his need to protect his little sister, remained in him even if he wanted to deny it.

Henriksen had decided to give you up for dead and let you go free after saving his, Phil's and Nancy's lives. But since Carter had no money, Sam and Dean had booked him a separate room at the motel.

A knock on the door was what kept you from falling asleep after taking a shower.

"Turn on the news." Ruby said as she walked into the room when Dean opened the door.

Letting out a sigh, Sam did as she said, seeing that on TV the news reporter was talking about a fire that had occurred at the police station.

"The community is still reeling from the tragedy that happened just a few hours ago. Authorities believe a gas main ruptured, causing the massive explosion that ripped apart the police station and claimed the lives of everyone inside. Among the deceased, at least six police officers and staff, including sheriff Melvin Dodd, deputy Phil Amici, and secretary Nancy Fitzgerald as well as three FBI agents, identified as Steven Groves, Calvin Reidy, and Victor Henriksen." As she was talking, pictures of them popped up on the screen. "Three fugitives in custody were also killed. We'll continue to follow the story here at the scene, but for now, back to you, Jim."

Guilt washed over you as Ruby turned off the television and looked at the three of you with an 'I-told-you-so' look.

"Must have happened right after we left." Sam assumed.

Having watched the news himself in his room, Carter walked through the door that separated their rooms. His eyes immediately searched for his sister.

"Considering the size of the blast..." Ruby started, tossing hex bags to each of you. "...smart money's on Lilith."

"What's in these?" Dean looked up at her.

"Something that'll protect you. Throw Lilith off your trail... for the time being, at least."

"Thanks." Sam said.

"Don't thank me. Lilith killed everyone. She slaughtered your precious little virgin, plus a half a dozen other people. So after your big speech about humanity and war, turns out your plan? was the one with the body count. Do you know how to run a battle? You strike fast and you don't leave any survivors. So no one can go running to tell the boss. So next time... we go with my plan." Ruby said before leaving the motel room.

Carter crouched down in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. You sat silently, staring at the hex bag in your hands.

"It's my fault." You said, eyes full with tears.

"No, it's not. You tried to save them."

"And now they're all dead." You looked up at him, letting the tears fall form your eyes.

"Listen to me." Carter held your cheeks, making sure you were paying attention to him. "I know that now it feels like you killed them, but you didn't. That's what demons do, they play with our humanity, they take advantage of it and then they stab you in the back. I didn't kill Mom, just like you didn't kill Nancy, Phil and Victor. Dorian and Lilith did."

"He is right." Dean said, sitting down next to you, hugging you by the shoulders and pulling you close to his body. You buried your face in his chest and reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. Dean squeezed your hand softly.

"You guys keep on hunting, I'm going to make sure Ophelia and Dorian pay for what they did to us." Carter stated as he stood up. "I promise you, sis. I'll make it all up to you."

Keep Reading: Chapter Twelve

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