#Even though it’d be pretty easy to figure out it’s me if you knew me and found it lol

[theforesteldritch]

Face blocked by my phone because I’m not showing that on here and I need a haircut but I was really feeling like myself today which was nice so rare Micah theforesteldritch photo I guess. I like how this flannel makes my shoulders look broader.

Not pictured: my new favorite jeans which are awesome and are already comfy and will be even more so after I wear them more

[geeks-universe]

The Fallen pt. 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Cooper Howard x F!Angel!Reader

A/N: This contains smut.

Cooper was angry.

No, he’d been angry when the shit-for-brains had the audacity to look at you like he was stripping your body bare with his eyes.

Now, he was furious.

Rage was an easy emotion, a comfortable one. For years it’d been his only companion, and slipping back into its familiar embrace felt almost natural to him.

Lucy had been too preoccupied with saying goodbye to her lover boy to see the carefully lidded fury, a snake in the grass ready to strike.

You’d noticed though.

Of course you noticed, just like you did every other damn thought that crossed his mind. Maybe you’d noticed the hundred different ways he’d imagined popping that weasel’s head off, of making you pay for the tiniest bit of himself he couldn’t let die.

When you’d proclaimed a shelter for the night- a sad little shack with three walls- Lucy had wandered off with some lame excuse of looking for supplies, the dog trotting happily along with her. Or maybe it was checking the perimeter. He didn’t care, hoped she died, really.

You set a lantern on the ground between the two of you, laying out your pack to get comfortable on the floor. Cooper didn’t bother, couldn’t sit down while the fire burned through his veins. It roared through every inch of his body, consuming him with a vexation he hadn’t felt in a long time.

That fucking roach should’ve lost his hands for touching you, for thinking himself deserving of your silky skin.

“You should rest.”

He barked a laugh- a harsh, aggravated noise wrangled from his chest.

“Ain’t as delicate as you.”

It was meant to be an insult, and fuck didn’t that just piss him off that you let it slide right off you. Unbothered, the same way you’d been the day he first met you.

The same way you’d been when that rat had scurried to you, vying for your attention.

“Coop-“

“So now you want to speak to me?” He straightened his back, standing to his full height as he glared down at your sitting figure.

It was an intimidation tactic, and he knew you well enough to know that it wouldn’t have the effect he was hoping, but it would make you privy to his frustrations.

“Seems like I’m a great choice when I’m the only one.”

Confusion furrowed your brows, quickly replaced by understanding. You let out a low sigh, eyes tracing Cooper’s figure in the dim light.

He didn’t like that you could be so calm, that you didn’t feel his wrath.

“You’re jealous.”

He snarled, angry at the insinuation- even more so that it was correct. It wasn’t just jealousy though.

You were his.

He hadn’t had something worth holding onto in a long damn time, and nobody would take what was his.

“If I was jealous everytime you opened those pretty legs for someone else, I’d never get any rest.”

Your eyes flashed- hurt, followed quickly by anger.

Good.

He wanted you angry.

Wanted you to feel the inferno in your chest, the way he did- to let it consume you in a blaze of abandon, come undone at the seams and show the person beneath.

“We’re not doing this,” you stated bluntly, still holding onto the last bit of restraint.

That wouldn’t do.

He wanted you unraveled, raw.

“Runnin’ won’t change a damn thing.”

Your hands pressed into your knees, a quick outlet of irritation before you stood up. Your eyes were still burning, but it wasn’t enough. You still had too much control.

“You’re such an ass.”

The smirk he flashed was cruel.

“‘M honest,” he argued, “and doesn’t that just piss you off?”

Your chest expanded with a deep breath, eyes unfocused as you talked yourself down. He was so close, you just needed a little push.

“Poor little dove, just wants to run away from her problems like she did her family.”

Bingo.

Faster than a blink, you were in his face, your teeth bared as you raised a fist. He took the opportunity, watching your rage swelter as he grabbed hold of your wrist and twisted it behind you.

Fuck if your rage wasn’t the most intoxicating thing- the rise and fall of your chest hypnotic, the bare of your teeth captivating. You growled, an angry, ominous noise that went straight to his cock.

Your back was pressed against his front, moving with the rhythm of your erratic breathing, teasing friction exactly where he wanted you. His fingers pressed into your wrist harder, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. You weren’t fighting his hold- waiting, listening.

“Maybe that’s why your daddy left you too.”

Your eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire as you tried to pull your hand from him. He held fast though, put every ounce of his strength into restraining you. You lashed out like a wild animal, movements irrational and erratic. Finally, when it was clear you wouldn’t get free, you spit at him.

“Fuck you.”

It was the most vulgar he’d ever heard you, his wrath mixing with desire. Warmth seeped into his cheek where your spit had landed, and in a quick kick of his legs, he dropped you to your knees hard.

And wasn’t that a damn sight.

“If that sweet mouth wants to be filthy so bad, why don’t we put it to good use.”

He talked slow, controlled, as he grabbed your hair, pulling your head back. Wild eyes traced the arch of your back, the smooth column of your exposed neck.

He wanted to take a bite.

Your eyes were burning into his, an anger he’d never seen before from you shining through. You looked like you hated him, like you’d burn him on the spot.

“Now, sweetheart, try not to use your teeth.”

He clicked open his belt buckle, positioning himself just enough to free his hardened length. He’d dreamt of this moment, had pleasured himself to the thought of you more than he could count. The realization that it was coming to fruition had him so hard it fucking hurt. He took pride at the hunger in your gaze, your mouth still twisted in a scowl.

“Don’t act all innocent now.”

Almost as if it were a challenge, spurred on by your temper, your hot mouth took his entire length in one quick movement and-

Holy fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You were impossibly warm, your tongue sliding the length of his cock while your eyes, the ones he’d spent so long admiring, stared into his own. You held his gaze, refused to look away as you hollowed your cheeks, daring him to keep going.

He didn’t disappoint, wrapping his hand around your hair just like he’d done with his lasso. Sturdy hands forced you to take him to the base of his cock, before pulling back out. He thrusted back in hard, unconcerned with the tears that gathered in your eyes as he slammed into your throat.

You were defiant in the way you took him, forcing a harsher pace than the one he’d set.

This had to have been heaven. Nothing on Earth could possibly feel this fucking good. His thrusts were feral, unrelenting, and you were meeting them with ferocity, your pretty lips wrapped so perfectly around his cock.

“Takin’ me so good,” he groaned, his abdomen spasming. The sound of your gags filled the air, tearing through any restraint he might’ve had.

It’d been a while since he’d felt any sort of pleasure, even longer since it’d been anything more than a quick fuck.

This, though…

This was a whole different beast.

Fuck.

He wiped at the saliva coating his cheek, staring into your eyes as he slid his fingers into his mouth, tasting your sweetness.

You moaned, and he was sure this had to be a dream.

Reality had never been this nice.

“My filthy girl.”

Another moan, and this one almost dropped him to his knees. Pleasure tingled up his spine, down to the tips of his fingers and the bottom of his toes. His body was practically vibrating, begging him for release.

He didn’t want it yet, wanted this moment to last an eternity. His cock was pounding into your mouth, your fingernails digging into his thighs- sweet pain mixed with hot pleasure.

Please, his body sung, begging for a release he desperately fought against.

His pace was brutal, chasing the high he both wanted more than anything, and wished would never come.

It wasn’t enough.

This wasn’t enough.

He needed more.

Needed all of you.

“You are mine.”

He emphasized on a growl, savoring the taste of you that still lingered on his tongue.

He was desperate for more, for every damn piece of yourself you’d give him. It’d never be enough, not enough time in the universe to get the fill of you he wanted- needed.

He was close now, only holding on by sheer will, and all it took was a tilt of your head and a long, low moan of what he only prayed was his name around his length.

Like a band, his restraint snapped, his hips surging forward as he grunted your name.

Fuck.

Fuck, his body was singing.

Fuck. Curses, unbidden, were falling from his lips. Pleas, praises, worships- fuck it all he couldn’t even tell anymore, blinded by the feel of your mouth.

It was hot, so hot, and you swallowed every drop he gave you, his sensitive cock was twitching, his knees trembling with the effort to stay on his feet.

You kept going though, pulling your lips back just far enough to lick his length clean, your eyes still so full of fire, the same fire racing through his body.

It was so much, too much almost, and yet he gave into the torturous pleasure, desperate for you, for whatever you’d give him.

His hat had fallen off his head when he threw it back, his legs shaking as you finally pulled away- and despite the overstimulation, his body still chased your mouth, not ready to feel the empty, consuming void left in your wake.

A breath.

A moment to consider what he’d done, what he’d said to you. It wasn’t anger in your eyes- not regret, either. He couldn't read it, couldn't grasp what you were feeling.

His heart pounded against his chest, exhausted arms releasing your hair as he slowly, cautiously, raised his fingers to your cheeks. Tears had fallen from how far he’d thrust himself into you. He wiped them away, let them press into the fabric of his gloves, as the air grew thick.

It was a soft moment, a gentle one, and he didn’t want to be the first to pull away.

So you did.

You got your feet and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, your jaw flexing as you looked like you hadn’t just sucked him fucking dry.

He tucked himself back in his pants and secured his belt, waiting for you to speak. It was a tense moment, drawn longer by the way you wet your lips, like you wanted to talk but couldn’t quite form the words.

“Oh, fudge, are you two okay?”

His finger itched with the desire to end the vaultie for interrupting this, for causing you to cast a worried glance in her direction before your damn walls were thrown back up. Whatever you’d been about to say, you definitely wouldn’t now.

“Just peachy,” you smiled, one that screamed inauthenticity as you took a step to face away from Lucy.

“Think I need some air though, I’ll be back in a bit.”

It was a dismissal if he ever heard one, and the vault dweller had the good sense not to try and follow.

“Your hat’s on the ground, there.”

She went to pick it up for him, but he swooped down before she had the chance and deposited it on his head. On a good day he didn’t have the patience for her, but right now he was feeling downright venomous.

“So-“

“Leave it.”

His words were final, tone brokering no argument. That was the only bit of grace he’d give her- one more word and his reply would be a bullet. She understood, could see the tension in his stance and gave him the space he desired.

But it wasn’t space he wanted.

It was you.

It was your voice, so gentle and melodic.

It was your touch, sweet and resolute- full of heat, of passion, of something that resembled life.

Instead, he got the cold, hard ground and a head full of vicious thoughts. Why did you plague his thoughts the way you did? Why did you make him feel so fucking human?

He didn’t want to.

Didn’t want that, any of it.

Not the fucking feelings, not the guilt, not the stupid fucking spark of hope in his cold, dead heart.

Let Cooper Howard die.

But it wasn’t that simple.

All of the anger in the world couldn’t turn his affection for you to hatred. It was a stubborn thing, and a solid one. No amount of pressure could bend it. He’d just learned to live with it- a deficiency he’d carry for the rest of his miserable time on Earth.

He fell to the ground there, not bothering with getting comfortable, almost like it was a punishment. Truth be told, he didn’t have the fight in his veins anymore, didn’t wish to have to struggle to get comfortable.

He was ready to lie down and accept what he earned.

His eyes slipped shut, and though the vault dweller fell into a light sleep easily, he could not. His mind simply wouldn’t stop, kept replaying that look in your eyes.

What did it mean?

Did you hate him?

He wouldn’t blame you, could never fault you for hating the monstrous thing he’d become. He’d bet you’d have fallen in love with him before- Cooper Howard, the gentleman.

That was the kind of thing you deserved, the kind of life he’d dreamt about with you.

He’d love you in those dreams, so unconditionally and flawlessly, with no restraint or regret. He’d praised the ground you walked on, and would cherish every moment he had with you.

Not now.

He couldn’t love that way, not anymore- didn’t want to, didn’t remember how, if he were honest.

There was a quiet, tempered crunch of sand, a boot moving slowly towards him.

He knew those steps though, knew that it was you who approached him. He kept his eyes shut, curious as to what your intent was.

If you killed him, so be it.

“Cooper,” you breathed.

It was a prayer, an admission, and a promise. He didn’t reply, didn’t even crack open an eye, just listened with all the ravenous hunger of a starving man, hoping you would say more.

You didn’t.

A shadow casted from behind his lids as you knelt down, reminiscent of earlier, but of your own volition. This wasn’t with rage, with an animalistic hunger.

This was with compassion, with something that resembled fondness.

A soft exhale left your parted lips, and if he imagined hard enough, he could see the expression you wore. It was kind, open- something he rarely saw anymore.

A weight settled on his chest then, your head pressed snug against the tattered shirt he wore. An arm wrapped around his middle, holding him close to your warmth. The words you spoke in then sounded lyrical, more natural than anything you’d ever said before.

He didn’t know the meaning, wasn’t even sure what language it was- but a heat emanated from the feather he’d tucked into his chest pocket, and he understood that it was you sharing a piece of yourself.

He listened to the beating of his own heart, the slowing of your breaths, as he felt a peace wash over himself that he thought was long gone.

There, in the dim glow of a worn lantern, with the most beautiful soul he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting tucked into his side, Cooper Howard emerged- the man he was- if only for a moment.

Tags: @lacontroller1991 @giggle-shade

[broken-slime-boi]

Crimson’s hand tapped against his thigh rhythmically as he took a deep breath. He wouldn’t say that he was unhappy being here, watching this competition, but it was even harder than it usually was for him to forget his situation.

There were so many versions of himself and his family here, exact versions. Don- Cerulean said they were from “bifurcated time branches”. Whatever that meant. Most were younger, but some were closer to the family he knew. The one he left behind.

Smack!

His head shot up, eyes landing directly on a smiling Cerulean. He looked to where he was smacked at the top of his plastron and found a sticker that said ‘VOTE FOR GHOST’. He heaved another sigh. Well, the relative peace was nice while it lasted, he supposed.

“What is this?” He pointed to the sticker.

“That, my dear brother, is a sticker promoting one of the competitors. Turns out that ‘Ghost’ is a temporal variant of our young Donatello. As such, Mike and I entered us into the cul-… I mean.. club dedicated to this turtle and his kids.”

Crimson gave him the ‘Big Brother Look’, “Donnie… It’s not really a club, is it?”

Donnie made that guilty face that he always did when he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. To his credit, though, he didn’t start sweating this time. Donnie opened his beak to defend himself, but was cut short by the newly-familiar voice of Don.

“Hey guys!”

The younger turtle was walking towards them, flanked by his brothers and wearing a cloak. He noticed Mike had a mischievous smile on his face. Oh boy. Were they sure he wasn't secretly a Leo?

When Don reached them, he flipped the hood up and flared the cloak. He was grinning almost ear to ear. “Guess who I am?”

Now that Crimson thought about it, he looked almost exactly like the turtle from all the posters. He chuckled and rubbed Don’s head affectionately.

“Hmm. Are you… that Emperor Palpatine guy?”

Mike and Raphie laughed while Lee tried to hide a giggle behind his hand. Don scowled and crossed his arms, but there was very little weight behind it. “Ha ha. Hilarious.”

Crimson gave him a pat on the shell, “You know I’m just messin’ with you, big guy. That is a pretty cool Ghost cosplay.”

“Also, those shorts are a nice touch, I must say. The foam must be very comfortable.” Cerulean added from beside him, sporting a slight smirk.

“Yeah. They are comfortable, act-… Foam?”

Don turned to the side and looked down, moving the cloak out of the way. Lo and behold, he was wearing a pair of purple shorts that had a foam butt. The words ‘GHOST CULT’ were printed on the backside.

Don stared flabbergasted for a moment before turning to Mike.

“When the shell did you give me ass shorts?!”

Mike bursted out cackling. Raphie gave Don an awkward and confused look.

“Donny. Bro. Did you seriously not notice?”

“No?!”

Mike tried to shuffle away, but Don caught him by the shell and started dragging him away. “You’re not getting away that easy, Mikey. Let’s see what kind of ridiculous clothes we can put you into.”

“Nooo… Don! It was a joke, come on!”

——————————————

Since this au (Brains & Brawn 2^) was inspired by @amevello-blue’s Ghost in the Shell, I figured it’d make sense to make the boys part of the Ghost Cult.

The main gist of Brains & Brawn 2^ is that instead of dying in the apocalypse, Rise future Raph (Crimson) and future Donnie (Cerulean) got sent to the 03 dimension instead. Over time they become the big bros/uncles to their younger counterparts.

Anyways vote for Ghost in the Shell in the @tmntaucompetition!

[angelmichelangelo]

so i just want to talk about the whole donnie and april thing from the 2012 series since i have a lot of thoughts on them both and need somewhere to just. get it out my system.

so off the bat im gonna say i’m pretty neutral about the april/donnie ship. i.. don’t really care for it but if it’s there it’s not gonna overly bother me. i’m pretty much on the fence for most things tmnt ship related (though, big exception for woodyangelo just cus. lol) that being said i do have some thoughts about how it was handled in the 2012 show.

as most people might agree, the writing for these two wasn’t great. i think, just in my humble opinion, that the writers kinda ping ponged back and forth depending on fandom criticism of the ship. one minute the relationship seemed to be slowly developing, a nice easy slow burn and then it’d take a sharp turn and it was back to a lot of uncomfortable pining and uncertainty as to where they would both end up. i think the writers wanted to appease both ends of the fandom here by making it somewhat ambiguous but it kinda blew up in their faces. big time.

so then you have the people who put all the blame on april for this. “she’s leading donnie on!” “she’s playing with both donnie and casey!” “she just wants the attention!” and, yeah. maybe. but here’s my defence: (bad writing aside for a moment, let’s pretend that all of this was done on purpose) april doesn’t know what she wants. when we meet april in the show it’s evident that she’s a little dorky and uncool and she doesn’t have ANY friends. she has irma but it seems to be one of those friendships built out of pure convenience. “oh you don’t have friends, i don’t have friends. cool. let’s hang out.” in every scene they have together it’s awkward and weird because they don’t really seem to click. april has like, as little social skills as the turtles. she doesn’t have friends let alone have TWO guys show her any appreciation and affection. how is she supposed to know how to deal with all that? she’s a teenage girl, feelings are complicated.

and some people might blame donnie. “he kept persisting even when she gave clear hints” “he was being a weirdo about it” “he made her uncomfortable” donnie is a teenage boy who happens to be a mutant. a mutant that lives underground and had never even MET a girl until they saved april. donnie’s only point of reference for romance is what he’s most likely seen on tv or in books. it’s that really cheesy affectionate stuff that might work in movies, but in real life is just strange. donnie has even less social skills that april. he’s only ever had his brothers and dad to talk to. he doesn’t know how to communicate his feelings properly because up until he met april, he probably never even knew what it was to have a crush on somebody

my headcanon for these two is that donnie is clearly autistic. he’s very overly empathetic towards april but can’t understand why his efforts aren’t paying off like he thinks they will. i think april being a young teenage girl with a lot on her plate, might not recognise why donnie is acting this way. ive seen a lot of people also headcanon that april is aromantic which i totally 100% love and agree with. i don’t think she recognises this in the way donnie recognises his own autism. it causes them to clash, and neither of them really understand why that is, and can’t quite communicate it to the other until they’ve figured themselves out.

a lot of people say that 2012 ruined the donnie and april friendship that was pretty strong throughout the franchise but honestly, even the 2003 show had pepperings of donnie’s slight crush on april, even back then. it’s not as obvious but it was definitely there. obviously it never got brought up, which imo is a little heartbreaking to think of poor don harbouring these secret feelings for his friend and then having to just. get over it when she marries casey but i think their friendship is still pretty special to them both that it eventually stops becoming an issue for him.

2012 donnie was a social wreck. he had no clue what he was doing and i think the writers could have done waaaay better in making that less of a fault and more of just. idk. just something that made people hate him a little less. it’s in the same vein as mikey’s adhd. i think the writing was a product of its time and that’s why mutant mayhem tackles those issues way way better than 2012 ever did.

it could also be said that donnie and april don’t even really have a lot in common, like some iterations. she’s smart but she’s not a scientist, and donnie’s crush is first of all born out of just physical looks, meaning that maybe donnie just happened to latch onto her because he felt a teeny glimpse of normality (“i could love a girl and she could love me back”) and kinda just held onto that. any of the other girls in the show, donnie doesn’t really draw himself towards but that’s because the other girls are mostly his brothers love interests and donnie is a firm believing in sticking to the bro code lmao (although maybe just from mikey’s perspective, but donnie does seem quite friendly with renet but that might have just been a 2003 callback perhaps, but they have more in common than her and mikey do)

all in all, the donnie/april thing could have been handled way better, especially with casey thrown into the mix. but is there one person solely responsible for the way their relationship played out? absolutely not. they both crossed some boundaries and both made some mistakes that backfired but like i said, they are far from perfect and looking back on their arc together, it’s a little heartbreaking to see how.. unsure they both are, of themselves and of each other. but that’s just my two cent on the whole thing.

i don’t think female characters were the 2012 writers strong point sadly and april suffered as a result but i genuinely think in her good moments, she shines. and donnie isn’t a creep, he’s just a good kid that wants to find his own happiness, even if he looks in the wrong places, both their intentions are good, i believe.

okay rant over sound off in the tags/replies what you think of the donnie/april dynamic in 2012 😎

[house-afire]

Scientific Reasoning (Frenchie/Izzy, post-S2)

Prompt: 100 words of unusual logic

No matter how often Izzy insisted his gut-wound had healed up soundly, Frenchie—irritating twat—only had to see him wince once, and he’d order Izzy off-duty.

The fucking crew didn’t even have the decency to object to this.

“You are looking kind of tired, Izzy,” Fang said.

“Plus you’re even more of a dick when you’re hurting,” Lucius added. “And you just threatened to drown me in a water barrel, so ….”

Everyone nodded at that.

“We’ll know you’re back to normal when you just stick to yelling about maiming,” Jim said.

Izzy glared at them all and stomped off.

“Feel better!” Oluwande called after him.

He was tempted to go back to his old room, but turning himself out of Frenchie’s bed felt too much like a childish sulk even to him. He wouldn’t seem beleaguered; he’d just look like a cunt. He headed to the captain’s quarters instead.

He hadn’t realized Frenchie was already there. Two months of this—whatever it was—and he still felt a catch in his chest when Frenchie gave him that easy smile.

Felt more than that when Frenchie kissed the scowl off him and untied his cravat, his fingers a hot brush against Izzy’s throat.

Izzy wanted to just sway into his hands—maybe get down on his knees and do the kind of job he would fucking hope Frenchie would still let him handle on his own—but he couldn’t keep on being coddled like this. He had to say so, so he did. So he said it against Frenchie’s neck and had his teeth scraping Frenchie’s jawline for half of it, fine, that didn’t mean it hadn’t been fucking said.

Besides, Frenchie understood him anyway. “If it makes you feel better,” he said, letting Izzy steer him over to the bed, “I thought about it, and this—” He grazed his hand over Izzy’s latest scar, like it wasn’t an ugly red mess, like it was a gorgeous knee-knocker of a thing just for being there, when it could have just been an open wound in a cold corpse. “This is the last serious hit you’re ever going to take. So once you’re all healed up—”

“I fucking am!”

“Once Roach says you’re all healed up,” Frenchie said, being too clearheaded for a man getting his trousers undone, “then the way I see it is, you’ll be more or less bulletproof, won’t you?”

Izzy boggled at him. “How the fuck do you figure that?”

“Glad you asked,” Frenchie said, lying back and putting his hands behind his head. “Since we met, you’ve been shot twice, yeah?”

“Nice of you to keep track.”

“Well, the first time, Ed made me the new first mate. And the second time, one thing leads to another, power vacuum, B&B openings, all that—I get elected captain. So I feel bad about it, but I think you only get shot so I can get promoted. And I’m at the top of the career ladder now, so you’re—”

“Bulletproof,” Izzy said.

“Just logic, really,” Frenchie said. “Scientific reasoning.”

It was fucking nonsense. And Frenchie looked so satisfied with it that there was no way he didn’t know it: Izzy knew the way he looked when he’d come up with a line of pure bullshit that’d outfoxed some deserving asshole of a mark, and it was this exact pose: all cheerful accomplishment and like butter wouldn’t melt in that pretty mouth of his. Only this time, Izzy supposed it was fate Frenchie was looking to outfox.

He was too old to believe that sort of thing was possible. But he was also old enough that his edges had started to fucking crumble, and he wasn’t hard and sharp enough anymore to see the worth in putting out the light in someone’s eyes. In making them admit that the world was harsh and unkind.

He wasn’t even that interested in making himself admit it, these days. When he was with Frenchie and the rest of them, he wasn’t even all that sure it was true.

Izzy couldn’t say any of that, though. It’d be a snake eating its own tail, and its tail would taste like fucking treacle besides.

Instead, he said, “I’ll be shit-out-of-luck if we ever get a fleet, then. Best keep a pistol loaded if you want to make admiral.”

Frenchie curled one hand over the back of Izzy’s neck and pulled him down.

“I’m good without it,” he said. “Who needs a fleet, when you come down to it? I don’t want a number two ship. Just a number one Iz.”

Izzy closed his eyes, something inside him stuttering and stilling.

“Then we’ll both do fine,” he said. “‘Captain’ sounds better than ‘Admiral’ anyway.”

“It’s just got more verve to it,” Frenchie agreed. He traced Izzy’s scar again, that same achingly stunned look on his face. “Don’t think I could ever go for anything else.”

[ashes-writing-corner]

A bit of a shorter update tonight guys! But I hope you like it anyway ^^

TW: mentions abuse/childhood trauma, non descriptive.

Taglist: @stargatenovus

Ghosts That We Knew

13- A Dead Man's Letter

You were still on the hunt for a therapist weeks after the confrontation with Ghost. Getting one wasn’t easy, and to be honest you weren’t in any rush to find one. It wasn’t that you had lied to him, at least not intentionally. You had already mentioned you didn’t like therapists, you didn’t trust them. You didn’t want to be just another doctor’s paycheck. It wasn’t like they cared about you anyway. However, to set Ghost’s mind at ease, you told Ellie’s therapist you were searching for one. Thankfully for you, they were more than willing to help you find an ideal one. 

For the time being, you were perfectly fine with running your business, which was doing pretty well. Life went on as normal. You kept Simon’s file in a locked safe in your room, so no one could get to it and you still had it close at hand in case you needed it. But on more than one occasion you found an envelope either on your bed, your nightstand, or on the floor in your room. You knew what it was. Simon’s letter. Ghost was asking you to read it, without speaking of course. Needing to regain his strength, he had gone quiet in the weeks following. 

You sat in bed, contemplating opening it, when your phone rang. An unknown number…

You didn’t pick it up, as you didn’t pick up unknown numbers. If it was important they’d leave a message. You flipped the silent phone over, thinking it wouldn’t be so distracting as you picked up the envelope. But after a minute, you just decided to put it in the nightstand and just focus on what it was he had written. Taking a slightly shaking breath, you decided to open the letter and give it a read, being delicate so as not to rip anything. The paper was already yellowing a little, meaning he wrote this a good long time ago. You blinked as you took in Simon Riley’s handwriting, which admittedly wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t illegible. 

To the poor soul reading this, 

Since you’re reading this, two things have happened. 1. I’m dead. And 2. You’re the poor sap who got stuck with this heart. Just to let you know, you’re only one of a few letters I’ll be writing, as I’m hoping all my bits get used. Hell knows I’m not using them anymore. 

A heart’s a heavy burden, and believe me I know that better than most. You’ve probably read all my stuff, as I signed the release forms earlier today. Without it, it’d be illegal for you to even see my records. But as the knew…keeper, I guess, for arguably my most important organ, I figured that was important info in there for you to know. But it doesn’t tell you everything. Only what you need to know. Maybe some notes from therapy thrown in for flavor, mental evaluations and all that. But they don’t tell you a damn thing about me. Who I was, what I wanted from life, all of that. Things about me that not even my closest friends know, few as they are.  The dreams I had, the hopes I mislaid. They’re not mine anymore. But…I want you to know this: They aren’t yours either. 

The truth is, I wanted to spend my life making the world a better place, so no one has to know what it means to suffer the way I did. This isn’t meant for you to pity me, but to understand why I made the decision to become a soldier and a donor. I lived a hard life, came from a bad home with a half mad father and, for a time, a drug abusing brother. I rose above that though, challenging as it was. I got my brother the help he needed, kicked our father out, and did my best to make sure everyone was happy before I made that choice. You, whoever you are, are the last person I’m saving, and the one who’s face at the very least I won’t know. And yet you’re being trusted with the most vital part of me…crazy isn’t it? And I don’t trust easy admittedly. 

All I got is one last wish, one last demand. I want you to live. I want you to live your life, and live it in the best way you can. Live it harmlessly, if you can. Help others when you can, but don’t enslave yourself. Live selfishly, at least a little, something I never got to do. Live…fully. I guess is what I’m trying to say. 

And drop that thought most likely going through your head: “This heart isn’t mine”. Trust me, it’s yours. It was meant to be yours the second I signed that paper to become a donor. This heart was always mine to lose, and it was always yours to gain. No matter what your silly brain is telling you, I’m telling you this right bloody now: I did not die because of you. You. Did. Not. Do. This. I chose, as I always have. And now you have a choice. Choose better than me. Choose to live your life. Be a bit selfish, because I wasn’t always able to be. But live. Just…live. And know, even though we’ll never meet, know that I’m so proud of you for fighting this battle, whatever it is that landed you this. I’m happy that I got to help you. And now you know the only thing I ask in return. 

Live your life. And take care of my heart. It was always meant to be yours, in some way or another…

Stay frosty. 

Simon “Ghost” Riley, out. 

You didn’t know what to think when you read it. It seemed a bit devoid of emotion, but it was rather matter of fact. The last part got to you. It wasn’t exactly a confession as he stated, but a reiteration of the truth. Simon lived on. Was living on. And he was doing it through you. There was something so humbling about that, now that you were thinking about it with a clearer head. It didn’t entirely change how you felt, but it put it in a different light. The familiar feeling you had at the beginning of your friendship now made more sense. Simon was a part of you now. 

Taking your phone out, you decided to see who had called, and lo and behold they left a message. You listened to the voicemail, heart pounding. An unfamiliar male voice sounded. 

“Hey, Y/N, I think that’s what Soap called you? Anyway, he told me about your situation. My name’s John Price and I’m also interested in meeting you. I hope you don’t mind, there’s actually two of us coming with him, the other being Kyle Garrick. We look forward to meeting you and hopefully clearing some stuff up” there was a pause before the man continued, “We were there that night, Y/N. The night of your transplant. As I said, I can’t wait to meet you, and I hope you and your kiddo are doing okay. Don’t hesitate to give me, Soap, or Gaz a ring, alright?” he proceeded to give you the number of their last member, Kyle Garrick, before ending the message. 

You almost dropped the phone. 

They were there. 

They. were. there…

If you guys enjoyed this please consider liking, reblogging, and commenting! Yall seriously give me life and keep me motivated! Thank you so much ^^

[seasonal-writes]

“how do you talk to star?” - title from the song of the same name by everybody’s worried about owen (since it’s back up, ao3 link is here!) characters: jimmy (mainly)/tango cw: none unless you consider the insane amount of introspective themes throughout this thing. so! little note! guess who wrote something new and finished it. for the first time in months. it is short, i am rusty, and i DEFINITELY wouldn’t say it’s my best work but i like the concept a lot and churned this short and sweet little introspective fic last night in a writing haze! i missed four calls from my family members help.

It is based on this prompt list, specifically number 7. :) hope you all enjoy this super short, ramble-y, jimmy is very much pining one-shot! ~

Jimmy has learned it takes nothing. Barely a glance, he has found, for all of the sediment—that he thought was long stationary—to be kicked up again, to clog every artery and leave him struggling to breathe.  His conundrum lies in the side profile of Tango. The curve of the tip of his forehead, drooping into the bridge of his nose and rolling over two delicate hills of pretty, thin lips. Yes, he with the dancing eyebrows and teeth flashing, pulling against his lip when he grins and eyes that almost sparkle in sync. Tango—devastatingly, heart-achingly, undeniably and beyond beautiful Tango who has yet to notice his staring.  If Jimmy were to be grateful for anything, he’d be grateful for the obliviousness of his quarry.  Tango, in a stunning move, laughs without a care in the world. It’s so loud and clear and Jimmy feels a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip, the cause of such being obvious to anyone who may notice his ogling. Though, making a home in the corner of this crowded living room, he has no intentions of intruding. Of course, maybe he wishes he was the one making Tango laugh like that. Maybe he wishes that intoxicating gaze could be on him, rather than those who engage him. “You know, you can just go talk to him, right?” Grian asks, a gentle nudge of Jimmy’s elbow making him turn. Jimmy snorts.  Maybe that’s the problem, isn’t it? Jimmy probably could just go talk to him. He’d been watching him for so long, for so many occasions—if he were a more attentive man, he’d have studied the patterns by now. He’d understand every little joke, made a note of everything that could make him more appealing, more fun to talk to. Instead, he gets lost in it. When he tries to keep track, he fails. Being analytical was never his strong suit, and it never failed him more than when he was trying to figure out how to talk to the one he is very much in love with. The one who, as far as he knows, is very much not in love with him.  “We talk,” Jimmy says, “We’re just friends, that’s what friends do” “Yeah, Tim, and I’m just an idiot.” “You said it, not me.” Jimmy tries to say it seriously, but he can’t help the grin. “I bet he’d like to chat. You two always get along well,” Grian says, dodging the jab flawlessly and turning his eyes to Tango, the two now watching from the shadows.  “Well- yeah, I guess.”  Another problem. They did get along well. Too well, in fact. He had friends, had people who he could count on and talk to or laugh with. Jimmy even knew what it felt like to be flirted with, to be teased in that way. But it never quite felt the same when it was with Tango. And it just confused him anyway, was Tango flirting with him? Was he flirting back? He knows well that sometimes he just stumbles into things without looking first, that was no doubt. It could very well be that Jimmy was just fooling himself, wandering into something that he didn’t get a good look at before exposing his neck to the danger of misinterpretation.  Maybe, in reality, Tango was just indulging him—even if he is a really, really good guy, the concept was dangerously easy for Jimmy to trust.  “I just think that if you’d get off your perch and just go up to him, or wave or- geez, just stop staring and do something, it’d probably be fine.”  “I appreciate your suggestions, but I am comfortable right here,” Jimmy says, “He’s busy, anyway- see?” He nods up in the general direction of Tango, noting how he is casually conversing with Impulse and Zed, who keep him engaged. Grian groans.  “Not gonna be busy forever, man.” “Well, I can’t go talk to him right now, then. Maybe later.”  He feels Grian clap a hand onto his shoulder, sighing. “Whatever you say, Tim. But those feelings are just going to fester till you say something, you know.” “..I’ll- I’ll take my chances,” Jimmy mutters, swallowing hard.  He only glances at Grian for a second while he moves off into the rest of the party, not bothering to track where he’s heading once he leaves.  When he finds Tango again, there’s not much of a difference. Zed left. Impulse still has him explaining something. He can tell by how his hands move, how his gestures get big and small and create the shapes of whatever figures are drawn out in his mind. Jimmy always admired that. He’d gotten it up close, once, when Tango got into one of his redstone rambles and talked at Jimmy while he just nodded and smiled and listened, despite having zero clue about what he was saying. Jimmy may not be good at redstone, but he’s sure if he was asked what he liked about Tango, he would go into the same sort of ramble. Big hand gestures, small hand gestures—anything to properly convey how smitten he had him.  Tango had no idea.  Jimmy was sure, at this point, he was destined for a forever’s worth of pining. A lifetime of restless stomachs, of rocking heartbeats that sound more like scattered drums than something meant to keep him alive. He will spend the majority of his days avoiding the fire and getting used to the cold of the corners, growing fond of the way his eyes glaze over as if he has stared at the sun for a little too long. … and.. still.  Something inside of him roared, clawed at its cage and said let me out, said tell him. He couldn’t really tell what was holding him back—was it just fear? Anyone would be scared to confess, sure. It could be the rejection, the dreamt up, awkward and letting-you-down-easy smile. The sorry, I’m just not into you that way. Or, maybe, it was the worry that things would go well. After all, they had gotten to know each other closely. Teaming up will do that to you. Talking almost every day will do that to you. Running into each other at parties, taking walks, talking about redstoning and building and bearing your every wound to each other almost shamelessly on the bad days and sharing in the joys on the good days, as if it was always meant to be just like this. Jimmy feels himself suddenly come back into himself like a head slamming into a wall, taking note of an astonishing development.   Tango is looking at him. Impulse now gone from sight, he leans against the same wall, but he is looking. Then offering an adorable wave with a tiny smile, Tango straightens his shoulders when Jimmy waves back, like some attempt to make himself look taller—and with the rush of feelings rolling over Jimmy, he feels adrenaline-fueled laughter forcing its way to the surface; it comes out in a quiet wheeze.  It finds him right away. The familiar sensation of Jimmy’s insides dropping like a sinking building, leaving nothing but dust-caked breaths that feel sticky, catching in his throat with every other inhale. He is a ruined mess of a man. A weak, mumbled puddle of warmth and heavy pulses and heat.  He is fucked. Royally, deeply, this-is-it fucked. And they stay that way for seconds, but it feels like years, and Jimmy can’t get enough of it.  Loving someone does feel quite good, doesn’t it? And maybe, being loved right back could feel even better. If he could just get over himself and try.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Silas and Wren #11

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: none

Wren felt much better now that Silas had worked it out with Felix. Silas’s anxiety had been rubbing off on him the past two weeks, and he was glad that it was over. 

Unfortunately, he still had the problem from before the debacle; Silas would not have sex with him. But he had a plan. 

He’d given up on romancing Silas. Just another thing slaves were unsuited for apparently. 

There were other ways to get into Silas’s bed.

He showered and scrubbed in all the right places, and pulled on a v-neck shirt. He checked himself in the mirror, and he made sure his hair looked just right.

“You look nice,” commented Silas when he glanced up from his book. 

“Thank you, Master.” He shifted a little. It was easy to think about seducing Silas, but actually doing it was another matter. “What are you reading?”

“Some sci-fi novel.” He sighed and put it to the side. “It’s not really catching my attention, though. I suppose I should return it.” He picked up the book again.

“Want to come with me? It’d be nice to get out of the house.”

“Is that… allowed?” Silas tilted his head.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“I… I don't know. I’ve never done that sort of thing before.”

“Well, vampire towns are pretty similar to human ones. Nothing to worry about.” Silas got up to grab his shoes, and Wren hesitated before following suit. He wasn’t sure Silas really… understood what Wren was. 

He was human only in technicality. All the important parts, the thinking and feeling parts, were different. He wasn’t made to go out into town like a person was. But if Silas wanted him to, he’d figure it out the best he could.

Wren chewed the inside of his cheek, and followed Silas out the door. 

___________________

Master’s house was private with a long driveway, but it was deceptively close to town. Just past the gate was a cobblestone road, and soon they reached a row of townhouses. 

There were people milling about, children playing street games, and music coming from somewhere. Wren shuffled closer to Silas. Weren’t these people supposed to be at work and the kids at school?

Of course. It was Saturday, and he'd forgotten.

He could feel the moment they smelled him. The glance that turned into a gaze, the staring that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

The children were far less subtle, sometimes stopping their games of tag or ball to gape at him. 

He lowered his eyes properly and made sure to follow Silas exactly. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, Master.” 

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’m sorry, Master, I don’t understand.”

Silas put his arm around his shoulder, and leaned in. “You don’t have to look like that,” he whispered, “as if you’re in trouble. Okay?”

“I don’t-”

“Walk next to me, alright? Not behind. And you can look up. No one’s going to hurt you, but you're acting like prey.”

“Yes, Master.”

It felt strange at first, but he quickly got used to it. More pretending, but Silas liked this kind.

Master Silas was strange, too. He couldn’t pinpoint it at first, but Wren knew his Master. 

Silas stood taller, flashed shiny smiles at people who knew him, and waved at neighbors. Even his words were more formal. Gone was the casual “hi” and “hey”, and “hello” and “good afternoon” replaced them.

Maybe he was pretending, too. Weird.

The townhouses gave way to a park, and then the stone stores and brick businesses. 

And to his surprise, he could read the signs.

He stopped and stared at the words. He mouthed them, making sure it wasn’t his imagination. H-a-l-l-m-a-n-’s. Hallman’s. T-o-y-s. Toys. Hallman’s Toys.

Holy shit.

Wren wasn’t sure that Silas’s reading lessons were actually working, but the proof was in front of him.

Lord and La-dy Stit-ching, Ei-leen’s A-po-the-car-y, it went on.

“Still alright?” 

“Master, I can read!” he whispered back.

Silas beamed at him, proud and pleased, and Wren’s heart fluttered.

The library was big, all white stone with columns and tall windows. The inside had plush carpets, and it was nearly silent but for a quiet murmur of people.

Silas put the book in the ‘return’ (how exciting!) pile, and went to wander the shelves.

“How about you go pick something out? To celebrate.” he suggested before strolling off.

Where to start?

He browsed the shelves in ‘my- mys- mystery’. That seemed interesting.

Wren plucked Murder on the Ori- Orient- ? - Express off the bookcase. He’d heard of this one, actually. He wasn’t sure what ‘orient’ meant, but a famous murder mystery book sounded intriguing. 

He was trying to suss out the description on the back when he felt somebody staring at him.

He turned, and it was a small child. She squinted at him.

“Your body’s weird,” she said. “And you smell funny.”

“What?”

“I said you’re weird.”

“Um-”

“Laura!” came a hushed voice, and the girl’s mother came into view. “That’s no way to talk to-” the woman glanced up at him, and Wren flushed. The woman straightened, and gave him an apologetic look.

“Laura, say you’re sorry to the nice man.”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“Speak up honey, human ears aren’t as- um- focused as ours.” 

“It’s fine,” he hurried, “I heard her. It’s okay.”

The little girl lit up. “Are you really a human?” she squealed, and her sudden joy gave him whiplash. “Is that why your eyes are funny?”

“I guess?” he shifted his weight, and Laura’s own eyes followed him like a cat watching a mouse.

“Laura!” said her mother, scandalized. “I’m so sorry, she’s never seen one- I mean- a human before.”

“Really. It’s okay.”

“Honey,” she bent down to her daughter, “how about we pick out a nice book about humans and we leave the lovely man alone.” Her voice was firm, and Laura seemed to pick up on her mother’s urgency.

“Okay, mama. Bye!” She waved.

Wren waved back. 

He went to find Silas. 

The walk home was much better. Smoother, now that he knew what was expected. 

It was an okay day, on reflection. Not a success on the sex front, but the revelation he could actually read more than made up for it.

He put the book on his nightstand. He’d start it another day, because quite frankly he had enough adventure. Fictional adventure could wait until tomorrow.

taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @secretwhumplair @freefallingup13 @mylovelyme @whumpzone @paintedpigeon1 @haro-whumps @whumpthisway @fanastyfinder @extemporary-whump @susiequaz12 @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @the-cyrulik @morning-star-whump @writereleaserepeat @annablogsposts

[metalmonki]

Supernatural, Hunting, Living and Love Part 17

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

4.1k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings none

Authors Note: 3 chapters to go!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

I sat cross-legged on the bed, the weight of Cas’s words pressing heavily on my chest. Dean was sitting across from me, his brows furrowed as he listened to me recount every detail of what the angel had said. I could barely look at him, afraid of how he might react.

When I finished, there was a long pause. Finally, Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Look, about the Nephilim thing... I already knew.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“Cas told me a while ago,” he admitted, his voice low. “He thought I should know, in case it ever... came up. But I didn’t think it mattered. You’re still you, Y/N. Nephilim or not.”

I stared at him, a mix of emotions swirling in my chest. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

Dean winced. “I figured it’d just freak you out, and you’ve had enough on your plate. I was gonna tell you eventually, I swear.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “And the pregnancy thing?”

“That,” he said with a dry laugh, “I’m pretty sure is Cas being Gods good little soldier. He’d do anything that guy says. But if it’s really bugging you, we can grab a pregnancy test and settle it.”

I shook my head, feeling a strange mixture of relief and frustration. “You’re probably right. It’s just Cas being... weird.” I hesitated before adding, “Let’s just forget about it for now.”

Dean nodded, his hand reaching out to squeeze mine. “Good call.”

I let myself lean back into the pillows, forcing the thoughts to the back of my mind. It wasn’t easy, but with Dean’s steady presence beside me, sleep eventually came.

…

The next morning, I was jolted awake by a loud banging on the bedroom door.

“Y/N! Dean! Wake up!” Theresa’s voice was practically vibrating with excitement.

Dean groaned, rolling over to glance at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s 10:30,” he grumbled. “What could possibly be so exciting at 10:30 in the morning?”

Before either of us could get out of bed, the door burst open, and Theresa stood there, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“I’m pregnant!” she blurted, her grin so wide it could’ve lit up the room.

I blinked at her, the words taking a moment to sink in. Dean sat up straighter, his face a mix of shock and confusion.

“Pregnant?” he repeated, his voice flat.

Theresa nodded eagerly. “Yes! I just took the test. Sam and I are having a baby!”

The silence that followed was heavy but only lasted a beat before I broke into a wide smile. “Oh my god, Theresa! That’s amazing!”

I jumped out of bed, wrapping her in a tight hug as her excitement became infectious.

Dean sat there, still looking stunned. “Congrats,” he managed, his voice laced with a kind of bemused awe.

Theresa pulled back from the hug, her eyes bright with happy tears. “Thanks! I just had to tell you guys first!”

As she babbled on about telling Sam and their plans, I couldn’t help but glance back at Dean. His expression softened as his gaze met mine, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

For the first time in a long time, things felt... good. Even with all the uncertainty hanging in the air, this moment was pure joy.

…

Theresa from the moment she told us hadn’t stopped talking about dragging me shopping to put together a gift for Sam to announce the pregnancy.

Theresa practically dragged me from one store to another, her excitement bubbling over as she picked up tiny baby clothes, soft booties, and pacifiers, holding each one up for my opinion. I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, even if the topic of babies brought an unsettling knot to my stomach.

“This is so cute, isn’t it?” Theresa asked, holding up a pale-yellow onesie with little ducks on it.

“Adorable,” I replied, my voice light even though my thoughts were far from the conversation.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, we had a few small items in hand, ready to put together a gift to announce her pregnancy to Sam. Just before we were about to head out, Theresa suddenly stopped.

“Wait, I need to pop into the pharmacy,” she said, gripping her stomach lightly. “This morning sickness thing... I’m not sure ginger cookies and ginger ale are gonna cut it no matter what Google says.”

“Of course,” I said, following her inside.

While Theresa chatted with the pharmacist about options, I found myself wandering down the aisles. My feet carried me to the pregnancy test section before I even realized where I was.

The shelves were lined with boxes in bright colours, each claiming to be the most accurate. My hand hovered over one, my heart pounding. I glanced back to make sure Theresa was still preoccupied, then quickly grabbed a box and shoved it into my pocket.

“Ready to go?” Theresa asked cheerfully, appearing behind me with a small bag in her hand.

“Yep,” I said, forcing a smile.

As we walked out, Theresa caught the scent of garlic bread wafting from a nearby restaurant. “Oh my god, we have to eat here,” she said, practically drooling.

I laughed. “Garlic bread it is.”

We found a small table by the window and placed our orders. The knot in my stomach tightened as I excused myself to go to the restroom.

Inside the stall, my hands trembled as I opened the box. The instructions were simple enough, but my nerves made everything feel harder than it should have been.

Minutes later, I stared at the small screen, holding my breath.

Negative.

A wave of relief washed over me, so strong I had to sit for a moment to steady myself. I tucked the test into the little trash bin and washed my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

“Get it together,” I muttered to myself.

When I returned to the table, Theresa was happily munching on her garlic bread. “This is the best thing ever,” she declared, holding up a piece for emphasis.

I chuckled, sitting back down. “I take it we’re ordering more for the bunker?”

“Absolutely.”

As we ate, the conversation shifted to Sam’s gift. We brainstormed ways to wrap it, deciding on a small box with tissue paper and a handwritten note.

Theresa brought up pregnancy care, casually waving off the concern. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” she said, popping a piece of bread into her mouth.

I nodded, but her nonchalant attitude left me wondering. I made a mental note to look into options for her later.

By the time we left the restaurant, the heavy weight on my chest had eased. Theresa’s joy was infectious, for a moment I let myself believe that maybe just maybe Cas was wrong, that maybe he was just saying what God wanted him to.

Just as we were about to leave the restaurant my phone buzzed dragging me away from our conversation.

“Oh well looks like our plans are on hold” I sighed looking at the text “Dean messaged, apparently the holidays over”

…

 We sat around the war room table, maps and files spread out in front of us as Dean leaned back in his chair, tossing a pen between his fingers.

“Just got off the phone with Bobby,” Dean said. “He says there’s something weird going down in a little town called Centerville, Pennsylvania. Looks like a couple of demons are running the place, setting up some kind of... meatsuit recruitment drive. At least fourteen people have gone missing after passing through.”

I frowned, leaning forward to study the map of Centerville. “Fourteen? That’s a lot, even for demons. What’s Bobby think they’re planning?”

Dean shrugged. “He’s not sure. Could be they’re stockpiling bodies for something bigger, but whatever it is, we’re gonna shut it down.”

“Sounds like a solid lead,” Sam said, pulling out his notebook and jotting down a few details.

Dean turned to Theresa, his tone firm. “You’re sitting this one out.”

Theresa’s eyes widened. “What? Why? I’m perfectly capable—”

“He’s right,” I interrupted, giving her a meaningful look. “You should stay behind, and we’ll call Bobby to come hang out with you.”

Theresa’s confusion mirrored Sam’s as he glanced between us. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Theresa hesitated, then reached into her bag, pulling out a small gift box she’d carefully prepared on the way back from town. She slid it across the table toward Sam, her excitement bubbling just beneath the surface.

Sam took the box, his brows furrowing as he opened it. Inside were the baby items we’d picked out: the tiny onesie, a pacifier, and a positive pregnancy test.

For a moment, he just stared, as if his brain needed an extra second to catch up. Then his face broke into a grin so wide it was almost comical. “You’re... you’re pregnant?”

Theresa nodded, her smile just as wide.

Sam was out of his chair in a second, pulling her into a tight hug. “Oh my god, this is incredible!” he said, his voice full of unrestrained joy.

Theresa laughed, hugging him back. “I was gonna tell you last night, but the timing didn’t feel right.”

Dean cleared his throat, his expression softening as he watched the moment. “And that’s why you’re staying behind. No way we’re risking you and the baby out there with demons.”

Sam nodded quickly, turning to Theresa. “Dean’s right. It’s too dangerous.”

Theresa’s smile faltered. “I’m not helpless, you know.”

“We know,” I said gently, reaching out to touch her hand. “But this isn’t just about you anymore. And Bobby will make sure nothing happens here while we’re gone.”

Theresa sighed, crossing her arms. “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.”

Dean smirked. “Noted.”

Within the hour, the Impala was packed, and the three of us hit the road to Pennsylvania. As I settled into the seat beside Dean, I glanced back at Theresa, who stood in the doorway of the bunker, Sam’s arm draped protectively around her shoulders.

We had a job to do, but part of me already couldn’t wait to come back.

…

After what felt like an eternity on the road, we finally rolled into Centerville under the cover of darkness. The town had a strange vibe—quiet, too quiet for a place that had a growing reputation for disappearances.

“Motels are a no-go,” Dean said, scanning the town as we drove through. “Too many eyes.”

Sam pointed to a dilapidated house on the edge of town, its windows boarded up and the lawn overgrown. “That’ll work. Looks abandoned.”

Dean turned the Impala into the dirt driveway, parking beside a rusted shed attached to the house. We all piled out, stretching and shaking off the stiffness from the long drive.

“Hide her in there,” Dean said, nodding toward the shed.

Together, we pushed the Impala inside, closing the rickety doors behind us. The house itself was better than I’d expected, but not by much. The inside smelled like dust and decay, and the floorboards creaked with every step.

“It’s got charm,” I said dryly, earning a snort from Dean.

“We’ll make it work,” Sam said, tossing his bag onto what might have once been a couch. “Let’s head into town, see what we can dig up.”

We cleaned up quickly and headed out, walking toward the town center under the dim glow of streetlights. Centerville looked like any other small town, but something felt... off.

Our investigation eventually led us to a bar that seemed to be the social hub for visitors. Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the low hum of conversation. A pool table sat in the corner, and a jukebox played a classic rock tune that barely drowned out the sound of clinking glasses.

We split up, each taking a different approach to questioning the locals. I struck up a conversation with the bartender, a wiry man with a skeptical gaze.

“Strangers roll through here often?” I asked casually, leaning on the bar.

He shrugged, wiping a glass. “Not much to see in Centerville. Most don’t stick around long.”

“What about the ones who do?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why you asking?”

“Just curious,” I said with a smile, trying to put him at ease.

Eventually, the bartender opened up. He and a couple of locals confirmed they’d seen the same couple hanging around the bar regularly—a man and a woman who had apparently blown into town about a year ago and never left. They’d made themselves at home, which was unusual in a town like this.

Dean joined me at the bar, a cold beer in his hand. “They sound like our demons,” he muttered under his breath.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Sam said, appearing behind us. “But it’s definitely worth looking into.”

We stayed a little longer, gathering more details about the mysterious couple before heading back to the abandoned house. The pieces were starting to come together, but we still had more questions than answers.

…

The house was eerily quiet as we settled in for the night. The faint creak of the wind brushing against the boarded-up windows added to the atmosphere. Sam and Dean were in the small, makeshift living room, pouring over maps and the notes we’d scribbled down from the bar. I sat cross-legged on a tattered armchair, watching as they hashed out tomorrow’s plan.

“We need to figure out where they’ve been taking these people,” Sam said, tapping his pen against the map.

Dean grunted. “Yeah, but waltzing into their hideout isn’t exactly easy. They’ve been here a year. They know the lay of the land better than we do.”

Sam leaned back, crossing his arms. “That’s why we need to split up. Y/N should approach them. Alone.”

Dean’s head snapped up, his jaw tightening. “No way. Not happening.”

Sam held up a hand. “Hear me out. They’ve been targeting strangers, right? Someone who seems like they don’t have ties. If Y/N plays the part of a solo traveler, it could get them to drop their guard.”

I stayed quiet, letting them argue. Dean’s protectiveness was nothing new, but this was different. His shoulders were tense, his voice edged with something more than frustration—it was fear.

“And what if it’s a trap?” Dean shot back, glaring at Sam.

“It’s always a trap, Dean,” I said, finally speaking up. “We’re hunters. That’s the job.”

Dean turned to me, his eyes softening but still filled with worry. “I don’t like this.”

“I can handle myself,” I said firmly.

Sam nodded. “We’ll be nearby the whole time. If anything happens, we’ll step in.”

Dean rubbed his face, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But the second anything feels off, you’re out. Got it?”

I nodded. “Got it.”

With the plan decided, we started preparing for the next day. I packed a small bag with essentials—my knife, a flask of holy water, and a few other tools of the trade. Dean handed me an emergency burner phone, his fingers brushing mine longer than necessary.

“Use it the second something goes wrong,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Promise,” I replied.

As the night wore on, we all settled into our makeshift sleeping arrangements. Dean and I took the slightly less destroyed bedroom, though the mattress on the floor left a lot to be desired. Sam claimed the couch, his long legs awkwardly dangling over the edge.

Lying next to Dean in the dark, I could feel the tension radiating off him. His breathing was steady, but I knew sleep wouldn’t come easy for him tonight.

“Dean,” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“We’ll figure this out. Together.”

He didn’t say anything, but his hand reached out, finding mine in the darkness. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I know”

…

The plan was in motion the moment I stepped into the bar. The air smelled of stale beer and desperation, a fitting backdrop for what I was about to do. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I took a seat at the counter, making sure to appear as if I didn’t have a care in the world. My eyes darted around briefly, taking in the patrons. I spotted Sam a few minutes later, casually perched at the opposite end of the bar, his head down like he was nursing a bad day. Dean, much to his displeasure, was waiting outside in the Impala, ready to spring into action.

The bar door creaked open, and in walked the couple. Even without seeing their eyes flash black, I knew. The energy around them was unmistakable—dark, predatory. They carried themselves with the confidence of predators circling their prey.

I felt their gazes lock onto me almost immediately. My heart pounded in my chest, but I didn’t let it show. I picked up my drink and took a casual sip, pretending not to notice them as they approached.

The man slid onto the stool to my right, the woman to my left, effectively boxing me in. “Well, hey there,” the man said, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent that made my skin crawl. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

I turned my head slightly, giving him a small, shy smile. “Just passing through,” I said, keeping my voice light and friendly.

The woman leaned in, her perfume almost choking me. “Passing through? Someone like you must have places to be, people to see.”

I shook my head. “Not really. Just… trying to figure out where I’m going next.”

“Perfect,” the man said, his grin widening. “We might be able to help with that. You see, my partner and I—” he gestured to the woman with a nod “—work for a modeling agency. Talent scouts. And, well…” He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering uncomfortably. “You’ve got the look.”

My stomach churned, but I forced a surprised laugh. “Me? Modeling? I don’t know…”

The woman placed a hand on my arm, her touch cold despite the warmth of the bar. “You’ve got it, trust me. We’ve got a studio just outside town. Free shoot, no strings attached. Just to see if you’d be a good fit.”

I hesitated, playing my part. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“That’s the beauty of it,” the man said, his tone dripping with fake enthusiasm. “Fresh faces. Untapped potential.”

I looked between them, feigning a mix of doubt and intrigue. “Alright. Why not?”

The woman clapped her hands together, her smile too wide. “Fantastic. Let’s head out.”

I glanced toward the exit briefly, knowing Dean was just outside, then picked up my bag and followed them out of the bar. As we walked to their car, I caught Sam’s reflection in the bar mirror. His jaw was tight, his fingers twitching, ready to act if needed.

The couple led me to a black sedan parked a few spaces away. The man opened the back door for me, gesturing for me to get in.

I climbed in, clutching my bag tightly. The moment the door shut, I felt the weight of their eyes on me, and I forced myself to focus. This was just the beginning. Dean and Sam wouldn’t be far. Whatever came next, I wasn’t alone—even if I had to act like I was.

I sat in the back of the black sedan, watching as the town disappeared behind us. The ride was long, the demons making small talk, keeping up their act as professional talent scouts. I played along, feigning excitement and nervousness, while my mind stayed focused on the mission.

The farmhouse they took me to was beautiful, the kind of place that would make anyone believe this was a legitimate opportunity. Inside, they led me to a professional-looking studio, complete with backdrops, bright lights, and a rack of designer clothes.

For two hours, they ran the whole con—switching my outfits, styling my hair, touching up my makeup. They directed me through various poses, snapping pictures as if this was just another day in the life of a budding model. It was almost impressive how much effort they put into the charade. Almost.

At the end of it, they smiled, nodding approvingly.

“You’re perfect,” the woman cooed, brushing a stray curl from my face.

“Absolutely,” the man agreed. “We’ll put you up for the night, and first thing in the morning, someone will take you to New York to sign the contracts.”

I widened my eyes in fake excitement. “Really? Oh my god, this is insane!”

The woman smiled. “I know. You’ll be a star.”

They led me to a cozy-looking bedroom, complete with a plush bed and a window overlooking the fields. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, I dropped the act.

I moved cautiously, making sure I wasn’t being watched. Then, I pulled out my phone and typed a message to Dean and Sam.

Demons running a long con. Getting people out of town with the modeling scam. They plan to move me to NYC in the morning. No sign of the other victims yet. What’s the plan?

Dean’s reply was almost instant.

We’re pulling you out. Letting Bobby know their next stop. Sit tight. We’re coming.

I let out a slow breath. Good. I had no doubt they’d come for me, but still, something in my gut felt off.

…

Dean and Sam broke into the house as quietly as possible. The plan was simple—get in, take the demons by surprise, and get out before anyone knew what hit them.

But something went wrong.

I heard the scuffle from my room—the heavy thuds of bodies colliding, the crash of furniture breaking. My heart pounded as I cracked the door open just in time to see Sam wrestling the female demon, chanting an exorcism.

And then I saw Dean.

Or rather, I saw the way his body jerked unnaturally, his back arching as the male demon forced its way inside him. His green eyes flashed black.

My breath caught in my throat. “No.”

He turned his head slowly, those black eyes locking onto me with a cruel smirk. “Well, well,” the demon purred, rolling Dean’s shoulders like he was settling into a new suit. “This is… cozy.”

“Dean.” My voice shook. “I know you’re in there. You have to fight it.”

The demon laughed, stepping closer. “Oh sweetheart, he’s fighting all right. But he won’t win.”

Sam had finished his exorcism, the female demon shrieking as she burned away. Now he turned to me, panic in his eyes.

“Y/N, get back!”

But I couldn’t move. Not when Dean’s possessed body lunged at me.

I barely had time to react before I was pinned against his chest, held between Dean and Sam. Deans hunting knife was held to my throat. I was looking at Sam as tears pricked my eyes.

I gasped, clawing at his wrist, my heart hammering. “Dean,” I choked out. “Please… you can fight this.”

His grip faltered for the briefest second, his expression twisting in pain. “Y/N…” Dean’s voice broke through, hoarse and strained.

The demon snarled, trying to regain control, but I felt the flicker of resistance in Dean’s arms.

“That’s it,” I whispered. “You’re stronger than him. You’re stronger.”

Dean clenched his jaw, his whole body shaking as he fought the demon inside him. Then, with an agonized roar, his head snapped back, and a thick cloud of black smoke erupted from his mouth, disappearing through the nearest vent.

Dean collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.

I didn’t hesitate. I dropped down beside him, wrapping my arms around him in a tight, desperate hug. “I thought I was gonna lose you,” I sobbed, clutching onto him like he might disappear.

He exhaled shakily, his arms circling me just as tightly. “I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

…

Back at the abandoned house, we packed up in silence, the weight of the failed hunt pressing down on us.

Sam was on the phone with Bobby, explaining what had happened, his voice tight with frustration. “One got away… Yeah, we’ll head back to the bunker…can we talk about this later”

I sat in the Impala, my hands still trembling slightly. The reality of what had happened hadn’t fully sunk in yet. Dean had almost—

I shook my head, shutting the thought down. He was here. He was okay.

Dean slid into the backseat beside me, pulling me against him. “You’re shaking,” he murmured.

I let out a weak laugh. “Yeah, well. Watching you get possessed kinda does that to a girl.”

His arms tightened around me, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my hair. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

I nodded, closing my eyes as the Impala rumbled to life.

The road stretched ahead of us, a long 17 hours back to the bunker. But for now, I let myself breathe, let myself believe that, at least for the moment, we were safe.

[hermitcraft-8]

lights of the city mini fics: ruby's story

...

Coming out to Casey was the easy part.

She was already a lesbian herself, and had actually been the one to suggest the nickname ‘Ruby’ ages prior, so chances were pretty good this wouldn’t be a problem. And it wasn’t! Ruby simply offhandedly mentioned she was a girl now, and she was also a lesbian, and Casey just nodded, a sort of smug, imperious look on her face, and moved on, unphased.

The hard part was coming out to her uncles.

It’s not that she was afraid of them, not at all, they were good men, regardless of their criminal enterprise. Mickey always took her shopping for new suits, even if he didn’t particularly care for fashion. Danny let her tag along when he went on walks, and explained the history of the hidden city as he went. Leonard- as much as he complained- still taught her to cook when she was bored as a child. As for Heinous Green, granted, he wasn’t exactly the most chatty man alive, but he was always willing to listen to her ramble about whatever wrestling move she’d picked up from her favorite human wrestler Ghost Bear. They were all good men.

But she really wasn’t sure what they’d think of this.

She knew that Mickey, at the very least, didn’t mind trans people. It’d come up during one of their dumpster diving trips, and he had, in his own way, admitted his support of the community.

“I mean,” He’d said, picking up a bag of chips and sniffing it. “‘S long as it don’t hurt me or mine, ‘s none o’ my business, bro. D’you think Leonard would eat salt ‘n vinegar if we told ‘im it was just salt?”

And that was it.

So, he at least didn’t have a problem with them, but that didn’t mean he’d be fine with his nephew becoming his niece.

It was harder than she would have expected to get the four of them in a room together. Leonard was always sulking around and trying to look cool in some corner, Danny was generally pretty busy with something or other, and if you looked away from Mickey for five minutes he would generally disappear under your nose. Heinous Green was easy, though, he had a soft spot for Ruby, and always had.

And so, after a good hour of effort, she got them all to sit on the couch, and she stood in front of them, and she took a deep deep breath.

“I have… I have something to tell you? And… and you have to wait until I’m done to talk, alright?”

Mickey made a zipping motion across his lips, and the other three nodded, and she sighed, sitting up a little straighter, balling her hands in her lap.

“I think- no. I am a girl. My name is Ruby, and I use she/her pronouns,” She said, before hesitating, trying to think of anything else to say. “I… I have always been a girl, but I didn’t figure it out until like a month ago. This doesn’t change who I am, I’m still the same person, I’m just… I’m just a girl now.”

She finally focused on the expressions of the men gathered in front of her, and- oh. Oh that was unexpected.

Danny was grinning widely and sharply at her, Heinous was nodding slowly, Leonard looked wholly unsurprised, and Mickey… well, Mickey looked absolutely befuddled, which was hardly anything new.

“I could have sworn…” He muttered, shaking his head. “We looked it up and everything-”

“She’s trans, dipshit,” Leonard rolled his eyes. “She’s sayin’ she’s transgenda.”

“Ohhhh,” Mickey’s eyes went wide. “I thought-”

“Ruby,” Danny leaned forward. “Do you want to try estrogen?”

“Uh,” She blinked. “I don’t… I don’t know, should I?”

“It’s up to you,” He said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But I have been wanting to rob a pharmaceutical company for months now, and-”

“-And what he’s saying is, we support ya.” Leonard said, huffing. “If you’re a chick, then you’re a chick. Good on ya. You can still drive, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Then we have no problems with it. Right Green?”

Heinous nodded.

Ruby sniffed. “You guys… you guys mean it? For real?”

“We mean it,” Danny smiled. “For real.”

She launched herself forward, and Heinous caught her easy, picking her up and swinging around, just like he had when she was a little girl.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.

Masterpost / AO3

4.

”Coach? You got a moment?”

Nate startled at the sound of his name, upsetting the papers strewn all across his desk. When he caught sight of Jamie peeking in through the office door his eyes widened almost comically. “Oh! Um. Jamie. Hello. Do I have– Ah! Yes. Of course. I believe I could make– Hrm. Come, uh, in.”

Like Ted, Nate had a way of taking ages of getting to the point, but at least it had ended in some version of “yes” as far as Jamie could tell. He stepped into the office.

Nate was eyeing him warily, which was unfair, really, because Jamie had been super respectful ever since he got back to Richmond, even though it was kind of weird to have Nate as a coach. Like, the man was good at it, surprisingly so, but it was still weird. Then again, Jamie supposed him seeking Nate out had never spelled anything but trouble for the latter before, so okay, fair enough, couldn’t blame the man for being a little skittish.

Belatedly, Jamie remembered the peace offering he’d popped out and picked up just down the road, from the bakery that Keeley swore by. “Here,” he said, putting it down on the desk in front of Nate. “Got you this.”

Nate stared mutely at the slice of cake in a dainty box covered with gold and ribbons. Jamie had paid extra for the fancy box. Nate liked boxes, right?

“It’s carrot cake,” Jamie supplied helpfully, in case Coach wasn’t familiar with baked goods. Not everyone had Simon for their Mummy’s husband.

“I… see.”

Nate didn’t look like he did see, but Jamie suspected it would be rude to point that out. Besides, he was starting to feel a little nervous, so he figured he better spit it out and get it over with before that got any worse.

He took a deep breath. “So, I wanted to apologise.” He glanced up at Nate to see how that was received; Nate still looked slightly dazed. Fuck. Jamie had hoped that maybe it’d be obvious what he wanted to apologise for, so that he didn’t have go into all the gory details. No such luck, apparently. He barrelled on. “I did some shitty things and I told others to do some shitty things when I was here before, and that was shitty of me, so. Sorry.”

Nate was still eyeing him warily. “Did… did Ted tell you to do this?” he asked eventually.

“No.” Jamie made a face. He didn’t just do nice things because Ted told him to.

Sometimes he did them because Keeley told him to. Or because Dr. Sharon, in that smart way of hers, got him to tell himself to. That last bit had gotten easier and easier. Sometimes he didn’t even need Dr. Sharon for it anymore.

“I just thought I should,” he added somewhat sulkily, feeling a little bit defensive. He was trying here. “’Cause I was a prick to you and all. So, I’m sorry about that, yeah? And like, if there’s something you need me to do that’d make you feel better, you can just tell me and I’ll do it. Yeah.”

He made sure to look Nate in the eyes for the last bit. Maybe he wouldn’t have realised that this was a good thing to do if it hadn’t been for the dream and him wanting to see Mummy and that, but he still meant it, didn’t he? He knew he’d been a prick. He knew Nate hadn’t done anything to deserve it, apart from being an easy target with no means of defending himself.

Put like that, it really did sound pretty shitty. Jamie fidgeted with his sleeves.

Nate stared at him for a long moment. Jamie couldn’t quite decipher the emotions flickering over his face. Coach opened his mouth several times but then shut it again, until finally he said, “Yes. Okay. Excellent. Thank you, Jamie.”

Jamie brightened. “So, we’re good?” he asked eagerly, straightening. That had been dead easy, that. Nate hadn’t even yelled at him or anything

“Yes, of course.” A nod and a small smile that looked a little weird on Nate’s round face. Maybe the man wasn’t used to smiling. Or maybe he just wasn’t used to doing it when Jamie was around, for aforementioned Jamie being shitty to him reasons.

Jamie grinned, friendly as he could. “Cheers, mate,” he said, reaching over the desk to companionably pat Nate on the shoulder before heading for the door. The other flinched slightly under the touch, which was weird ‘cause Jamie hadn’t patted him all that hard, but then again, Jamie was a world class athlete and Nate wasn’t. Jamie probably didn’t know his own strength. He should take note of that, make sure he didn’t hurt anyone by accident. Be anti-ethical to this whole doing right by people thing, probably.

Feeling rather pleased with the lunch break’s efforts, Jamie headed for the dressing room. He’d call Mummy tonight and arrange for a visit after Boxing Day. Everything was going to be all right.  

[redrose-arrow]

Explain

Look, I know Will thought he could just take off and leave Seacliff for literal weeks just to tell Alyss that he loved her too but ??? Boy I wish it were that easy, I’m pretty sure you had some explaining to do though. But first: cheesy love declarations and explicit kissing iykwim

If there was an official record for travelling from Seacliff to Redmont, Will was pretty sure that he had just broken it. But what else could he have done? Alyss loved him. She loved him. 

And he loved her. He had realised it in Macindaw, but hadn’t dared to think that she reciprocated those feelings. But she did. She had told him so. She had told him she loved him without knowing if he felt the same way. But he did. And he had to tell her in person. 

Will dashed past the guards, in and out of the stables, up the stairs of the donjon and through the castle hallways. But then he stood in front of her office door, hand raised, and hesitated. 

Should he have announced his visit? What if she wasn’t in her office? What if she wasn’t even at Redmont? She could be away on an assignment. Maybe she was undercover again. And maybe he should have freshened up first? A million thoughts were racing through his head, and a thousand what-ifs. What if she’d changed her mind? What if she’d take back her words? What if-

But then Horace’s voice sounded in his head. 

What if you just knock and find out, you idiot. 

Will grinned. Horace was always pragmatic. And, if everything went as Will hoped, the knight would also be right. 

So Will took a deep breath - the last one before his heart would either be broken or claimed, never mind the cliches - and knocked. 

‘Just a minute!’

Thankfully, Will exhaled. At least she was there. 

Despite the worries that were still raging inside him, he didn’t have to fake the smile that grew on his face when his friend - friend? - opened the door. 

‘Will!’ Alyss said, caught by surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’

Her blonde hair was a little longer than it had been last time he’d seen her. It fell past her shoulders, a few strands tucked behind her ears. There was a soft blush on her cheeks - Alyss always blushed when she was working on something she enjoyed. Her white uniform elegantly hugged her figure, a silver laurel branch pin shining proudly on her chest. And her sce‘I too,’ he blurted out. 

‘You what?’

Alyss frowned softly. She skimmed his appearance, as he stood there, out of the blue and half undone. 

Then she saw it. The letter in his hand. The letter was filled with her own handwriting and although she could not read them, she knew what words were written on the back. ‘Oh.’

Will followed her gaze and raised the hand with the letter.

‘Yeah. About that…’

Alyss smiled faintly and broke eye contact. She didn’t need to look at him. Didn’t want to see his beautiful face, the freckles, the dark and messy curls, the brown eyes that drowned her, or the big and idiotic grin that could leave her shaking on her legs. She didn’t want to see the lips she longed to taste tell her that she never would. 

‘You don’t have to tell me,’ she said. ‘Really, you don’t need to tell me if you don’t feel the same.’

‘But I do.’

Alyss’s grey eyes - oh, they were practically a liquid silver - shot back towards him. 

‘You do… what?’

‘I do love you.’

‘You do?’

‘I do. A lot, actually.’

He grinned at her - oh, she would never get enough of his stupid grin - and Alyss could only stare back as a huge smile slowly lit up her face. 

Will raised an eyebrow. 

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?’

Will shrugged. 

‘Horace said I think too much,’ he replied. ‘I’d said it already, you know, in the tower - but you’d probably already figured that out - and I meant it, but I wasn’t sure, right - I didn’t know - and I didn’t know if you… I mean, it’d gotten you out of the hypnosis, of course, and Malcolm said - but I didn’t know-’

‘Will,’ Alyss interrupted him. 

Will looked back at her - really looked at her -, eyes big and, if she wasn’t imagining things, pupils slightly dilated. 

Alyss smiled. 

‘Shut up,’ she said. Then she kissed him. 

They’d kissed before, of course. At the restaurant, way back when. In Macindaw, a lot less time ago. And a few times in between those two events. But not like this. Never like this. 

Those kisses had been hesitant. They’d been careful. They had been filled with doubts and uncertainties and questions. But this kiss-- 

It was magic. Will had no other way of explaining it. Somehow, he had travelled to Macindaw to disprove the rumours of sorcery and wizardry, yet had returned under an enchantment he hoped would never break. 

Alyss’s lips were as soft as he remembered, though the force with which she pressed them against his was new. Her tongue, feared by many for its quick-wittedness, seemed eager to find his. 

And Will let it happen. Gladly. Because he loved her. 

He loved how she always carried herself straight, unafraid to tower above men. He loved how she always threw herself into every assignment, every mission. He loved her way with words, for hers could bring resolutions to even the most heated of conflicts. He loved how she could read every person, see right through them, and reduce them to nothing but a stuttering mess with just her smile and a raised eyebrow. He loved every piece of her, every doubt, and every insecurity. 

And suddenly, Will understood them. The tales. The songs. The bards and the legends. The stories, of neverending hope and of everlasting faith. Of two hearts beating like one and of souls melting together. All because of a love that could numb the senses better than anything ever would. 

Except, perhaps, the senses of a Ranger. 

A small noise had alerted Will. It was a few corners away, perhaps even a pair of stairs, but it was undeniably the sound of approaching footsteps. 

He pulled back - only slightly - and from a few centimetres above him, Alyss sought to meet his eyes. The blush on her cheeks had only grown. 

‘Your office,’ Will rasped, out of breath. 

‘Hm?’

‘We should get into your office. Anyone could see us.’

His voice - did she do that? Was that the effect that she could have on him, throat hoarse, as if talking was hard, was difficult, because he was restraining himself? Restraining himself… from what? Alyss needed to know. 

She grasped his collar and did as he had suggested. She pulled him in, gently but urgently, and heard how he kicked the door close behind them. Will’s cloak fluttered behind him - like the wings of a butterfly, Alyss faintly thought - as they moved into the office. They stood still in the midst of it and their lips found each other once more. 

They shared a breath, a moment, and so much more. 

Will tasted like vanilla. Alyss had never noticed it before, but he did. She let the flavour consume her. Will’s tongue was pushing against her teeth, begging her to let him in. She did. One of her hands was in his hair, never telling him to stop - not even when his mouth began to explore her jaw and then her neck, and she actually trembled. Her skin burned where his lips tasted her and yet she ached for more. 

His hands were everywhere, as she knew were her own. She wanted to feel him, wanted to touch every scar and kiss every freckle. 

Alyss knew her way with words, but if anyone asked, she wouldn’t be able to explain how she felt in this exact moment. 

Will loved her. He loved her like she loved him. She loved how he always asked a thousand questions, eager to get to the bottom of things. She loved his excitement, his hunger for adventure, and the way his mind worked to improve the lives of those around him. She loved his sense of humour, his compassion, and how he could always make her feel better. She even loved how long it had taken him to return the feelings. And above all, she loved his touch, his lips and his hands, their comfort and stability, their passion and dedication and love - pure, selfless, unimagined, love.

When at last, Alyss felt like her lips were chapped and as if she would faint if her lungs did not get to draw a normal breath, she pulled back. But not entirely. She rested against Will, and he leaned back. Eyes closed, just breathing each other in. 

They stood like that for a minute. Foreheads pressed together, both panting. Once again, Will’s hands found their way up and cupped Alyss’s face in them. 

‘Tell me what happened in the tower,’ Alyss whispered to him. ‘Tell me what you told me that broke Keren’s hold over me.’ 

How could he not oblige? 

‘I told you that I love you,’ Will breathed, as his thumbs traced the lines of her mouth. ‘And that I always have.’

His thumbs began moving up, over her cheekbones, every caressing touch so careful and so kind. Alyss opened her eyes and found herself looking down into his. She suddenly found it hard to breathe again. 

‘And then…’ Will gently stroked her hair, tucking it behind her ears, as if there wasn’t a part of her face that he wanted hidden from his sight. 

‘Then you saved my life.’ 

He sought out her lips again, but Alyss froze when someone knocked on the door to her office. Will balanced on his toes so his mouth could move past Alyss’s, until his lips were next to her ear. 

‘Don’t make a sound,’ he whispered. ‘Maybe they’ll go away.’ 

The knocking sounded again. 

‘Alyss?’ 

‘It’s Pauline, I can’t ignore her,’ Alyss sighed. She untangled herself from Will’s touch, took a deep breath, and called out: ‘Just a minute!’ 

Then, with one hand, she gently pushed against Will’s chest, beckoning him to move against the wall behind him. From there, a large closet blocked the view to and from the door. 

‘Stay here, and pray your invisibility skills are as good as you Rangers like to make people believe.’ 

Combing through her hair with her fingers, Alyss moved towards the door. Her cheeks were burning, she knew, but there was nothing she could do about that on such short notice. 

‘Pauline! What can I do for you?’

The closet might block Pauline’s view of the room, keeping her from discovering Will, but so too did it block Will’s view. He could depend on nothing but his ears. He heard a pair of feet enter the room. Then a voice. 

‘Alyss, dear, you look flustered. Is everything alright?’

Will couldn’t see it, but Alyss faintly gestured towards the stacks of paper on the table. 

‘Just a ton of work,’ she replied. ‘You know how it goes.’

Will grinned. He loved how easily she lied. But then-

‘It wouldn’t have anything to do with my former apprentice, whose horse I just saw in the stables, would it?’ a deep voice sounded. 

Inwardly, Will cursed. He had really hoped his visit would go unnoticed. 

Before Alyss could concoct another lie - one which Halt wouldn’t believe anyways - Will stepped out from behind the closet. His arms were wide, in what was supposed to resemble a welcoming gesture. 

‘Halt! What are you doing here?’ 

He was met by two raised eyebrows, both belonging to another person who now turned towards him. 

‘I could ask you the same question,’ Halt answered. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you graduate a year or so ago? Don’t you have your own fief to take care of - say, Seacliff or so?’

But Will was ready. Somewhat. 

‘That doesn’t mean that I never have business elsewhere, Halt,’ he countered.

Behind the older couple, Alyss’s eyes widened. She quickly composed herself, however, when Halt and Pauline turned to her. Seemingly effortlessly, she said: ‘There were some questions regarding the events in Macindaw past winter. Will and I decided to try and answer them together.’

Halt raised an eyebrow. 

‘Is that so? And why did this have to be discussed in person?’

‘I thought it would be… faster,’ Will said weakly. 

‘So people asked questions and instead of sending letters like a normal person, you decided to drop by unannounced and spend the next long minutes giving an answer?’

‘Yes,’ Will said. His confidence was growing. Maybe he could get away with it. 

But Halt’s next question shattered any hopes of doing so. 

‘Then why are you still wearing your cloak?’

‘I… I was cold?’

‘Did Halt teach you to lie?’ Pauline asked. Her head was cocked to the side as she studied him with interest. ‘Because you have the same tells as him.’

This time, Halt’s frown was directed not towards his former apprentice, but towards his wife. 

‘I don’t have tells.’

But Pauline met his eyes without hesitation. 

‘You do, dear. Quite a few of them, too.’ 

Will bit his lip in an attempt to hide his grin. He was aided by the fact that Pauline now turned her piercing gaze towards another person in the room.

‘Alyss? I hope I taught you better than that.’

Alyss straightened her shoulder, raised her chin, and didn’t break eye contact with her mentor once. 

‘I sent Will a letter in which I referred back to the events in Macindaw. I also asked him to elaborate on something. So he travelled here to provide an explanation,’ Alyss said smoothly. Her voice hadn’t wavered, her hands hadn’t fidgeted, and she had successfully answered Pauline’s questions without lying. Out of all three of them, Will had known Alyss the longest. And if he didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t have guessed that she was hiding something. He added it to his mental list of reasons why he loved her. 

‘And were your questions answered?’ Pauline asked. 

Alyss nodded. 

‘Certainly. It has been most… enlightening.’ 

Will coughed. 

Pauline pulled one corner of her mouth up into an almost-smile. 

‘That’s better,’ she said. 

‘Explanations for Will's presence here notwithstanding …’ Halt continued, and Will could feel his shoulders drop. 

‘Is Seacliff aware that its Ranger has disappeared for the second time in less than a year?’

Will shrugged. 

‘I’ll be back before they even know I’m gone.’

But Halt seemed unconvinced. 

‘Is that so?’

A revelation dawned on Will.

‘I don’t even have to explain myself to you,’ he said. ‘You’re not my senior.’

Halt raised an eyebrow at that and Will corrected himself. 

‘Well, you might be a senior citizen, but you’re not my boss.’

‘What if Crowley finds out you abandoned your post?’

‘Crowley won’t know. Besides, nothing ever happens at Seacliff. Trust me.’

‘On your head be it,’ Halt muttered. Inwardly, Will smiled. As far as he could speak of winning, when his visit had been discovered, he was about to win this exchange. Especially when Alyss - smart, quick-witted, lovely Alyss - came to his rescue. 

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine, if Will says so,’ she added. 

A silence fell over the room. It wasn’t awkward - the four of them knew each other too well for that - but neither Will or Alyss was entirely comfortable with the lack of showing of either approval or disapproval from their mentors. But then Pauline spoke up again. 

‘Will you be staying for dinner, Will?’ the older Diplomat asked.  

‘Or was Alyss the only person in this castle you were planning on visiting?’ Halt added innocently. 

There was something devious about the way Will’s lips curled up into a grin. 

‘I honestly don’t know if you want me to lie or not.’ 

Halt rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. 

‘Just be there, or I might mention your visit to Crowley after all.’

‘Of course. Wouldn’t want to miss dinner with you, Halt,’ Will replied. His mentor muttered something at that, but moved back to the door. The older Diplomat began to follow him, but she was held back. 

‘Pauline?’ Alyss asked. 

The head of the Diplomatic Service looked back at her, beckoning for her to speak. 

‘What did you come here for?’

Pauline gestured towards the table. 

‘The papers. The … you know which ones. I just wanted to check in on your progress with them.’

Alyss nodded. 

‘Of course. I’ll have them done, I promise.’

‘After you finish the Macindaw business?’

Even Alyss could barely hide the blush that now spread over her cheeks. 

‘As soon as possible.’

And at that, Pauline drew the door in a close behind her. 

A sigh escaped both of the young people left in the room. Then, both of them looked up. Their eyes met and a burst of laughter escaped them. 

Will opened his arms and Alyss walked right into them, throwing her own arms around his neck. The young Ranger looked up at her. 

‘So. Where were we?’

‘I think you were telling me just how much you love me.’

‘Really? Did I use the words “a lot” already?’

‘You might’ve mentioned them.’

‘Then I guess I have to make myself clear using something other than words.’

Will’s eyes dropped towards her lips, but Alyss pulled back. 

‘Will you be in trouble?’

Half-reluctantly, Will met her eyes again. 

‘Nah. Halt won’t tell Crowley. And if he does find out… as long as I’m back by the end of the week, he won’t care much.’

‘Okay.’

‘What about your papers?’

‘They can wait. Pauline might give me a hard time over them, but they’re not due till the end of the week and I’m already almost done.’

Will’s lips curled up. 

‘So… does that mean that we have time to finish our unfinished Macindaw business?’

Alyss could feel her own lips pull up in a smile that matched his. 

‘We do.’

The kiss that followed was slow, but nonetheless full of love. By the time it ended, seconds could have passed, or it could have been minutes. Time was an illusion, anyways. 

Alyss pulled away a little, just so she could look at him. 

‘I love you,’ she whispered, before burying her head in his shoulder. 

Will smiled against her hair as he breathed her in. Really, he didn’t think he’d ever get enough. nt-- she smelled like mint and apple and the freshness of an early morning dew. 

Never had Will felt his heart beat as hard as it did now. And never had his smile felt this big. 

‘I love you too.’

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Yuma Ecstasy [10]

Monologue

ーー We took our time to sit down and explain,

everything which had happened since we last saw each other.

And ever so often, we would gently run our fingers across each other’s wounds,

as if trying to soothe the pain.

ー The scene starts inside the dungeon of the Vibora Castle

Yuma: ーー In short, I was used by that Kino guy. Pretty sure Lucks was as well. 

Yui: So it was his plan to trick us all along...

Yuma: I’m such a fool. I can’t believe I’d get hung up over the past...to the point of betrayin’ the family I cared ‘bout so much. 

I should have never trusted that fucker...

Kino: Are you talking about me?

ー Kino walks up to their cells

Kino: Little rude to say that when you’re the one who decided to trust me, don’t you think?

Yuma: Kino...!

Kino: Uwahー Both of you took a good beating. Fufu, my bad that this happened. 

Yuma: ...Shut that damn mouth of yers right now. If ya don’t wanna get killed, that is.

Kino: Hah. I’d love to see you try like that. Aren’t you to blame for letting yourself get tricked?

Yuma: Bastard...Could ya say the same thing to Lucks!? That guy trusted ya!

Kino: Sure, no problem? I mean...He was nothing but a fake I put together anyway.

Yuma: !? The fuck!?

Kino: Yuuri found out that you had an important friend like him in the past, you see.

I figured I could use it to my advantage, so I looked a bit more into it and put together a Ghoul who looked and acted just like him. 

When humans are reborn as Ghouls, it sometimes happens that their memories are a bit jumbled up. So it’s easy to implant new memories into them.

Do you understand? From that day the two of you were reunited in the human world, you were being deceived. Isn’t that hilarious?

Yui: Then the real Lucks-san...

Kino: Who knows. He doesn’t interest me enough to look into it.

Yuma: ...

Kino: Ahaha. Did I upset you again?

Yuma: ...Nah, if anythin’, I feel relieved. I’m glad the Boss I knew never fell for yer dirty lies.

I’m glad that the dude I looked up to so much wasn’t that much of an idiot.

Kino: ...You sure know what to say, huh? 

Oh well, I wonder how much longer you’ll be able to talk big like that. ーー Let’s go, Yui.

Yui: Me...?

Yuma: Wait! Where are ya takin’ her!?

Kino: She’s still useful to me, unlike you. Come on, can you stand up?

Selection

→ Resist (❦)

Yui: No...I won’t go...!

Kino: Well, I figured you’d say that...I guess I’ll have you go night-night for a bit then.

→ Give up 

Yui: ( Something might happen to Yuma-kun if I fight back... )

Yuma: Yui, run!

Yui: But you’ll...!

Yuma: I’ll save my own skin! So ya shouldーー

Kino: ...What a pain. I suppose it’d be better to have you go night-night for now.

*Thud*

ー The screen fades to black

Yuma: Yui!!

Yuma: Kino, ya bastard!!

Kino: It’s her own fault for not listening to me?

*Clatter* 

Yuma: Fuck...! I’m gonna fuckin’ end ya!!!

Kino: Go ahead and try.

I’m pretty sure you will soon be executed by the Vibora though. Ahahaha!

ー Kino walks away

Yuma: ...I’ll never forgive that bastard...!

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ...Uu...

ー Yui wakes up in the entrance hall

Yui: ( ...? Where am I...? )

Vibora Maid A: Have you awoken, Princess?

Yui: Eh...!?

( Princess...? Don’t tell me she’s talking about me? )

Kino: Hey there, how does the brand-new Vibora Princess feel?

Yui: Kino-kun...! Where’s Yuma-kun!?

Kino: That’s the first thing you ask me? The two of you really are alike, aren’t you?

He’s still inside his cell. That being said, I’m pretty sure he’ll be send to the execution grounds soon.

Yui: Execution grounds...!?

Kino: He’ll be convicted to the crime of Demon hunting.

Not even Vampires can escape death if their head is chopped off.

Yui: No way...

Kino: Want to prevent that?

Yui: Of course! I don’t want Yuma-kun to die...!

Kino: Fufu, thank you for giving me the answer I anticipated. Since you’re such a good girl, I’ll tell you.

The one and only way to prevent Yuma’s execution, that isーー

Monologue

The one and only way (唯一の方法)  to save Yuma-kun. 

That would be...

For me to become the Vibora Queen,

and give the order for their army to go and invade Eden (エデンへの侵入). 

Kino-kun’s lips curved upwards with enjoyment as he watched me stand there at a complete loss for words. 

If I agree to his plan,

I will put all of the others who are at Eden in danger.

ーー But even so. 

There was only one choice I could make. 

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[thechronicliar]

          TELL ME ABOUT THIS!!! :D   He wished none of this happened. Right now, Bill could be home, doing whatever crazy shenanigan the twins thought up. He could be bothering the Stan’s. He could be terrorizing tourists. He could be with Pine Tree.

            He wanted to be with Pine Tree. More than anything.

            And he was going to be.

            Anxiety swirled in his stomach region at the thought of facing Dipper, knowing that the human probably knew of Bill’s feelings for him. He doubted Shooting Star would keep her mouth shut and he had no doubts of Dipper figuring it out himself. But he had to go back…

            After he talked to someone first.

            Calming himself to the best of his abilities, he left the mindscape and reappeared in a familiar room, scaring the shit out of Shooting Star.

            “Bill!?”

            “Shooting Star,” he greeted, hands behind his back and looking far more confident than he was. “I’m in love with Pine Tree.” That was surprisingly easy.

            She gaped at him. Her mouth moved to form some sort of sentence and failing for the most part. “You’ve been gone for nearly a week!”

            “I’m in love with Pine Tree,” he repeated again with more feeling. Could she not understand what he’s doing?

            “Dipper and I have been worried sick about you!”

            “That’s not important now,” though it did make him feel good to a degree. “What’s important is that I’m in love with Pine Tree.”

            She had the audacity to roll her eyes. “I know that, Bill. It’s pretty obvious, even with your stunted emotions that make you run away scream that you’re in love with my brother.”

            He bristled. “I didn’t run away!”

            “Oh really?” She quirked her brow.

            He sniffed, point his nose up at her. “I just retreated to collect my thoughts.”

            She rolled her eyes again. “So what are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, finding Dipper and getting him to stop stressing out about where you’re at?”

            He waved her off. “In a minute. I need to talk to you first.”

            She flopped back onto her bed, groaning. “About what?”

            “How do I…” he trailed off, blushing. “Um, how do…how…”

            At his stumbling, Mabel looked up and started to pale. “I am not telling you how to have sex!”

            This time he was the one to roll his eyes. “Not that. I know how to do that. What I need to know is how…how to woo, Pine Tree,” he finally got out.

            “Woo my brother?”

            Bill nodded.

            “You know you could just go up and kiss him. It’d be easier and quicker,” she told him.

            “But it has no substance!” he complained. He’s seen Shooting Star’s movie collection on romance. There needed to be something dramatic, thought out, a show of affection. He was sure demonic ways were not the way to go in wooing a human like Pine Tree.

            “Oh my god, Bill,” she groaned. “Stop putting it off and just go confess to Dipper! Tell him that you love him and take him on a date or something. Go out in the woods, hike, eat a picnic. Just hurry up and do something! You’re stressing me out!”

            Huffing as he looked completely put out, he turned on his heel and turned toward the door. “Thanks for the help,” he grumbled.

            “You’ll thank me for real later!” she called out after him before he could slam the door.

Oh gosh, this was a while back! I think back then I was trying to go for the whole "Bill trying to be human" idea. Having new feelings and having to break them down to truly understand them, hence why he was MIA for a week. Such stronge emotions deserve time to understand, especially for someone like Bill that may not have loved someone in a romantic sense.

Also, a lot of what he knows is thanks to Mabel. That doesn't mean all is good or correct, but she was able to connect with him in ways that allowed him to more easily empathize. Movies being one cause of dramatization. Most coming from like the 80s so questionable info.

He also can trust Mabel to give him a straight answer. She may be off the wall, but she's honest and very intune with others and allows Bill to figure things out instead of trying to solve it for him, unless it's clearly a horrible idea. Above all else she is his friend and supports his first love, even if it's her brother and that she knew for months that Bill was making eyes at Dipper 24/7.

During all this, while Bill has accepted his feelings, he is panicking. This is new to him, there isn't much that is new to him, especially such a powerful feeling. He didn't have time to prepare and it feels very much like a sudden thing to him. Even still he believes that Dipper should to told in a large way because how else will those emotions be returned? What if Dipper doesn't believe him unless he puts all of himself out there? He doesn't see him being able to get love in return.

He fears the change that can happen.

[skekilla]

https://www.deviantart.com/skekilla/art/Runaway-Train-Act-III-Scene-9-950745755

Let’s get this one down right.

It’d been some time since they had made that pact. They’d left the day after, when BB had finished up Johnny’s leg. A week or so of walking had passed since then, and in that time, they’d drawn closer and closer to the locomotive. Lillian was at the helm the whole way, walking in a dead silence particularly unsettling because it was her who was being so quiet. They all had been quiet, actually. The whole trek had a heavy air about it, but that heaviness pressed a connection between the passengers into being. It sealed their vow to get to the front no matter what. There was no going back now.

It would have been pretty hard to try retreat anyway; the closer they got to the locomotive, the more filled with demons, spirits, things the cars were. To turn tail, you’d have to run through all those yourself, and that was cars on cars worth of running, fending those creatures off all the while. “Be ready for a fight” was right. They’d managed to struggle through so far, though.

They did have to come to a brief stop, however, at the end of this particular car they found themselves in. As Lillian began to slide the door to the side, it quickly sprang out of her hand. It was like an overstuffed suitcase bursting open. Shadowy bodies popped through the crack, pushing it instantly wider. Limbs and claws scraped around each other and a thousand bright eyes flashed at them all. Ed ran forward and slammed the door shut again, holding it closed tight. “Well, that might be a problem,” he said.

Lillian stood there, her chin lowering. “Yes, it might be,” she murmured. “Perhaps you all should think of a plan.” The way she spoke was slow, restrained, as if she was keeping herself from saying something. Johnny didn’t like it at all.

Curtis was up to bat, though; “Alright, see here,” he began. “How many cars do you figure are left, Lillian?”

“Three. All packed like this one. The Conductor doesn’t like to make things easy.”

The sailor drew in a breath. Even his spirit was wavering a little at the challenge. “Fine,” he said, making his voice sound strong anyway. “Me and Ed will lead the charge, and—” A polite but noticeable cough made an interruption. Curtis turned and snapped, “What?”

Out from the group of passengers, Drake stepped forward. “Pardon my intrusion and contradiction,” they said, “but you and Ed should not lead. BB should, with Louise and myself following. We will cleave a thin path that the rest can follow through. You and Ed would best be posted at the sides, with Orla and Nick as well, defending the others as they follow within.”

Curtis’ lip twisted. “Are you crazy?” he exclaimed.

“Well, I don’t know about them, but I’m pretty crazy,” BB cut in, cracking her knuckles. “I can do it.”

“With all due respect, force alone will not propel us through this entire mob,” Eden said, their chilly eyes trained on Curtis. “We must act together, and we must act according to our best abilities. This is how. I assure you, I wish to help to the utmost, and that is why I am finished with silence. So please, trust my strategic sensibilities; they are what I have survived on.”

Curtis stood there for a moment, his whole character dark with weariness and what Johnny knew was a terribly deep fear. Trust. It’s trust. Suddenly, though, their eyes met; Curtis’ gaze flicked to Johnny’s face, as if seeking shelter. Johnny’s breath caught in his throat, but only for a moment. He knew what he needed to do. Ever so slightly, he gave him an encouraging nod. His eyes said to him, louder than any words, “let it all go; trust in them. It’s alright.” As the sailor searched his face his fears softened slowly, like melting ice. His eyes shut for just a moment, a breath escaping his nose.

Finally, he looked back at Drake. “Fine,” he said at last. “We’re all ears.”

The plan made was simple, and it did work, give or take a few issues.

As Drake had said, BB led the charge into the first car, bashing though demons left and right as she went. Behind her ran the two slashers, and boy were they slashing. They cut the way through wide enough for the others to push on, as planned. Those others were Johnny, Sally, Lillian, and the kids, protected on all sides by the big guns—Orla, Curtis, Ed, and Nick. They made quick work of any would-be attackers trying to close in on the line. It all went off without a hitch, except for one thing: managing to get the door open and keep it that way until everyone else was through. The demons were all pressed around the door; they could close in at any minute. Seeing this, Drake stood steadfastly by the exit, even as everyone else ran past.

“Drake, do come quickly!” Louise had called to them. “You’ll be swept away!” “Pay me no mind,” they said. “Go! If I must die, I will on my own terms.”

There was really no time to argue. Louise obliged. They pressed their hand in theirs for just a moment. “Then I bid you good luck!” they said. “Goodbye, my friend, and on behalf of us all, thank you.” A nod was all there was time for before they had to press on, leaving the housekeeper behind to their deathly work.

They made do in that next car; Louise just worked double-time to kill all of the things that closed in on them, emboldened by Drake’s sacrifice. They were keeping it together, but the lack of protection did have its downsides. Just at the end of the car, things went wrong. Out of nowhere, a reaper, bearing the mask of a rat, came flying at BB. The operation’s spearhead was flung aside, but hell if she was giving up then; she was going to fight tooth, nail, bone, all of it. Even still, she was terribly unmatched.

Everyone else was running through the door while it was open, but Lillian hung back. “BB, stop!” the rabbit girl yelled. “You’re not going to win! Stop fighting it!”

“Never!” BB said. “I’ll fight until I die!”

Lillian groaned in dismay and her ears fell. “You’re such an idiot!” she replied.

“This is what I live for,” said the zombie, “and I’m gonna live it to the fullest!”

“Be careful at least.”

“I don’t know the meaning of careful, baby,” she said. “See you on the other side, Lil! Cowabunga!” With that and a sigh, Lillian had to surrender BB to the reaper and turn away to help the rest of them.

Luckily, there was a backup plan: Anne would halt the creatures with her soul magic, parting a path through them all. The problem was that that took a lot out of the little girl; though her eyes flashed that deadly reddish colour, she began to lag a little behind the group. That little bit was just enough, though. Out from the masses, having escaped the grasp of her soul magic, flew another reaper, bearing the mask of a dog. Johnny only caught it out of the corner of his eye, but- oh God, what happened was the most terrible thing he had ever seen. Its claws went right through her.

“Anne!!” Salem screamed. They broke from the rest of the group and caught her as she fell.

The poor girl shuddered in their arms. “At home,” she said between tears, “a-at home, they always said this would be good… but now I don’t want to die, Salem. I don’t want to.”

“It’s going to be okay, Anne! I promise…” Salem was crying too.

“Are you going to leave me?”

“No, I’ll never leave you. W-we’re going together!” With all their strength, they lifted Anne’s little body. They took a step, then another, but before they could take a third, something pulled on their leg and knocked them down. Demons crowded around them, closing in and around the two children. It was a nightmare, all encompassing and dark and horrible. Above the clamour, though, rose a single cry from Salem: “EEEDDD!!”

Though Ed was in the midst of fighting demon after demon, he stopped right in his tracks as he heard them. It was barely an instant before he ran off into the fray, making a beeline for those kids. The last Johnny ever saw of his face was the overwhelming flame of care and love in his eyes as he bolted away.

Now they only had Louise pushing, Curtis, Orla, and Nick defending, and Sally, Lillian, and Johnny within. Of course, though, it wasn’t quite staying in that order. Everything was all falling apart; they were barely moving forward and demons were ripping in at all sides. Johnny had to shoot a few shots here and there—enough to use up what bullets he had, anyway—joining in with the now nonstop fire of Nick’s tommy gun. At one point, a claw grabbed at Sally, yanking her to the edge. However, it was swiftly kicked away by Orla. Their eyes met for just a moment, but nothing could be said then; even a moment’s pause could mean death.

Such was proven by Nick soon after. As he went to reload his gun, something grabbed his arm, and then his leg. He shouted and shook, but it wouldn’t let go. Then, just as he began to be pulled into the dark crowd of demons, a blur of metal sliced clean through the limbs that held him: Louise had slashed through at the last moment. Their move wasn’t without consequences though; the demons retaliated, stabbing them with a hundred little claws.

Nick, for the only time that Johnny had seen since Drake had stopped him from shooting, didn’t look like he had everything under control. He stuck behind with Louise. “Come on, get up!” he said. “Don’t die on me. We gotta go.”

Louise breathed something like a laugh. “I can’t,” they replied. “I shouldn’t. It’s about time for me to go this way, isn’t it?”

Their humour rubbed off a bit on Nick. “I owe you double at least, now,” he joked, though weakly.

“Oh Niccolo,” she said, “you owe me nothing. It was simply the right thing to do, especially for a friend.” Her voice trailed away, and even though Johnny wasn’t looking, he knew she was gone.

Nick straightened up, his tommy gun at his side for just a moment. Then, with a tilt of his head, he raised it and shucked the used up magazine out and slid another in. Over his shoulder, his eyes met Johnny’s, where they were all still fighting onward. “Well, I guess it is the right thing to do,” he said. “I’m done running for my whole life anyway. Keep going, pal! I’ll fill ‘em with daylight!” The absolute explosion of machine gun fire that followed was enough to occupy the swarm and let the rest of them break through to the last door.

[ask-the-badman]

(Trigger warning, gettin’ a bit messy again!<3)

I rolled my eyes at him. “Easy pickins I guess”, I said with a chuckle. “But they’re not like you. There’s just somethin’ about ya, more than the looks and the charm. Fucks me up a lil.” I kept my eyes to the floor till I heard him gasp, a smirk creeping onto my face when I glanced up to see him back to his normal height. 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘃𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗲𝗻𝘁. I angled myself more to the side, elbow pushed into the back of the couch. Shirt dipping slightly off of my shoulder as I waited for him to decide to sit.

I leered at him through heavy lashes, unable to hide the flush of my cheeks as more than just the alcohol ran through my veins. My chest sat partially on display again. Paying no mind to anything but him clicking my tongue against my teeth. “Ah well lookie here, bet you’re glad to be able to get in here without knocking yourself out.” I giggled. Watching as he made his way over to lounge beside me.

“Well, speakin’ on them boys from earlier I got one of ‘em. Ya know if ya couldn’t tell.” I mused, gesturing to the tinge of red still left on my hands and part of my face. “I ditched Sissy. Couldn’t get much done with her lurkin’ round,” I trailed off. My tone honeyed and my heart thrumming as I inched just a little closer to him.

“I had him wrapped ‘round my finger in a matter of minutes. Same way I could’a had you, just like I said. Front seat and all.” I purred. Letting out an exasperated sigh, head tilting back, his shirt dipping more and more off of my shoulder. Still paying no mind when I picked my head back up to catch his reaction.

I knew deep down I’d probably regret what I’ve said when I eventually wake up from a hangover later. But at the moment I couldn’t bring myself to care less, not like he hasn’t heard it before. Though he may not have expected it from me, I pray sober me is able to make up for any shit drunk me gets us into.

“I know ya could have ‘bout anyone ya wanted,” I said softly, a hint of hesitation in my voice. “But if I’m bein’ honest here, I’m kinda curious to see justtt how much back an forth it’d take to have ya itchin’ for more than a look.”

"More happy ta jus' sit down on my own couch," Johnny chuckled breathlessly, still winded from being suddenly shrunk down but happy to kick back. Uncaring that he was getting the cow hide on the back wet from being rained on as his skin was covered in a sheen of water that dampened the hair on his chest. The greasy hair on his head barely changed though the cowlick at the front was drooping with the extra water weight.

"Oh really? Hell if I could tell," he teased, figuring out right away that Kat had caught someone with all the blood on her.

His hooded eyes turned to look at her as she spoke, eyeing up the stain of blood on her face and down her throat. Nothing but a trail leading down to pert breasts just barely peeking out from beneath the shirt he had offered her.

"Well lookit you, got yer first kill an' ya choose me ta share the experience with, I'm touched." He chuckled deeply, lips curling into an amused grin, "Gotta say, I'm proud ya went off on yer own, can' have Sissy hangin' off'a ya all the time."

His eyes were honest, unabashed, when the pink material slipped further off her shoulders to give him a full gander at her bra clad bosom once more. Lingering as they stared at their soft, rain slicked and flushed flesh with clear appreciation. Clearly a man who enjoyed a pretty pair, though his eyes did flicker up to her boldly asking for his attention. Even if it was likely being fueled by alcohol.

Leaning in close, much like she had done as he half turned to face her with his arm still resting on the back of the couch, he stared at her with limpid eyes. His other hand coming up to gently hold Kat's chin between thumb and forefinger, as he softly spoke,

"Darlin'... Alls ya have ta do is ask.."

His lips then moved in to softly brush against hers, nothing but a chaste little kiss before he tilted her head to the side so he could lick at the blood on her cheek. Only to pull away to finish saying, "But I'll only go this far, since yer drunk an' the only people I take advantage of are my victims..."