#I used to be so self conscious about how cocky I sounded but tbh it’s a great way to show off my art
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Honestly my biggest tip for artists is to make your art into your phone case
That way when non art people ask “You draw? What kind of stuff do you draw?” you can just whip out your phone and be like “this” and then they just go :O!!!!
#ramblings#I used to be so self conscious about how cocky I sounded but tbh it’s a great way to show off my art#and it gives a good sense your art to ppl!#I’ll have to figure out a new way to print my phone case though r*b*bble hates me and suspended my account
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Nobody necessarily asked for these but it’s been a meh few days and I figured I’d write some shit to keep busy (a little stuck on request but a bih is managing)
So I give you, some random headcanons for the guys
Michelangelo
I like to think that this orange lad while the fun type of bf that has you in stitches nearly every minute, has his serious moments
Similar to Don he’s painfully aware that he isn’t normal and while he can be somewhat vain that boy has got some self conscious thoughts running through him all day. Especially with his s/o
That gives way to some depressive episodes 🥺 (hug him pls)
He’s the second best cook of the four (Raph being 1st place) but he’s the best baker though.
Loves being competitive in games with Raph but enjoys playing co-op more with Donnie
The only time you can catch him really concentrating is when he draws. Boy really gets lost in it. Goes without mentioning, yes he draws his s/o and has gifted them some pretty dope ass pieces
Heaviest sleeper, a bomb can go off. You’ve often almost violently shake him which leads to Grumpy Groggy Mikey™️ and he complains cause on the random days he manages to be up before you boy wakes you up super soft and sweetly
Besides Donnie he’s got seniority when it comes to picking the playlist they use for doing chores.
As I’ve stated and will die on that hill: Touch is his love language. He still likes to snuggle up to his bros or give them hugs. He’s basically attached to the hip with his s/o.
Fancies himself a bit of a style icon
He remembers perfectly the firsts: first kiss, first time, first fight, first makeup, first everything
Him and Raph are the dynamic duo but Mikey loves being coddled by Leo because big brother and littlest brother™️
But he feels most comfortable talking about unusual or somewhat embarrasing things with Donnie cause he always hits him with the “yes it’s perfectly normal because *long winded biology esplanation*”
Doesn’t like to cry in front of his brother but breaks apart with Splinter
He Loves™️ the sound of his name when it comes out of his s/o’s mouth. In every sense of the word, angry, happy, surprised, lustful etc
Donatello
Being a genius has its perks but man can it have its downsides.
He’s just ridiculously aware and that leads to many thoughts and those thoughts can turn very negative
He gets depressed pretty easily but he’s got that Keep on Keep Going attitude towards it. His s/o can catch on pretty quickly and there’s a struggle to reach him when his head is too clouded.
He is the Fix It type in all sense of the words. So he’s the bf that will listen to your problems and he’ll try and find a way around it to help you or at least give out a better point of view.
Which means he’s a great listener, like seriously he loves talking and he rambles but he loves when you do too
Loves to be caressed honestly. If his s/o runs a hand down his arms or thigh, if they caress his cheek or run a thumb across his lips.
He reads all manner of things tbh, from repair manuals to romance novels
Goes without saying, gamer boi. He loves doing mods, always wants to play on expert mode, smart sarcastic burns when he’s playing online and somebody is being an insensitive prick
He’s actually a really good sexter. He’s nervous physically cause self image issues but with reassurance etc he gets lowkey cocky
No necessarily the best cook but he’s not bad either. He does like to make you breakfast in bed.
Serotonin hiiiiigh when they bring him coffee
He loves late night drives, usually takes a Raph with him but once he gets his s/o it’s the two of you driving around New York. One some ocassions Raph tags along too
While they get along pretty good, him and Leo can butt heads a lot. It’s not a dick measuring contest like Leo and Raph. They just argue and Donnie gets a smart mouth and Leo well he can be a dick.
Regardless they make up pretty fast.
Leonardo
He’s got a smidge of OCD. He’s very particular of keeping things in a particular order that he knows and nobody really understands but it makes him happy.
Expert folder of clothing so everyone rejoices when it’s his turn to do laundry cause that mofo does some orgami like shit to everyone’s boxers
He reminds everyone to eat fruit and veggies, can’t be pizza every night
Yes he can be a hardass but he’s honestly an absolute softie with those he loves. He’s very attentive with everyone’s needs, especially Splinter
Rooftop star gazing, he likes to decompress and sometimes that means going somewhere by himself. When coupled up he loves doing this with his s/o and it’s a nice way to get some time to themselves
Listen Leo is boyfriend material, he’s husband material. It’s stupid how perfect he is when it comes to being someone’s partner. He remembers the little things like really dumb things that always guts his s/o.
He’s thought about if anything were to happen to him he’d want Raph to step up. Even if they argue and bicker and fight he knows Raph would set the world on fire if it meant protecting his loved ones.
Is learning Japanese and he so wants to see it someday. Has gotten pretty good at speaking it but reading it is still a little hard.
Has snuck into a flower shop after hours to get you a bouquet, it’s cool he leaves the money on the counter
When Casey and April had their first Big Fight™️ and she showed up and started bawling, everyone thought Raph was gonna end Casey but in reality it was Leo, that boy was seething if Donnie hadn’t played mediator it was gonna be ugly
Leo hates to see somebody he loves cry cause somebody was just being an ass
He loves game night and movie night
While he takes his leader duties seriously this boy will sleep away a day away. He’s tired af get him a blanket pls.
Raphael
Grumpy boi lives to exercise and lift weights but he does have other things he enjoys. He loves sneaking out an making his away around the city from rooftop to rooftop
As stated, best cook in the fam. This man takes pride in that. So as his s/o trust me you’re gonna be well fed
Although he will never admit he can’t fall a sleep without you like once y’all start dating and sleeping over he needs you there.
Mikey gets on his last nerve but Christ if anyone messes with him. Raph is ripping their necks. That’s his boy, he’ll always protect him, which is why whenever Leo starts going on Dad Mode he always sides with his little bro.
Sure he’s got his anger issues but honestly he’s probably one of the most sentimental of his brothers. So yeah cry angry but he’s just a ball of emotions and he doesn’t know how to manage them sometimes but he’s trying
He’s protective of Mikey but lord is he protective of April. Like honestly he gave Casey the big brother ‘if you break her heart I’m breaking ya neck’ speech and he fucking means it
Also, he’s really close with April. Those two are always talking and goofing about. He sees her as that little sister (or more so big sister) and he likes having a sister.
He’s super close with Donnie, they’ve often felt like outcast in their own ways. Raph likes helping out, he’s pretty handy.
#tmnt bayverse#tmnt leonardo#tmnt raphael#tmnt donatello#tmnt michelangelo#tmnt leo#tmnt Donnie#tmnt Mikey#tmnt Raph#Leonardo#Raphael#Michelangelo#Donatello#headcanons#I was bored
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Trapped in the Amber - 1x01
I promise I’m not dead! I know I haven’t been posting anything lately, but that’s because what I’ve been writing is mostly... well, this. The most ridiculously self-indulgent bullshit I’ve written in a long time, and it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever written, and it’s still not even half way done. I admit, I’m very self-conscious about this, because the nastier side of fandom has infected me with some bullshit prejudices that I haven’t completely managed to exorcise yet, but... I’m tired of being worried it’s not ‘good enough’, and maybe, if people do like it at all, it’ll motivate me to pick it back up. So, here I am, retelling Supernatural right from the start, with a next gen OC tagging along, fixing things here and there. (...Yeah, god, I know how that sounds...) It’s going to start out... sticking pretty close to the Supernatural script, although I tried to limit the amount of times I quoted the show verbatim, it still happens sometimes. The story will diverge from canon more and more as the little changes start piling up and having an effect, but... That’s a long way off, tbh. (For anyone who cares and doesn’t know me well enough to guess, the primary future!ships are Dean/Cas/Gabe and Sam/Mia, but apart from the main character being a Dean/Cas/Gabe baby who loves her parents, there really isn’t that much more focus on romance than there is in the show. For now.)
Blackwater Ridge, Lost Creek, Colorado – Friday 11th November 2005
Landing in the past feels like hitting the emergency stop on a bullet train, like she left her internal organs behind somewhere on the timeline. Meira knows it’s the past because the timeline had felt thick and gooey as she fell. Falling in the other direction would have felt worse, but that doesn’t mean she enjoyed the trip. Add that to the sensation of her grace suddenly retreating to coil up under her skin like a wounded animal, and she thinks it’s no surprise that the first thing she does once there’s solid ground beneath her feet is throw up.
“Oh, son of a bitch.” She groans once her stomach feels like it’s settled mostly back where it’s supposed to be. She braces her shoulder on a tree that’s conveniently nearby, and tries to get her bearings. She’s in a forest, she sees, as she looks around. There are a lot of forests on earth. There are forests elsewhere in the universe too, but she’s… pretty sure this is earth, anyway. And she’s somewhen in the past, although she can’t get any sense of where she actually is on the timeline, and when she tries to reach out with her grace to find out, a sharp, awful pain lances through her soul. She groans and staggers, leaning more of her weight against the tree and forcing her knees to keep her upright out of sheer force of will. She is not trying that again.
The thought that there might be something wrong with her grace is terrifying. She’s stranded, and she can’t get home. She thinks she might be able to manifest her wings, she can still feel them, after all, so they’re not gone, but she wouldn’t be able to fly on them. She can’t fly. She can’t fly.
The panic sits sharp and cloying in the back of her throat, and she swallows hard, as if that might get rid of it. It doesn’t. “Motherfucker.” She swears, and hates that it comes out more reedy than fierce. She has no idea how this happened, either, which doesn’t help. Well, she has some idea, because Heaven, Hell, and everyone in between has been trying to get rid of her for her entire life, and if whatever’s wrong with her grace is why she fell into the past, then she’d say someone finally succeeded. Dad’s going to go ballistic, she thinks, not sure if it makes her want to laugh, or cry.
“Hey, lady.” Someone barks, and Meira flinches so hard she nearly falls over. It’s only a decade of various combat training that saves her from ending up on her ass in the dirt. She has never in her life been unable to sense the people around her before. She’s always felt the shades and shapes of people’s souls. Until now, apparently, with her grace trapped under her skin and unable to reach out to feel the nuances of her environment.
The man standing a little ways off is fairly nondescript, with short-cropped light blonde hair and a touch of stubble, wearing what looked like wilderness gear. Meira has no idea what lies beneath his face, whether she can trust him or not and it makes her uneasy. “What’re you doing out here?” He demands.
“Getting lost?” Meira sasses, because nervousness has never helped shut her up.
And then, another man steps out of the underbrush, but this one, Meira recognises. It’s her dad. Even though he looks so baby-faced and young, she’d know him anywhere. The relief is like a physical blow and she sags against another tree. “And my name’s Meira.” She adds. “Not ‘lady’, thanks.”
Dad quirks a grin, enjoying her sass, and then says, with every ounce of cocky bravado she’s ever seen him use and then some; “Nice to meet you, Meira. I’m Dean.” He glances over at the other guy. “And this is… I’m sorry, what was your name again?” The question is so obviously insincere, and Meira chokes on an incredulous laugh, because she’s seen her dad playful before, even bordering on mean when he’s trying not to admit something’s wrong, but that was something else. It’s macho-posturing, she realises, with a mixture of hilarity and dread. He’s showing off, like a twat, for her.
Oh, god. She’s going to have to nip that right in the bud, or she’s going to throw up again.
“Roy. Roy Roberts.” The other guy replies through gritted teeth, glaring at Dad – at Dean, she’s going to have to get used to that, or she’s going to slip up, and things are going to get awkward real fast – with enough venom to bring down an elephant.
“Hey, mind if I tag along with you guys?” Meira asks, to diffuse some of the angry tension in the air. Absently she wonders if this is before Dean has admitted that he’s into guys, too, because that might explain some of that. Roy is a fairly good looking guy, after all. He reminds Meira of that guy who played Bond in those movies Dad likes from before she was born. That… probably haven’t even been made yet. Damn it. She’s going to have to be careful with things like that. “I have no idea where I am right now.” She adds, because Roy does not look convinced.
“We’re heading further in, not back out.” He warns her.
Meira shrugs. “You’re still a better option than trying to make it by myself.” And she has absolutely no intention of going anywhere without Dad. It’s not really very rational, but he’s her only point of reference right now, and until she can get her feet under herself and figure out what the fuck to do, she could use the illusion of support. So she grins into the face of Roy’s unimpressed glower. “You know I’m just asking as a formality, right? If you say no, I’ll just follow you anyway, because what the hell else am I gonna do?”
Roy’s glower shades towards resigned, and Meira knows she’s won. Her grin sharpens, and he rolls his eyes, but nods his acceptance. “Come on, then, if you’re coming.” He instructs, heading back the way he came without any further ado, leaving Meira alone with her baby-faced father.
There’s a brief moment where they stare at each other, both of them at a loss, and then Dad – Dean – jerks his head towards the bit of forest Roy disappeared into, and Meira takes that as her cue to fall into step with him. “So, before you were getting lost, what were you doing out here?” Dean asks, looking at her with open curiosity. Then his eyes flicker down and up again, and Meira catches herself before an Enochian exorcism can fall out of her mouth on instinct.
Instead, she switches to the first lie she can come up with that might make her dad stop looking at her like that. “I was running away from a dickbag who wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She says without looking at him.
There’s a beat of silence, and a glance shows Meira that Dean is grimacing. “What an asshole.” He comments, just as they catch up with the others again. Roy looks sour, but he’s attentive, scanning the surroundings with a keen eye, which Meira appreciates, and standing nearby is Uncle Sam. Only he’s a squishy-cheeked, smooth-faced, gangly-limbed baby-Uncle now. Meira has to bite back the urge to coo and possibly pinch his cheeks.
The other two in the group are people Meira doesn’t recognise, a teenage boy with close-cropped hair, and a young woman with cute dimples that show when she smiles at Meira in greeting. Meira smiles back with extra warmth. “This is my brother, Sam.” Dean says, taking it upon himself to do introductions. “And this is Haley and Ben Collins. Their brother’s gone missing, which is why we’re here, looking for him.” He explains, gesturing.
“I hope we find him.” Meira says, specifically to Haley. She’s just decided that Haley is her salvation, and she offers her hand to the other woman to shake. “I’m Meira.” Haley takes her hand with just a hint of befuddlement.
“Alright, let’s keep moving.” Roy calls, before Meira can add anything else. She does let her hand linger, though, just a touch, before she retracts it. Their group moves off again, and Meira makes it a point to walk beside Haley.
“Tell me about your brother?” She asks, just to strike up conversation.
Haley glances at her sideways, but obliges. It’s clear she loves her family, just the way she talks about them, and Meira catches herself smiling for real, and not just as a flirtation, although it’s that as well. She does make a point to tell Haley how admirable she thinks it is, that sort of devotion to family, and Haley ducks her head with a rueful smile, bashful.
Behind them, Sam snickers. Meira glances back and catches a disgruntled pout on her dad’s face before he smooths it out into something more neutral once he realises she’s looking. She makes a bit of a show of glancing between Haley and Dean, and then grins, unrepentant, and shrugs in faux-apology. Dean snorts and waves her off, conceding defeat gracefully enough.
When Meira turns back around, Haley is watching her, one eyebrow arched. Meira refuses to feel sheepish at being caught out, and just nudges her with her shoulder, gentle and teasing, and asks her another question about her life. Haley rolls her eyes, but answers.
The conversation carries them on through the afternoon, until they reach a point where Roy stops. It’s almost a clearing, if it wasn’t for the waist-high undergrowth. “This is it.” Roy says, looking about them. “Blackwater Ridge.”
“What coordinates are we at?” Uncle Sam asks at once. Roy answers, and Meira aches a little at just how incomprehensible the numbers are. Before, she would have just known where she was, and she feels a little sick, being made aware of just how little she can tell about the world around her now. She looks around, hating how small she feels, how muffled everything is. She doesn’t dare try to reach out with her grace again, but she wants to, just to make that feeling of wrong go away.
“I’m going to go take a look around.” Roy announces.
Meira whips around to give him an incredulous look. He might not be in the know, might not realise that Sam and Dean are probably on a hunt right now, but even so, it seems reckless for anyone to go off on their own. “You shouldn’t go off by yourself.” Sam points out, so Meira doesn’t have to.
“I’ll go with you.” Meira offers, since no one else seems like they’re about to.
It earns her incredulous looks from all quarters, and a disparaging one from Roy. Meira gives him a hard look in return, the sort of ‘do you really want to try me, bitch?’ look that Pabbi has always told her makes her look like her qaada. And she might not be able to bring her grace to bear along with it like she usually does, but she is still an angel, no matter how constrained, and it would take a tougher man than Roy Roberts to not even blink in the face of heavenly wrath.
“Look,” he says in a carefully reasonable tone, “I know these woods, and I’m just going to have a look around, see if I can find any signs of people. I’ll be fine. You’ll be safer staying here.”
“You’d be safer staying with the group, too.” Dean interjects, making no effort to sound inoffensive. Roy gives him a sour look.
“Why don’t we all go?” Haley suggests, all false brightness and impatience.
Roy raises his hands in frustrated surrender, and heads off into the woods. The rest of them follow along like good little ducklings. They do spread out a little as they go, looking for any signs of other people in the area. Meira is not an expert woodsman, but she’d learned a few things growing up with a hunter family, and she tries to pay attention, to be helpful.
“Haley! Over here!” Roy shouts suddenly. Everyone bolts towards the shout, and they come out in a clearing with three tents lying there in mangled wreckages, blood-splattered and torn. “Oh my god…” Haley breathes, sounding horrified. Meira doesn’t blame her. She feels a little bit sick, too, and it’s not her brother’s campsite. The thought of something like this happening to Jace makes her want to smite something, and her grace roils under her skin, pushing at the boundaries of her physical form and aching every time it brushes against the inside of her skin.
“Looks like a grizzly.” Roy remarks, cool and practical.
Meira thinks not. Not only because if it was, it’s unlikely her dad and her uncle would be here, but also because there would be more blood and less wanton destruction if it had been a normal animal. If a bear had been hungry enough to hunt people, there would be a lot more blood, at least, and if it was pissed at them being on its territory, there would be bodies. But there aren’t. Just a bit of blood splattered about here and there, and a lot of claw marks.
Haley begins shouting for her brother, and Meira grabs her arm before she can walk any further into the camp. “Don’t.” She warns, eyeing the surrounding woods warily.
“What?” Haley demands, eyes a little wild. “Why not?”
“Something might still be out there.” Sam interjects, giving Meira a respectful nod. She tries to smile back, but she’s not too proud to admit that she’s scared. She ought to be able to tell what did this, to feel the spirits and souls around her and know. But she can’t.
“Sam!” Dean calls, and Sam heads off at a brisk clip.
Meira heads after him on instinct. Haley follows her for about three steps before Ben calls out in a voice that wavers despite his best efforts, and she turns back to him without hesitation. Meira catches up to Sam just in time to hear Dean saying “-tell you what, it’s no skin-walker or black dog.” Then Dean turns and stalls at the sight of her. “Uh…” He says, staring at her like a deer in the headlights.
In other circumstances, Meira might glory in making her dad look like that for once, instead of the other way around, but she’s still feeling unnerved enough that it’s hard to wring any humour out of the situation. “Why are we ruling out skin-walkers and black dogs?” She asks, propping her shoulder on a tree and crossing her arms. It looks less pathetic than curling her arms around her sides, but it still serves to make herself feel better. What would be best would be a hug from her dad, but there’s no way she’d ask for that when he’d probably just take it the wrong way.
“You-” Sam begins, realisation dawning in his expression.
“You’re a Hunter?” Dean demands.
“More or less.” Meira agrees. It’s never been a title that sits right on her shoulders. Not when she’s spent her whole life surrounded by people who actually dedicated themselves to the job, while she’s always felt more like a kid mucking about with a hobby. At Dean’s sceptical, bordering on suspicious look, she elaborates. “I was raised to it, but I’ve never… dedicated myself to it.” She hedged. “I just help out here and there when something crosses my path.”
“Right.” Dean acknowledges, and then jerks his head towards something behind him. Meira comes closer to look, and Dean explains the tracks. It’s almost like being a kid again, with Dad schooling her on this or that aspect of hunting.
“A skin-walker or a black dog could drag a person away, but you’re right, the tracks just stopping like that is weird.” Meira acknowledges, wracking her brains for what could do this. “A phantom cat could, too. Or a wendigo or a moonfiend. Or a harpy, maybe. It’s too early for a werewolf.”
“Werewolves don’t tend to drag their victims off, never mind vanish with them.” Dean points out.
“What’s a moonfiend?” Sam asks.
Meira blinks, reminded suddenly that this is not really her uncle. “It’s a… It’s kind of like a mothman, but less aggressive. They’re mostly harmless, actually, really shy, but if they’ve staked out a territory, you don’t want to go wandering into it.” She explains absently. “It’s just that they can fly, which would explain…” She gestures at the vanishing tracks. “Like Harpies. Wendigos are strong and agile enough to lift a human body, and phantom cats are spirits. It’s possible a phantom cats could transport a victim that way, but they don’t tend to drag people off, either.”
“Phantom cat. That’s the animal version of a poltergeist, right?” Dean checks.
Meira nods. “Yeah, pretty much. Although normal poltergeists generally just want to hurt or kill you, but some legends suggest that phantom cats steal souls.”
“The pattern of attacks would suggest it’s hunting, not protecting territory, so I don’t think it’s a moonfiend.” Sam adds with a grimace.
The three of them look at each other, all of them coming to the same conclusion, none of them actually willing to say it out loud. Before someone can muster their courage, the forest air is shattered with a shout.
“HELP!”
Meira startles, and then lurches into a run before she’s had time to think. Of course, Dean and Sam are already on the move, too, even as a second, and then a third cry echoes through the forest. They converge with the others, a wordless scream that sounds closer than ever egging them on. Then the forest goes silent, and they slow to a stop, wary and alert, listening hard. “It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn’t it?” Haley asks.
Meira feels painfully vulnerable, and she tests her grace, to see if she can conjure her blade. It’s made from her grace, and it’s still there, so the blade should be there, but when she tries to manifest it, a lance of white-hot pain ricochets through her, and she clutches at her wrist, gritting her teeth against the agony.
“Everybody back to camp.” Sam orders, and Meira obeys on instinct. She’s never felt so vulnerable before in her entire life, and it only gets worse when she realises they’ve fallen for a trap and all their gear is gone. Before, she wouldn’t have worried. She’s an angel, she can survive off the ambient energy of the universe if she needs to. It’s not fun, but it’s possible. But now, she has no idea what she can and can’t do. Her grace is still there, warming her bones, but every time she reaches for it, all she gets is pain.
“Alright, listen up.” Sam says briskly, looking around the camp with a tight expression on his face. “It’s time to go. Things have gotten more complicated.”
“What?” Haley asks, incredulous and irritated.
“Kid, don’t worry. Whatever’s out there, I think I can handle it.” Roy says, and Meira’s tempted to deck him for the condescending arrogance in his voice.
“If you don’t even know what it is, you have no idea whether you can handle it.” She snaps. It seems to startle everyone, but Meira doesn’t care. Yesterday, a wendigo wouldn’t have frightened her. She could move faster than it, could burn it to death with just a touch of the holy light in her soul, but today, she’s as helpless as Roy Roberts, and it pisses her off that he’s not as scared as she is.
“Sweetheart, when you’ve been hunting as long as I have, there isn’t much the woods can throw at you that you can’t handle.” Roy retorts smugly.
Meira scoffs incredulously, suddenly hating him. “Oh, that’s what this is. Did Sam taking charge just now wound your fragile male ego? Are you really going to put everyone here at risk because of your god damned pride?”
“How dare you suggest-”
“Hey, relax.” Dean interjects. Even though it isn’t directed at her, Meira can’t help but subside, too used to Dad mediating arguments between her and Jace, or her and Rob, or her and Pabbi that way.
Apparently, Uncle Sam hasn’t gotten the memo, though. “She’s right.” He says, as if Dad hadn’t said anything at all. “You have no idea what’s out there, what it can do. I’m just trying to protect you.”
“You, protect me?” Roy scoffs. “I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you goodnight.” He spits, getting into Uncle Sam’s face.
“Isn’t it about time you retired, then?” Meira snarks.
“You shut your mouth.” Roy barks, rounding on her.
“Okay, that’s enough!” Dad snaps, getting between them with both his hands out as if to physically hold them away from each other. “Just chill out, okay?” He prompts, giving Uncle Sam a pointed look. Meira tucks her arms around herself and tries not to freak out any more than she already has. Haley putting a hand on her shoulder makes her jump, but the comforting squeeze she gets helps a little.
“We don’t have time, Dean. We have to get these people out of here before this thing eats them alive.” Uncle Sam protests furiously.
“Look.” Haley speaks up, interrupting whatever Roy had been about to say in answer to that. “Tommy might still be alive.” She states, and Meira knows what’s coming next. She knows, because it’s what she’d say if it was Jace out here, in the claws of a wendigo. It’s what Dad would say if it was Uncle Sam. “And I’m not leaving here without him.”
“Then we’re going to need fire.” Meira says. “Lots and lots of fire.”
Blackwater Ridge, Lost Creek, Colorado – Saturday 12th November 2005
They build up a large campfire, and several smaller fires, too, and Meira helps her dad draw protective symbols around their camp. And then they sit and wait for morning or the wendigo, whichever comes first. The hours draw on interminably, and Meira sits right by the fire, close enough that she feels a little feverish with the heat baking her face, but it’s close enough that she could grab one of the big branches out of the fire if she needed to.
Sitting and waiting isn’t the best plan though, she thinks grimly. For morning, yes. Wendigos don’t really like bright sunlight, so they’ll have that small advantage once the sun rises, but after that? Haley isn’t leaving without her brother, and her brother, if he’s still alive, will be in the wendigo’s lair. Which they’ll need to find, and get into, and get out of, without dying or getting caught themselves.
“What’re you thinking?” Haley asks quietly, nudging her.
Meira glances at her, sees how worried she looks, and musters up a smile. “I’m trying to figure out how we’re going to find Tommy.” Haley blinks, then almost smiles, except not really. Meira knows the feeling, and goes back to staring at the fire. “Even if we kill this thing, we’d still need to find him, and… Shit, that’s a lot of wilderness to comb through.”
“We’ll do it.” Haley insists stubbornly. “I’ll do it.”
Meira smiles, slanting a fond look at her. “I know.” She assures her. “I have a little brother, too. I’d take on a wendigo for him, too.” That wouldn’t really have been saying much before, but now? Like this? She still means it.
“A…” Haley falters, frowning. “I’ve heard of that before. Isn’t that some sort of Native legend or something?”
Meira nodded. “Algonquian peoples, primarily. They tended to live more northward, where the long, lean winters often led to starvation. And starvation sometimes led to people who who looked at their families and friends, and saw not people they loved, but food.” Haley shudders in distaste. “And once they’ve eaten someone, they start craving it, and every time they eat someone else, they turn a little bit more monstrous.”
Haley gives her a sharp look, fear buried under anger. “You mean this thing’s going to eat Tommy?” She demands in a harsh whisper.
“It’s planning to, yeah. But it probably hasn’t yet.” Meira reassures, reaching out to put an arm around Haley’s shoulders. Haley grabs her other wrist in a desperate, unthinking motion, clinging to hope. “Wendigos are born of deprivation, they know what it’s like to go hungry, and they hate it. They tend to hunt in spurts, and hibernate for long stretches of time in between, but they don’t gorge themselves. They’ll take people alive if they can, so they have food for later.”
Haley squeezes her eyes shut. Then she sets her jaw and nods. “How can we kill this thing?” She asks in a hard voice.
Meira looks away. “I’m starting to wonder if we should.” She admits.
“What?” Haley asks, so sharply that Sam and Dean look over at them from where they’re sitting together across the fire, heads bent together and discussing something.
Meira opens her mouth to explain what she’s thinking, what she doesn’t want to be thinking, but before she can, someone out in the woods calls for help. She cringes, even as everyone else leaps to their feet, those with guns aiming them out into the night. She knows that it’s the wendigo, knows that it isn’t some poor bastard getting chowed on, but… well, before, she would have known, would have felt it, would have been able to tell for sure that, no, the only soul out there is the corrupted one of the wendigo. Now, all she has to go on is cold logic. It’s enough to convince her head, but not her soul.
Some part of her still feels the need to go and check, to be sure, because what if she’s just sitting here, listening to someone die when she could have helped them? Then the gunfire starts up. “I hit it!” Roy shouts suddenly, and Meira’s head jerks up just in time to see him dodging around one of their extra fires and rushing out into the woods.
She’s on her feet before she can think about it. Then she hesitates. What is she going to do, without her grace? But she can’t just leave him to his fate, either, no matter how much she doesn’t like him. “Don’t move!” Her dad orders, right before going after Roy himself.
That cinches it, really. Meira’s not leaving her dad out there with a wendigo. She snatches up one of the burning sticks, and bolts after them. “Meira!” Uncle Sam shouts, reaching out to try and grab her, but Meira’s played that game a million times, it’s habit to flex her grace to give herself just a little bit more speed so that she’s not where he expects her to be.
And this time, it works.
It’s such a relief she nearly stumbles, but she doesn’t have time to waste, so she catches her balance and runs on. She’s right behind Dad, and Roy is up ahead, and she can hear the wendigo in the trees. “It’s over here!” The wendigo calls with someone else’s voice, and Meira can see it reaching for Roy. The world blurs as she lunges, practically tackling Roy out of the way just as the wendigo’s hands flash out and the claws sink into her face.
She could retaliate, she has her stick, but she remembers the thoughts that had been plaguing her earlier, and doesn’t.
The wendigo jerks her, hard, but Meira’s grace isn’t gone. It’s just trapped, which means that when her neck snaps, it’s nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Painful, sure, but her grace heals the damage almost as soon as it’s been done. The wendigo gives her another shake, nearly breaking her neck again, and then wrenches the burning stick away from her, tossing it back down to the ground. She lets it, because she doesn’t want to have to heal being eaten, and then plays limp ragdoll as the wendigo darts off through the trees with her. It won’t fool it forever, but it should fool it long enough for it to take her back to its lair.
They drop back to the forest floor eventually, and then further down still, underground, Meira realises. A cave, or an abandoned mine, perhaps. She’s tossed into a larger cavern, lets herself roll limply along the floor, and the wendigo retreats. Meira’s just going to have to hope that her dad and uncle can keep Haley and Ben alive through the night.
“Ugh.” She groans and sits up, rubbing at the back of her neck. She’s human enough that that sort of damage is still unnerving, and leaves her feeling vaguely squeamish for hours afterwards. So worth it just to know her grace still works, though.
“Holy shit!”
Meira stills, looking around. The cavern is not, in fact, pitch black. There’s faint light seeping in from somewhere above her head, moonlight, and it’s just about enough for her to see by. There’s a man strung up from the rafters that looks enough like Haley and Ben that Meira feels pretty safe in guessing “Tommy Collins?”
“Yeah.” Tommy says breathlessly. “I thought you were dead.”
“That’s what I wanted it to think.” Meira tells him with a shrug, clambering to her feet and dusting herself off. “Now, let’s see if we can’t get you down.” She wishes, briefly but intensely, for her blade. It’s right there, sitting inside her soul, and she can’t manifest it. Instead, she casts about for something in the cave that they’re in, and settles on a broken shard of rock from the floor of the cave. It worked for prehistoric people well enough.
“How- how’d you know who I am?” Tommy asks after Meira’s been sawing at the ropes for a few minutes. They’re starting to fray, finally, which is a relief.
“Your brother and sister have come looking for you.” Meira tells him. “Brought me and a couple others along with them.”
“Oh, god.” Tommy groans. “Are they okay?”
“Worried about you, but otherwise, yeah. Last I saw, anyway. And D- Dean and Sam know how to handle a wendigo. They’ll look after them, I promise.” Tommy lets out a shuddering breath, nodding to himself.
“I think this is backwards.” Tommy says in a tone of forced cheer. Meira hums curiously, scowling at the rope as she continues to work at it. “We’ll the beautiful damsel is rescuing the handsome knight from the monster.” He points out.
Meira snorts her way into laughter, and leans back to get a better look at him. “You are cute.” She acknowledges, and in other circumstances, she might have flirted back, because she’s gotten the feeling that both Haley and Tommy are straight. “But your sister’s cuter.” She adds, going back to her work. The rope gives way before Tommy manages to muster up a response to that. He staggers when he drops, having been strung up for so long and deprived of sustenance that his balance is shot to shit. Meira catches him and slings one of his arms over her shoulder. “Do you know if your friends are still alive?” She asks him. There’s no one else in this cave, she doesn’t think, although she can’t be entirely sure of that with her grace locked down like this, but she’s pretty sure this won’t be the only place the wendigo has to stash its snacks.
She feels more than sees Tommy shake his head. “N-no, it-” He stammers out. “Oh god.” He says, and Meira recognises that tone well enough to shift the way she’s supporting him so that when he doubles over and retches, she doesn’t get covered in bile.
“Easy.” Meira soothes, rubbing a hand over his back. He dry heaves a few more times, but manages to regain control of himself after that. “Yeah, I can’t imagine watching something like that was any fun.” She muses, tugging him back upright and setting off. She hopes she can remember the way out. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“What about- about that thing?” Tommy asks her as they stagger along, into the first of several pitch-black tunnels.
“It’s almost certainly out in the woods right now, hunting the others.” Meira tells him, which she is aware is not as comforting as it could be, given that ‘the others’ includes family for both of them. Tommy swears, and Meira grimaces, figuring she can at least help a little bit. “Sam and Dean know how to handle something like this.” She assures him. “And they have plenty of fire. They’ll keep Haley and Ben safe. And I’m going to keep you safe.”
“In normal circumstances, that would sound ridiculous.” Tommy mutters.
“Don’t be sexist.” Meira chides, but she keeps her tone light, and gives him a gentle little jostle with her shoulder to let him know she’s mostly teasing. Then she sobers, because short of actually eating her alive, which admittedly is a possibility, the wendigo can’t kill her, but it could definitely kill Tommy, and if he’s going to play machismo bullshit because she’s a lady, she really does need to nip that in the bud. “But I’m serious. If it does come back, if we run into it, don’t you dare try to play the hero, alright?” She puts a touch of divine command into her tone. “I am not your responsibility, do not wait for me, do not come back for me, do not try to throw yourself into harms way to protect me. Am I clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tommy mumbles, resentful and bewildered.
The rest of the slog out of the mines is made in silence, save for Tommy’s ragged breathing and Meira’s occasional curse when she makes a wrong turn and they have to double back. Finally, though, Meira picks out a hint of light and follows it to the exit. It looks like it might have been boarded up once, but the wendigo has made a neat little opening for itself, and she and Tommy stagger out into in the dim grey-blue light of false dawn.
Tommy chokes back a sob of relief. Meira grins at the sound and shifts him higher on her shoulder. “Come on, we don’t want to get caught here if it comes back.” She points out, and that convinces Tommy to pick up his pace. It’s still slow going, because he’s still pretty unhealthy after two days chained up in a cave with minimal sustenance. The wendigo probably wouldn’t have fed him, but they had been known to give captives water. They also have undergrowth to contend with now, and Meira might heal a broken ankle, but Tommy won’t.
“Where… are the others?” Tommy asks.
Which is a hell of a good question. “I have no idea.” Meira tells him, feigning cheer. “Right now our priorities are water and some way of making fire.” She informs him, and Tommy drags them to a stop.
Tommy clearly knows more about wilderness survival than she does, because within a few minutes of her pointing out a need for it, Tommy has somehow managed to get a small fire going. They’re still too close to the wendigo’s lair for Meira’s comfort, but having a weapon that might actually do something to it is more important than trying to escape something that could outstrip a bullet. They build up a campfire, draw some protective sigils, and Meira fashions them both makeshift torches, wishing bitterly that she wasn’t reduced to such primitive tools all the while.
Meira risks leaving Tommy alone with the sigils to protect him just long enough to see if she can find any hint of running water nearby. She does, so they relocate, going through the whole process of warding all over again, this time closer to the water. Tommy looks a lot better for the chance to drink and wash his face, and then they have to figure out what the hell to do next.
“Finding the others ought to be priority over killing the wendigo.” Meira muses. “There’s just the problem of how to actually go about that.”
Tommy nods grimly. “If it wasn’t for the monster out there that wants to eat us, I’d say set up a base camp, search outwards, leave signs.” He summarises. Meira is about to suggest that they should do exactly that, then, when a furious snarl echoes through the woods. Tommy flinches so hard he falls over where he’s sitting, only barely catching himself with one hand in the dirt.
“Think it noticed we’re missing?” Meira asks rhetorically.
They sit, tense and wary, in the ensuing silence, waiting for something to happen. It doesn’t for long enough that Meira begins to wonder if she should do something. Then the yelling starts. “Help! Help me!” Meira clenches her hands into fists, heart squeezing.
“You know that’s not going to work, right?” She calls, standing slowly and bringing two of their burning sticks with her, one in each hand. Tommy hisses at her, grabbing at the hem of her coat as if that might make her sit and stop baiting the monster. A snarl answers her words, echoing oddly as the wendigo moves mid-sound and the doppler effect turns it multi-toned. “What? Pissed because you couldn’t kill me? We’re pretty tough prey, I bet you’ve figured by now. All this exertion must be making you kinda hungry.”
The roar that follows shakes the forest, full of fury and malice, and Meira nearly giggles hysterically. She only has the barest idea of what she’s doing, and her hands are shaking with the terror of having a predator that’s bigger than her focused solely on her, but she knows, she knows from painful, bitter experience that making someone angry makes them sloppy in the short term. And any advantage she can wring out of this situation, she needs.
Tauntingly, she steps a little closer to the edge of the protective sigils. And there it is, sprinting too fast for the mortal eye to catch, close enough to make the underbrush rustle right next to where Meira is standing, but not quite close enough for her to hit with one of her torches. Meira doesn’t want to start a forest fire, but oh, boy, is she tempted right now. “Is that supposed to scare me?” She mocks.
The wendigo rushes by again, and then- stops. In plain view. Not even looking at her. Tommy makes a choked noise of horror, and the wendigo doesn’t even twitch. Meira is so tempted to lunge out of the sigils at it, but it’s too easy, and she hesitates. She hesitates like an idiot until it’s suddenly gone, bounding off into the forest, and she realises what must have happened.
It heard something she couldn’t. Something that was easier prey.
“For fuck’s sake!” She explodes, and goes after it, even though it’s probably going to get her eaten.
“Hey! Hey, wait!” Tommy calls.
“Stay in the circle!” Meira calls over her shoulder. “If it comes back, set it on fire!”
The wendigo appears in front of her in an instant. Meira swings on instinct, a little too slow because she’s so off her game right now, but a little too slow is still something, because the flames pass by the wendigo’s emaciated flesh with inches to spare, and it must feel the heat, because it shrieks, an awful, too human sound of pain. A huge clawed hand strikes out, and tears right through the sleeve of her leather coat and into the flesh beneath. “Shit!” She curses, pained and indignant in equal measure, because if she’s guessing right about the limits on her abilities, she’s not going to be able to fix that.
“Meira?!” Uncle Sam’s voice shouts.
The wendigo ignores him, which means Meira succeeded in pissing it off. She ducks the second set of claws aiming for her throat, and then swings both torches up and in. They crash into either side of the wendigo’s head, and the smell of scorched flesh fills the forest just as Sam skids into view. The wendigo screams, rearing back and disappointingly not dead. Meira gears up for another swing, and the wendigo bolts. It’s gone in a flash, and Meira is about to go after it, to press her advantage, but then Uncle Sam is right in front of her, eyes wide. “Are you alright?” He demands, looking between her face and her arm.
“I’ll be fine.” Meira assures him, lowering her arms and hissing when the wound pulls. “My jacket on the other hand…” She bitches, tugging at the shoulder to get a better look at the tears. She whines when she gets a proper look at the damage.
“You bitch-slapped a wendigo in the face with a medieval torch, and you’re just upset about your jacket?” Sam asks incredulously.
Meira considers that. “I… huh. That was pretty cool, wasn’t it?” Sam snorts, shaking his head like he genuinely can’t believe her. Meira grins, before the situation catches up with her, and she jerks her head back the way she came. “We should get behind the wards I set up if we’re going to catch up.”
Sam, though, shakes his head. “I’ve gotta-” He gestures after the wendigo. Meira is just about to point out that running off half-cocked is going to get him dead, despite the disorientation of having to tell her Uncle that, when he goes on. “It took Dean and Haley.”
Meira stares at him for a long moment, then tips her head back. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me!” She whines at the sky. “I just got Tommy out!”
“You got Tommy?” Sam echoes, brightening.
Meira nods, and realises there’s really only one thing for her to do. “I’ll wait with him while you go help the others?” She offers, and Sam nods once, sharp and decisive. Meira thrusts one of the torches at him. “Here. Take that.” Sam does, muttering a quick thanks before he’s rushing off again, and Meira goes back to sit with Tommy.
It’s not even half an hour later when she hears footsteps, people moving through the woods, and then the others appear through the trees, all of them in a straggly exhausted group. Haley and Ben both let out cries of relief when they see their brother, and stumble into a sort of run while Tommy clambers to his feet in order to embrace them.
“Wendigo’s dead?” Meira checks.
“Yeah.” Dean confirms. “Shot it point blank with a flaregun.” He adds proudly. Meira whistles, impressed. Dean grins back at her. “Heard you hit it in the face with a torch?” He asks, jerking his head at Sam to indicate just where he heard that. “Pretty awesome.”
Meira shrugs, grinning bashfully. “I did what I could.”
Then she realises that Roy is watching her very intently. He looks more than a little worse for wear, something a bit wild around his eyes that suggests he’s not taking the existence of the supernatural very well at all. “You’re alive.” He says when Meira catches his eye.
“Yeah.” Meira confirms.
Roy swallows. “Coulda sworn that thing broke your neck.” He says, all of a sudden not quite able to look at her and instead staring somewhere over her shoulder.
“Oh, man, it tried.” She replied, grinning in a strange, giddy relief at the memory of how easily her grace had healed her. “Shook me like a ragdoll. But I’m fine.” She adds to reassure him, because he still looks a bit haunted.
Roy nods. There’s a long pause, and then he clears his throat. “You saved my life. When I was being an idiot.” He adds briskly, grimacing at himself. “Thank you.”
Meira shrugs, smiling ruefully. “Just because you’re an asshole, doesn’t mean you deserve to die.”
Dean snorts in amusement at that, and interrupts before Roy can say anything else. It doesn’t look like he knows what to say in any case. “Come on, let’s get back to civilisation. I don’t know about any of you lot, but I’m getting a little sick of these woods.”
No one’s going to object to that, so they get themselves organised, and follow Roy’s recovered GPS out of the forest. Along the way they discuss what, exactly, to tell the authorities, getting their stories straight. Meira’s mostly quiet as they hike, trying to figure out what she’s going to do now. Ideally, she wants to stick with Dean and Sam, but she isn’t entirely sure how to go about inviting herself along. She knows from her dad’s stories that he and Uncle Sam had been kind of codependent when they were younger, and trying to insert herself into such a close-knit dynamic is going to difficult.
She still hasn’t come up with any good ideas when they get back to a road and call the paramedics. Then it’s all chaos as everyone asks questions and gets medical attention. Sam tries to point the paramedics at Meira, but Meira dodges them with the excuse that it was just a scratch, she’ll be fine. “Hey.” Someone says behind her, and she turns to find Haley standing there, looking exhausted and overwhelmed.
“Hey, you alright?” Meira checks, touching her lightly on the arm.
Haley nods. “Thanks to you.” Meira shakes her head, but Haley presses the point. “You saved Tommy. You saved my brother.”
Meira relents with a smile, and shifts her hand up to brush her knuckles lightly over Haley’s cheek. “I’m glad I could help.” She says sincerely. Haley huffs, smiling incredulously.
“You never let up, do you?” She asks.
Meira shrugs and retreats. “I do mean it.” She points out.
Haley considers her for a long moment, then nods. “Yeah, I got that.” She acknowledges. Then she glances over to where Dean is finally escaping the paramedics himself. “I should go and say thank you to them, too.” She says, and Meira nods, watching her go. She watches them talk for a moment, before an idea occurs to her, and she hurries off to pickpocket a ranger, talk to Roy, and then circle back around to Haley. She gets there just in time to hear her say “Must you cheapen the moment?”
“Yeah.” Dean replies, as if it should be obvious.
Haley shakes her head, catches sight of Meira, and rolls her eyes. “The pair of you, I swear.” She huffs, and Meira grins. She’s heard it before, mostly from Qaada. Dad always protested that she’s way more like Pabbi, but given that the pair of them are the same flavour of irreverent flirt, she figures that’s one and the same.
Meira flips her stolen pen over in her fingers and proffers it to Haley. Haley takes it with a quizzical expression, while Meira shoves up her sleeve and presents her arm to her. “Gimme your number, and once I can get my hands on a new phone, I’ll text you.”
Haley narrows her eyes playfully. “And why should I?”
For once, Meira doesn’t rise to the bait. “Because then if you get into any other trouble, or if you see anything else weird, you can call me.” She explains. Haley’s eyes widen a little, and then she nods and scribbles a phone number onto Meira’s arm.
“Smooth.” Dean comments, half complimentary, half resentful, and Meira elbows him in retaliation. He elbows her back.
Haley shakes her head at both of them again, and then, surprising the hell out of Meira, she leans in and kisses them each on the cheek, Meira, and then Dean. “I hope you find your father.” She says to Dean, who sobers at that, and then Sam and Ben amble over and Haley guides Ben off to go to the hospital with their brother.
“You going to be alright getting home?” Dean asks, startling Meira out of watching the little family leave in the ambulance.
Meira winces, trying not to think too hard about exactly how far away from home she really is. Dean catches it and raises his eyebrows at her. Over his shoulder, Sam is frowning in concern. “Don’t really have one of those anymore.” She admits quietly, since it’s mostly true. She’s just muddling her tenses a little bit. She swallows and glances sideways at Dean. “Mind if I hitch a ride with you guys?”
Dean glances back at Sam, who shrugs. “Sure.” Dean says, a little uncertainly. “I guess.”
Relief makes Meira’s shoulders slump. “Thanks.”
“You really don’t have anywhere to go, huh?” Sam asks, sounding sympathetic.
Meira gives a slightly bitter laugh at that. “No, I don’t. It’s… it’s all gone.” She raises her arms a little in indication. “This is everything I have right now.”
“Shit.” Dean breathes. “What happened?”
“What always happens to hunters.” Meira hedges, tucking her hands into her pockets and hunching into her coat uncomfortably. It’s not even entirely a lie. “They missed one, and it came back to bite them.”
“Well, you can stick with us for a while.” Sam offers.
“Thanks. I don’t mind helping you look for your dad for a while as repayment.” Meira replies, and they both nod their acceptance. Then Dean tips his head towards the Impala, and Meira goes, aware of the pair of them following along behind her.
She’s pretty sure she’s not really meant to hear it when Dean says, in an undertone. “Sam, you know we’re going to find Dad, right?”
“Yeah, I know.” Sam agrees heavily. “But in the meantime… I’m driving.”
There’s a long pause, long enough for Meira to reach the back door of the Impala and turn to look at them. She’s just in time to see Dean flip the keys across to Sam, and she ducks her head on a smile. As long as she’s stuck here in the past, this is exactly where she wants to be; with her family.
#Supernatural#time travel#next generation#original character#supernatural retelling#Dean Winchester#Sam Winchester#SPN 1x02#Wendigo#Meira Winchester#I feel like I ought to say something here#but all I'm coming up with are apologies#and that's not what this is about damn it#Dean/Cas/Gabe#Destiel#Debriel#Cabriel#someone really needs to tell me what the ship name for this ot3 is#be gentle with me#I'm stupidly self conscious about this one#Trapped In The Amber
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All of the sides and singing!! Because obviously Thomas is an angel and loves music and singing so his sides will be tied into it no matter what, but I was thinking about how it can be different. So, headcanons!
Roman sings for the Drama and Theatrics. The riffs, the high notes, the facial expression, the movement, it's all exciting to him and he's always pushing boundaries. Very showy, low-key cocky, but he's fun and it's good so it isn't annoying. When it's serious though, you know it because he's not being flashy and doing acrobatics with his voice. It's incredible and really moving. Uses it to express, let loose, and show off because he's a Prince let him be fancy and extravagant.
Patton sings for the message and for fun!! Usually for fun, he'll just make up little jingles for whatever it is he's doing. Making pancakes? Microwaving leftovers? Scrolling Facebook like the Dad he is? He'll sing about it. Happens more frequently when trying to distract himself, it's a tell tbh. He'll also sing because it's easier to sing emotions then just say them sometimes. He's fun and quirky and really good at getting emotions of the song across, but he's not trying hard to sound good, he's just having fun.
Virgil mumble-sings in public but pops off to his favorite songs. If dragged along for caroling or something, would just mouth the words. Super self conscious about singing so he fights whenever someone (Roman) tries to get him to. Will sing begrudgingly but it's more speaking then singing tbh. However, completely alone and in The Mood, he will be found headphones on music blasting and just banging. Not trying to sound nice, but it's more of an outlet. Sang in the shower once, Patton heard through the walls a bit and complimented him when he came out as a little side comment. He hasn't sung in the shower since.
Remus sings lyrics wrong and makes them creepy or sexual, no matter the song. It's actually impressive. He's not trying to sound good, but he's trying to make you pay attention to what he's saying. Really clever, but not at all PG. Loves to butt in when Patton is just singing to himself, because it's really funny to him. That one video that goes "raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, STICKING MY DICK IN ROTISSERIE CHICKEN". That's Remus. When he's not trying. Again, not trying to sound good, probably sings bad on purpose just to piss people off and be annoying. For doing it on the fly, it's really good word wise, but he's trying to make it strange so that's not the focus.
Deceit might sing but it's only because that's how he'll get across to the other sides. Not as against singing as others (Virgil), but not constantly singing. Dancing, however, is another story. Remus had a very catchy tune one day (grotesque but a good beat and tempo and shit), and caught Deceit humming it and swaying without realizing it. Remus has done everything in his power to learn about snake charming since to prove Deceits little tick because he finds it hilarious. Deceit is not amused. Anyway. Deceit can sing, but he's not trying to be extra (all the time). He's a diva, he lets himself enjoy the little things like riffing really well and hitting high notes just right. It's not his default but he can do it and doesn't really mind if it serves a purpose, because Thomas loves his music and if that will help him get his point across then that's how he'll do it. Low-key panders to Roman, so if he's extra it'll only help him.
Logan!! Doesn't sing a lot because it's flashy and Extra™ and he tries to be serious business, but when he sings, it isn't flashy. It's simple and elegant, natural and calming. It's just pleasing, and he usually only sings if it's important or if he's really "vibing" so either way it's a special occasion. Crofters? He'll do opera. Thomas having the third dilemma of the week? He might rap. Maybe. Rap is his preferred style of singing (is that how you phrase it?? Idk) because of how articulate and pointed and intentional it all is. Also slam poetry SLAPS. But he'll sing if it's an actual big dilemma. He's not above it, and if it will help then fine he'll do it. However!! If he's really passionate about something, he may start singing! Crofters is the main example, but he usually won't sing a whole song. It's for those rare moments when he's so excited he can't put it into words so he'll just sing the name of the thing. Happens on the tail end of rants about stuff he likes. Pretty much no one knows this though, since most people cut him off before he starts ranting. Virgil heard him singing one (1) time when he made/received a projector that puts constellations on the ceiling and was freaking out to himself about how accurate it was. Virgil had walked in to call him down to dinner and just. Was equal amounts confused terrified and captivated. The door squeaked and they made eye contact. Virgil thinks he might be murdered but Logan adjusts himself and as he walks downstairs whispers "No one will ever believe you." Virgil came down to dinner looking horrified. And because Logan is a troll he will sing when only Virgil will hear and act completely normal while Virgil flips out. It's an inside joke, those make someone seem cool right?
#ts logan#ts logan sanders#ts remus#ts roman#ts patton#ts virgil#ts deceit#sanders sides#headcanon#ts headcanon#ts deciet#logan sanders#remus sanders#roman sanders#patton sanders#virgil sanders#sanders sides virgil#deceit sanders
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ABC's of Dante (DMC)
ABC’s of Dante! There were a lot of requests for this. I was aiming for DMC 3 Dante cause he was recommended the most, apart from 5. And... it started of as 3 but I think I got a bit off track and turned this into DMC 5 Dante...
A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)
> Dante will pull you on top of him and hold you close as he plays with your hair. He'll list off everything you did, in detail, that he loved. He will probably fall asleep first, your weight on top of him feeling like a nice warm blanket.
B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)
> Dante is pretty cocky and will admit that he loves his own body, flaunting it off to you any chance given. If he had to choose a favorite of his though, it would probably be his arms or butt. On you, he loves your thighs and and butt... definitely a butt over boobs guy.
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I'm a disgusting person)
> When he's been with you for a while, he will cum wherever he wants but prefers to release all over your butt and chest (if you're not on the pill or something). He will even go as far as cumming on your face and saying it was an "accident" if you get pissed off.
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory,a dirty secret of theirs)
> Secretly loves the idea of being pegged but is too shy to ask you to fulfil his fantasies. Later on in the relationship he'll eventually ask, having been with you long enough to trust you and feel comfortable with you.
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)
> Very experienced. On the odd chance that he isn't, his confidence will more than make up for it. He will know your body better than you know it yourself in less that five minutes, knowing all your sensitive spots.
F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably exclude a visual)
> As much as he loves bending you over his desk and having his way with you, his favorite would have to be where you're pinned under him, thighs resting on his shoulders while your heals dig into his back. He can thrust deeper at this angle and it give both you and him an intense amount of pleasure.
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment or are they humorous, etc)
> Definitely goofy. He loves to make you laugh during the act, possibly to make sure you're not laughing at him, but with him instead. If he's got you on your back with your legs in the air, he'll grab your ankles and joke about how he's loving his new motorcycle.
H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc?)
> As we can see from the open coat and bare chest, we know Dante doesn't have any chest hair or a happy trail. This would change as he gets older, white hair trailing down from his belly button and disappearing under the waistband of his pants. Other than that I expect he's pretty smooth all over...
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)
> He will do anything to get you in the mood. Candles? Sure. Rose petals leading to the bedroom? Cool. Music? It'll give some rhythm to his thrusts... He just wants you to be comfortable and safe with him.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcannon)
> All. The. Time. He will imagine your hands on him instead of his own, moaning, groaning and panting loudly. He'll even talk dirty. He doesn't have any shame when it comes to pleasing himself when you're away. He's a loud, unashamed man.
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
> Loves when you take charge, role play, rope, blindfold, handcuffs, overstimulation, semi public sex, orgasm denial... he can be into almost anything if you're willing to try.
L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)
> um... anywhere? His desk is a good one, but he will literally find anywhere and make it work. Even if it's in a public place, just not where people will actually be paying attention to you both. Balcony, alleyway, car, shower, pools... bed. He's just happy to have you. Doesn't matter where.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
> Coming home to you wearing lingerie or a sexy outfit for role play. Bending over in front of him. Stretching in front of him. Touching him, especially his arms, legs and butt. Sitting in his lap is a sure fire way to get him going.
N = NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs)
> Dante is into pretty much everything, so it's a little hard to find something he won't do. However, anything to do with pee or poop, he refuses to do. Not into knife play or breath play, anything that hurts you he isn't into. Doesn't mind a little pain on his end though.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
> Loves waking you up with his mouth or having you wake him up with yours. He is very skilled with his mouth, he'll bring you to your climax as many times as he wants with just his lips and tongue.
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
> Dante can be slow and sensual, usually when he is feeling a little self conscious and needs to feel loved. However, he much prefers to be fast and rough, pining you against walls or bending you over furniture.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
> Loves them. He'll get a call to go on a mission and will quickly come to you as a "send off" for himself, having to quickly chase both of your releases before Lady comes to pick him up. He'll make you both cum within five minutes, giving him plenty of time to get ready before he has to go.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
> Where's the fun if there's no risk? That's what Dante thinks anyway. On a date at a restaurant? He'll ask you to hand over your panties. Want to have your third orgasm within the hour? He's already working on it. Want to hide in your friends bathroom to have a quickie, having to keep quiet so you don't get caught? He's already pushing you into the small room. Yeah, he likes risks.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they last for, how long do they last...)
> All day. All week. Just give him a few breaks inbetween rounds but he'll be good to go in another five minutes. He won't stop until either you or him are in tears from oversimulation.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
> At the beginning he'd only have toys for you. Handcuffs, blindfold, etc. But further into the relationship, he'll eventually get some butt plugs. Some for you, some for him... The guy doesn't care what toys he uses on himself, as long as it feels good, he isn't complaining.
U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease)
> Doesn't tease too much tbh. He's too impatient. Unless you've been teasing him all day with your choice of clothing and not-so-subtle bending over in front of him... he'll find a way to punish you... but he prefers being teased instead of teasing you.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)
> God, he's so loud. He doesn't have any shame when it comes to vocalizing his pleasure. He'll moan, groan, pant, talk dirty... he'll do it all and very loudly. Definitely isn't someone to hold himself back.
W = Wildcard (Get a random headcannon for the character of your choice)
> Dante loves 69'ing... there, I said it.
X = X-ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)
> He's definitely got a reason to be confident... he's big and thick, with a nice red mushroom tip and a prominent vein on the underside of his shaft.
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
> High as high can be. He's the horniest guy on Earth! He'll gladly fuck you all day everyday if he could.
Z = ZZZ (...how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
> He likes to talk and praise you after sex, getting a few chuckles and laughs out of you before he's out like a light.
#dante#dante x reader#dante sparda#dante dmc#dante headcannons#dante imagine#dante headcannon#dante imagines#dante/reader#dante sparda x reader#dante sparda/reader#dante sparda imagine#dante sparda headcannon#dmc#devil may cry#dmc 5#dmc 3#devil may cry dante#devil may cry 5
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Kissing Headcanons - Sora, Riku, Roxas, Axel, Ven, Terra, Vanitas
Under cut because it’s long.
Also, pretty sure I kept this pg-13 but some of it might be borderline, so cut just in case!
Sora
Not always the best kisser tbh. He means well but he’s pretty klutzy/uncoordinated and ends up bumping heads or noses with his s/o a lot. He literally has an exceptionally hard head too so it’s painful for his partner when this happens. He gets so sheepishly apologetic about it though that they can’t help but laugh it off with him most of the time.
Big fan of the snuggle kiss, nuzzle kiss & old school cheek smooch. Not big on french kissing and intense makeout sessions– He’s more likely to peck his s/o lightly on the lips than go full out deep sea diving. When he does use his tongue, he might get a little too enthusiastic and go overboard… Again though, he’s so sincere about everything he does that his s/o probably just goes, “Careful, you goof!” and smiles fondly at him (if not a little exasperated).
Enjoys embracing his s/o while kissing, feeling their arms wrapped loosely around his neck or waist. Also loves the feeling of his partner’s hands running up & down his sides mid smooch.
Riku
Despite the cool, collected, sometimes downright cocky front he puts on, Riku is an absolute nervous wreck of a first kisser. It holds a lot of significance for him and he starts overthinking it way too much– Is it the right time? Should I go for it? Do they even want me to go for it? What if I screw up…? His s/o will probably be the one who ends up initiating the first kiss because he gets so lost in his head that he keeps missing his shot at it– Like, the opportune moment would be right there but he’d start internally freaking out about it too much and end up not going for it in time, and then the moment would pass and he’d get even more anxious…
After the first (few) awkward time(s), however, once he feels comfortable enough, he’s a total smooth operator. Very skilled with his tongue, can expertly read his partner’s body language & tailor the kiss to how they’re responding. Experienced Riku is the type of kisser who makes his partner weak in the knees, and very, very fired up flustered.
Very uncomfortable kissing in public or in front of other people. Despite the intensity with which he usually kisses, he loves to be kissed tenderly by his s/o & is especially a sucker for eskimo kisses. Not that he would ever own up to it.
Roxas
Desperate, messy, hungry kisser. Kisses with a lot of passion & energy, as if the world is ending and both of their lives depend on it. He’s someone who wears his heart on his sleeve and his kisses are just as fervent & unapologetic as he is.
Kisses are wild, intense, almost frantic– Deep, open-mouthed kisses that stray to his partner’s jaw, neck, the corners of their lips. He isn’t self-conscious about saliva getting everywhere, noses colliding or teeth accidentally grazing each other’s lips. There’s no need for his s/o to be embarrassed about that string of saliva still connecting their mouths when the kiss is broken as it’s actually a huge turn on for him. He loves nothing more than his partner kissing him back with just as much (if not more!) unbridled fervor.
Totally melts when his s/o kisses him along his jaw or down the side of his neck, into the crook of his shoulder. He might laugh a little though because he’s ticklish. LOVES receiving hickeys.
Axel
A skilled kisser, not a bad one by any means, but he’s prone to thinking he’s better than he actually is. Sees himself as 11/10 pretty much god level kissing legend, and he’ll probably talk a big game while he’s at it– In reality, he’s more like a 7-8 most of the time. Has an array of practiced moves and tactics he uses, things he knows will work… And while his makeout methods are definitely effective, they tend to be more calculated than intuitive, so he might fumble a little if his partner goes completely spontaneous on him. (He’ll still like it, though. A lot.)
He’s a very teasing kisser. Loves to play dirty– Gets super sensual & intense and then backs off abruptly, leaving his partner kinda breathless & leaning into his touch with their head still tilted up towards him, practically begging for more.
Although he’s usually the one leading the kiss, he finds it ridiculously hot when his s/o ups the ante & takes control. He’ll just sort of smirk against their lips or chuckle in amusement, then lean back while he lets them do their thing. He especially loves feeling their hands (or mouth) on his chest and/or collarbones. Since he’s (probably) a good bit taller than his s/o, he finds it more comfortable to make out while sitting or lying down.
Ven
All-over-the-map kisser, changes up tactics frequently & doesn’t stick to any one style. Kisses and touches from him tend to be rapid, fleeting, & always sort of impatient, as if he’s gearing up at any moment to move onto something else. His kisses may be quick but they aren’t particularly soft or gentle– He moves with short bursts of very focused energy, giving an airy but rapid-fire quality to them. Not prone to giving long, deep kisses but he’s very skilled & precise with his tongue when he wants to be, possibly more so than any of the others.
Not a fan of long makeout sessions or intense, prolonged eye contact– It isn’t that he doesn’t enjoy looking his s/o in the eyes, but if they stare at each other too long he’ll usually bust out laughing. Not in a mean way, of course, he just finds it kind of funny & can’t help himself.
Loves to have his ears kissed, nibbled at, sucked on. Also loves to elicit sounds from his s/o while kissing. Any sort of unrestrained vocalization from his partner– growls, moans, sharp inhales– is a huge turn on for him.
Terra
Touch-y, borderline grope-y kisser, has a hard time keeping his hands to himself. He loves to explore his s/o’s body during a makeout session– sort of tentatively at first, and then more sure of himself once he knows they’re comfortable. Despite his impulsiveness, he’s very much a gentleman (or, well, he tries to be– for the most part), and he’ll only take things as far as his partner is okay with. Vacillates between being sweet/gentle and bold/aggressive-ish, depending on the mood he’s in & (what he thinks) his partner wants in the moment.
(In)famous for giving sneak attack surprise kisses. He’ll grab his s/o from behind or swoop in out of nowhere for a quick one. Half the time he smacks their heads together on accident doing this… He forgets his own strength at times & can be sort of rough without meaning to be. If that’s pointed out to him though or if he hurts his partner by mistake, he’ll feel very guiltily self-conscious over it.
It gives him that tingly-all-over feeling when his partner rakes their nails down the back of his head/neck/spine mid kiss, or when they tangle fingers in his hair and tug him closer to them. Loves it when he’s holding his partner up or leaning over them while kissing & they wrap their legs around his waist.
Vanitas
Rough, aggressive kisser. Lots of biting and battling for dominance. Doesn’t close his eyes while kissing– He’ll stare at his s/o intently the whole time because he either a) doesn’t know it’s weird/unsettling, b) knows it’s weird/unsettling but dgaf, and/or c) loves to watch every minuscule flicker of emotion that passes across their face.
Likes to kiss as if in battle, with lots of grappling, rolling around on the floor, pinning each other to walls. Borderline violent– Might grip his partner hard by their chin, wrap a hand around their throat, that sort of thing. Loves to kiss while straddling them, his knees locked tight around their hips.
Feeling his partner squirm in breathless anticipation beneath him, clawing at his arms/back/face, whimpering into the kiss are all giant turn ons for him. Although he’s rough in his affections, he doesn’t like to be on the receiving end of harsh, painful kisses. A little bit of roughness from his s/o is okay (and even welcomed), but if they draw blood… uh oh nooooo bueno.
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Just for the record I imagine them all being young adults when I headcanon this stuff, around 20ish at least (if they’re not already canonically).
For headcanons of the girls, go here.
#kingdom hearts#kh#sora#riku#roxas#axel#lea#ven#ventus#terra#vanitas#kiss#kissing#headcanon#request#gdi vanitas#long post#long af
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A lot of highschoolers seem to think that the academic kids (uni level // wowo advanced classes) are some kind of ethereal beings who are smart and have their shit together but I'd like to let you know that...
👏we're all idiots🎉
And here's some reasons why!
On the first day in my academic geography class 3 different kids fell out of their seats and this proceeded to happen everyday by different students until Friday. There's nothing wrong with the chairs people just like to "push the limits".
On the first day, in that same geography class, someone asked if there was going to be flooding because of Hurricane Irma. Which was a totally legitimate question, but the teacher had literally just finished saying that it was predicted to be a category 4 hurricane. I feel like you could assume that there's probably going to be at least some flooding.
The amount of bs that is pulled off is great. I don't know a single kid who doesn't bs there way through homework, or tests or really any type of project. We're all just idiots who have perfected the art of how to bs their way through school.
I only know 3 kids who can actually ask their teacher a question when they're confused. All we do is ask eachother how to do stuff because we're a self-conscious bagels who don't want to seem like idiots by asking the teacher a question. In my opinion, the "if you ask a teacher a question it means you're an idiot" stereotype is a really harmful and false stereotype. To be completely honest, the stupid decision is not asking the teacher a question (but that doesn't stop me or my friends from not asking because hah opinions are scary).
The amount of procrastination is unreal. Everyone always says things like "I'll get this done as soon as I get it so I don't have to worry about it during the week" but we all know that that rarely happens. Most of the time kids will bs their way through a project 1-3 days/hours/minutes before it's due and somehow get just the right amount of bs, obscure observations and facts to get a passing grade. I literally did this all through my history and geography classes last year and I managed to pull a 93% overall grade out of my arse.
No one has any time management. One of my friends who seems "perfect in every way" and has obscenely strict parents, manages to stay up 'til 3am reading smut. I don't think anyone gets any sleep except for me (on a good night when my brain stops thinking of frickin' book ideas I don't want to write at 4am and wake up at 6am if this is what creativity is I didn't sign up for this Susan) and like 1 other kid.
No one is okay. Maybe it's just my class, but it's like we're all that one song by mcr. I don't care if someone seems dreadfully perfect there👏is👏something👏going👏on. I only know a few academic kids who seen mentally okay-ish, or have an okay home life, and most of them are people I don't really know (by that I mean there's probably something under the surface that they haven't told me yet. Wow that sounds horrible but I'm not wrong). If there was a top 10 list of mentally healthy kids in my class I'd make it on that list. To put that in perspective, I wrote a suicide note at age 8 and held a knife up to my neck at age 9 (pretty s*itty way to kill yourself tbh glad I didn't do it. Like that butcher knife was v blunt and I probably would've died from blood loss and not decapitation). I'm doing really well right now but like heckity heckin' heck everyone else isn't.
Staying with the theme of mental health, the line between death jokes and cries for help is really blurry (You could say it's blurrier than Tyler Joseph's face ;)))) I'll leave). Who is suicidal and who is just self-deprecating? Who is suicidal and self-deprecating? No one knows. It's like a really depressing game of guess who.
So, maybe you're an academic kid who relates to these things or maybe you're a college level kid who can use this to understand that the cocky academic kid is really just compensating for their crippling fear of failure. But whoever you are, I want you to know that we're all going to die someday therefore we're all equal when we're gone and that even the most perfect people are struggling to fit into society's slim definition of greatness. Don't be afraid to talk to someone of a different socioeconomic status, who knows, you might start a beautiful friendship (or maybe they are actually just a prick, but you would have never known for sure if you hadn't taken that risk).
I'm going to go back into my cave of procrastination now.
Bye famalam
Ps. I'm sorry if there's a plethora of spelling mistakes in this I'm tired
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