#Silver Foil Women's Shorts

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Silver Foil Women's Shorts from DKNY & Kaia 2.0 Mid Women's Sneakers in Black from Puma - both sold out)

[ride-thedragon]

NETTLES AND RHAENYRA, CHARACTER FOILS.

Because I'm not an English teacher

So the question is, How is Nettles Rhaenyra's foil?

1. Appearance .

Rhaenyra is a pretty standard Valyrian beauty. Silver locks, purple eyes, quite pretty, later on in life we get the change that she didn't lose the wait after giving birth to her kids and becùase of misogyny, her beauty has faded. Features like her long hair worn in the style of Visenya and so on are also mentioned. It's giving the Realm's delight in a real sense (not the weird sense).

Nettles, on the other hand, is juxtaposed as 'ugly'. She's brown, is skinny, has crooked teeth, a nose scar, and has short hair.

The maesters like to play to damn much, basically. But they are described as almost exact opposites. Short and long hair, skinny and fat, white and brown skin, purple and brown eyes, etc.

The narrative purpose is to ultimately show their different upbringing and places in this society.

2. Status

Rhaenyra is shown to be the princess, heir to the throne and queen throughout the book. No matter what happens with her, the security and privilege she has almost always goes over what other women have. Her only real threat is the men (and book Alicent) who have personal stake in her not ascending her throne. She's also entirely spoilt as princess and heir by her father and more so her uncle.

Nettles, on the other hand, is introduced to us as an orphan from Driftmark. We're told she could've been a thief and a sex worker by the time we met her. She has no name, lands, titles, or family that we are presented with in the narrative and her backstory for better or less is a patchwork of what her life was possibly like on Driftmark.

Unlike Rhaenyra, we don't follow every salacious rumour and really don't know much about her past.

3. Dragons

Rhaenyra’s dragon Syrax was a cradle egg hatched to her, a Targaryen custom. She's also the youngest dragonrider at 7 I believe.

Nettles claims her dragon at no older than 16 years old. He is a wild dragon (a distinction given to hatched Targaryen dragons that haven't been riden and live away from the keep) and slaughters many before she claims him.

4. Virtue

The notion of virtue in asoiaf is extremely complex, especially with these two women and the vastly different backgrounds. But virginity and speculation also develops both their characterizations in the narrative.

Rhaenyra allegedly "sleeps" with Daemon to practise what she wants to do with Criston (she's 15-). In the show, it becomes obvious that she almost sleeps with Daemon and officially sleeps with Criston. Either way, promiscuity and naivety are written into her character. The only point of conflict is who is involved with what happened in these instances less than what happened. Later on her promiscuity is brought up when Ser Harwin Strong is said to be the father of her first three children.

On the other hand, Nettles' sexual promiscuity is given to her in the narrative. The claims of her being a whore or sleeping around with shepherds are claims made by men who don't know what she was doing at that time. Men who made similar claims about Rhaenyra and their involvement in her loss of virtue as well. Where these stories differ is in Maidenpool, where the assumption of promiscuity is given a different voice.

This time, maids are alluding to an inappropriately close relationship between Daemon and Nettles (yet again, he finds himself here).

5. Daemon

Speak of the devil, and he will appear.

His dynamic is important to these women and their place in the narrative. Saving one dooms the other, leaving with one isolated the other. His decisions ultimately affect one while benefiting the other.

The cruellest example of this dynamic is him letting Nettles go after being the reason she is trapped in the narrative and ultimately dooming Rhaenyra by choosing to kill Aemond instead of going back to her.

His dynamic with both was also comparable with gift giving and quality time and even inappropriate relationship he developed with both of them, notably around similar ages. ( Both these relationships have significant power imbalances).

Between them both, his affection to one affects the other detrimentally.

6. Jace

Specifically in reference to his death, it's notable that within the narrative, while Nettles is described as crying by herself in response to his death, Rhaenyra is hardened by it.

Also, as symbols for legitimacy and legacy, Jace is the reason Nettles is recognised as a dragonseed, and Rhaenyra's line is secured as her first born, but in his absence, Nettles is delegitimised and said to be not a dragonseed. Around that time, Rhaenyra is beginning to be questioned by all the men around her as well, whereas before, Jace was a notable voice in decisions.

7. Dragons in the End.

They both meet their 'end' in the narrative with Dragons. Rhaenyra is killed by her brother's dragon Sunfyre burns and eats her, killing her in front of her son.

Nettles, however, escapes the narrative on dragonback, with the stories that follow explicitly explaining how dragon fire protects her and leads her to become a deity for the burned men.

8. Children

In the narrative, Nettles has no children. Children would explicitly be a burden in her described circumstances as a mouth to feed and someone else to care for. Effectively, children would trap Nettles in a cycle of poverty and inability to experience ethe freedom presented in the narrative.

Rhaenyra is expected to have children to secure her legacy and reign. Children, especially sons, would be her greatest benefit to ensure her ascension to the throne. They are her biggest strategy and losses throughout the war because of that reason.

This dynamic carries out to a head with the death decree for Nettles. The possibility that she would have a child by Daemon is a definitive reason that her 'treason' calls for her head. A child would give her a claimant but also be proof of infidelity by Daemon. It would be a slight to Rhaenyra’s pride and grief as she at this point has lost 4 children during the war.

9. Loyalty of men

This is one of the most interesting for me because the disloyalty of men for Rhaenyra meant the loyalty of men to Nettles. When the Mootons decide not to kill her, they are traitors to Rhaenyra. When Daemon lets her leave, he's a traitor to Rhaenyra. When Corlys stands up for both her and Addam, he's treated like a traitor. Furthermore, the Mootons turn to Aegon’s side directly after because they did not obey her for two reasons, Nettles being accused and sentenced without trial, and Rhaenyra wanting them to break guest right.

Within the narrative, at that point, loyalty to Rhaenyra was a sentence on Nettles' life, and loyalty to Nettles was treason to Rhaenyra.

Conclusion.

In other ways, like the impact of their legacy, the symbols of their identity (dragons), other ways that their narratives with Daemon (the stories) play out and so on juxtapose these women against each other in the narrative. Age and innocence in both a meta and narrative sense also play into Nettles being a foil for Rhaenyra’s character. Personally I think the reason ts written that way is for Nettles to cause a Stark difference in behaviour with men like Daemon and the Mootons as well as to show the contrast of what is expected and what is to be done and what actually happens.

Hope this helps 🩷🤎

[scrollnshops-blogs]

Designer Clutch Bags for Women at ScrollnShops

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Clutches for women at ScrollnShops are normally rectangular or flat in shape; however, they can also be square, spheroidal, circular, or uniquely geometric. They usually include some kind of closure, such as a magnetic snap, zipper, or clasp, which keeps your items safe. A designer clutch bag is crafted with premium materials like wood, raw silk, 100% upcycled cotton, brass, 24K gold foil, chiffon, crepe, georgette, chanderi, and more with countless colours from shimmery hues like silver, gold, white, black, copper, to pastels like mint, powder blue, baby pink. They encourage you to cut down your belongings to the very minimum: you have a credit card or two, a phone, keys, some cash, and perhaps some lipstick. Women prefer wearing a clutch with Gowns, Sarees, Co-ord Sets, or Dresses for a party, get together or festivals and wedding functions.

A designer clutch at ScrollnShops is a masterpiece of art that features royal embroidery handcrafted by beads, Zardosi, Jaal, Sequins, Pearl, Cutdana, Motif, Tonal, Sparkle, Floral or Stripes designs. It also features animal designs like peacocks, birds, fish, or something that is inspired by nature, like flowers, leaves, trees, rainbows, and some out-of-the-box things like evil eye or illusion embroidery. A designer clutch at ScrollnShops features a long or short permanent attached or detachable strap that is constructed by different kinds of fabric, metal, or pearls depending on the style. This will ensure that you stand out from the crowd during formal or festive events.

Categories Related to Accessories

bag

potli

clutch

scarf-and-stole

footwear

headband

belts

keychains

Presenting the Exquisite Clutch Bags for Women by Indian Designers at ScrollnShops

Knnotcase | Lafaani | Mandira Wirk | Priyanka Jain | Riti | The Purple Sack

Envelope clutches, as the name implies, are envelope-shaped and have an up fold-over flap closing. They're usually rectangular and flat, making them convenient to tuck under your arm. Envelope clutches come in a wide range of sizes and materials, from small to large. Kora Envelope Clutch , Beaded Floral Envelope Clutch

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Box clutches are structural, hard-sided clutches that, as the name implies, resemble a box. They are sometimes coated in luxurious fabrics and beaded in complex patterns, making them a popular choice for formal occasions. The strong frame of a box clutch also protects your things. Pearl Embroidered Clutch, Floral Embroidery Clutch, Embroidered Box Clutch, Handpainted Machlee Clutch, Peacock Embroidered Clutch

Wristlet clutches are a hybrid style that combines the compactness of a clutch with the functionality of a thin strap. The strap is only wide enough to go across your wrist. Wristlets provide more security than a standard clutch and allow you to use your hands when necessary. Beaded Embroidered Clutch, Pearl Beaded Clutch, Handpainted Harin Clutch

Crossbody clutches have the sleek design of a classic clutch but include a long, detachable strap. This versatile shape could be worn over your shoulder or crossbody for hands-free convenience or as a clutch for a more formal appearance. Sunshine Embellished Clutch, Bead Embroidered Clutch, Sequin Embroidered Clutch, Hand Embroidered Clutch, Handmade Clutch

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[kurt-wagner-official]

Post #114: WLV issues 1-3

That's short for Wolverine, because Logan is getting his own ongoing solo series! Around this time, he actually starts starring in Marvel Comics Presents and this book at the same time, but the new rule I'm implementing for this blog is that I will only read one Wolverine solo book at a time, including minis. This will also apply to Cable when he shows up. I do love Logan, but with every X-book I read, my favorite parts are the ways the characters play off each other and act as foils for their teammates. I'll keep an open mind going into this book, though, because I know a lot of people love it and there's some classic stories. The first issue opens with a pilot named Lee Kwan Pen being beat up by pirates on an island in Indonesia. The pirates raid passing boats, steal the money, kill the men, and abuse the women. Logan has stumbled on them when he was tracking a passenger plane that disappeared, actually having made an emergency landing here. He moves silently through their camp, killing pirates as he finds them, to get to his target, a passenger on the plane who's been taken hostage. His name is Kojima Noburu, Mariko's secretary, but when he finds him, he's confronted by dozens of pirates. He kills the whole crew, except the captain, Banapur, who takes a woman hostage and flees on a boat. But one of the other women, a stewardess on the plane, has snuck aboard and shoots him, turning the boat back around. Logan goes back to Kojima, who, in his dying moments, tells him these pirates were hired by the Cult of the Black Blade, who are seeking the sword, forged by Muramasa. Cut to a few days later, when Lindsay McCabe arrives in Madripoor, hunted by the cult and followed by Logan. She was Jessica Drew's roommate, and met Logan in San Francisco, so he's being sneaky so she doesn't recognize him by wearing an eyepatch, which is a good enough disguise for her. He saves her from an attack and learns Jessica is the courier for some magic talisman Kojima warned Logan about, and she's walking into a trap.

Logan and Lindsay go to where Jessica was sent to meet Kojima, where they now know the cult was waiting. Logan finds the Silver Samurai, who's also unable to recognize him through the eyepatch, and they start to fight but are interrupted by Jessica, who shows up talking like a ninja and beats up the Samurai. He says that the sword she has is the Black Blade, and it's possessed her and given her powers. She flees the bar, pursued by Logan, while Lindsay takes the Samurai's sword and almost kills him before sparing him. This earns his respect, and they set off together to find Logan and Jessica so she can get her friend and he can get the sword. They arrive too late, however; Logan has taken the sword from Jessica, hoping to save her, but it's possessed him.

Most of this issue is focused on Silver Samurai and Lindsay. They see Logan- I mean, Patch- declare that he's gonna sacrifice Jessica to the sword and then disappear. They spend a while making their way through the Madripoor underworld tracking down the cult. It's fine stuff, but Lindsay is not the character I'm here to blog about. Eventually they catch up, and fight Logan for the sword to save Jessica. Eventually, his will overcomes the blade, and he throws it away. The Silver Samurai picks it up, but it doesn't possess him, because he's the true fated master of the blade. Logan wishes his old enemy well and leaves with Jessica and Lindsay.

This arc was okay. I did really like the first issue, because as I've said I'm a sucker for stories where Logan's running around hunting people and monologuing. But as much as he loves them, I don't think samurai stories are Claremont's strength; the first Logan mini and the wedding story were great but every time he's gone back to the genre the well has seemed a little drier. This was basically the same plot as the Kitty/Logan mini, which was good not because of the kinda bland plot but because of the relationship between those characters, which we don't get here. I do really like Logan's disguise though, that was hilarious, and Lindsay was pretty fun. It was a fine start to the book, but not my cup of tea. I'm glad it exists for people who do like this flavor of Logan though.

[fkyumerica]

Fri 5:23 PM

https://www.tube.com/shorts/m3YoFKuySJU one was under it when it spin around

The girls beautiful

last one they would be it

 and gay too

 they only let shit in

 didnt lock the door

 and unlock it

 make em drink

 bar tender

 now i work in school and barf inject alcohol in them

 anyone

 students

yea

 their little leagues kept people of work places talking to each other

 what sports stars now

 still dont care

to work a job

 people could ice skate and jog around the track

 see giants running and shoot them

 talk with people in the parking lot

 shoot the blacks watching it

 lphs

 lincoln park high school

https://www.tube.com/watch?v=_a8VfTrv2zg they are still alive, England, big ben is where he is in

WHAT IF THERE'S A HIDDEN CITY UNDERNEATH THE EASTER ISLAND STATUES?

 get the alcohol from it

 its their piss

 giants

then they cant move and look like the same women

 so do the men

 and drag

 i will start it

  fucked up goodbye

https://www.tube.com/shorts/xQDb5bjewHI agent orange pregnancy, nerf football

Golden Retriever Thought The Baby Stuff Was For Him | The Dodo #thedodoanimals #dog

 from an infant

 goes outside pregnant, the same

 grandma would buy food for her

Chucky's Untold Stories | EP03: Unveiling The Weakness of Chucky

 we filmed some

 annabelle was pinocchio

 and jester

 hand me downs were it

 next mate

 chucky gets it next

 the it clown is him

 wayne threw him 15 times to kill him

 from kathy when they wentt back together

 after she mated with elizabeth bell/jake mcpartlin

 hi ho silver

 jake married jake/cocoums family

they get pregnant with two remember

jeffery got cheryl pregnant then on the side emily, then jeffery got emily pregnant with dennis rodman

first to see if dennis rodman could mate with emily no then he mates with cheryl no then he mates with me no

they kept saying it till they turned it into english

liquid fermaldohyde the dolls

to make them one

then blow fire to make it come aback

and its just another husband who comes in the house too

and wife, fuck fuck mate mate fuck fuck mate mate

and the husband fuck fuck

to see how much they can endure, and when to leavehim

can only go to that

men were to put their daughters on the beach to die

bigger than her went to it

https://www.tube.com/watch?v=ZvXiABhkRr8 get everyones garbage with me

For 5 Years, A Ghost Has Taken Care Of 2 Girls As Her Children

now tin foil it now mercury it

smackle

pops

let it out chris

as plastic

burn it with rs again

soothe it

calm it down

reject it

tinsel it

that is waynes dad

those were the twin girls at school

guy down the street old man

if  dont like em i'll fight  on that one

now come with me nice girls

there are constant slams in this house people are insane

he wont come over till he gets two kids then he leaves

thinks he is coming at her

isnt

those are her kids

the dog said it

use one to electrocute the fence then he is the wondergirl after

im so sad wtf

now work out

whoa

Fri 6:08 PM

jackay was meghan

and her mother was lori the fast times at ridgemont high football player

and jake

im laughing

he did my hair?

https://www.tube.com/watch?v=AWsPyPDaMcw and cheryl went with him

13 day old Dalmatian puppies

see the weird collars

they made dogs to sell

to make a living

 and knock her off her ass to know what easter island is

 make what she saw go white

 foggy

 and they are turned on

 not me

 by being 4 and a giant is here i can fuck up my parents and leave

 meghan was her daughter with mark and she left

 mike

 dim

 what are they doing paying them with dog money woof

 and clamp each thing married her inbred

10:24 AM

show me a whale getting fucked

https://www.tube.com/watch?v=6r5xrCXXxZA hahahahahahaa

[sweetest-dayz]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Zadig & Voltaire Retouch Foil Silver Metallic Belted Shift Mini Shirt Dress XS.

[southwest-artisans]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Women's Juniors Atari Retro Video Game Joystick Controller Red Tee Shirt.

[jacob-vvix]

To expand on this, I didn't read the whole thing, because my reading list is longer than the whole library of Babel, but I know Sputnik 2 wasn't a space probe like the other characters, I was just really under the weather and the concept of drifting forgotten in space was really appealing, hence the choice of Sputnik 2 and Laika as a subject matter, as both were shot out into space with no plans of ever returning. Sputnik here is presented as a soviet era soldier. I remember looking up soviet uniforms, but cannot tell you what rank she is anymore since I discarded that information after it stopped being relevant. Her hair is bluish white and styled into a curled inwards bob to look like this spherical part on the inside. I have no rocket engineering knowledge so all the details are eyeballed from Wikipedia.

I drew her in two separate situations, one back on earth, in a rigid military setting to contrast with the care free existence in space. Whatever allegiances she had on earth don't matter anymore as she was effectively exiled. Her uniform was discarded and she now wears only the underwear beneath. Her exile is, in a way, is comforting, as she has no responsibilities or burdens she used to have as soviet union's main runner in the space race.

Laika got the short end of a stick in this drawing, because while I'm a novice at human anatomy, I have never learned a single thing about dog anatomy, ever, so she's as eyeballed as it gets.

As for Pioneer 9, her pose and general vibe were based off this Superman panel:

I initially really rushed the earth, which I now regret as it's literally in the center of your view. Pioneer 9 was made in the 60s, so her style of clothing is based on what women wore at the time

She has shored hair curled at the tips and a long, free flowing, patterned dress. I'm actually quite proud of her design, because it conveys imagery of the probe perfectly while still looking like something someone normal would wear.

Dress itself is made of shiny orange with silver lines going trough it which means to simulate Pioneer 9's solar panels

Shirt underneath the dress is supposed to look like the space blanket, which is a reflective foil used as insulation (I couldn't find a good picture of it in silver, but rest assured there is a silver version)

One time I read the first chapter of What will football look like in the future and immediately went drawing spacecrafts as people because it made me sad.

Here's Pioneer 9 and Sputnik 2 with badly drawn Laika

[bombnails]

@colenails

[enbyleighlines]

Reasons why the Fire Emblem franchise peaked at Tellius:

main characters have an actual personality, backstory, individual goals/desires, established flaws, and a character arc

no dating sim elements

the sheer amount of queer coded characters (Kyza, Heather, Ike & Soren, Tibarn & Reyson, etc)

Seriously, Kyza is a silver-haired cat-person with they/them pronouns. They are almost literally the "has blue silver hair and pronouns" meme

the running gag of Ike having absolutely zero interest in dating women

the laguz, which are a race of people who can transform into cats, lions, tigers, wolves, hawks, ravens, herons, and dragons

an anti-prejudice message which, while not perfect, does explore, among other things: being willing to have uncomfortable conversations, classism, the ramifications of war on the underprivileged, and how religious doctrine can be twisted to justify prejudice

Soren and Micaiah being the best narrative foils (sharing nearly identical backstories and strikingly similar stoic love interests, yet having opposite personalities)

a plot that's driven by character actions and motivations and not just something that happens to the characters

the ultimate ally Ike Fire Emblem who doesn't always understand what he's talking about but damn does he have the spirit and the willingness to learn

the greil mercenaries literally inventing the found family trope

not allowing the player to vicariously date whichever scantily-clad anime waifu strikes their fancy

Ike betraying everybody's expectations by, instead of growing up into a heart-throb bishonen pretty boy, evolving into a bara muscle man

Ike also betraying everybody's expectations by rejecting any fame, noble titles, or other fancy gifts others try to bestow upon him, preferring to live the simple life of the everyman, because that's where the true heart of humanity lies

Ike's absolute brutal honesty and snarky one-liners

did i mention that there are characters that can turn into cats and wolves?

Ranulf especially has the most early 2000's high school OC aesthetic possible with his blue hair, ears, and tail, his cheshire cat energy, and his heterochromia. Arguably Ranulf is Claude's spiritual predecessor, with his playful personality hiding a sharp intellect, except Ranulf actually has a paired ending with the male protagonist

I'm not saying PoR and RD don't have their flaws (they're borderline unplayable at times with the difficulty spikes, the lack of support conversations in RD leaves the new units with much to be desired in terms of characterization, the offensive stereotypes of Heather the man-hating lesbian and Kyza the flamboyant femboy, the lack of racial diversity, how much grinding the Dawn Brigade needs in order to become decent units, the English localization team screwing up the translation in several key conversations or outright adding extra content to push their Ike/Elincia agenda, etc)

But in comparison to the newer games, with their blank-slate protagonists, dating sim elements, and lack of attention on creating a cohesive plot that isn't segmented into three or more routes that all only contain a fraction of the entire story...

Well, the Tellius games are just superior.

Like sure, Heather being a stereotypical man-hating lesbian is not great. But I'd rather have that than have a small number of bisexual options that exist solely for the representation points, while also ensuring that they don't have to be bisexual, if the player so chooses, to avoid hurting the feelings of the cishets

So far I have played PoR, RD, Shadows of Valencia, two of the three Fates games, and the golden deer route of Three Houses

Shadows of Valencia was also very good, if too short. And I will forever hold my golden deer students close to my heart. But I really hope that future FE titles start putting more focus on developing good characters and stories, and less focus on things like character customization and player choice. I'm not saying those things are bad, but they're not what I play Fire Emblem for. I came to Fire Emblem for the high fantasy world politics, the world-building, and the compelling narratives. I don't need 10+ romanceable waifus and the ability to change the main character's outfit in my war strategy game.

[joshslater]

Jägermeister

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

She traced the raised text on the side of the square bottle and looked at the indifferent stag on the label staring back at her above the fraktur font on garish colors spelling out "Jägermeister". It looked sinister in the back alley light. The perfect bottle to fill with a cursed hex potion. She took another swig. What more harm could it do that it hadn't already? She thought back at the past few hours and if she should have done something differently.

Accepting the bachelorette party in the first place was of course a huge mistake. She was surprised to hear from Kathy at all, given how frosty it had been between them over the summer. But this wasn't about any of them but Beth's wedding. Kathy had taken it on herself to arrange the bachelorette party and all the guests would show up as fairies. She didn't have to partake in the kidnapping or anything, just show up at the booked venue at the given time. She accepted.

They had the nightclub for themselves until nine when they would open up for the public. The bouncer checked her off from a list and right inside Kathy was handing out goodie bags with plastic tiaras, fairy wands, and other items for the evening. "I put something special in yours. Don't share it," she said with hushed voice, then continued cheerfully "Welcome prosecco straight ahead at the bar".

On her way over to the bar she had a glance in the bag and to her surprise saw a full-size bottle of Jäger. It made no sense why Kathy had put one in her bag. She wasn't even sure she was allowed to have a personal bottle inside the bar. Perhaps that was the game. Wait until the celebration was over and the bar opened for the public, then accuse her of having smuggled in some liquor. Nah, that was too contrived. She was an evil bitch, but a cunning one.

Happy to be rid of Kathy she hurried to the others who had arrived before her. Plenty of familiar faces, and a few new ones as well. The prosecco was cheap, but the bar staff kept topping up everyone's glasses as the noise level in the room slowly and steadily kept rising.

What she had thought would be a pleasant chat with old acquaintances turned out to be much more labor-intensive. Apparently a lot of the girls had been informed of the fallout between her and Kathy, but with a few exceptions they had only heard Kathy's side of the story. It wasn't outright lies, or consistent inaccuracies either, but she learned Kathy had invented lots of different distortions of the truth and spread them into different groups with no interactions. Why was she invited here at all if she had just poured poison in everyone's ears the past few months? Perhaps it would look suspicious if she hadn't been, though she certainly had worked up lots of reasons why she shouldn't be invited.

"She's been kidnapped. They are 45 minutes away!" someone announced through the speaker system. There was a short pause in the chatter before it resumed, if anything invigorated by the news. She wasn't sure how many glasses she had had, it's hard to count when you never actually empty the glass, but she saw a few of the girls peeling off the group and heading for the restroom. She felt she needed that too.

With the muffled chatter of the bar outside the restroom and stall doors she sat down on the toilet, more than tipsy, exhausted, and distressed. How could she have missed what Kathy had been doing to her reputation over the summer? She glanced down into the silver foiled paper bag and saw the top of her bottle of Jägermeister. Fucking Kathy! Well, at least she had known she needed a drink.

She unscrewed the cap, filled it with the dark liquid, and downed it. She winced at the herbal horror and put the cap back on the bottle. The high proof made her throat and chest warm. Then it spread to her bowels. Then she really started to get concerned. She tried to stand up, but fell back onto the seat. The warmth, now turned to heat, was spreading out into her limbs as well. She could feel sweat breaking out as well as shivers as she slowly lost consciousness.

"You OK in there?!" someone asked, knocking hard on the door. "Yeah" she answered back, immediately shocking her back into reality when she heard her own voice. Was it reality though? She looked at her body, still sitting at the toilet. Her legs, while still freshly shaven, looked way more muscled, as did her arms. Her blouse was open with all buttons ripped out, exposing her chest and stomach. It was clearly a man's torso with a flat chest, faint six-pack, and to end it all dangling at the bottom, a dick. "Eh. OK, dude" replied the woman on the other side of the stall door. She had answered her with a man's voice.

She stood up, this time without any problems. It felt like she was sober, or at least way less drunk than just seconds ago. Or how long had she been in there? She bent down, grabbed her panties, and quickly pulled them up. There was the sound of a snap somewhere and the panties felt limper. She dropped them, grabbed the tutu, prayed that at least something would fit, and pulled them up to her hips. It stayed up. She was still wearing her black converse and her white and pink striped shin socks. She stepped out of the panties and stuffed them and her tattered blouse into the bag. She noticed several tattoos on her arm and chest as she did that.

She braced herself and stepped out of the stall. The mirror wall right opposite showed a lean man with shaved head wearing a tutu. This must all be Kathy's doing. She couldn't even begin to understand how.

What followed was a walk through a packed bar with drunken women, all of which believed he was part of the entertainment, and none of whom had any qualms about putting their hands on him, squeezing his pecs or ass, or trying to pull his dick and balls. A few even tried to rip his tutu off him. "Ladies, ladies, there's time for everyone, but first I need to get out and have a smoke," he tried. He was soon standing panting in the alley next to the bar with three cigarettes and two lighters in his hand that he'd promised to return.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Sacrifice Part 3: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: everything is just out of reach.

wc: 1.7k

tw: none (semi-smut will be coming soon! I just wanted a soft moment for our little protagonist who has been through so much)

masterlist

You have until sundown.

Without Geto or Gojo around, things are quiet. No one comes to visit. It’s just you, Clymentestra, Helen, Serena, Danai, and Ariadne wandering around or making small talk in the alcoves of the Temple, while you wait for the sun to sink below the sky and bring you immortality. The Temple... That’s what you decided to call it. Cly called it something like “The Everlasting Residence of His Holiness, Geto Suguru, The Dragon God of blah blah blah...”, but saying “the Temple” was much easier for you and your brain to handle.

You discovered the following interesting rooms in your snooping session earlier: a set of bathrooms that were exactly identical to each other on opposite ends of a hallway, a room filled to the brim with books that you couldn’t read, a locked door that lead to a dungeon (you suspected), and another room filled with portraits of beings you didn’t know. Well, except Megumi. Megumi was in there, looking just like he did when you met him the day before. Boring.

Now, you’re just waiting on someone to come and find you to tell you that Geto is back, or that lunch is ready. Whichever comes first. But as you wait, thoughts of your impending transfer from mortal to immortal cloud your mind. Would every day be like this? Gossip with the others, wait for Geto to command you around, then sleep?

Is that what eternal life held for you?

Your train of thought is carried away on the wind when you see something blue and green winding its way down from the sky and into the field in front of the temple, followed by a white dragon.

Gojo… and…? You consider running down to the field to greet them, but your feet won’t move. Clymenestra doesn’t come to fetch you, so it’s not an urgent matter, you assume. Or she’s keeping you hidden, your mind whispers, and you remember the interaction from the day before:

“Don’t go blabbing your mouth to your stupid father, either. Geto would prefer to keep her under wraps for now.”

Did this have anything to do with your lack of immortality? And why is Geto so hell-bent on you becoming immortal, anyway? You ponder upon all of this as you toss open the doors to your chambers and walk down the left hallway, towards the dining hall. On the way there, you pass the locked door again, and for a moment, you press your ear to the wood to see if you can hear anything inside.

Nothing.

You straighten up, then enter the dining hall moments later, coming face to face with Gojo, who is sitting across from a pink-haired youth. “Oh,” Gojo stands, and smiles tightly, his eyes darting to the doors behind you. “Wrong room, darling. The kitchen is back there,” he prods, pushing you out of the dining room quickly and into the corridor to the kitchen, the youth’s eyes following you.

“Gojo, I have a ques--”

“Can it wait? Listen, you’re not supposed to be out of your rooms right now. And where the hell is Cly?” he hisses, looking about with a raised brow.

“Who is that in the dining room?”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Gojo retorts tersely, removing his hand from your arm. “You need to stay in your rooms until Geto comes back. If he knows Yuji saw you, he’d be--”

“Can you at least tell me why Geto wants me to become immortal so badly?”

“No!” Gojo yells, staring at you intensely. “It’s enough that Megumi knows about you. Just do as I say or both of our asses will get hung out to dry, got it?” You shrink away from the angry man and brush past him to go back to your rooms immediately. When you sit on your bed and examine your bruised arm, you wonder why everyone is so secretive. It’s possible that you would glean more information upon your turn from human into immortal, but you can’t wait that long.

Or at least, you don’t want to.

But you’re forced to.

Lunch doesn’t come for another three hours, and by that time, you’ve lost any semblance of an appetite. So when Serena sits the offerings down in front of you, you just turn away and watch the sea tide roll in and out, like the thoughts rolling in and out of your mind.

“Where’s Cly?” you ask, and Selene inhales deeply.

“She’s away. The God of Death has called upon her.” You spin around in your seat, frowning deeply.

“She’s dying?”

“No,” Serena wipes her shaking green hands on her dress, and looks away from you. “His Omnipresence calls upon her from time to time for… entertainment.” By the looks of Serena’s expression, you don’t want to know what she means by that word, nor do you want to ask any further questions.

“Why does Geto allow this?” you whisper, but Serena bites her lip.

“He doesn’t know.” That’s all you need to hear. You turn back around, feeling your emotions stir inside of your stomach. “You should eat something before the ceremony,” she adds, but you shake your head.

“I’m not hungry.”

You fall asleep in that chair, only awakening when you’re lightly tapped on the shoulder by someone behind you. When you look up, you meet the soft eyes of Clymenestra, and you wonder how she’s doing before releasing she’s holding a red and gold robe in her hands.

“Get dressed and meet me in the hallway,” she whispers in the semi-darkness. You take the garment and she leaves the room silently, allowing you to disrobe in private. Once you’re redressed, you exit your room and meet Cly in the hallway.

As you follow her to an unknown destination, your heart pounds wildly in your chest, and you can feel nervousness gnawing away at your resolve. Could you back out of this? Or was it too late? All answers pointed to “too late” as your feet make contact with the warm sand of the beach behind the Temple. There, gathered in the sand, are Geto, Gojo, and the other four women.

Geto is half-clothed and holding a piece of parchment paper - only his lower body is covered in solid black kun pants, but his chest is covered in black swirls and symbols that you can’t decipher. Gojo is dressed similarly, his chest smeared in silver paint, and you wonder what everything stands for. But your curiosity is short-lived when your back is to the sea and Cly is standing behind Gojo, her eyes trained on you.

“Y/n, you were brought to my realm as a sacrifice, but you have accepted my offering of eternal life,” Geto begins, holding up the parchment and reading from it slowly. “As Dragon God and head of all things in this realm, I bequeath this gift to you.” He then hands you the parchment paper, and you accept it tentatively, wondering what to do next.

“Read it,” Gojo coughs, and your mouth dries up. When you look to Cly for help, she presses her lips together and nods at you, encouraging you to go on.

But you can’t.

“I can’t read,” you croak softly, but it’s too soft, as evidenced by Geto’s confused face.

“I’m sorry. Say that again, y/n.”

“I…” You inhale shakily. “I can’t read.” Everyone’s face goes from confusion to understanding, then trepidation.

“You… can’t read?” Gojo murmurs and Geto blinks in shock.

“Then she can’t…” Cly whispers back.

“The ceremony will be postponed,” Geto announces and takes the parchment from you. “We will have to teach you how to read first.”

_____________________________________________________________

Shame accompanies you as you sit on your bed and watch the others eat. Your body, however, wants to close in on itself and disappear. Food is the last thing on your mind right now.

“My cousin never learned how to read,” Ariadne mentions, pulling her fish apart, and other women echo her sentiments. You know they’re trying to be kind, but it doesn’t achieve the effect they desire at all. It just makes you feel even dumber than before.

Your door swings open a moment later, and Cly walks in, followed by Geto.

“Ladies, His Holiness is requesting the room.” The other women vanish in a mess of giggles and murmurs, leaving you and Geto alone as Clymenestra closes the doors. Geto strolls about in your room for what feels like ages until he stops in front of you in the bed.

“I did not know you couldn’t read.”

“No one does, your Holiness,” you reply, looking to your hands in your lap.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he offers and holds up a book in his right hand. You watch him approach the bed carefully, then sit on the edge, his long black locks obscuring his facial features as he flips through the tome. “I’ll start coming by every evening to help you learn. Clymenestra has offered to help you learn how to write during the day. That way, you’re learning both at the same time.”

“Your Holiness, you are too ki--” Geto places his hand on your leg, looking up at you with his bottomless onyx eyes. You’re stunned into silence by his look - which isn’t one of pity. It’s one of compassion and kindness, and you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks in the flickering lamplight.

“Y/n, it is my duty and my honor to help you in this way. You returned something very precious to me, and I think it is only right to give you something just as timeless.”

“Did you get an answer from the Rain God?” you ask, and Geto drops his eyes.

“Yuta is displeased with your city for many reasons. He has demanded to speak with you personally about atonement, which is another reason why it is imperative for you to become immortal as soon as possible.”

“And the first reason why…?”

“I cannot answer that right now,” Geto whispers, and then opens the book again, shifting it so you could see the pages. “We should try this one. I like this story; it’s about a mermaid named Mija and a starfish named Nuri.”

You finger the gold-lettered pages carefully, feeling the smooth foil underneath your fingers, and Geto places your finger on the first word, holding your hand gently.

“Once”; the second word: “upon”; the third: “a”; the final word: “time”.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @nostaren @sunfloweroranges @jibe-gajima @jotazinha @brownskinnedgirll @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something @kontentious @missbonekitty @fyotituti @honouredsatoru @sandyscastle @flare-on @sashimeh @ggotgame

[saturnsummer]

the fairytale she never had (will you believe again?)

when sol is invited to a wedding, sol doesn’t think her best friend would follow her. 

aka: solhwi attending a wedding

notes: it just struck me one day, and i really wanted them to see each other outside of the law school moments! while law school defines them, they are certainly people with social activities.

 i adapted this from a similar prompt i saw from a fic many years ago for a separate fandom, and i always wanted to write something similar. this was honestly not met to be multi-part, but i write too much anyways. so multi-part it will be.

 also, it might sound depressing in the initial part where sol is talking about the wedding invitation, but it gets explained later on. 

as always, enjoy! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me!

ao3 link

words: 4135 words

I: 我愿变成童话里, 你爱的那个天使 (i am willing to be the angel of that fairytale you love)

--title inspired by fairytale (童话) by Michael Wong!--

Sol absolutely hates weddings. 

She hated the big social crowds, the way drunk men in tuxedos staggered around with women in one arm and a drink in another. She found no purpose in dressing in lavish gowns, then eating dinner for the next two hours without even feeling full. 

Sol couldn’t blame anyone but herself for this. She can’t help but remember her mother’s failed marriages. The way her biological father left them in the middle of the night, with all their hard earned savings. The way her stepfather, Byeol’s father, would come home drunk and violent towards her mother. It was a memory she couldn’t erase. More than a decade later, she still wakes up in a cold sweat, worrying for her mother and small Byeol’s life. 

She long ago gave up on the concept of love back then. She wasn’t opposed to anyone dating or talking about it, and she certainly didn’t mind short flings. But marriage? Eternal love? The fairytale that everyone hopes to achieve? Sol threw those ideas out of the window. 

So when Sol received a thick, cream-coloured card and envelope, embossed with rose gold foil and flowers, a pretty silver wax seal and her name written in careful strokes of a calligraphy brush, she was stumped. 

Her friend, Im Jiyoon, was getting married. Jiyoon was a good friend of Sol’s, and they occasionally met up for quick meals. Jiyoon was an accountant and climbing the ranks in her company. They lost contact for a period when Sol was in juvie, but they reconnected when Sol was just starting law school. It was only polite that Jiyoon extended invitations to her high school classmate. 

Sol had mixed feelings. The wedding was on a Friday night, which made things good since she didn’t have to wake up early, fitting her schedule properly. But she had nothing to wear. She could borrow a dress and shoes from Yeseul, but the last time she borrowed a shoe from Yeseul, she almost broke her ankle. And she had so much work to catch up on. Yet, not showing up felt rude of her. 

Jiyoon was nice, don’t get her wrong. She was smart, resourceful and lovely to be with in high school. Sol wanted nothing more than for her high school friend to marry the love of her life. But she hasn't been to such social events in years, and being so focussed on school, the legal clinic and contributing to her family, she found it difficult to understand why she needed to go, besides doing it out of courtesy. 

“What’s that?” A familiar voice pipes from behind, drawing her out of her thoughts. There’s the familiar shuffling of several pairs of feet as Sol turns her attention to the one who spoke. Behind her, was Han Joon Hwi with his bag just being set on the table. The rest of the group was just settling in for another study session.

“Ah, nothing important.” She monotonously says before sliding the card in her files. Joon Hwi’s hands catch the card before she can slide it fully and stop her from hiding it from him, or the rest of the group. The rest draw their attention to the expensive card and Sol only stays silent. 

“A wedding? Your friend’s?” Yeseul asks as she picks the card up with perfectly manicured fingers. Turning and feeling the thick paper between her fingers, Yeseul knew it was no cheap manufactured paper. This was expensive, premium, and each card looked handmade from the brush calligraphy. 

“Yeah. But I don’t think I’m going.” Sol says as Yeseul returns her the card and successfully stores it away in her bag. 

“Why not? Don’t you want to be there?” Joon Hwi asks, cocking his head to the side in utter confusion.

“There isn’t much point, is there? I have school and the legal clinic and things to revise for. And besides, I don't have anything to attend in. I just rather send her a gift and treat her a meal.” Sol simply explains. Everyone bombards her with more questions, but she diverts their attention to her paper and the cases they are reviewing today.

Joon Hwi, however, couldn’t get Sol’s reasoning out of his head. He knew Sol well enough to know how much she values her friends, and that she would be willing to drop everything for a friend. Her loyalty was unmatched. It didn’t make sense that she would be held back by her vanity or school work that caused her to not attend such a joyous occasion. 

When everyone is done reviewing the cases and the session ends, Sol is the only one who has her books and papers still scattered all over the table. She still has to review her notes and catch up on a few lectures before she can officially end her day. Joon Hwi was long done, but he stayed put, bringing out a past report he’s done and glancing through it, hopeful to catch any mistakes. The others have headed back or gone to the cafeteria for a meal. 

“Han Joon Hwi, you don’t have to stay for me, you know?” Sol says, her eyes not once looking up as she stays concentrated highlighting her book with a fluorescent orange highlight. She sticks it in her hair when she’s done, raising her head to meet Joon Hwi’s eyes. Joon Hwi only smiles, letting his eyes crinkle. 

“Why don’t you want to attend the wedding?” Joon Hwi asks, still smiling. Sol scoffs. 

“I already said. I’m too busy-” Sol is cut off by Joon Hwi with his teasing. 

“You sure? I think it’s about the groom, though.” Joon Hwi smiles brightly, earning an irritated series of clicks of her tongue from Sol, clearly successful in being teased.

“None of that sort! Who do you think I am, Han Joon Hwi?” Sol rebuts back, throwing her eraser across to him in annoyance.

 Joon Hwi catches it with a laugh, but doesn’t lose eye contact with Sol. A few moments of silence follow, as she looks at the file with the card. Slowly, she draws the card from her file, holding it carefully between her fingers. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to be there. I… it’s my first time going to such a social event in such a long time. And the last time I met Jiyoon was a year ago, back in our 1L.” She says softly, letting her fingers brush her calligraphed name.

“I just… rather not go, you know? Treat her to a nice meal somewhere, maybe a couple drinks. Besides, I’m sure she’s just doing it out of courtesy.” She lets out a light laugh. 

Joon Hwi’s heart softens. He’s witnessed Sol in her different elements. The courtroom, where she’s a powerful woman in command, dressed professionally in a suit and hair in a perfect ponytail. The day-to-day her, where she’s comfortably dressed in jeans and her tanned coat, hair in a bun and post it notes on her jacket. She was always so bold, so confident and so full of fire. It never occurred to him that she would be uncomfortable in social events. She was always the life during dinners, with Bokgi. She laughed loudly, engaged in conversations and seemed so comfortable. He remembers how she would help out the old halmeonis with her neighbourhood on some days when he sent her home, or the times she bought ice creams for Byeol’s classmates. She seemed so extroverted, yet so closed off. Eying her, Joon Hwi reaches out and clasps his hand over hers in an attempt to comfort. 

“I never went to school events, you know? Especially since juvie made me miss it. When I redid my high school year, I didn’t go too. There wasn’t much of a point, since I didn’t have a date or many friends to begin with. If it was Dan, she would have gone, being the popular girl she was back then.” Sol softly says, a small smile ghosting her face.

She remembers the day prom arrived for her school. She was expectant, hoping that the boy she liked would invite her. Or maybe the girls that she occasionally had lunch with will invite her to hang out. But all she got was a stone cold silence the weeks leading up to prom. When everyone buzzed on what they were wearing to prom night, she silently put on her headphones, drilling herself into her science assignments. Of course, she wouldn’t be invited.

She knew the rumours floating in school. How Dan was the perfect one, how she was the failed one. She knew everyone knew she went to juvie. She knows how the boys snicker at her when she walks past them, or how the girls gossip and whisper when she’s eating her lunch. Besides, it didn't help that she was poor. She can’t even afford a dress of her own, let alone go to the event.

Realising what she’s said, Sol quickly draws her hand away along with the card and slots it away in her file. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to blabber on. You must think it’s stupid, I think so too. Anyways, do you have the notes Professor Kim...” Sol quickly apologises and diverts her attention to her notes. But Joon Hwi was no longer listening. He was shattered by how the woman sitting in front of him has never been treated like how she should be treated. It was no secret to Joon Hwi that he cared for his friends, but cared a little more for Sol. He was the one that left post-it notes on her table and pretended he didn't. She was the only one that he would let steal a mouth or two from his ramyeon. He could read her moods just from her eyes. He wonders sometimes, if he sees her more than a friend. 

He won’t hide that she’s beautiful. The way her eyes slant in an elegant fashion, her smooth, slightly tanned skin, and her winning smile that he always found his heart beating faster for. He loves the way she smiles at her extra pickles, the way her eyes light up when she sees Byeol, or the way she argues and practices. The tenacity and desire she has to improve inspires him to work as hard as her. 

This is why when Sol spilled the beans, he couldn't help but feel all sorts of emotions. Anger, towards the people in her school, for not realising such a wonderful student. Anger towards her for degrading herself. Sadness, for her not being able to experience such events. 

As Joon Hwi ended the session with her and returned to his room, he made a promise to Sol. He’s convinced it will work, and he begins planning in his head. 

He will show her the fairytale. 

-----

A week passed. 

Sol had to give a reply in a few days and she has not figured out what to say. The wedding was in a month. She knew Jiyoon would be busy... Sol figures that she should just treat Jiyoon after her honeymoon, knowing how she would be away with her husband as newlyweds later on. 

“Still thinking about the wedding?” Joon Hwi nods at her, her head in her hands. Sol, looking defeated, nods. So much for trying to hide. They were at their pantry area of their dorms, Sol stirring her ramyeon, as Joon Hwi slurps his. It was 3am, and they just finished studying. The next day was a weekend, so it didn’t really matter if they slept late, since they got the privilege of sleeping in.

“What do I tell Jiyoon? I don’t want to sound rude.” Sol mumbles, lazily stirring her soggy noodles.

“Go to the wedding.” Joon Hwi says suddenly, continuously slurping. 

“What?!”

“Sol, how many weddings can you even go to in your life? Are you sure you want to miss this one? Besides, you said you haven’t been to social events. Don’t you want to experience it?” Joon Hwi says, adrenaline building in his voice. 

Sol falls silent. She can’t deny that she wants to experience the feeling of being dolled up, the fun that everyone talks about, and the enjoyment that everyone goes through. And Joon Hwi is right; she wants to celebrate with Jiyoon. But her fear of social events and the past was holding her back. 

Joon Hwi could tell the change in her eyes. He gives a sweet smile, knowing that he said enough to change her mind. 

“Joon Hwi, but what if she doesn’t even-” Sol begins doubting herself as she shoots off her doubts and worries. Joon Hwi calms her down with logical reasons, calming her nerves in between his mouths of ramyeon. 

“But... I’ll be alone there, right?” Sol asks, her voice so soft, Joon Hwi barely picks it up. Her ramyeon is still untouched, and the noodles have gotten soggy and cold. Sol is silent for a moment, as she realises how right she is, for once. It wasn’t like she could ask a date, she doesn’t even have one. And her friends from the study group were out of the question. They don’t even know Jiyoon. Joon Hwi quickly brings up his bowl to his face, hopefully covering it as he feels the heat rising to his face.

“I’ll be your plus-one.”

Sol’s eyes light up and her head rises. Did she hear that right? Han Joon Hwi, her plus-one? 

“Oh, no! No, I didn’t mean it like that! Joon Hwi, no, I can’t-” Sol can’t find the right words to say. He can't? He shouldn’t? He doesn't need to? Sol can’t deduce her own reasonings for this argument. She knows her roommate likes him, and she definitely doesn’t want to be the target of her roommate’s stares if she catches wind of this. Besides, Joon Hwi doesn’t like her. She knows, and she doesn’t want him to get any wrong ideas. He’s her best friend, and confidante. She knows, deep down, his heart is someone else's. 

“I want to.” 

Sol freezes as Joon Hwi finishes drinking his soup. Placing the bowl down, he does as best as he can to lock eyes with Sol seriously, showing her he wasn’t teasing. No, this was out of his sincere heart. He knows how nervous she gets in a new environment, and him being next to her was bound to calm her nerves just a little more.

Sol could see the genuine care and want in his eyes. She knows this isn’t one of his jokes or teases. For a split second, she catches herself thinking if he meant something more. That going as a date, was more than just keeping her company, but for something to develop… 

Her face is flushed red as she looks at her puffed noodles and lukewarm soup. She picks her chopsticks up but is stopped by Joon Hwi’s hand as he shifts the bowl toward him, away from her. 

“Get yourself a fresh one. This is the first meal all day, isn’t it?” Joon Hwi calls her out, covering her noodles. Sol wants to argue for her soggy noodles, but she falls silent knowing how he revealed her secret. She hasn’t eaten all day after running reports and studying. Grumbling, she does as instructed and boils another bowl of ramyeon. When she’s back at the table with a fresh, hot, spicy and red bowl, she dives into it, wondering how she managed to survive the whole day. 

Joon Hwi only gives a small smile looking at the girl slurping her noodles with delight and looking at her. Joon Hwi wasn’t lying. He did want to be her plus-one for the wedding. He knew that more than just being a comfort for Sol, he wanted to make this one day a day she could look back and smile at. That she could be pretty, relaxed and happy instead of stressing over her grades, exams and family. 

“Fine.” Sol says as she continues slurping the spicy noodles. She blesses the spiciness of the noodles, such that she could blame her pink blush on it. Joon Hwi, clearing the cold noodles and getting water for both of them tilts his head in confusion. 

“Come with me to the wedding, if you want to.” She mutters softly, almost shy to let him know. To hide her blush and hide her confusion, she lifts the still hot bowl to her face. She drinks the soup, but chokes on the spiciness. Joon Hwi lets out a light chuckle before passing her a bottle of cold water. Sol looks at him with narrowed eyes of annoyance, but graciously takes the water. 

As he watches Sol eat her first bowl, then a second, as Joon Hwi munches on some crackers, he only smiles and laughs at whatever Sol was complaining about her reports and her frustrations at her cases that she picked. He lets out comforting words, but is rebutted back with Sol saying he will never get it because he’s smart unlike her. 

As he went to bed that night, he only gave a giddy smile, burying his face in his sheets. He scored his point of taking Sol out on a date, and was already counting down. He officially succeeded in the first step of his plan. 

The rest of it required a little bit of help. But he knew who to ask. 

-----

“Yeseul! What is it that you need to wake me up on a weekend? I was up until 4am last night!” Sol grumbles as she places her phone on speaker, rubbing her eyes. It was 8am, way too early for Sol to process any emergencies. Well, if it was Yeseul, she would do it any time. 

“Sorry, unnie. But it’s urgent. Could you meet me in 10 minutes at the lobby?” Yeseul’s bright voice echos. Sol notices her roomie’s bed made, pillows nicely fluffed and sheets tucked in neatly in pure perfection. She isn’t surprised, considering how she gets up early anyways.

“Fine.” Sol says and hangs up, getting a fresh change of clothes and heading to the bathroom to wash up. She throws on a hoodie, grabbing her only tanned ochre coat and grabs her bag, before jogging downstairs to the lobby. There, Yeseul is standing there, with a sling black bag and with one of the many nude heels she has, hair styled to perfection.

“Unnie!” Yeseul waves her hand over. Walking closer, Sol notices two other familiar friends behind as she scoffs. 

“Joonhwi? Bokgi? What are you doing here?” She asks, her hand playing with the strap of her bag unconsciously. She was surprised to see Joonhwi, but even more Bokgi, who usually spends mornings sleeping in. Joonhwi only gives his usual cheeky smile and drags a drowsy Bokgi with him out towards to the main entrance of the school. Dumbfounded, Yeseul takes this moment to link her arm with Sol’s as she leads her out and catch Sol up to their agenda today. 

“What?! You’re bringing me where?” Sol exclaims, her voice echoing throughout the lobby. Yeseul shushes her as she drags a shocked Sol out of school. Yeseul didn't need the whole school to know where Sol was going. 

“Unnie, please? You need a dress for the wedding, and don’t think you are going to go in one of mine or your old ones! Besides, you promised to go shopping with me one day, right?” Yeseul defends herself as Sol sighs. 

Yeseul wasn’t wrong. The wedding was just a week away and she had absolutely nothing to wear. She owned a couple pairs of flats, but they were so old, it would be embarrassing to attend with those. And her dresses were either too big or too small. She was so caught up with school after submitting her reply to Jiyoon, that she would have forgotten about the wedding if it wasn’t for the post-it on her bedside wall. 

“But...but...” Sol couldn’t find any reasons to counter. She knew Yeseul was right. Besides, it’s a weekend. And they had no upcoming tests or projects, so there was no harm in doing something besides studying in the copy room. She nods, defeated, earning a smile from Yeseul. 

“Wait, then why is Joonhwi and- Who’s car is that?!” Sol’s thoughts are cut off when she sees a familiar black sedan waiting by the entrance as Sol and Yeseul just exit. In the car, she manages to see a Joonhwi in the driver’s seat and Bokgi riding shotgun. 

“Yah! Han Joon Hwi! Isn’t this my roomie’s car?” She shouts as she strides a couple of steps when Joonhwi rolls the window down. 

“She loaned me the car for today. Don’t want you carrying so many things back from shopping today.” He replies curtly. Bokgi opens his passenger side door on the right.

“Bokgi-”

“Noona, sit in front. I’m too tired to watch Joonhwi-hyung drive.” Bokgi mutters before he climbs into the backseat with Yeseul. Sol wordlessly settles into the seat next to Joonhwi, who only looks at her with a smile. Sol catches his odd looks and pauses.

“What?”

“Ready for shopping?” He has his cheeky smile on again. Sol glares in annoyance before turning behind to Yeseul. 

“Did you make him drive?” Yeseul shakes her head and spills out her defensive explanation.

“Oppa called me up yesterday! He just said he needed my help to accompany you shopping for a dress!”

“Then, why is Bokgi here? Trying on dresses too?”

“Noona! I’m listening!” Joonhwi only laughs and shakes his head.

“He’s just accompanying me.” Joonhwi says as he begins to drive off. 

Well, Joonhwi wasn't lying. He waited till their quizzes and projects were over before executing this. He knew Sol was busy, and had waited for the busy season to pass before calling Yeseul. He explained that he knew Sol would not go shop for a dress, and he needs her help to accompany him and her. She willingly, too willingly, agreed. 

Next, he asked Sol B if he could borrow her car, knowing how Sol was not going to go home with just one dress and one pair of shoes when Yeseul was involved. Sol B was skeptical, but just passed the keys over to him. Besides, she was going to be in school studying all day; she didn’t need the car. Bokgi joined in, as Joonhwi couldn’t spend hours on end waiting for the ladies to shop. On further thought, Bokgi just might help him out with something. 

“I could go myself with Yeseul. You didn’t have to wake up for this.” Sol mutters just loud enough for him to hear, fiddling with her fingers. Joonhwi returns with a light scoff.

“As if you’ll do it.” Sol glares at him from the side and is ready to punch him, but retracts her hand, knowing she might literally kill everyone in the car. The ride from the school to the bustling heart of Seoul is a rough twenty minute ride. Bokgi takes this time to catch a wink and Sol does the same, but she can't seem to do it. 

Something about Joonhwi bringing her out to buy a dress specially made her heart flutter a bit more than usual. She knew that Joonhwi cared for her. The ways that he left rolls of gimbaps and energy drinks as opposed to coffee on her table during her tough days. The moments when he would offer his jacket as a pillow wordlessly when she wanted to rest her head after hours of studying. The unspoken synchronisation between them was just a showing of how they understood each other inside and out. 

Sol thought nothing of it. She knew him as long as she stepped into school when he saved her from Professor Yang. They spent almost everyday studying, having classes and eating together. After all, they are best friends, and don’t best friends do this? They look out for each other, right?

He is going to be my plus-one at Jiyoon’s wedding. He’s taking me to shop for a dress. 

Sol wonders, truly for the car ride as she stares outside at the blue skies and empty streets of Seoul, if Han Joonhwi meant more than friends to her. If… she wanted more. 

Deep down, she couldn’t deny hoping for more. She liked the way he looked at her, eyes crinkled and smiling in half moons, the sweet smile that she couldn’t help but return. She has never had many relationships, considering her experience in school and afterwards. She was just too busy; too focussed. Seeing how this man cared for her just made her feel so… special. 

She has never felt that way.

[schleierkauz]

The Color of Revenge: Chapter 4

Me: “This story is sooo interesting! Maybe we get to meet one of the witches next? Maybe a chapter from Roxane’s perspective? Maybe some insight into what exactly the Prince is up to? Maybe -” Cornelia Funke: “Anyway here’s Ironstone.”

(This is also your reminder to definitely listen to the official version once we get it because this chapter kinda kicked my ass. If any part of this just straight up makes no sense pls tell me. Enjoy!)

Chapter 4: An unpleasant Companion

Of course Ironstone had lied about his master. Orpheus was very much alive and healthy, aside from his chronically sensitive stomach and flights of migraine, which only served as an excuse to spend hours in bed. Meanwhile Rudolph washed his clothes, cooked, scrubbed the floors and worked himself to the bone with a thousand other tasks.

Orpheus had ordered him to visit Elinor. He had given very specific instructions regarding the order in which they were supposed to visit his old foes. Ironstone was almost done. Only Farid was still missing since he wasn’t in Ombra. He had hidden one of the wooden sticks that Orpheus had given him in the belongings of all the other people he’d visited – under the bed, inside of bags, shoes or clothes.

“What are those for?“ he’d asked as Orpheus had counted the small wooden sticks into the leather bag that had been strapped to Ironstone’s back like a backpack. “Do you want me to try my hand at arson? That’s hardly a good way to kill the Fire-Dancer.”

“It’s none of your concern what those sticks are for,“ Orpheus had answered with his usual air of importance. “Maybe they’ll catch you while you hide them and I don’t want you to be able to reveal my plan.”

Unsettling – but so far no one had caught him. And Ironstone was determined to keep it that way. Orpheus had impressed it upon him that the sticks had to stay with the person they were meant for for two nights. Under no circumstances were they to be discovered before then. So Ironstone had tried his best to find good hiding places. Orpheus could turn very nasty if his orders weren’t followed exactly as he wanted. He had almost drowned Ironstone in his ink once and a few times the glass man had had to visit the glazier for broken off limbs. Not to mention that fit of rage during which his master had chased him through his shabby chambers with a hammer. No glazier would have been able to fix that damage.

Ironstone couldn’t have explained why he stayed with Orpheus despite all of it. Maybe because it was nice to work for a master who was even more devious than he himself.

“Two nights, then you go to collect them again and give them to Baldassare so he can deliver them to their final recipient.”

Baldassare. The man on whose shoulder he’d travelled from Tyrola to Ombra was just as evil, devious and unprincipled as Orpheus himself. He would’ve sold him to the men who fed glass men to fighting dogs in order to sharpen their teeth had Orpheus not made it very clear that he needed Ironstone back unharmed.

Baldassare Renaldesci liked to brag that he’d been a master thief since his fifth birthday and since his eleventh also a very gifted murderer. He claimed to have sent over a hundred men and women to the afterlife – a place that was, according to him, similar to a giant pub, which meant he really just did his victims a favor. The wooden casket in which he kept buttons and belt buckles, cut from the clothes of his victims, was filled to the brim.

“It helps me to remember how many there were,“ he’d explained to Ironstone, obvious pride in his voice. “Most people have no idea how hard it is to kill a grown man and how fiercely some try to defend themselves.”

The casket also contained two gold teeth (Ironstone was grateful that Baldassare didn’t mention where they’d come from) – and a glass eye that was supposed to protect him from the evil eye.

Baldassare’s eyes were brown like those of a cow and most of the time they seemed so dull and disinterested that one might have mistaken them for glass as well.

But appearances could be deceiving.

Baldassare’s cow eyes didn’t miss anything, which made his claim that he’d once been a spy for the duke of Milan at least a little bit more believable.

Anyway – he didn’t bathe often enough, he liked lousy lodgings where the rats were bigger than Ironstone and he loved cheap prostitutes who thought glass men were adorable little pets. Plus, he enjoyed fighting, was constantly high on cheap wine, elf dust and cinderella lentils and wrote bad verses to worse melodies which he considered to be an expression of his untamable genius. To make it short: Ironstone was counting the days until they finished Orpheus’ tasks and he could get off of Baldassare’s filthy shoulder.

At least the weather was a lot more pleasant in Ombra than it was in Bruneck – and there were glass women. And a lot of troubadours and rich merchants who needed glass men. There had been moments when Ironstone had seriously considered not going back to Orpheus. But he had gotten used to him and his black heart. And it wouldn’t be easy to find another master who was so thoroughly supportive of his desires to do evil.

The abandoned house that Baldassare had claimed as their home still had the sign of the Black Death painted on the brittle door, even though it had been 20 years since the plague ravaged Ombra. The empty rooms behind it smelled like mold and rat dung and the glassless windows let in every biting smell that came from the dye baths of the tanners nearby. Flayed skin… Quite appropriate. Orpheus probably had something similar in mind for those who had foiled his plans, even though he kept the specifics a secret.

Baldassare was snoring on a bearskin he’d stolen from the tanners, his fingers white with elf dust. He was a tall, strong man who wore the blurred remains of past beauty on his puffy face. His black hair was a little too black (he dyed it with the foul-smelling liquid the tanners used for their skins) and you could always deduct his last meal by looking at his clothes.

Ah, the world was so unfair! Baldassare would receive a bag of gold for his services while Orpheus’ own loyal (well… somewhat loyal) glass man had to content himself with dry bread, hard cheese and sour wine.

Ironstone tiptoed closer to Baldassare’s sleeping form and pushed his tiny hand into the bag tied to his belt. Ah yes… A few coins were still in there. Surely he wouldn‘t miss just one. Judging by how he wrote down his verses, his skills for counting probably weren’t much better than his spelling. But Ironstone had only just closed his hand around the coin when dirty fingers grabbed him.

“And what do you think you’re doing there, Shard Head?” Baldassare slurred and held Ironstone up in front of his bloodshot eyes. His voice sounded like oil. Warm, rancid oil.

“Should I sell you to one of the travelling merchants who export glass men to Persia and Mauritania, where they have you fight snakes and scorpions? I hear there’s a great demand. Because there’s usual nothing left of your kind but a few splinters.”

Oh yes. Baldassare Renaldesci had a black heart. Maybe it was even darker than that of Orpheus. Ironstone knew that there were a few things Orpheus valued in this world. But he had yet to find anything that inspired such feelings in Baldassare. Except maybe himself, louses and all. And his bad verses.

“I haven’t had a proper meal since yesterday!“ Ironstone shrieked. “I have a right to at least one meal a day! And the sun is already setting!”

“It is?“ Baldassare scratched his paunch and struggled to get on his feet. ”Damn. The Black Prince is holding an audience for all troubadours who want to join him. I want to recite one of my verses.”

“Your verses? You have something else to deliver him, did you forget that?“

They had split Orpheus‘ list up between the two of them. The dead-and-buried-list, as Ironstone liked to call it. Of course Baldassare had made sure that he only had to deal with six of the 14 names on it. His argument had been that Dustfinger, the Black Prince and the young firebug were far more dangerous tasks than the bookworm woman or the old Inkweaver.

Ridiculous.

After all, the split made the Bluejay and his daughter Ironstone’s responsibility. But Baldassare had just given him a slimy smile and pushed eight of the wooden sticks towards Ironstone.

“Come on, Ire – you attract way less attention than I do“ he’d purred.

Ire, Shard Heard, Pipsqueak, Fog Face (a reference to Ironstone’s foggy gray limbs) – Baldassare had many names for Ironstone and he didn’t like any of them. But he consoled himself with the fact that the nicknames he used for Baldassare were even less flattering.

“Forget? I forget nothing and no one, Shard Head.“ Baldassare pulled the round silver mirror out of his pocket that he treated it with more care than any of his other belongings. “Baldassare,” he murmured as he spat into his hand and smoothed back his dyed hair. “You’re still one handsome devil.”

The silver offered a blurry improvement on reality and the elf dust probably did the rest – there was no other explanation for this judgement. Ironstone was continuously surprised how much vanity hid behind Baldassare’s sleazy appearance. He even owned an ivory comb and a brush for his teeth.

“Oh no, no,“ he said just as Ironstone was about to get comfortable on the bearskin. “You’re coming with me. It looks good when a troubadour has his own glass man.”

Wonderful. Ironstone had been up and about for almost four days and nights to finish his portion of the list.

“The Black Prince doesn’t like me at all!“ he protested when Baldassare grabbed him. “He won’t even want to listen to your verses once he sees me! And then what? Do you want to sacrifice your future fame for Orpheus’ old rivalries?”

Baldassare was usually a very suspicous man but when it came to his stilted verses he believed even excuses as absurd as this one.

“That would be too bad, yes. Ah, va bene, you’re staying here – but get me some new strings for my lute.”

Of course. It wasn’t enough that he tortured the ears of everyone around him with bad verses, he had to follow it up with even worse lute melodies.

“Get them? How?“ Ironstone held his hand out to Baldassare, hoping he would get the hint, but the man just sneered at him.

“How? Steal them!“

Ironstone glanced up to the worryingly fat spider that was lurking in its net under the moist ceiling. He decided to dedicate the rest of the evening not to Baldassare’s or Orpheus’ desires but his own. The street in which Ombras instrument makers worked was south of the tannery streets but Ironstone turned north, towards the seamstresses who made clothes for the wealthier citizens of Ombra… assisted by countless glass women.

(Next chapter)

[crispychrissy]

Foreshadow - Part 2

Summary: Y/N and the Winchesters head off to find the pack of werewolves, but will she be able to save them before it’s too late? Characters: Y/N, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, other OCs Word Count: 4464 (whoops) Warnings: Angst, hookers?, violence, language, fluff, more angst A/N: Part two of three! This chapter is extra long and instead of breaking it up into a bunch of other parts, I wanted to push this fic baby out and let it grow. lol This was edited by the ever so lovely @dean-winchesters-bacon. Enjoy! Part 1 - Part 3

The drive to Idaho was awkward to say the least. Dean played through every tape he had, singing under his breath and keeping the volume low, before starting back at tape number one when he was finished. Y/N curled up in the back seat and tried to get some sleep, but it never came. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Sam and Dean being killed. They stopped a few times for gas and food, but Y/N rarely left the car besides to use the bathroom.

Finally, after a long and grueling fifteen-hour drive, they pulled into the parking lot of a run down motel that Sam had located before they left. There were two women hanging around outside the furthest motel room dressed in skimpy clothes and heavy makeup, and Y/N watched them eye the Impala curiously as it rumbled into the parking spot outside the check-in office.

The women began making their way over to where they were parked once Dean got out and ran into the office and Sam got out to stretch his legs, but when Y/N stepped out to stretch, they both rolled their eyes and returned to their original spot. Y/N was hardly the most beautiful woman in the world, and the fact that the two women assumed she was a prostitute that could seduce the Winchesters strangely filled her with a sense of pride.

“Bad news, kids,” Dean announced as he walked out of the office. “Only got one motel room, so we gotta share. It’s got two beds so Y/N you can pick if you want to bunk with one of us or if you want to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag.”

Y/N sighed heavily and braced her arms on the hood of the car. “Can’t we just go to the shack I saw in my dream and get this over with? I’d rather not be an overused trope in a romance novel.”

Dean shook his head, tossing the key to the motel room at Sam. “It’s almost ten at night and I just spent the entire day driving. I need a shower and sleep. I’m not driving around all night to try and find a shack in the middle of the woods that may or may not exist. We handle this like any other hunt.” Dean opened the driver’s side door and slipped inside. “Tomorrow.”

Sam had already grabbed their bags from the trunk, and handed Y/N her duffel with a sympathetic smile. Dean was always rough around the edges, but dealing with psychics and his foreshadowed death? It was dredging up a lot of painful memories of what Sam had gone through, as well as reminding him of people they’d lost.

Dean moved the car down to an open spot in front of their room and rejoined Sam and Y/N as they walked down the sidewalk. Sam opened the door and both brothers began their motel routine. They each claimed a bed, checked out the bathroom, and salted the windows and door. Y/N watched in awe from where she was sitting at the table, understanding how close the brothers were. They were like a well-oiled machine, and it was mesmerizing to watch.

“So, what’ll it be?” Sam asked once everyone had showered and dressed in pajamas.

“I’ll sleep in your bed, Sam.” Y/N moved closer and pulled back the covers on the opposite side of the bed from where Sam was standing. “As much as I’d have preferred my own room, I don’t think sleeping on the floor would be comfortable, even with a sleeping bag.” She lowered her voice. “Tropes be damned.”

Having her back to Dean, she missed the look of hurt that flashed across his face before he schooled his reaction. “Yeah, okay. Me and Sammy will head to the morgue first thing, then go from there.”

“I think I should come with you. Just to see if I recognize anyone from my dream… they could have a werewolf working with the cops or something.” Y/N slipped under the covers and scooted as closed to the edge of the bed as she could. “You guys are experienced hunters, and I doubt you’d fall into a trap like this without them having someone on the inside.”

“Absolutely not,” Dean snapped. “You said you’re the linchpin in this, the only thing that can stop the vision from coming true. I’m not gambling with that. You’re gonna stay in the motel room and lock the door. It’s not open for discussion. Goodnight.”

Y/N turned and glared at the other bed, unable to make out any shapes in the darkness of the room. Most of the hunters she had dealt with in the past were cautious at first, but Dean was going beyond that. He was treating her like a child. Y/N grumbled under her breath and pulled the covers over her shoulders, turning so her back was to Dean. Sam shifted next to her and once there was soft snores coming from Dean, he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know Garth gave you the short version of our history, but there’s a lot more that even he doesn’t know. Dean doesn’t trust easily, it’s nothing personal.”

Y/N sighed and nodded, even though Sam couldn’t see it. “I get it, Sam. I do. Most hunters don’t believe a word I say. I got scars up and down my arms from silver blades. I just don’t understand why he can’t accept help.”

Sam chuckled softly. “From your mouth to Chuck’s ears.”

Y/N furrowed her brow. “Chuck?”

Sam snorted, and she could barely discern the smile on his face making dimples in his cheeks through the darkness. “That’s a much longer story. I’ll explain later, try and get some sleep.”

“Okay,” she replied softly, but she remembered something she wanted to tell him. “Oh, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“I might have another dream,” she admitted quietly. “Sometimes I get follow up dreams after I have a vision and they can get pretty violent. If I start thrashing in my sleep or something, just…”

“Just… what?” he asked.

“Ineedyoutocuddleme,” Y/N said in one quick breath, her cheeks heating up. It was the only way her visions seemed to dissipate when she was stuck in one. An ex-boyfriend was the one to figure it out, and it made life a lot easier knowing someone could pull her out of a dream if it was a particularly bad one.

Sam was quiet at first, but he reached a hand out and brushed his fingers against hers before squeezing her hand. “Of course. Don’t worry about it.”

Y/N exhaled a long breath of relief and squeezed his hand back. “Thanks. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Sam replied, removing his hand and turning over on his back.

Neither one of them realized that Dean’s snoring had stopped.

***

The following morning, Y/N was woken up by a grumpy Dean pushing a cup of coffee into her hands. Both he and Sam were already dressed in suits, and she blinked the sleep from her eyes until the time on the nightstand clock became clear. It was a little after nine in the morning, and Y/N smiled when she realized she slept the entire night without having a dream.

“We’ll be back. You have both our numbers so if anything happens, just call us.” Sam grabbed his suit jacket and slipped it on. “If you don’t hear from us by this afternoon and we aren’t answering the phone, call–”

“Your angel friend Castiel, I know,” Y/N interjected before taking a sip of coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste. Of course it was black. “You guys go ahead, I’ll be here doing research. The faster we find out where this shack is, the more time we have to plan. I’ll be fine. Just try to snap some pictures of people you talk to.”

Sam slipped on a pair of glasses and tapped the frames, a smile curling his lips. “Got it covered. I’m gonna record the entire time we’re in there, you can look it over when we get back.”

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed his brother by the arm, dragging him toward the door. “Come on, Clark Kent. We got work to do.”

When the door shut behind them, Y/N took another sip of coffee, groaning at the taste but savoring the caffeine. Finally slipping out of bed once the cup was empty, she stopped at her duffel bag, biting her lower lip. Wanting to be comfortable while she researched, she decided against changing her clothes and instead walked over and sat at the table, opening Sam’s laptop to a strange database with the name “Men of Letters” he’d told her about and diving right in.

The amount of information in the database sucked her in, and it wasn’t until she heard a key in the motel room door did she realize it was almost six in the evening. Lifting her sore eyes from the laptop, she watched as Sam and Dean shuffled in with bags of takeout, the name of the diner they passed on the way into town on the side.

Sam frowned when he saw her bloodshot eyes. “Have you been at the computer the entire time we were gone?”

Y/N blinked and rubbed her eyes. “Uhhh, maybe? There’s a lot of interesting stuff in here.” Her stomach grumbled loudly and she ducked her head, hungrily eyeing the takeout bags. “Food?”

Dean put the larger of the two bags on the table and dug around, removing a foil wrapped burger and a small container of fries. “You’re not a vegetarian or something are you?” When Y/N shook her head, Dean handed over the burger. “Bacon cheeseburger. Eat up, we need a lead and if you get one from the video, I’d rather chase it down before sundown.”

Sam slipped his glasses off his face and grabbed the USB cord from the box they came in, plugging it in and attaching it to the computer. “I’ll get the video up for you so you can watch it while you eat.”

A few clicks later, the surprisingly high quality video was playing in fast forward and Y/N was watching the screen intently, scanning each face that appeared. Sam and Dean bantered back and forth about the smaller details of the case as they ate, but it only took twenty minutes before a familiar face showed up on the video.

“Her,” Y/N said through a mouth of french fries, tapping the spacebar to freeze the video. “She’s one of the werewolves.”

Sam wiped his hands on a napkin and walked around the table. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered before looking at Dean. “It was the morgue secretary. Oh man, what was her name?”

“Leslie,” Dean mumbled through a bite of burger before swallowing. “She was kinda cute.”

“I knew it had to be her.” Sam clicked around, moving the video about fifteen minutes into the future. Leslie’s desk was in full view, and Y/N raised a brow at the decorations that covered it. “Look, her desk was covered in wolf stuff. Pen holders, paper weights… even her stapler was wolf-themed.”

“She could just be one of those nuts that collects stuff,” Dean countered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then licking up the ketchup off that collected there. “You’re sure she’s who you saw?”

Y/N nodded, completely fascinated by Dean’s tongue when it licked his hand. “Uh, yeah. She wasn’t the leader chick, but she was one of the pack members. I didn’t recognize anyone else.”

“So they have a mole in the medical examiner's office,” Sam noted, sitting back down on the edge of the bed and spearing a fork into his salad. “So, you think she runs interference for the pack? Covers up the cause of deaths so they aren’t connected to each other?”

“Yeah, and then when they want to kill some hunters, Leslie tips off the local newspaper of a string of bodies being found with the same cause of death to attract attention.” Dean burped quietly and sat back in his chair. “Once the hunters show up to view the bodies, she tips off the pack and leads them into the trap.”

“But how?” Y/N asked. “Hunters are suspicious of everything, it’s in your nature. If something is too convenient, you guys are overly cautious.”

The brothers were silent for several long moments, trying to figure out what would draw a hunter out into a situation where they would be reckless. Y/N watched them think quietly, skimming through the last several minutes of the video until Sam was back out in the parking lot of the police station. No other faces were familiar, but Y/N wasn’t surprised. Having more than one person as a spy in a town this small would be awkward at best, having a much higher likelihood of being caught.

“I’ll pull some background on Leslie, see if I can figure out who she hangs out with and if she owns property in the area, it could give us a clue as to where this shack is,” Sam announced, closing the empty salad container and tossing it into the garbage can.

“I’m gonna shower and change, get ready for tonight. I’m guessing you’re going to find something. I can feel it.” Y/N stood from her chair and stretched, groaning in relief as her spine and shoulders popped. When she opened her eyes, Dean was staring at her, lips slightly parted and eyes dilated. When she met his eyes, he quickly looked away. “Right, shower time.”

The shower was delightful and surprisingly hot for the crappy motel they were at and after toweling off, Y/N pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans and a faded Marshall Tucker Band t-shirt she’d had since high school. She didn’t miss the impressed smile Dean gave her when he saw the t-shirt, and she was happy he was finally warming up to her.

Sam wasn’t able to find much on Leslie, except that she moved into town four months ago and was not living in any house or apartment in town. There was no property in her name, and even her financial history began only six months ago. After striking out on her, the three of them decided to relax for the evening to see what happens. If they didn’t get anywhere tonight, the brothers would head out in the morning to quietly ask around town about who Leslie hung out with and where they might think she was living.

It was just after the fourth episode of Dr. Sexy when Dean’s phone rang. It was a little past ten-thirty, and Dean held up his phone, showing Y/N and Sam that an unknown number was calling. Swiping the screen to answer, Dean tapped the speakerphone icon.

“Hello?”

There was rustling and rapid thumps in the background; whoever was calling was running. “Agent Nash?” a voice wheezed out.

“Yeah, who’s this?” Dean replied.

“It-it’s Leslie from the ME’s office!” The thumping stopped and more rustling came through the line along with heavy breathing. “I was on my way to my car after working late, and these men showed up! They kidnapped me but when they stopped the car, I ran. I need help!”

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s okay, Leslie. I can help you, where are you? Did you see anything streets or landmarks you recognize?”

The thumping and rustling started up again and Leslie’s breath began to come out in short pants. “I saw… Willow Avenue a-a few minutes ago while I was running, it’s on the outside of town. I’m in the woods, I don’t–” Leslie’s words were cut off by a loud grunt and a thump, before a scream came through the line.

“Take her back to the cabin,” an unfamiliar male voice said. “Let’s teach this bitch a lesson.” A low laugh came from the man as the multiple footsteps got softer and softer before the line went dead.

Dean looked up at Sam and Y/N, who were just as shocked as he was. “What the hell was that? I thought you said she’s the wolf?”

“That’s it,” Sam whispered, looking up at Dean. “That’s how they’re doing it!”

“What?” Dean barked.

“What’s the one thing that will make a hunter drop everything and rush in without being totally prepared?” Sam asked.

Realization dawned on Dean’s face and he ran a hand through his hair. “An innocent life in danger.” Dean shook his head. “Son of a bitch.”

Y/N’s brows pinched together and she sat up from her spot on Sam’s bed. “Guys, in my dream, it wasn’t Leslie who was tied to the chair pretending to be the damsel in distress, it was the leader woman.”

“So wait, the future has already been altered?” Sam asked, sitting up.

“No,” Y/N murmured. “Well, I can’t know for sure if this is enough to change your fate. I still need to come with you, just to be sure. I don’t want to risk this not being enough and end up finding you two…” Y/N swallowed and looked down at her lap.

Sam placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “It’s okay. If you don’t think it’s enough we’ll bring you along. We don’t want to die as much as you don’t want us to.” Sam slipped off the bed and grabbed the duffel bag full of weapons from under his bed. “We’ll head out in five.”

The drive out to Willow Avenue was nerve wracking. Y/N’s plan was kept to herself, no matter how many times Dean asked on the way there. It took about twenty minutes for Sam to spot the run down shack in the darkness; there was a light coming from inside, likely to draw any hunters in that would come looking for Leslie. When Dean clicked off his headlights and came to a stop at the end of the gravel driveway, Y/N opened her door and handed a piece of paper off to Sam before bolting into the darkness of the woods.

Sam opened his mouth to yell her name, but Dean grabbed his arm, shaking his head and pressing a finger against his lips to stop Sam from saying anything. Sam nodded and unfolded the note, holding it out so Dean could read it at the same time.

I’ll be waiting. Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you two. Wait until 11:34 before you head inside. Treat this like any other hunt.

Sam and Dean looked at each other and nodded before Sam slipped the paper into his pocket. Dean pulled out his phone and checked the time and GPS location on the map, showing it to his brother. They had two minutes to kill. Dean snorted at the voice in his head, hoping that after those two minutes he wouldn’t end up being the thing that got killed.

Sparing one last look at his phone, Dean opened his door. He pulled his pistol from his jacket and slipped his phone into the pocket, watching as Sam mirrored his movements. They both closed their doors quietly and made their way up the driveway, readying up at the front door.

Y/N was crouched in a heavily wooded area right next to the window where the majority of the werewolves were congregated, silently waiting for her cue. When the wolves heard the front door kicked open, they immediately moved around the room, getting into their positions with Leslie tied to the chair, flanked by the remaining pack on either side of her.

Y/N closed her eyes, running through the progression of her dream in her mind. When she heard the gunshot of Sam shooting the werewolf in the hallway, she slipped a bundle of powder wrapped in a thick blue cloth from the satchel around her shoulder, clutching it tightly in her hand. Using her free hand, she dug around in the bag for her silver knife and removed it, clutching it tightly in her fist.

Y/N waited until Leslie opened her mouth and screamed before she wiggled the knife under the windowsill and lifted the window open about six inches, using the scream to cover the noise of the squeaky window. It was in darker corner of the room, so thankfully none of the werewolves noticed it being opened.

The sound of splintering wood, followed by a loud crash made Y/N jump and lean closer, peering in through the window to see Sam and Dean with their pistols raised, glaring at the group of werewolves before them. Y/N heard a low chuckle from the same male werewolf they heard on the phone and watched silently as Leslie smirked and wiggled her wrists, freeing them from the ropes, before standing up. The same pack leader female werewolf Y/N saw from her dream stepped forward in front of Leslie and smiled.

“Gotcha.”

The second the word broke through the silence, Y/N sprung into action. Gripping the bag of powder, she brought it to her lips. “Displodo,” she whispered and watched as the bag began to glow orange, then red. Once it was almost white in color, Y/N threw the bag through the open window. It exploded a few seconds later, scattering a fine powder throughout the room, making everyone start coughing.

The sound of sizzling filled the air as the werewolves began screaming, their skin bubbling and steaming. The Winchesters coughed a few more times, but remained unharmed, readying for a fight once the powder dissipated. Y/N yanked open the window even more, allowing her to easily climb through, landing less than gracefully on the floor before she stood up. As quiet as she could, she readied her knife and walked forward, sinking it into the back of the werewolf closest to her, piercing his heart.

The dying shout from the werewolf she killed made the entire room burst into chaos. Y/N had two wolves rushing at her while Sam and Dean began shooting, trying to take out as many as they could. Y/N managed to duck out of the way of the werewolf that ended up killing Sam in her vision, before spinning around and burying her knife into his chest.

A shout from Dean drew Y/N’s attention and she watched as he fought with the lead werewolf. Sam was scurrying across the floor to grab his gun that had been knocked away, and thanks to the distraction, the remaining werewolf in front of her managed to land a heavy punch to her cheek, sending her stumbling backward, landing on her ass on the floor.

“Y/N!” Dean shouted, throwing punch after punch at the pack leader that was trying to bite him until there was space between them. Dean leaned back and kicked out, connecting with her chest and making her fly backward into the wall, which broke apart with the impact, sending her spilling into the room next door.

Dean scrambled across the small room, pulling his knife from the holster at the small of his back and throwing it at the werewolf advancing on Y/N, landing a direct hit into his back and heart. The large man grunted and slumped to the floor, and Y/N was lucky enough to roll out of the way to avoid being crushed by his body. Five rapid gunshots made Dean tense and look over just in time to see the remaining two werewolves near Sam sink to their knees before falling over dead. Sam collapsed onto his back, panting, but he had a smile on his face.

“Y’okay, Sammy?” Dean asked, helping Y/N to her feet.

“Yep, just need to catch my breath,” he replied. “That was intense.”

Y/N dusted herself off and managed to glance over Dean’s shoulder. The female pack leader stepped back through the hole in the wall she crashed through, yanking a piece of splintered wood from her shoulder. She raised her arm, and Y/N’s eyes went wide when she realized Dean’s gun was in her hand.

“No!” Y/N shouted, pushing Dean out of the way right as the werewolf pulled the trigger. A burning hot pain shot through her stomach and chest, and she sunk to the floor when her legs turned to jelly and gave out underneath her. The pain wasn’t like anything she’d ever felt before, and each labored breath she took in felt like her lungs were full of broken glass.

Straining to keep her eyes open, she watched Sam jump to his feet and fire, taking out the werewolf before both brothers rushed to Y/N’s side. Dean pulled off his flannel and pressed it hard against the two bullet wounds on her abdomen that were oozing blood, making her whimper.

“I know it hurts, but I gotta put pressure on it, okay, sweetheart?” Dean whispered, throwing his keys at Sam before the younger Winchester disappeared out of the door.

Y/N closed her eyes and nodded, trying to distract herself from the searing pain in her body. When she opened her eyes again and looked at Dean, his face was blurry and slowly being surrounded by a darkness that continued to fill more and more of her vision. Dean lifted her into his arms, making Y/N scream, before running through the house and back out to the car where Sam was already waiting.

Dean slipped into the back seat, cradling Y/N in his arms. “Go, Sam! Now!” Dean looked down at Y/N and brushed the hair out of her face, placing two fingers on her neck and cursing quietly when he could barely feel a pulse. “Hey! Stay with me, sweetheart, we’re gonna get you some help.”

Y/N smiled and with the remaining strength she had, lifted her hand, cupping Dean’s cheek and smearing blood onto his freckled skin. “S’okay, Dean. You and Sam are safe now.” Her hand slipped from his cheek and landed limply against his shoulder.

Dean tilted his head, eyes beginning to fill with tears that blurred his vision. When Y/N eyelids began to flutter and her eyes rolled back in her head, Dean pressed harder on her wounds and lightly shook her limp body, making her hand fall from where it was rested against his shoulder, landing against her unmoving chest with a soft thump.

“Y/N?” Dean whispered. “Y/N?!”

***

Forevers [CLOSED]: @katymacsupernatural @queen-of-deans-booty @your-modern-shakespeare @wheresthekillswitch @holyfuckloueh @growningupgeek @jensen-gal @mizzezm @there-must-be-a-lock @atc74 @pilaxia @supernatural-jackles @impala-dreamer @bambi95-blog @wonderfulworldofwinchester @batmmgray @brooke-supernatural16 @dwgrl1903 @hey-bxtch @kittenofdoomage @leanbeankeane @emoryhemsworth @xalgaliareptx @mhnfatima @bi-e-ne @speakinvain @pebblesz892 @lastactiontricia @kassablanca13 @mogaruke @tockettt @imagining-supernatural @wildefire @serienjunkiegirl @mrswhozeewhatsis @stars-and-seas @jaremish @ellen-reincarnated1967 @nyxveracity @andkatiethings @bamby0304 @deathtonormalcy56 @winchesterprincessbride @moonstar86 @missihart23 @mrs-meghan-winchester @miss-rebel-without-applause @dean-winchesters-bacon @researchandbones @wayward-angelgirl @bojabee @maddiepants

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @adoptdontshoppets @focusonspn @spnwoman @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @sandlee44 @spn--imagines @sadwaywardkid @roonyxx @blackcherrywhiskey @thefaithfulwriter

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