#canon rewrite goddammit

[fumiko-matsubara]

Another episode of Fumiko's very self-indulgent posts and today, we have a whole spread about 23 year old Chiba 🥰

Previous Episodes: The Forearm Dragon Tattoo , Post 3E Timeline

[astralpenguin]

being a demiromantic ace is so annoying how on earth am i supposed to write this fic from the pov of a character who’s very definitely neither of these things

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Pilot | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 4833

A/N: This is gonna be the slowest of burns. Every Saturday, these will publish at 3:00 PM CDT! I hope you all enjoy. Taglist/Requests are open!!

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A trail of men disappearing spanning decades had brought you to Jericho, California. It seemed it would be a pretty standard hunt. From the moment you arrived, though, you knew this would be different.

You’d run into other hunters on jobs before, but none as strange and belligerent as John. John was all you knew him by. He was rough around the edges, and in all honesty, a complete dick. You had unintentionally gotten into an unspoken race with him to see who could finish the hunt first. Both of you refused to back off and go find another job; you just out of spite and him… you had no idea why a guy old enough to be your father was being so petty and territorial about this hunt. And perhaps that’s what fueled your fire to finish this hunt before John could. You thought maybe he knew something you didn’t about the hunt, and you were desperate to find out. But then… he disappeared. 

About a week into the “competition” you were having with John, he disappeared. You didn’t see him around Joseph Welch’s house, the Breckenridge Road home, or the Centennial Highway Bridge. It was completely puzzling. He didn’t seem like the type to up and leave in the middle of a job, but you brushed the unsettled feeling you had aside to keep pushing through your hunt. 

You had torched the body of Constance Welch the same night you guessed John left. You were just about to leave town, and then, Troy Squire ended up dead by what you assumed were Constance’s hands. 

You pulled up to the Centennial Highway Bridge in yet another stolen car. 

‘One of these days I won’t keep putting a neon sign on my back by stealing cars and actually find a way to buy one,’ you thought.

Almost as if on cue, another car pulled up next to yours. Except this car— a black 1967 Chevy Impala— was way nicer than the shitty sedan you’d copped for the time being. 

Two young men in the most layers you’ve ever seen anyone wear in the California sun stepped out on either side of the car. You pushed aside the thought of how attractive the shorter of the pair was and kept walking toward the taped-off part of the bridge where a few officers were milling around a crashed car. 

“Is that Troy’s? Oh, my God,” you shook your head, making sure the officers could hear you. 

“Ma’am, you are not supposed to be here,” an officer told you, trying to keep you from walking any closer to the car.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I just—” you sniffed, “—I’m his cousin. We were really close growing up, and I, uh, just had to see this for myself, um, do you have any idea what could’ve happened?”

“We were wondering the same thing,” a deep voice called from behind you, making you wheel around.

‘Fuck. The Impala dudes.’

“And who are you?” the officer you’d been speaking to asked.

“Federal marshals,” one said, flashing a badge.

‘Goddammit, more hunters.’ You held back an eye roll, doing your best to stay in character.

“You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?”

The one you’d found attractive initially flashed a smile. “Thanks, that's awfully kind of you. You just had another one just like this, correct?”

The officer you’d been speaking to didn’t seem too convinced by their story, but replied anyway. “Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that.”

“Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?”

“No. Not so far as we can tell.”

“So, what's the theory?” the taller guy asked. 

“Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?” The officer seemed to remember you were standing there as he spoke. “Ma’am, I really do need you to go.”

“I was just about to—” you started, before the shorter guy cut you off. 

“What kinda crack police work are you doing; talking about sensitive information in front of townies?” He was cut off with a grunt; apparently the other guy had stepped on his foot. 

“Thank you for your time,” you told the officer, suddenly feeling very awkward. You turned on your heel, hurrying away. 

***

After the bizarre incident with the other two hunters on the bridge, you went down to a local diner to get something to eat. You were puzzled as to why Constance was still around after you torched her bones. You flipped through a few pages of your journal when you saw the two hunters from the bridge walking in with two goth chicks. 

‘What the fuck. First John, and now this.’

The shorter one of the pair caught the glare you threw their way over your shoulder. He had a smug look on his face you couldn’t quite read as he sat down in a booth with the girls and his partner. You did your best to listen in on their conversation as you sipped your drink. 

“I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did,” you heard one of the girls lament. 

You recognized the voice of the taller one. “He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?”

“No. Nothing I can remember.”

“I like your necklace.”

“Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents—” the girl laughed, “—with all that devil stuff.”

“Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.”

“Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries,” the other guy’s voice broke in. 

You held back a small laugh. You hated to admit it, but he was pretty funny. 

“Here's the deal, ladies,” the pretty one said, “The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything… What is it?”

Your eyebrows drew together, your back still turned to the group.

“Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk,” a new voice chimed in. 

“What do they talk about?” the two boys said in unison.

It got a little harder to hear as one of the girls quieted her voice. “It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago. Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

‘Yeah, yeah, I already know that. They are way far behind me in the process.’

“Well, thank you for your time, ladies,” the voice of the taller one spoke amidst some rustling. You figured they were getting up to leave. 

You dropped a twenty on the table, let the door shut behind the group, and stood to follow the boys out. You hung back a little while you watched them head to their car. 

“I know you’re back there, sweetheart,” the pretty one called without turning around.

“I know you do. I was just testing you,” you said, walking closer. “Look, I’ve already got this one covered. You guys should find something else.”

“Not a chance,” the pretty boy replied. 

“Look, man—” you started. 

“We’re just looking for our dad,” the taller one cut you off. “We think he’s working this same job.”

“Wait, is your dad’s name John?” you asked, surprised. 

Both of them started toward you, their shock and confusion evident. “How do you—”

“Whoa, easy,” you giggled. “He was here a few days ago and then he just, pfft,” you imitated a puff of smoke, “disappeared.”

The pretty boy ran his hand through his hair, looking frustrated, while the taller guy continued talking to you. “Was he working with you?”

“Hardly,” you scoffed, “we were kind of in an unspoken competition to see who could smoke this bitch first when he disappeared. And then, Troy ended up dead a day later. I thought maybe he was connected to Troy’s death some kind of way.”

“I don’t think so,” the taller one answered. “I’m Sam, by the way. This is my brother, Dean.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N),” you shook Sam’s hand. When you reached for Dean’s, though, he rolled his eyes at you without taking it. 

“Oh-kay,” you muttered. 

“Sorry about him,” Sam told you. “He’s—”

“A bit touchy?” you smirked.

“Yeah,” Sam laughed. 

“I can hear you two, y’know,” Dean snarked. 

“I know,” you quipped. “So, what’s your theory on your dad?”

“We have no idea,” Sam said. “We were hoping you might know.”

“I have nothing for you,” you shook your head. 

“Well, do you know anything about the case?” 

“A lot, actually. Chick’s name is Constance Welch. She’s a woman in white. She lives at the end of Breckenridge Road. I talked to her husband, and he definitely cheated on her. He buried her in a plot behind her house. I went there and torched her. I was just about to leave town when your dad disappeared, Troy wound up dead, and you two showed up.”

“Then, there’s gotta be something else keeping her here,” Sam told you.

“Okay, then what?”

***

“So this is where Constance took the swan dive,” Dean said. The three of you looked over the railing of the Centennial Highway Bridge. Sam had been nice enough to force his brother to let you tag along. 

“Okay, so now what?” Sam asked.

“Now we keep digging until we find Dad. Might take a while,” Dean responded.

“Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—”

“What’s Monday?” you asked. 

“I’ve got an interview with law school.”

“Oh, shit, no way!” you smiled. 

Sam smiled back at you before Dean cut in. “Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?”

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam cut back.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?”

“No, and she's not ever going to know.”

“Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” Dean kept walking down the bridge. 

“And who's that?”

“You're one of us,” Dean said. 

Sam hurried around him. “No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

You felt really awkward doing what felt like intruding on a private moment. Your eyes began to scan the railing of the bridge opposite you.

“You have a responsibility to—”

Sam cut his brother off. “To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.”

You were doing your best not to listen in on their conversation when Dean grabbed his brother by the collar and shoved him against the bridge railing.

“Uh, guys—” you started, your eye caught by what looked like Constance standing on the railing of the bridge.

“Don't talk about her like that,” Dean grumbled at his brother; ignoring you.

“Guys!” 

“What?!” Dean turned to face you, stopping when he caught sight of Constance. Constance then stepped off the railing. 

The three of you broke off in a sprint toward the spot she’d leapt off. You searched the water below. “Where'd she go?”

“No idea,” Dean answered. 

Your visual search was interrupted by a bright light coming on in the corner of your eye. Dean’s Impala’s headlights. 

“What the fuck—” Dean trailed off.

“Who's driving your car?” you asked him. 

He responded by pulling the keys out of his pocket and jingling them. 

“Oh.”

The car jerked to life, heading straight for you and the boys. You broke into a sprint yet again, doing your best to outrun the car; a task that proved impossible. 

“Jump!” you screamed, and the three of you threw yourselves over the side of the bridge. You thankfully caught a bit of the bridge that jutted out over the water and pulled yourself back up, groaning.

‘My arm’s gonna be sore as a bitch in the morning.’

“Dean?” Sam yelled down to the water below. “Dean!”

“What?” came his aggravated response. 

You looked down to see a mud-covered Dean crawling out of the water. You couldn’t hold back a laugh upon seeing him.

“Not funny, sweetheart,” he called up to you.

“My name’s (Y/N),” you answered. “Don’t call me sweetheart. It weirds me out.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

“Guys, you can argue later. You okay?” Sam called down to Dean.

“I’m super,” his brother responded.

You and Sam climbed back over the railing of the bridge while Dean made his way up to you. The car had stopped only a few inches from where the three of you dove over. Dean busied himself inspecting the engine while you sat with your back leaned against the passenger’s side door. 

“Your car okay?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now.” Dean shut the hood. “That Constance chick, what a bitch!”

You chuckled to yourself at his antics. “Alright, well, I don’t think the bridge is what’s tying her here. What now?”

Dean raised his hands in frustration, flicking mud off his hands in the process. 

Sam caught a whiff of his brother. “You smell like a toilet.”

***

Your next stop was a motel. When you went to check in, the clerk informed Dean that another man under the last name on Dean’s card had bought out a room for the whole month. And so, you and the boys went poking around John’s room. 

Every surface was covered in newspaper clippings, magazine articles, photos, hastily scribbled notes, and bits of red tape tying some of them together. 

“I knew John was weird, but this is a whole new level,” you commented, slightly in awe of the frantic scribblings covering the wall. 

‘'Don’t talk about him like that,” Dean grumbled. “I'm gonna get cleaned up.” He started toward the shower. 

“Hey, Dean?” Sam stopped him.

His brother turned around. 

“What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry—”

Dean held up a hand, cutting him off. “No chick-flick moments.”

Sam laughed. “Alright, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“You guys are strange.”

Dean rolled his eyes at you before disappearing into the bathroom. 

You started looking around John’s room. A closer look at the walls of information revealed pages on demons, witches, possession, and other bits of newspaper referring to mysterious deaths unlike anything you’d heard before. One was an obituary clipping from 1983; taking you aback. The picture was of a gorgeous blonde woman named Mary Winchester who died in a house fire. Her picture was surrounded by other house fire deaths and linked by red thread to multiple of the demon and witch articles. You walked over to his dresser where there was a picture of a much younger John holding two boys who you assumed were Sam and Dean. 

“You guys were cute kids,” you told Sam, showing him the picture.

He smiled sadly at it. 

After a brief melancholy pause, you spoke up. “So, what’s your deal? College? Law school? Part-time hunter? That doesn’t add up.”

“My, uh, my dad raised us as hunters after my mom passed,” he explained. 

“I’m sorry,” you told him, sitting on the bed next to him. “Was her death the reason your dad became a hunter?”

“Yeah. I’m not exactly sure what happened; I wasn’t even a year old yet. Dean remembers way more than I do, but he said our dad was never the same. Anyway, two years ago, dad and I got into a fight. I wanted to go to school, and he wanted me to stay and hunt. So I left.”

“Dean said you got a girl now? Was that the voicemail you were listening to a few minutes ago?”

“Yeah, actually. Jess. She’s— she’s amazing. I’m excited to get back to her.” You could see how much he loved her just in how his face lit up talking about her.

“I’m sure you are,” you smiled. 

“So, what about you? What’s your story?” he nudged your shoulder with his. 

“Meh, not much to tell.”

“Aw, come on—” Sam rebutted. 

“I’m serious!” you laughed. “I’ve just always hunted. Never knew anything different.”

“I know that’s difficult.” His tone became serious again. 

“Nah, it’s not so bad. I enjoy it. Brings me a little peace, y’know?” you shrugged.

“You sound like Dean.”

“Speaking of which, he’s taking forever and a day in the shower,” you joked. You bounced over to the bathroom door, leaning your ear on it about to knock. “Hey, princess—” 

You were cut off by the door opening and stumbled into Dean’s chest. 

He caught you by the shoulders. “You were saying?” 

You shoved off him, annoyed by his smug smile and quirked eyebrow. “Sorry.”

“Anyway,” Dean began, “I'm starving, I'm gonna grab a little something to eat in that diner down the street. You want anything?”

“No,” Sam said.

“A burger would be great,” you told him. 

“Wasn’t asking you,” Dean said. 

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Aframian’s buying, anyway, so what difference is it to you?”

“Nothing, it’s just fun to rile you up.” He winked and smiled at you, amused at your aggravated expression before closing the door behind him. 

You shook your head. “Dick.”

Sam laughed. “You get used to him.” He went back to his phone, relistening to his girlfriend’s voicemail. He furrowed his brows before pressing it to his ear. “What?” He stands up, catching your attention. “What about you?” He huffed when he hung up the phone, rushing over to the closed curtains to peek out. 

“What, what is it?” You crossed your arms.

“Police got Dean. We need to leave.”

“Shit.”

Sam quickly pulled away from the window which you understood meant you had company. You hid under the bed, anxiously waiting to see the officer’s boots make their way into the bathroom. You began scooching yourself out from under the bed frame, and when he’d slammed the door to the bathroom open, you and Sam snuck out of the room. Thankfully, Sam had Dean’s keys, and the two of you sped away from the motel in Dean’s Impala.

“Well, shit,” you breathed, your heart still beating quickly.

Sam huffed out a laugh, still recovering from the adrenaline.

***

You and Sam were headed to Breckenridge Road to hopefully figure out how to stop Constance. Since you had torched the body, then maybe something in her house was keeping her alive. 

After Dean’s arrest, the two of you were intent on getting Dean and getting the hell out of Jericho before anyone else had a run-in with the cops. 

Sam’s phone rang, and he answered quickly. “Hello?” He tossed a look your way. “Actually, it was (Y/N)’s idea.” You had no doubt he was referring to the fake shooting you’d called in to the police department so Dean had an opportunity to escape. You motioned for him to give you the phone.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” you told him once you had the phone to your ear. 

“Yeah, whatever, sweetheart,” Dean’s gruff voice responded.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“And I’ve made it pretty clear I’m not going to listen. Hey, give the phone back to Sam. I gotta talk to him.”

“And why can’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me? I’m offended, babe,” you quipped. 

“Don’t objectify me.”

“Hey, you started it with the whole ‘sweetheart’ thing.”

“C’mon, (Y/N), give him the—”

“Shit!” you screamed, dropping the phone as the car came to a screeching halt. “What the hell, Sam?”

“Constance,” he replied coolly. He kept a level head despite the tense situation. 

You looked up at the rearview mirror to see her in the backseat. “Fuck.” 

Constance’s hauntingly beautiful voice melodically flowed from the backseat. “Take me home.”

“No,” Sam answered. 

You saw her glare as the doors started to lock themselves. You whipped around to start trying to reopen them. The car began jerking forward. 

“What the hell, Sam? Stop!” you told him. 

“It’s not me.”

You looked over to see him holding his hands up. The steering wheel was moving itself. You turned back to the door, struggling to get the lock open. Eventually, you wound up at Constance’s abandoned Breckenridge Road house. The car’s rumble quieted and the headlights turned off. 

“Don't do this,” Sam pleaded, still holding his hands up. 

The ghost flickered, sounding sad. “I can never go home.”

‘That’s it.’

“You're scared to go home,” you realized. When you turned around to look at her, she had disappeared. Before you could even turn back around, you felt the bench seat reclining forcefully. 

“Sam!” 

Constance sat atop him, begging him to hold her. 

“You can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful. I've never been!”

“You will be,” she hummed. “Just hold me.”

You fumbled for your gun hidden under your top. Before you could fully aim at her, you felt your back make brief contact with the Impala’s door before flying through the air. You barely registered Sam yelling your name as you groaned in pain on the dead grass beneath you. 

You rolled around, trying to regain your wits and recover when you heard the sound of multiple gunshots. 

“Sam!”

“It’s me, (Y/N), stay down!” Dean yelled. 

Suddenly, Dean’s car burst through the front of the abandoned house. You pushed yourself up off the ground; your joints and back aching in protest. 

“Sam! Sam! You okay?” Dean called after the car. 

‘I’m fine, Dean, thanks for asking,’ you thought. 

The two of you climbed over the rubble to the passenger’s side window. 

“I think,” Sam responded weakly. 

“Can you move?” you asked.

“Yeah. Help me?” He reached out to his brother. 

Dean pulled Sam through the window of the car. “There you go.”

You turned to see Constance looking sadly at a picture she was holding before slamming it to the floor. She glared at the three of you harshly, forcing a bureau across the floor to pin you to Dean’s car. 

You groaned in pain once again as Dean struggled to push the furniture off. You stopped your struggle at the lights flickering and the sound of water rushing down the stairs. 

“You've come home to us, Mommy,” the echoey voices of Constance’s children sang. They appeared behind her, hugging her as she screamed. In a surge of energy, Constance and her children began melting to the floor. Constance’s resounding scream seemed to get louder and louder with each passing moment, the flickering of the lights becoming more and more intense. You squeezed your eyes shut until the screaming subsided, suddenly feeling the pressure on your stomach relieved. All that was left of Constance and her children was a puddle of murky water on the floor. 

“So this is where she drowned her kids,” Dean said while you rubbed your stomach, recovering from the pressure of the bureau. 

Sam nodded. “That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them.”

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Dean slapped his brother on the chest where he’d been injured by Constance.

Sam laughed despite the pain. “Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?”

“Hey. Saved your ass,” Dean commented, starting to look over his beloved Impala. “I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car? I'll kill you.” 

You giggled at Sam and Dean’s banter. Sam and Dean started to get back into the car, and you idled awkwardly. 

“Whatcha doin’? Let’s go.” Sam looked at you expectantly. 

“Go where?” you asked, feeling stupid. 

“I think we make a pretty solid team. You should tag along.”

“What?” Dean asked while you started shaking your head. 

“No, no, I shouldn’t—” 

“You should. I’m going back to school, and I know Dean’s gonna be lost without me trying to find my dad.”

A slow smile crossed your face. “Thank you. That’d be nice, actually.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything to the contrary. And with that, the three of you set off to drop Sam back off at college. 

***

The thing Dean so desperately wanted to tell Sam that he couldn’t tell you earlier was that his dad had left coordinates to a place called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado in the journal he’d left behind in Jericho. John was getting weirder and weirder by the minute. 

“AC/DC. I like it,” you said from the backseat. 

“Thanks.” Dean cracked what seemed like a genuine, lopsided smile at you for the first time in the rearview mirror. “Sam thinks it’s mullet rock.”

“Yeah, well, it’s better than Kiss and Poison.”

“True that.” Despite the fact that he was agreeing with you about something as mundane as music, his tone was still guarded.

“How far is Blackwater Ridge?” you asked Sam, who was looking over a map. 

“About 600 miles,” he answered.

“Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning,” Dean cut in. 

Sam suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Dean, I, um…”

The older brother deflated. “You're not going.”

“The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there,” Sam tried to reason.

Dean nodded, disappointed, and returned his attention to the road. “Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home.”

The mood in the car had turned tense, awkward, and sour, and remained that way for the rest of the drive back to Sam’s college.

“Dude, you go to Stanford?” you asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” he nodded, sheepishly.

“Alright, smartass, look at you.” You nudged his shoulder with your balled fist. 

Dean rolled to a stop in front of Sam’s apartment complex. 

You and Sam got out of the car. You gave him a quick hug goodbye before climbing down into the front seat. 

Sam leaned into your rolled-down window. “Call me if you find him?”

Dean nodded. 

“And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?”

Despite Sam’s chipper tone, Dean’s disappointment was clear. “Yeah, all right.”

Sam patted the car door twice before turning away. 

“Sam?” Dean called before his brother could get too far. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.” 

You felt a pang in your heart at Dean’s indirect attempt to try to convince Sam to stay. 

Sam nodded with a half-hearted smile. “Yeah.” 

Dean then began to drive off. 

The two of you didn’t get any more than five minutes down the road before you felt something was off. You could no longer hear the steady ticking of Dean’s watch breaking through the almost awkward silence. Sure enough, when you looked over at the wrist he had perched atop the steering wheel, the watch was stopped. 

“Dean,” you said. You tapped his watch’s face with your fingernail. 

He matched your worried glance, immediately turning the car around.

The car had barely stopped before you and Dean were leaping into action. You let Dean take the lead in rushing up to Sam’s apartment. 

Dean kicked the door to the apartment open, calling out to his brother in the process. You gasped when you caught sight of flames licking at the ceiling coming out from what you assumed was Sam’s bedroom. 

You heard Sam’s voice weakly calling his girlfriend’s name as you rushed to get him out of the smoldering room. You just barely caught sight of a body bleeding from the stomach burning on the ceiling before you and Dean dragged a screaming Sam out of his bedroom and away from the fire. You fought him every step of the way out of his apartment complex. 

It didn’t take long for the fire department to show up and the police to start asking questions. A small crowd had gathered to gawk at Sam’s smoldering apartment. Your face was steely as you watched the firefighters carry Jess out in a body bag. You and Dean took the brunt of the questions the police had, allowing Sam as much space as he needed. 

You and Dean soon headed over to the Impala where Sam was packing up the weapons cavity of the trunk. Both of you seemed too scared to ask Sam what was running through his head, and neither of you had any idea what to say. 

Sam threw a shotgun into the weapons box before muttering, “We got work to do,” and slamming the trunk shut.

You threw a look at Dean, who shook his head in response. Biting the inside of your cheek, you followed the boys into the car. As the three of you left Sam’s apartment in the rearview mirror, you realized the course of your formerly relatively boring life was changing very quickly. 

‘Damn you, John. Wherever you are.’

[justapoet]

Random dialogue prompt list

"Have you ever been in love?" "No. Why?" "I think I'm in love with you."

Distancing themself from the other because they start to think that there is definitely something wrong with them

Stuttering

"I missed you so much, I don't know why. But, I did."

"You look perfect in this outfit." "Oh."

“Tell me you did not go to a fight without me.” “I don’t need you to protect me.” “It’s not about protection-”

"Did you forget that it was your turn to grab the groceries today?" "Yeah, sorry. I thought I'd wait for you so we can go together?"

“The problem lies within the fact that I want more. That’s what scares me the most, because I don’t want to want more. But I can’t help it.” 

“You said you loved me last night.”

“So that confession…” “Didn’t mean shit ‘cause I was drunk. And I don’t want you accepting that. Let me confess to you, properly, at the least.”

“I swear I didn’t murder anyone.” 

"Who are you when you're not performing?" "Fuck. Marry me."

“You have the most beautiful smile, you know that?”

“I just want(ed) to make you smile.”

“I was just getting my coffee, but then I fell in love with you”

"I…I missed you." "Oh."

“I desperately want to kiss you.”

“Maybe it’s a good mood. Maybe it’s a manic episode.”

"Don't open your eyes"

"Goddammit, don't say that!"

“Fuck it. I’m in.” 

“Too late. I’m already yours.”

“Nothing - no matter how weird or dark - could ever change the way I feel about you.”

“For once, I’m completely serious.”

“I don´t believe that you know what the hell you are doing half of the time.” 

“There isn’t a single unit of thought behind your eyes.” “Of course, not. I’m looking at you. My brain doesn’t work when I’m looking at you.”

"Are we going to talk about it?"

“I’d tear down mountains and rewrite the stars just to see you smile.”

“You weren’t part of my life plan.”

“So, tell me, what do you feel for me?”

“I’m this close to resorting to physical violence if shit continues to not work out.”

“I don’t know what to do.” 

“Say another word and I´ll shove these fries down your throat.” 

“Could you even try to be nice to me today?”

“There are about thirty-five ways this could go wrong. I’d say that’s pretty good odds.”

"Are you seriously considering to go through with this complete absurd?"

"It's a miracle you're still alive." "Mom does say you're a miracle worker, yes."

"You're sick. Did the fever make you forget how to dial my number?"

"Just do it, you moron."

"My self-control is hanging by a thread right now. Please, don't do this to me."

“Hey, neighbour, I’ve never met you before but your dog just destroyed my garden."

“Well, I’m afraid that opinion’s going to change once you get to know me.”

"Ever thought of stepping outside, or have you become part of the furniture?"

"Can you just look at me? Please?"

"I needed to hear your voice."

“Just to clarify: We are in a relationship, right?”

"You're the only thing I should be afraid of, and that fear died off years ago."

“it’s a bit frustrating to how oblivious you are.”

“what do i have to do or say for you to notice that i’m in love with you?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t supposed to happen and I was not supposed to say that, I’m so sorry.” 

so, hi! this is just a silly prompt list, but I'd very much like to ask you to send me asks and resquest a fic from any of them!

I'll be writing for the following couples:

Buddie (9-1-1)

Percabeth (Percy Jackson)

Nick and Chalie (Heartstopper)

Aziracrow (Good Omens)

Polin (Bridgerton)

Kathony (Bridgerton)

If you have any other couples from these universes that you might want, you can send them to me, as well. Other than Buddie (that it's not canon just yet), I like best to only write canon couples.

[earlgraytay]

So I know what you're thinking. Why is TGAA 2-2 worse than Turnabout Big Top? How can this be possible?

Well, the answer is simple: there's problems with this case that a good editor would have caught right away. The problems with Big Top are ... intentional. Turnabout Big Top is a simple but compelling mystery wrapped up in an overcomplicated and uncomfortable dressing.

.... TGAA 2-2/Memoirs!Kokoro has great dressing. Olive Green is one of my favourite Ace Attorney characters; Shamspeare is wonderfully punchable, it's always great to see Natsume and the Garridebs again, and Lady Quinby is one of my new favourite minor characters; I hope she comes back.

But the mystery is deeply flawed. If you've been reading my liveblog (which you don't have to to understand my point here) you'll know what I'm getting at already- I've been yelling since the first Kokoro case that the solution to What's Up With Natsume is carbon monoxide poisoning. Natsume is forgetful, jittery, and paranoid, and immediately seems to snap out of it after a few months back in Japan. Even on the witness stand, he seems a lot better! He wrote a whole book!

.... the SECOND that the gas pipes were mentioned, I knew that the solution was simple. The victim was poisoned with carbon monoxide, so no strychnine was necessary, so Natsume didn't do it. (Especially since he woke back up!) It's elegant and straightforward.

They then proceed to lampshade this fact throughout the entire case- the meterman and Lady Quinby! The whole subplot about Shamspeare stealing gas! Two people on the jury mention that gas is poisonous repeatedly! Van Zieks makes fun of us by saying we must have breathed some bad air!

-- AND THE GAME, MADDENINGLY, INSISTS THE POISON IS STRYCHNINE. There's no option to bring up that it might be the gas until the very bitter end, and so you feel like you're yelling at a character on a beloved children's TV show. "MR. NOODLE. YOUR HANDS, MR. NOODLE. THAT'S YOUR NOSE, MR. NOODLE. GODDAMMIT, MR. NOODLE."

...and then when they finally let you bring up the gas, when they finally look like they're letting you be Clever and finally FIGURE OUT THE MYSTERY...

there's poison. on the gas pipe.

there's. poison. on the pipe. that's already. full. of poison. that the murderer. was already breathing into. for pre-established convenience reasons.

GODDAMMIT, MR. NOODLE.

Like, Turnabout Big Top is loathesome, but you can follow the chain of cause and effect there, and it doesn't make you feel like Phoenix is stupid. Nobody wants to be here (including the characters!), but nobody is stupid about the events that are happening. In Memoirs of a Clouded Kokoro, it feels like Runo took a hit off the gas pipe and forgot how to lawyer. (And when Phoenix forgot how to lawyer he at least had textual amnesia.)

And the really maddening thing is that these are all problems that could have been fixed if an editor had looked at this and gone "Takumi-san, why do we need three different poisons in this case?" I have no real knowledge of how the dev on TGAA went other than what the devs have chosen to make public. But I know what writing for games is like, and I know Shu Takumi gets ... silly with his substance use when it's time to crunch. This case feels like it was either written under the influence and never edited- or drafted to just be about carbon monoxide poisoning, someone on the production team decided it needed to be more complicated, and the rewrite was never edited.

Because it would be so easy to fix this. You could even keep most of the elements in the canon case(s) -- it's not even like you need to add more assets or anything.

So here's how I'd fix it.

So 99.9999% of TGAA 1-4 /Adventure!Kokoro is fine. The Garridebs, Olive Green's near-death experience, the introduction of Natsume and the building- all just fine! It's fun! It's a lil silly! It's a good breather in between the fucking McGilded cases and the chain of logic works. The events in the chain are silly, yes, but the chain itself is logical. It leaves open a couple of very important hooks- the window tax! the "neighbours" fighting! Why Olive Green was there in the first place! - but it works as a standalone case and it ends satisfactorily enough. Our main concern at the end of the case is that Olive and Natsume are gonna be okay, and we get that resolution!

Untilllllll... we flash back to Memoirs, and after another ~!brilliant!~ deduction by Sholmes, we've put Natsume back in jail. The opening to Memoirs - basically everything until we get into court - is fine! If you cut down on the foreshadowing of the gas- leave one or two mentions maybe, but don't go nearly as hard on it- it works to set everything up.

Day one of the case focuses on proving that the tea couldn't have been poisoned (and therefore that Shamspeare is stealing his gas), and most of the elements of that still work too- there just needs to be a little more textual focus on the fact that step one of any court case is proving the prosecution's opening argument wrong. before we are allowed to prove that something else occurred, we have to prove that things couldn't have gone down the way Van Zieks says they did.

it's once we've done that that everything starts to fall apart in the canon case-- the canon case tries to set up poison on the gas pipes, but we can do better. First rule of mystery writing is don't hang a gun on the wall you don't shoot, right? We've hung so many miles of gas pipe in these walls, it's a crime not to use them.

In the investigation interlude between days 1 and 2, we should get two pieces of information before we go back to the Garridebs:

Natsume explains that he's almost died of carbon monoxide poisoning once, when the pilot light on his stove died. He thinks that this is the curse, of course, but it's obvious that something's wrong with the building.

Olive Green is getting discharged from the hospital, and plans to go home and end her life. We stop her from doing so, but she's too rattled to tell us why.

We then go back to the Garridebs, and pointedly ask Mr. Garrideb about the maintenance and upkeep of the gas; is it really in such good condition that he can use it to spy on people? He's said the pipes are leaky. He bitches, at length, about how he's had to replace most of the piping after a tenant died. We get the story of Duncan Ross (and get it repeated if we investigate Shamspeare's place and show Olive the photograph).

We investigate Shamspeare's place, get the stuff he stashed under the floor, discover that he's been getting really familiar with the wall under the gas pipe (and I would have them make a joke about the Romeo and Juliet showdown being, uh, lewd), and discover the letter Olive sent him. We also get the Selden case file from Gregson.

Day two in court is where things really start to change. In canon, it's a mess of proving that there's poison on the gas pipe- but there's poison in the gas pipes already. It's dumb. You've been listening to me yell about this for several thousand words now. So instead:

Day two is about proving that someone else could have entered the flat. Day three is about proving that something else could have entered the flat.

Day two, we get the results from Scotland Yard that there was no poison in the tea. When we examined Shamspeare's apartment, we found the letter from Olive Green; she's our next lead, and besides, the gang is a little worried about her all things considered. Unfortunately, the only way to check up on her is to accuse her of attempted murder. This is an Ace Attorney case, and we're obligated to be in court today. If we can't go to her, we'll bring her to us. Ryunosuke is pretty sure she didn't try to kill anyone- look at her! She's so wet! - but he is pretty sure she was in the apartment when she shouldn't have been, and if she could have gotten in there, who's to say someone else couldn't have?

So, in an attempt to find the real killer, he accuses Olive. In the cross-examination, it becomes clear that:m

Olive initially thought that her boyfriend was cheating on her with someone in the building- obviously not the elderly maid, she clearly had a thing for the landlord!, but that only left Shamspeare.

(wow, he's bisexual! I didn't know that gif goes here.)

Olive was furious with Shamspeare- especially since her boyfriend was found dead shortly after he moved in. She was convinced that Shamspeare killed him in a crime of passion, and wanted revenge.

Her plan was to use strychnine to poison some food in the apartment. Unfortunately, as we've established previously, there's no food in the apartment.

Furthermore, on her way in, she gets caught by Mrs. Garrideb-- who assumes she's there to see Mr. Garrideb, and who gets Incredibly Jealous. Olive gets turned away, but no matter- she waits til the shouting starts, and sneaks back in. It's easy enough to get into the crappy apartment with the broken locks, and easier still to find Shamspeare's not so secret hiding place.

She goes in and finds nothing to poison, and decides that, while she's here, she's going to try to find some evidence that this man killed her fiance. Or, at the very least, if she can't murder him, she can steal something he values.

She finds nothing linking Shamspeare to Duncan. Instead, she finds information linking Shamspeare to Selden, and she recognizes the name from the papers. She steals the evidence, and decides that Scotland Yard should prbably have this- even if it implicates her in a crime.

(I would probably make Selden a much more notorious criminal for this to work- maybe some serial murders on top of the burglaries, maybe stole something belonging to the Crown.)

On her way out, she turns to go down Briar Road... and is promptly hit on the back by the knife falling from the window above, and rushed to the hospital. No one searches her pockets beyond looking for her name, and she's out of commission for several days.

This is also where she puts together for us that she's had an absolutely rotten several months, she's so depressed that she decided to kill herself, but she has enough of a spine and a conscience to want to see justice for Duncan - one way or another! - before she met her end.

We prove all of this... but that doesn't answer the question of who poisoned Shamspeare. There's a very annoying moment where Van Zieks convinces the jury that Olive is perjuring herself and poisoned something anyway, even though we've proven there wasn't anything to poison- but we talk them around. Thoughtcrimes are not crimes, and while Olive's (probably) going to get tried for theft (haha spoilers), it's clear by the end of the day that this lead is going nowhere.

So if the poison wasn't in the tea and the poison wasn't brought in by someone else, it had to already have been in the apartment. Day three is dedicated to figuring out where it could have come from and what the killer's motive was. And there's one really obvious source...

It's the gas. Instead of bringing back Bruce fucking Fairplay, I'd make the foreman of the jury a doctor. Not a hack surgeon- a Broad Street doctor, comfortably middle-aged and rich and not prone to nonsense. He's well aware of what gas poisoning looks like, and by day three of watching us cross-examine Shamspeare and Natsume, he can't help but step in. Both of these men are clearly suffering from chronic carbon monoxide poisoning.

Van Zieks- to his deep and profound displeasure- can't disagree, and has a frustrated rant about wasting the court's time on an accident. That, of course, he blames us for. Ryunosuke goes, "Ah, but it was no accident", and we call Mr. Garrideb as a witness.

This is fairly short, but Mr. Garrideb just replaced the pipes. (He has reciepts! He bitches about it at length! But not too much length because we have a lot to get through today and Quinby Altamonte threatens him with her umbrella. She's not a maid so he's not interested.)

Speaking of Quinby Altamonte, she contributes information about the process of installing certified Altamonte pipes and meters, and specifically, about how you can blow into a pipe (and turn off all gas flames in the rest of the house) to check the gas flow.

The piece that looks most important right now is that we have Mr. Garrideb's record of payment and the Altamont records of certification- the pipes are less than three months old and have no leaks. .

The workman on the jury corroborates this, as he's worked on the house- and he points out that you have to be exceptionally careful in tenements like this, because the tenants use their gas stoves for heat. You have to leave it on all night, so you don't freeze to death in the cold London winter, and you wouldn't want to risk poisoning someone by blowing out the pilot light on their stove.

We now have all the pieces. Or, almost all. We can prove now that the killer could have blown into the pipes to turn off all the flame in the building. This wouldn't affect the Garridebs upstairs, as they use a fireplace for heat and go to bed early, turning off all their lights... but Natsume stays up all night reading, and has complained that the pilot light on his stove has turned itself off before.

If Shamspeare wanted to kill Natsume, he could have blown out the lights- and gotten a mouthful of gas if he wasn't careful doing it. After all, he isn't a trained technician- he's an out of work actor.

"My learned Japanese friend- SURELY you aren't suggesting that this - ugh- upstanding young actor is the murderer and not the victim."

Yes, Mr. Van Zieks. That's exactly what we're suggesting.

The prosecution pitches a hissy fit, drinks heavily, and insists that we need a motive. We've got most of it, but we need one final piece- it's contained in the evidence against Olive Green, which we had to coax dear Gregsy into giving us before we got to court today.

The law of conservation of characters suggests that if you bring up a master criminal who "died" three months ago, and bring up an out of work actor who appeared from the void ... three months ago... they're the same fucking person. I thought that this was where the case was going, and I thought the writers were so clever for setting this up- obviously the prancing git with exaggerated mannerisms was hiding his true identity! But they made him his cellmate and that's ... workable, I guess, but not as fun.

If I was writing this, Shamspeare is Selden, putting an antic disposition on to cover his tracks while he tries to get his treasure back. He thought it would be easy- move back into his old apartment, no one wants to live there anyway, and it wouldn't be suspicious to have someone come out of nowhere and leave much the same way in a few months. No one lives in the Garridebs' building for long. But noooo, someone had to move into his apartment and someone had no intention of leaving until he was happily married in a few years.

So on top of whatever other crimes Selden- I mean Shamspeare- committed, he had to get the other lodger out of the way. And he figured out how to do it without being detected- using the gas pipe to blow out the pilot light on the stove upstairs. He killed Olive's boyfriend, and planned to swap apartments- but he wasn't allowed to, due to the pipe replacement. In the meantime, Natsume signed a lease, and as soon as work was completed, he moved in.

Shamspeare had to get rid of him, and figured the same trick would work twice. No one noticed the first time. The pipe replacement was a kink in the plans, but you can always blame a tired workman, a faulty installation, or a careless foreigner not understanding how a gas stove works. He's been trying for months, now, but he has to leave the apartment sometimes-- and Natsume, not sleeping at night and getting increasingly paranoid, keeps turning off the gas before he goes to bed.

The asshole just doesn't have the decency to die!

So Natsume has been slowly getting poisoned for weeks, but it's not to the point where it's even remotely lethal- it's just enough to make him incredibly twitchy, paranoid, and depressed. Great! Even better when he gets accused of murdering Olive- and gets taken out of the apartment and thrown in jail for several nights. Shamspeare at first assumes that this is his cue- he's on trial for murder at the Old Bailey against the Reaper! He's not coming back!

But Natsume doesn't have the fucking decency to die! He's acquitted thanks to us-- and Shamspeare decides he's had enough. One way or another, Natsume is going to die the night he comes home.

And then Natsume has the gall to try to be friendly.

Without the treasure that's stashed in Natsume's room, Shamspeare has no money. His plan to invite Natsume over for a meal (to poison him) falls through before it can begin because he can't buy food. Then Natsume brings his own tea- and of course would notice if it tasted wrong; he can't even put soap in it. (If I were writing this, "eating soap" would be a proper running gag, and this would be the ultimate payoff.)

Okay, time for plan B. Exhaust Natsume, make him go home and go to bed, and try the gas thing again. One very interesting literary-themed seduction-slash-argument later, this seems like it's succeeding. Until, when Shamspeare (in his own exhaustion) screws up the routine he's been doing for months and accidentally breathes in a mouthful of gas.

But Shamspeare gets an idea. Natsume's already been accused of murder once. The guy looks shifty as hell. (Mostly because of the gas poisoning, but that's neither here nor there.) If he gets acquitted of a murder and then a day later gets accused of another murder, surely the Reaper will get him this time, right? The Reaper's probably already mad that one of his victims has gone free-- he'll relish the chance to put an end to this properly.

(Van Zieks, in the background, is deeply offended at the idea of being used as a murder weapon.)

So Shamspeare fakes his own murder. He just barely manages to stage the crime scene before he passes out, and figures that either he'll wake up in a few hours (this has happened before while he was figuring this method out), or they'll both fucking die, one way or another.

But thanks to us- and Olive Green's little theft- not only does he get exposed as a murderer, his identity as Selden is also uncovered. He's going to go to trial very shortly, for 1) attempted murder of Soseki Natsume, 2) murder of Duncan Ross, 3) So Much Gas Fraud, 4) escaping prison, 5) perjury, because we feel like it.

Soseki Natsume is NOT GUILTY!

(he's also fed up with England, the English judicial system, English racism, and gas heating. He's going back to Japan, perhaps also to the seaside, for his health.)

Gregson tells us that they're granting Olive clemency because she provided evidence to the Crown. She gets to go free. We have one last conversation with her where we give her the letter we found at Garrideb's place- which got entered into the Court Record. It's a love letter from Duncan. We don't ever actually use it in court- but we use it now. She gets her closure that Duncan wasn't cheating on her - and she's satisfied with Von Zieks taking over her quest for revenge.

She's not sure she has the heart to go back to art school- so many of her happy memories with Duncan are there- but she says she wants to do her best. Susato suggests that with her passion for justice, she'd make an excellent judicial assistant. Perhaps even an attorney in her own right? Are women allowed to do that in England? Well, Olive Green has enough guts and heart to do it even if she isn't technically allowed- it's not like she was allowed to burgle Shamspeare's apartment either.

The case ends with another art student becoming a law student thanks to a doomed lost love! Happy endings all around. Tune in in two to five business years for the spinoff game, Olive Green: Ace Attorney. (She defends a lot of people who are technically guilty of a crime, but not THAT crime, or not under THOSE circumstances, or The Fucker Had It Coming, You See.)

So yeah, that's how I'd rework the case. @raymondshields - eat well.

[ao3feed-spinaraki]

Who Tells Your Story and How Does It End?

by Smol_the_Almighty

It’s the day of Spinner’s final book signing, just one more day of meeting and greeting the people who were touched by his work, and then he’ll have served his sentence and be considered a free man (with all his royalties to boot). But before he can start the next chapter of his life, he’ll have to reflect on what he gained and lost with his final fan.

Words: 1458, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 7 of Smol's Spinaraki Week 2024

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Iguchi Shuuichi | Spinner, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, League of Villains (My Hero Academia) mentioned

Relationships: Iguchi Shuuichi | Spinner/Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Iguchi Shuuichi | Spinner & Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko

Additional Tags: Spinaraki Week, Spinaraki Week 2024, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Romantic Fluff, Spinner Deserves Love, Shigaraki Deserves Love, Post-Canon, Post-Final War Arc (My Hero Academia), author made up an epilogue because the canon ending sucked, Iguchi Shuuichi | Spinner in Love, Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko in Love, Iguchi Shuuichi | Spinner-centric, Author Iguchi Shuuichi | Spinner, Spinner's League of Villains Book, Book Signings, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Author is Spinner, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, ... said Spinner as he wrote his novel, Happy Ending, because goddammit these two deserve it, Canon Rewrite

source: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58859236

[ellovett]

Jesse lore Rewrite Under the Cut weeee!! I never post stuff like this tbh so this is new for me dnbfsm give it a read if u can!!!

For context hes my twst Chernabog who's a professor at Night Raven College with a rather dubious past..

Jesse is already a funny man, sure, but I need this mf to be an actual threat, to live up to his chernabog inspo..and to be fucking evil goddammit!!!!

So in this rewrite, Jesse Czerno-Noctis was formerly [and to those who knew of him], a feared malevolent demon that had wreaked havoc on Twisted Wonderland hundreds and thousands of years ago, he was cruel, and most dangerously, bored. They were powerful force who would reign tyranny over the land for the fun of it, who feeds on human souls, someone who was one of the catalysts for multiple wars and would overlook on the bloodshed in delight.....but then suddenly.. he becomes a silly man with a teaching job and a monthly allowance, but how?

Now this one is depending on the canon lore, but it would be very interesting if Jesse had orchestrated the Fae War to some degree, he's not the exact cause of it, but he has pushed people towards the wrong direction, told people things that made them act on impulsive decisions, manipulating situations to create conflict..basically warmonger behaviors. He'd probably have participated in the war as well, just to revel, and be silly.

But now, because of this, Jesse is now imprisoned within the NRC walls, magically bound to the school and its headmaster, his magic is now significantly weaker than it used to be, condensed to a form of a human. How this happened I still have to decided [either Jesse became indebted to Crowley or the former headmaster, or he was bested and had become imprisoned as punishment]. But it's just like, as my friend mentioned, war criminal community service. Never mind if he gets tortured for all eternity but god forbid he has to teach a bunch of children for the next thousands of years!! This magical limiter prevents him from ever leaving campus, and prevents him from letting Jesse use his full magical skill.

Whenever he acts up, his magic gets weaker, and he goes on what's essentially a magical timeout, where he is unable to conjure anything at all. He's basically a vengeful man just waiting to be freed!! And if no one will free him, he'll do it himself. It's only a matter of time at this point, he can do this for all eternity, and Jesse is unrelenting...but recently, his goals of escaping are slowly slipping, he feels conflicted, hesitant..and he has no idea why.

This fact isn't obvious at all though, and it's a secret kept between Jesse and Crowley themselves, maybe Mozus to some extent.

[angst-in-space]

december '23 writing progress (and yearly wrap-up!)

december progress:

words written: 19.4k

most words written in a day: 1.8k

least words written in a day: 0

yearly total: 187.2k

projects worked on:

ya sci-fi book rewrites

misc notes

works published in december:

none

december goals [i did not complete a single one of these LOLOLOL]:

write ~1k a day (except on holidays)

write like 100ish words of other projects a day (fics, planning projects, etc.)

write about 33k total (to meet my yearly wc goal of 200k)

finish…..ya sci-fi book rewrites… please….

finish editing ch 10 of sylvix dreamscape (idk if i’ll be able to post it by end of the month/year but… maybe lol)

finish edit letter for friend

january goals:

sigh. finish ya sci-fi book rewrites. please. please i'm so fuckin tired.

start working on line edits?

work on query package

errrrm maybe send out like. one query. just for funsies.

edit sylvix dreamscape fic ch 10

WRITE FANFIC!! HAVE FUN GODDAMMIT

finish edit letter for friend

maybe work on outlining adult sci-fi wip again

notes:

well uhhh uhhh i did not meet a single one of my december goals. so that's....not great! i had really hoped to finish my ya sci-fi book rewrites by end of the year but alas, i still have 9 chapters left *sob* (i thought i only had 7 but recently realized i need to add two more chapters. cool. cool cool cool coolcoolcool.) but it's fine!! it's fine!!! i rewrote about 14k of my book in december and i'm finally entering the final arc so AAAAA. IT'S HAPPENING.

that is still gonna be my main priority for january (rewriting my book, that is). i'm hoping i will FINALLY finish but then again i've said that for like the last six months so we'll see lmfao. and if i DO finish rewrites, hoping i can delve into line edits woooo!!!

i'm hoping to also start doing a bit of querying prep this month (*screams internally*) by which i mean i just wanna at least start refining my query package—i technically have one already that i used to apply to mentorships and whatnot, but it's badly outdated now so uhh need to fix that! i had told myself i'd start querying by end of this month (even if it's just like, sending out One Query for the heck of it). not feeling like that's very likely but... who knows!

but also....i've been so burnt out on my book lately, i really just wanna write at least SOME fanfic this month. i want to write things for fun again, i miss it. :(

2023 wrap up:

total words written: 187.2k most words written in a month: 25k (november) least words written in a month: 9k (october)

works published/updated:

"are we going somewhere" ch. 2

"you're a dream, i'm never waking up" ch. 9

"altea rising" ch. 15

other wips:

ya sci-fi book rewrites

adult fantasy book

sylvix pacific rim au

mathablossom bedsharing fic

red skies ch. 8

altea rising (editing ch. 16 and writing ch. 19)

planning sapphic princess/pirate book

planning adult sci-fi space western dads book

kazurei post-canon fic

2023 goals:

write every day

write at least 200k words

finish more drafts of my ya sci-fi book

send ya sci-fi book to betas

start querying ya sci-fi book

make progress on adult fantasy book (possibly try to finish a first draft)

outline another book

finish editing/posting sylvix dreamscape fic

finish editing/posting renga fic

finish writing altea rising and maybe start posting the unpublished chapters

start working on red skies again

work on sylvix pacrim au

work on at least one of my wenzhou fics

finish at least a draft of matchablossom bedsharing fic

keep working on twiyor practice kissing fic, maybe finish a first draft?

a huge maybe but perhaps start sylvix 50s/spy au if i have time/energy

notes:

*scratches head* well uhhh damn i did not really...do anything i wanted to get done this year.... LMFAO. and even the few things i checked off are things i like barely worked on/started. so, ouch 😅

in my defense... i did not foresee how much work i'd have to do with my book revisions this year. at the beginning of the year i thought i was going into line edits—but around april i realized i needed to do a full rewrite. so i essentially had to start over, and rewrote *checks notes* roughly 83k of it so!! as you can imagine...that was rather time consuming and i did not have much time to work on anything else.

but... i'm trying to look on the bright side: the reason i started over is because of how much i've learned about writing from my mentors and my critique group etc. and looking at my draft from last year vs. this year, i can see a huge improvement! there is still a lot of work to do on this book—but i do feel like in 2023, i fell more in love with the story and characters than ever before (like to the point where i essentially have brain rot for my own ocs... LOL). and i feel like after 2.5 years of hard work, i am starting to see the "real book" starting to emerge from the chaotic mess it was before. so, that's very exciting!!

which brings me to: i'm hoping to maybe....MAYBE...dip my feet into the querying trenches in 2024. i had kinda hoped to do this by end of 2023 but...once again i grossly overestimated how ready my book was at the beginning of the year lololol. but i do feel like once i finish this big rewrite, i'll have less structural/overarching things to fix and more scene-level and line-level edits which (fingers crossed) hopefully will not be quite as involved as, yaknow, rewriting my entire book word by word! SOOO i may be sorta sending out the occasional query as i work on line edit-y stuff (esp bc querying is so slow nowadays haha) so yeahhh haha *sweats profusely*

there are a few other original projects i hope to make progress on this year. firstly, i'd love to continue working on my first draft of my adult fantasy arctic monster wip (maybe...finish a draft? i kinda doubt it but maybe!!). i also hope to keep working on planning a couple other projects, including planning sapphic princess/pirate wip and space western dads wip—both of which i'm very excited about. :)

AAAAND I WANT TO WRITE FIC AGAIN!!!! i really neglected my fic writing in 2023 and i miss it terribly. 😭 i have a lot of wips i want to continue/finish—but i think main priorities will be editing/publishing the last chapter of sylvix dreamscape fic, trying to finish posting at least one of my other ongoing multichapter fics, working more on sylvix pacrim au, aaaand... finishing a draft of one of my other wips perhaps? i don't know, i'm trying to be gentler with myself since i think i had too many specific goals for 2023 and could not meet any of them haha. sooo re: fic writing the general goal is "just have fun and see what happens."

here is to more progress in 2024!!!! 🥳

2024 goals:

finish ya sci-fi book rewrites/edits

work on query package

send out at least one query

start a writing blog/newsletter

continue first draft of arctic monster wip

finish outlining space western dads outline (and start a draft?? maybe?)

continue planning sapphic princess/pirate book

post last chapter of sylvix dreamscape fic

update one of my other ongoing multichapter fics

work on other misc. fic and JUST HAVE A GOOD FUN TIME!!!!

[windypuddle]

Ensemble Stars!! > Bungou Stray Dogs, Part 4

This one’s unfortunately also a bit of a doozy to explain, even though it’s smaller. beware of lore.

(A continuation of my Enstars as BSD AU, see other parts below) 

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 5]

once again... so sorry about the formatting. this was going to be very different, as you might guess from the arrangement of character roles. i ended up not having enough characters that fit (and then realized i had extra characters in the agency and guild, but oh well)

look i don’t even want to deal with bram and all that nonsense. with regards to AUs, i usually give up around the current arc. this has to do with how i remake the narrative slightly based on the new characters and dynamics, and i can’t do that if i dont know where the actual canon narrative is going. that being said, the decay of angels are involved in a few arcs that have already wrapped up, so thats all good and fine and workable.

Eichi is an idealist. we all know this from enstars canon. everyone knows this. its the whole reason there’s a plot. it’s just that here he takes the idealism to the level of terrorism. he seeks the book out of a desire for equality, or at least that’s what he tells everyone; in fact it is a desperate and selfish quest to cheat death by rewriting his own fate. he hates his own ability and he hates this cruel world and he hates his illness and this is his way of fixing all of the above.

bonus: he has proper cello posture (i’ve seen some of y’all complain about fyodor)

Wataru is so important too. listen to me. listen closely. this whole au started because i was reading the tempest night story and could not stop making connections between wataei and fyolai. so there you have it. that’s why this AU exists. gay people. Wataru is extremely dedicated to both Eichi and his own constant performance. it is a cage of his own making.

the eccentrics had kind of an informal alliance, about 10 years before canon (to clarify: we’re going with closer to bsd ages ranges here, which means Wataru Shu and Kanata are all around 26 at the time of the main events) but what with the war, they drifted apart. the others view Wataru joining Eichi’s cause as a little bit of a betrayal.

Yuzuru... yeah he’s kind of just there. the decay of angels (a) plays up the angel motif already associated with fine and (b) is generally looking to rearrange the current social structure. Yuzuru is hoping this goal will Fix Everything and get Tori to leave the mafia. (tori is having fun lol)

Tatsumi, as a good Christian boy, is easily radicalized. He spread (admittedly hypocritical) anti-Ability teachings in Europe for a period of time, citing the war as evidence that Abilities cause ruin. He collected a decent following, who mobilized, cultlike, to go after Ability users. they captured Kaname at a certain point in time, and the mafia rescued him, which got him involved and indebted to the mafia. to try and repay this, Kaname went after the cult himself, and was killed. this made Tatsumi reevaluate his goals and join the guild. After his colleagues in the Guild were injured in the conflict, Eichi recruited him for the Decay of Angels with the promise of being rid of all his past crimes and helping

Tsumugi is the one who enables this, as his ability is the Perfect Crime: the one that erases all evidence. goddammit Eichi stop collecting people who are unhealthily devoted to you. eventual redemption arc with the mystery trio but its switch.

[sharonisthebettercarter]

The Adoring Fan. But Butchlander.

fuck. okay. hwy. fuck. no wait i--.

FUCK.

goddammit... why would you do this to me?

FIIIIINNNNNNEEEEEE.

for those that don't get the reference. you don't want it. don't click that video.

jesus fuckin' christ. okay. fuck. FUCK ME--.

OKAY.

but butchlander?

... you know that actually plays out pretty simply if you follow some of the theories on this yellow haired fucker. but i suppose it's not much different from billy being the stalker he is to begin with, lmao

obviously, there's only one guy obsessed enough to be the 'adoring fan' and one guy famous enough to be our 'grand champion' or whatever the fuck from starfield i guess.

one lovely little dark theory is that this motherfucker is secretly an assassin that sticks close by at every chance he gets so he can figure out your character's weakness and take them out, and lemme tell ya, for butchlander? OOOOOOOHHHH--. checks the fuck out.

provided he can keep himself together enough for it, william butcher could absolutely do his gosh darn best to be the dick ridiest most annoying piece of shit stalker fan just to get close to homelander and find out his weakness... it may require some kind of mental breakdown prior to that state and possible disguise?? whether the story is a full on rewrite from day one or a post canon divergence, i suppose decides that sortaish?

but i could definitely picture billy movin' in close, not leaving the poor boi the fuck alone, and driving him absolutely bananas and nuts while he tries to figure out a weakness

romance along the way~<3

the other way goes full stalkerazzi in ways that just... really put the love in loveknife material and the obsess in billy's obsession. and that's certainly an idea that has intrigued me for a hwile i must say~<3

the idea that billy goes so fucking far with his whole shtick that it genuinely freaks out and even concerns and slightly arouses homelander just does somethin' to me~<3

leik. this guy *has* to have dealt with stalkers before. there's just no way he hasn't. but billy? BILLY is on a whole. nother. level. whether it's a revenge boner or other.

extra fucking points if billy is indestructible/essential/immune to fall damage/has insane plot armor and evades every attempt homelander makes to either abandon or kill him. and billy always ALWAYS comes back to be the most annoying turd

i will never not suggest giving butcher a swampy little man cunt. so even more extra fuckin' points if he's just a total whore for homie<3

he's homie's biggest fan, he'll follow that boi until he loves him--WHAT??

imagine if they were soulmates and that was the cause~<3 really imagine it<3<3<3 although i'll save that deep dive for another time ;)))))))))))))))))))

and then there's the reactions from homelander. ;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

i imagine this could do some serious deep diving for AU's sake if it actually does go into elder scrolls or starfield lore which... i mean i wouldn't argue with some fantasy au's being thrown into the butchlander collection~<3 there's also always the classic bard following the hero option but billy would just be the WORST bard in all existence.

oh, who knows~<3 maybe he'd surprise everyone<3<3<3

OOH!

shittiest hero homelander and shittiest bard billy<3<3<3

ugh, there's def a lot to be explored with the fantasy genre<3 but i think i'll end it off with the brain wormy of old world hero billy (fable games) and new world hero homelander~<3 (canon) maybe clashin' it up in a slightly different way~<3]

that's def a dive saved for another time<3<3<3

also, someone needs to make homie a fuckin' dragon. he'd be perfect for it~<3

[fumiko-matsubara]

Today's episode of Fumiko's very self-indulgent post is Chiba with a forearm dragon tattoo ❤

Last Episode

[edda-grenade]

oof ok SO

i’m most likely gonna post the nightmare fusion au fic i’ve been working on the past months this sunday (gonna take a page from my old hobbit days and repurpose an existing fanart for the banner lmao)

art-wise i have a few ideas i wanna get done in april still for the rare-egg-hunt event, we’ll see if that works out (a before/after piece relating to the song in the halls, a feral verse endgame ‘channeling stalwart hades & dread persephone‘ piece, and a little comic-esque thing for the shape of water au)

(btw if you have any preferences there, lemme know, i’m terrible at committing to shit)

and maybe that thing i posted to the spicy twitter awhile back if i can be bothered to deal with making it ~tumblr-safe~

aaaaaand feral verse fic/art combos aka the creature in the woods will probably continue in may? i’ve actually got six (6!!) drabbles that are either done or in beta, i mostly just need to do the illustrations for them. got another 3 planned/half-written, and then that collection is “complete“, i. e. it covers the arc i intended for it

don’t worry there’s like 5 more coming a ha ha

[warrior-of-waistbands]

all 15 for george, harold, and/or melvin lol

friendship asks

*cracks my gay little knuckles mischievously*

when I think they become friends

Halloween and Holiday specials: oh you want to see these three become friends? Okay here you go—PSYCHE!

Okay but seriously I see George and Harold becoming friends with Melvin over the course of some kind of Melvin ~redemption~ arc. Like, they're helping Melvin sort through his issues and try to be a better person and eventually they come to see him as a friend when they see he's genuinely putting in effort to better himself. Melvin of course denies that he feels the same for the longest time but they get it out of him eventually.

My favourite scene of them

The Halloween special, when George and Harold go to invite Melvin sneak-or-snacking with them, and Harold says "We want you to come" and Melvin is genuinely so shocked and confused to hear it?? *Dead on the floor* And they give him his own cape??? *DEAD ON THE FLOOR*

A random headcanon

Specifically Movie! or Show!Verse: George and Harold eventually come to trust Melvin enough to decide to let him in on the big Captain Underpants secret, but when they do.....

George: What do you mean you already knew?

Melvin: It's not that hard to figure out. I mean, you two are always running off to find Krupp when the school is attacked, not to mention that they literally look the exact same—

Harold: Well why didn't you say anything before??

Melvin: It was much more fun to see how long you two could keep it secret before breaking

Cap should adopt Melvin I think

Favourite thing about them

"Enemies to Friends" dynamic my belovedddddd *shaking like a wet dog* Literally I just think that these three getting along would be both funny and sweet given their canon-established animosity with each other.

A scene I wish we had of them

I want all three of them to apologize to each other, please! I want all three of them to sit down and apologize for being jerks to each other and I want them all to forgive each other and promise to do better and go get ice cream together please!

(putting the rest under a cut because this is getting loooong lol)

A scene I want to change/rewrite in some way

FOLLOW UP ON THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT ESTABLISHED FOR MELVIN IN THE HALLOWEEN SPECIAL GODDAMMIT

What makes me like their friendship

For George and Harold specifically since I kinda already answered for Melvin/George/Harold: I don't know, their relationship and interactions are just really sweet and cute and their backstory makes me cry 🥲 I'm so happy they're still best friends in the future when they're both married with kids it just warms my heart

Who I think is the "crazier" one

Melvin is canonically the immovable object to George and Harold's unstoppable force and they're going to drag him into their shenanigans whether he wants to or not

Would I change anything about their friendship?

For George and Harold's friendship? Nope!

A song that reminds me of them

For George and Harold by themselves: "Hope Shines Eternal" from MLP

For George/Harold/Melvin: I refuse to explain myself

Which one do I relate to more?

Harold is a gay disaster with unmedicated ADHD and anxiety who likes to draw and overthink he's just like me fr fr

A word to describe them

"Inseparable" 😫

What I think would have happened if they'd never met

Don't think about Harold spiraling into depression as a pre-teen don't think about Harold spiraling into depression as a pre-teen don't think about Harold spiraling into depression as a pre-te

IDK I think if George hadn't met Harold he probably would've ended up as a kid who's popular and well-liked by everyone but he doesn't really have any friends because he just can't seem to connect with anyone else in his group?

Melvin I think would honestly be pretty much the same if he hadn't met George and Harold. He'd probably just find someone else to flaunt his superiority over.

Can I picture them being more than friends?

George and Harold? Definitely not. I enjoy their dynamic as best friends too much.

George and Melvin? I can see the appeal but ultimately I think George and Melvin work way better as narrative foils than as a couple.

Harold and Melvin? This ship owns my entire heart I love these awkward dorks so much

Would I want to be friends with them?

Honestly........ probably not, lol. George and Harold are too energetic and Melvin is too much of a smug know-it-all, but I don't think I'd mind being acquaintances with them. They seem nice enough for that.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Salvation | Devil's Trap | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 7124

A/N: Whoop whoop! The end of season one!!! Thank y'all so much for reading and sticking with me. I've already been working on season two... ;)

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

John had taped countless papers, newspaper clippings, scribblings, and charts of his research on the motel room’s walls. He sat at his paper-strewn desk with the Colt lying on it in front of him. “So this is it. This is everything I know. Look, our whole lives we been searching for this demon right? Not a trace, just, nothing. Until about a year ago. For the first time I picked up a trail.”

“And that's when you took off,” Dean said.

John nodded. “Yeah. That's right. The demon must have come out of hiding, or hibernation.”

“Alright, so what’s this trail you found?” his elder son asked.

“It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us.”

“Families with infants?” Sam chimed in.

“Yeah. The night of the kid's six-month birthday.”

“I was six months old that night?” the younger brother asked, eyes puppy-dog-like.

You looked at Sam sadly. You knew he still blamed himself, and it broke your heart. John nodded again. “Exactly six months.”

“So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me? So Mom's death… Jessica. It's all because of me?” his eyebrows turned upward even more.

“We don’t know that, Sam,” Dean argued gruffly.

“Oh really? Cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean,” the brunet threw back.

Dean shook his head frustratedly. “For the last time, what happened to them was not your fault.”

“Right. It's not my fault but it's my problem.”

“No, it's not your problem, it's our problem!” Dean yelled back.

“Boys, enough!” you commanded, standing.

All three men looked at you, surprised, but followed your directions and calmed down.

“So why's he doing it?” Sam asked after a moment. “What does he want?”

“Look I wish I had more answers, I do. I've always been one step behind it. Look, I've never gotten there in time to save....” He looked down unhappily.

Dean sighed. “Alright, so how do we find it before it hits again?”

“There's signs. It took me a while to see the pattern but it's there in the days before these fires signs crop up in an area. Cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms. And then I went back and checked, and—”

“These things happened in Lawrence,” Dean said softly.

“A week before your mother died,” John replied, nodding. “And in Palo Alto, before Jessica. And these signs: they're starting again.”

“Where?” Sam asked.

“Salvation, Iowa.”

***

You and the brothers had been following John closely for hours as you sped toward Salvation, Iowa. Suddenly, John pulled his truck off the road. You shot a look at Dean, who pulled off behind his father.

“Goddammit!” John cried when he got out of his truck.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“I just got a call from Caleb.”

Dean’s shoulders tensed. “Is he okay?”

“He's fine. Jim Murphy's dead.”

Sam was surprised. “Pastor Jim? How?”

“His throat was slashed. He bled out. Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place,” John explained.

“A demon,” you said. “The demon?”

The older man shook his head. “I don't know. Could be he just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close.”

“What do we do?” the older son questioned.

“Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week,” John barked.

“Dad, that could be dozens of kids. How do we know which one's the right one?” Sam challenged.

“We check 'em all, that's how. You got any better ideas?”

You all shook your heads. John nodded at you and turned back to his truck. He slammed his hand on his trunk and hung his head low.

“Dad?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. It's Jim,” John replied, never turning to face you three. “You know, I can't— This ends now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes.” He got back into his truck, and you and the boys followed suit. No one talked for the rest of the drive into Salvation.

***

You went with Dean as you normally had been doing on cases when you and the Winchesters split up. You headed to one of the two hospitals to search their birth records. 

Dean noticed a beautiful receptionist and walked over to her.

“Hi. Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked him.

“Oh, God, yes,” he smiled breathlessly.

You cleared your throat. “We’re working right now, so…” You held up your fake badge to show her. “Can you get us the records of every birth in the last year?”

She nodded. “Of course.” She threw one last longing look to Dean before heading off.

“You wanna keep it professional, officer?” You quirked a brow at him.

***

Later that day, you and the other Winchesters were called to meet Sam back at the motel room. He’d had another vision where the same thing that happened to him happened to a baby he’d met in his search for the six month old that would be attacked.

“A vision,” John said flatly.

Sam was rubbing his temples painfully. “Yes. I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling.”

“And you think this is going to happen to this woman you met because…?” his father trailed off.

“Because these things happen exactly the way I see them,” Sam explained.

“It started out as nightmares. Then it started happening while he was awake,” Dean continued, crossing to the counter behind Sam to get some more coffee.

“Yeah,” Sam winced, “It's like the closer I get to anything to do with the demon the stronger the visions get.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?” John snapped at his oldest son.

“We didn't know what it meant.” Dean looked down shamefully.

“Alright, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone, and you call me,” John stated sharply.

Dean threw his cup back on the counter, but you spoke before he could. “All due respect, dude, but Dean did call you.” John looked at you surprised as you continued. “He called you in Lawrence. Sam called when Dean was fucking dying. He’s got a better chance at winning the lottery than getting you on the phone.”

Dean put a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this attitude of yours, you're right,” John told you. He turned to his sons. “I'm sorry.”

“Look, guys, visions or no visions, fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through,” Sam said calmly.

“No they're not. No one is, ever again.”

Sam’s phone rang. “Hello?... Who is this?” He shot up next. “Meg. Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window… Just your feelings? That was a seven-story drop… My Dad. I don't know where my Dad is.” He then hesitated for a moment before handing the phone to John.

“This is John,” he said. “I'm here.” A few moments passed before he breathed out a name. “Caleb?”

Sam and Dean reacted immediately, and you recognized that as the name of John’s friend they’d been using as a resource when their dad was missing. “You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go… I don't know what you're talking about… Caleb. Caleb!... I'm gonna kill you, you know that?” His boys approached him, taking either side. “Okay… I said okay, I'll bring you the Colt.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there… That's impossible. I can't get there in time, and I can't just carry a gun on the plane.” Another moment passed before John handed Sam’s phone back to him. He began to pace around the room. He explained to you that Meg had instructed him to go to a warehouse in Lincoln with the Colt alone.

“So you think Meg is a demon?” Sam questioned.

“Either that, or she's possessed by one. It doesn't really matter,” his father answered.

“What do we do?” you asked.

“I'm going to Lincoln.”

Dean scoffed. “What?”

“It doesn't look like we have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people will die; our friends die.”

“Dad, the demon is coming tonight. For Monica and her family. That gun is all we got; you can't just hand it over,” Sam protested.

“Who said anything about handing it over? Look, besides us and a coupla of vampires, no one's really seen the gun; no one knows what it looks like.”

“So what, you're just going to pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?” Dean questioned.

“Antique store.”

“You're going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?”

“Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference.”

“Yeah but for how long? What happens when she figures it out?” argued the older son.

“I just— I just need to buy a few hours, that's all.”

Sam shot back, “You mean, for Dean, (Y/N), and me. You want us to stay here and kill this demon by ourselves?”

“No, Sam. I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home.” John’s voice broke. “I want… I want Mary alive. It's just— I just want this to be over.”

***

After you and the boys had handed off the fake gun to John, you headed to Monica’s house under the cover of night.

Dean and Sam sat with the gun between them, and the three of you watched through the window as Monica and her husband finished dinner.

“Maybe we could tell ‘em it was a gas leak. Might get ‘em out of the house for a few hours.”

“Sam, since when has that ever worked for us?” you countered.

“We could always tell ‘em the truth,” he suggested after a moment.

You and Dean just gave him a skeptical look. The three of you cringed and said, “Naaahhh,” in unison, making you giggle.

“I know I know. I just… with what's coming for these folks…” Sam trailed off.

 Dean shook his head at his brother. “Sam we only got one move and you know it, alright? We gotta wait for that demon to show itself, and then we get it before it gets them.”

You looked back at the house for a moment before Sam spoke again. “I wonder how Dad's doing.”

“I'd feel a lot better if we were there backing him up,” Dean admitted.

“I'd feel a lot better if he were here backing us up.”

You continued watching the house in silence.

“This is weird,” Sam broke the silence again. “After all of these years, we're finally here. It doesn't seem real.”

“We just gotta keep our heads and do our job, like always,” Dean responded.

“Yeah, but this isn't like always.”

“True.”

“Dean, ah… I wanna thank you,” Sam began.

Dean turned to his brother. “For what?”

“For everything. You've always had my back you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone I could always count on you. And, uh, I don't know I just wanted to let you know, just in case—”

“Sam, stop it,” you said. “You are not dyin’ tonight. Nobody is.”

“Except that demon,” Dean continued. “That evil son of a bitch ain't getting any older than tonight, you understand me?”

Sam nodded, tears in his eyes. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and laid your head on his back. You continued watching the house from your position resting against Sam, who returned your gesture by holding your arm.

Dean then called his father. “Dad's not answering.”

“Maybe Meg was late. Maybe cell reception’s bad,” you suggested.

“Yeah, well.” He didn’t sound convinced.

The radio suddenly started chattering with static.

“Guys, it’s coming.” You looked out at the light emanating from the home beginning to flicker.

The three of you sprang into action, grabbing the Colt and running into the house. Once inside, you were confronted by Monica’s husband.

“Get out of my house!” he yelled.

Dean fought against the man and pinned him against the wall with the baseball bat the man had been holding. “Be quiet and listen to me. Be quiet and listen! We are trying to help you.” He clearly had no patience.

A woman’s voice called from upstairs. “Charlie? Is everything okay?”

“Monica, get the baby!” the man yelled back.

“Don't go in the nursery!” you and Sam cried at the same time. You and Sam sprinted up the stairs after the woman and began to hear her moaning in pain. You raced into the nursery down the hall to find the woman flung back against the wall rising up to the ceiling. You saw a shadowy figure with glowing, yellow eyes standing over the baby’s crib.

“Rosie!” Monica screamed.

Sam raised the Colt and pulled the trigger. Unfortunately, the demon disappeared into curls of smoke.

Monica screamed and fell to the floor.

“Where the hell did it go?!” Sam yelled.

“I don’t know!” you yelled back.

“My baby!” Monica tried to move toward the crib, but Sam caught her. She fought him as you wrapped the baby in her blanket and pulled her out of her crib. Milliseconds later, the crib burst into flames. You held the baby to your chest and followed Sam and Monica down the stairs and out of the house.

Just as you made it outside, the nursery window exploded outward in a fiery blaze. You ran over to Dean and Monica’s husband who had just regained consciousness. 

“You get away from my family,” the husband told you firmly.

“No, Charlie, don't. They saved us,” Monica said, running into her husband’s arms. You handed her baby over to her, and she began to cry. “Thank you.”

You nodded with a sad smile. You turned to the boys who looked up at the burning house. You could see a shadowy figure in the window surrounded by the flames.

Sam tried to go back inside, crying, “It's still in there!”

You and Dean pushed him back. “No!”

“Guys, let me go! It’s still in there!” He continued struggling against you.

“No. It's burning to the ground, it's suicide!” Dean replied.

“I don't care!” Sam yelled back.

Dean shoved his brother one final time. “I do!”

You looked back up at the house and watched the demon disappear. The flames rose higher as you heard Monica’s husband calling 911.

“We’d better get out of here before the cops show up,” you told Monica. “Take care of yourselves.”

“We will. Thank you!”

You shoved the boys back to the Impala and took Dean’s keys from him.

“(Y/N), you are not driving my car.”

“I’ve already done it, Dean, and you are way too emotional to drive right now. I’ve got this.”

“Fine!” He got in the passenger’s seat next to you. “But I swear to god if it gets one scratch—”

“I know, I’m dead.”

***

You and the Winchesters still hadn’t heard from their father.

“Come on Dad, answer your phone, damn it,” Dean grumbled as he paced around. “Something’s wrong.”

Sam stared at the wall; unresponsive to his brother.

“You hear me? Something is wrong.”

Sam’s voice broke as he talked. “If you had just let me go in there, I coulda ended all this.”

“Sam, you would’ve been killed,” you said.

“You don’t know that,” he argued.

Dean walked toward his brother. “So what, you're just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?”

Sam stood. “Yeah. Yeah, you're damn right I am.”

“Well, that's not going to happen, not as long as I'm around,” Dean responded.

“What the hell are you talking about, Dean, we've been searching for this demon our whole lives. It's the only thing we've ever cared about.”

“Sam, I wanna waste it. I do. Okay? But it's not worth dying over.”

The brunet scoffed. “What?”

“I mean it. If hunting this demon means getting yourself killed, then I hope we never find the damn thing,” Dean spat.

“That thing killed Jess. That thing killed Mom!” Sam yelled.

“You said yourself once, that no matter what we do, they're gone, and they're never coming back.”

Sam completely lost it and threw Dean back against the wall.

“Sam, stop!” You ran to the boys and tried to pull Sam off. He shrugged your grip off him harshly. 

“Don't you say that, not you! Not after all this; don't you say that!” Sam yelled.

Dean’s voice quieted. “Sam, look. The three of us… Dad… That's all we have. And it's all I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together, man… And without you or (Y/N) or Dad....”

“Dad,” Sam cried and turned away. He walked across the room.

Dean stayed where he was and took a few deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” you asked Dean quietly.

He nodded, but kept his gaze on his brother.

“He should have called by now. Try him again,” Sam instructed.

Dean pushed a few buttons and raised his phone to his ear. “Where is he,” Dean spoke angrily into the phone.

You looked up at Dean, concerned, as did Sam. 

“They’ve got Dad,” Dean informed you, snapping his phone shut.

“Meg?” you questioned.

Dean just nodded.

“What’d she say?”

“I just told you, sweetheart.”

“Okay, okay,” you ran a hand over your hair.

Dean grabbed the Colt and tucked it into his jeans.

“What are you doing, Dean?” Sam asked.

Dean was already grabbing his duffel bag. “We got to go.”

“Why?”

“Because the demon knows we’re in Salvation, alright. It knows we got the Colt. It’s got Dad— it’s probably coming for us next.” Dean put his jacket back on.

“Good. We’ve still got three bullets left. Let it come.”

“No, Sam, I’m with Dean. We’re not ready,” you said, shouldering your own bag. “We don’t know how many of them are out there, and we’re no good to anybody dead. Let’s go. And we need help.”

Dean looked at you and agreed. “I know a guy.”

***

“Bobby?” you asked. You hadn’t realized he was the man Dean was referring to knowing could help. 

“(Y/N),” the man breathed out. He wrapped you in a tight hug. “How the hell are you, kiddo?”

Tears formed in the corners of your eyes. “I’m okay. Listen, we’re in a tight spot. I know Dean told you a bit, but…”

“Come on in,” he said. He checked behind you and the boys to make sure you weren’t followed.

“How do you know Bobby?” Dean asked, walking around the man’s cluttered home. Books were stacked high in every corner, and empty beer bottles covered his kitchen table. 

‘Would it kill you to clean every once in a while?’ you thought.

“He found me when I was nineteen and bleeding out in the middle of nowhere,” you explained. “Saved my life and took me in, essentially. And then, uh, I split. My stupid twenty-year-old self couldn’t admit that being alone sucked. I didn’t want anyone to think I needed help. We got in a huge fight, and I left.” You turned to Bobby. “I’m sorry, by the way. I never told you that.”

“It’s okay, kid,” the man drawled. He handed Dean a round silver flask with a cross on it. “Here you go.”

“What is this, holy water?” 

Bobby said, “That one is.” He held out the other flask he was holding. “This is whiskey.” 

You giggled while Bobby and Dean took swigs of the drink.

Dean handed the flask back to him. “Bobby, thanks. Thanks for everything. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure we should come.”

“Nonsense. Your Daddy needs help.”

“Well, yeah, but last time we saw you, I mean, you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot. Cocked the shotgun and everything,” the man chuckled.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? John just has that effect on people.”

“Amen,” you commented.

Dean shot you a look.

“What?” you replied.

He just rolled his eyes.

“None of that matters now. All that matters is that you get him back,” Bobby shrugged.

Sam dragged his fingers along the worn pages of the book he was reading. “Bobby, this book: I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He sat on the edge of the desk across from Sam. “Key of Solomon? It’s the real deal, alright.”

“And these protective circles. They really work?” He gestured down to the intricate drawing covering the worn page.

“Hell, yeah. You get a demon in; they’re trapped. Powerless. It’s like a Satanic roach motel.” Bobby tapped the center of the page. 

You laughed. You loved his sense of humor. You wished your dad had been more like him, and you wished you hadn’t spent so much time as a teenager trying to go it alone.

“I’ll tell you something else, too. This is some serious crap you kids stepped in.”

“Oh, yeah? How’s that?” you asked.

“Normal year, I hear of, say, three demonic possessions. Maybe four, tops. This year I hear of twenty-seven so far. You get what I’m saying? More and more demons are walking among us; a lot more.” Bobby sounded scared for the first time since you met him. 

“Damn,” you commented. “Do you know why?”

“No, but I know it’s something big. The storm’s coming, and you kids, your Daddy— you are smack in the middle of it.”

Bobby’s dog began barking outside.

“Rumsfeld,” Bobby muttered.

The dog stopped barking with a sad whine. You looked out the window to see the chain the dog was tethered to broken and the dog himself nowhere in sight. 

“Something’s wrong,” the older man said.

At that moment, Meg kicked the door open and sauntered in. Dean slipped the holy water flask out of his pocket, and you grabbed a knife out of your jacket.

“No more crap, okay?” Meg sang.

Dean tried to go after her, but Meg sent him flying into a stack of books in the corner of the room.

“Hey!” you yelled, trying to take a swing at her. She sent you flying back into Dean. You groaned in pain as you heard Meg continuing to go after Sam for the Colt.

“You okay?” Dean asked you.

You nodded. “C’mon.” You stood shakily and used the wall for support; Dean just behind you.

“First, Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then, he leaves the real gun with you three chuckleheads. Lackluster, man. I mean, did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” you heard Meg telling Sam and Bobby in the other room.

You stepped into the door frame. “Actually, we were counting on it.” You smirked and looked up at the ceiling that had a Devil’s Trap etched into it. 

Dean spat, “Gotcha.”

You set to work tying Meg to a chair in the middle of the floor. She fought you hard, but there wasn’t much she could do given her limited space to move.

“Bitch,” she spat at you.

“Yeah, ditto,” you responded dryly. You stepped back from her.

“You know, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask,” she said sultrily.

Bobby came up next to you with a large canister of salt. “I salted the door and windows. If there are any demons out there, they ain’t getting in.”

Dean nodded and stood, moving around you to stand in front of Meg. “Where’s our father, Meg?”

“You didn’t ask very nice.”

“Where’s our father, bitch?”

You hated to admit it, but Dean’s interrogation was turning you on.

“Jeez. You kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t,” Meg smirked.

Dean lunged at her and put his hands on the chair arms. “You think this is a fucking game? Where is he?! What did you do to him?”

“He died screaming. I killed him myself!” she growled through gritted teeth.

Dean froze before slapping her across the face.

“That’s kind of a turn on; you hitting a girl,” she smiled.

‘Well, she’s not wrong,’ you thought.

“You’re no girl,” he said.

Bobby stood and moved to the older Winchester. “Dean.”

He turned away from Meg.

“You okay?” you asked him.

“She’s lying. He’s not dead,” he grumbled.

“Dean, you got to be careful with her. Don’t hurt her,” Bobby warned.

“Why?”

“Because she really is a girl; that’s why,” he explained.

You looked back at Meg and her labored breathing. Bobby explained that Meg had been possessed. Dean was furious at the idea of an innocent person being trapped inside her, and you loved that about him. You and the brothers immediately began an exorcism ritual.

“Are you gonna read me a story?” she quipped at the sight of the Book of Solomon Sam was holding.

Dean stepped in front of her. “Something like that. Hit it, Sam.”

Sam began reading the ritual off the pages of the book.

“An exorcism? Are you serious?”

“Oh we’re going for it, baby—” You’d never liked that nickname, but you loved how it sounded coming from Dean; just not directed at Meg. “—head spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards.”

Meg flinched at the Latin words coming from Sam’s lips. “I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna rip the bones from your body.”

“No, you’re gonna burn in hell. Unless you tell us where our Dad is.” His smirk was challenging.

Meg just smiled at him.

“Well, at least you’ll get a nice tan,” Dean bit.

Meg continued to shake in pain and gasped finally. “He begged for his life with tears in his eyes. He begged to see his sons one last time. That’s when I slit his throat.”

Dean leaned down to her. “For your sake, I hope you’re lying. Cause if it’s true, I swear to god, I will march into hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me god!”

Sam continued reading while wind started blowing through the room.

“Where is he?!” Dean shouted.

“You just won’t take ‘dead’ for an answer, will you?”

“Where is he?!”

“Dead!” she yelled through gritted teeth.

Dean screamed, “No, he’s not! He’s not dead! He can’t be!”

You looked up at him. “Dean—”

“What are you looking at? Keep reading,” he said gruffly to his brother.

“He will be!” Meg cried.

Dean stopped Sam from reading with a raised hand. “Wait! What?!”

“He’s not dead. But he will be after what we do to him,” she explained breathlessly.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t.”

“Sam!”

“A building! Okay? A building in Jefferson City," Meg admitted, breathing laboriously.

“Missouri? Where, where? An address!”

“I don’t know,” she cried.

“And the demon— the one we’re looking for— where is it?” Sam interrogated.

“I don’t know! I swear! That’s everything. That’s all I know,” Meg whined.

Dean stalked around her, face set in anger. “Finish it.”

“What? I told you the truth!” Meg screamed, pulling against her restraints.

“I don’t care,” Dean responded.

“You son of a bitch, you promised!” She continued to fight harder despite the pain she was obviously in.

“I lied! Sam? Sam! Read.”

Sam pulled Dean aside. “Maybe we can still use her. Find out where the demon is.”

“She doesn’t know.”

“She lied.”

“Sam, there’s a girl trapped in there somewhere,” you said. “We gotta help her.”

“You’re gonna kill her,” Bobby broke in. “You said she fell from a building. That girl’s body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcise it and that girl is going to die.”

“We can’t just leave her like that, though!” you protested.

“She is a human being,” Bobby said softly.

“And we’re gonna put her out of her misery. Sam, finish it,” Dean barked.

Sam hesitated.

“Finish it,” his brother commanded.

Sam obliged, taking a deep breath before continuing. Meg threw her head back and screamed, the demon leaving through her mouth in a cloud of inky blackness. It shot up into the Devil’s Trap on the ceiling, and Meg’s head fell forward.

You looked at her, unsure of whether or not it was really over. She slowly lifted her head, and you watched blood drip from her nose and lips.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered. “Call 911, get some water and blankets!” you ordered. “Boys, help me!”

Meg whispered, “Thank you.”

“Shh, shh,” you told her. “Take it easy, okay?”

The boys lifted her off the chair and she yelped in pain. You had them lower her into your lap, so you could cradle her head as a makeshift pillow.

“We’re sorry. We got you, it’s okay,” you assured her.

“A year,” she muttered sadly.

“What?”

“It’s been a year.”

“Shh, just take it easy,” Sam told her.

“I’ve been awake for some of it. I couldn’t move my own body. The things I did…  It's a nightmare.” Her voice was broken in soft sobs as blood spilled from her lips and nose.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, brushing her hair back with your hand.

“Was it telling us the truth about our Dad?” Dean asked.

“Dean—” you scolded.

“We need to know.” He looked at you sharply before looking back down at Meg.

“Yes. But it wants... you to know... that... they want you to come for him.”

“If Dad’s still alive, none of that matters.”

Bobby came back in with a blanket and glass of water. You helped Meg drink while the boys covered her in the blanket.

“Where is the demon we’re looking for?” Sam asked her.

“Not there. Other ones. Awful ones,” she answered weakly.

“By the river. Sunrise.” Her head lolled to the side in your lap, eyes never closing and reopening again. 

“ ‘Sunrise’,” Dean muttered. “What does that mean? What does that mean?”

But Meg was gone. You continued to brush her hair back with your hand, looking down at the poor girl’s face sadly. Tears rose to your eyes. You felt awful for her. Getting possessed and not being in control of your own body was quite literally your worst nightmare.

“You better hurry up and beat it. Before the paramedics get here,” Bobby told you. The four of you rose from the ground and headed to the door.

“What are you gonna tell them?” Dean asked.

“You think you guys invented lying to the cops? I’ll figure something out.” He handed the Key of Solomon book to Sam. “Here, take this. You might need it.”

“Thanks,” Sam grinned.

“Thanks... for everything. Be careful, alright?” Dean told Bobby.

“You just go find your Dad. And when you do, you bring him around, would you? I won’t even try to shoot him this time.”

You gave him a lopsided smile before pulling him into a hug again. “Thank you. I promise I’ll call.”

“You better, kid. Or I’ll hunt your ass down.”

***

About a day and a half later, you and the boys had rescued a badly beaten John from Sunrise Apartments in Jefferson City, Missouri. You’d found an abandoned cabin deep in the woods to shelter in to attempt to make a game plan to go after the demon. You could tell Dean was conflicted about the fact that he’d had to use one of the Colt’s bullets to save Sam but didn’t regret the choice at all. His confliction came from whether or not his dad would kick his ass to hell and back.

“How is he?” Sam asked. You were busy cleaning up the cuts on his badly beaten face that the demon Dean had killed gave him.

“He just needed a little rest, that’s all. How are you?” Dean questioned, referencing the beating Sam had suffered on the rescue mission.

Sam shrugged. “I’ll survive. Hey, you don’t think we were followed here, do you?”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “We couldn’t have found a more way-out-the-way place to hunker down.”

A moment of silence passed before Sam turned to his brother. “Hey, uh.... Dean, you, um, you saved my life back there.”

Dean smirked. “So, I guess you’re glad I brought the gun, huh?” That had been yet another thing the brothers had fought over.

“Man, I’m trying to thank you here,” Sam chuckled.

“You’re welcome,” the older brother replied.

“All done,” you told Sam. You crossed the room to his brother and sat down next to him.

Dean paused a moment before talking again. “Hey, (Y/N)?” 

“Yeah?”

“You know that guy I shot? There was a person in there.”

You sighed. “You had no choice, dude.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s not what bothers me.”

“Then what does?”

“Killing that guy, killing Meg. I didn’t hesitate, I didn’t even flinch. For Sam, for my dad... for you..." he couldn't stand to look at you during that admission— "the things I’m willing to do or kill, it’s just, uh, it scares me sometimes.”

You put a hand on his. “I get it. Me too.”

He gripped your hand tightly as John walked into the room. “It shouldn’t scare you. You did good.”

“You’re not mad?” Dean asked.

“For what?”

“Using a bullet.” The elder son’s face was twisted in confusion.

John chuckled. “Mad? I’m proud of you. You know, Sam and I: we can get pretty obsessed. But you, you watch out for this family. You always have.”

Something changed in Dean’s face. “Thanks.”

The wind suddenly picked up outside, and the lights in the room flickered.

“It found us. It’s here,” John breathed out.

“The demon?” Sam questioned, standing on high alert.

“Sam, lines of salt in front of every window, every door,” John ordered.

“Already done,” you said.

“Well, check it, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam said and left the room.

“Dean, you got the gun?” John asked. “Give it to me.”

Dean took the Colt out of his jeans. “Dad, Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation. It disappeared.”

“This is me. I won’t miss. Now, the gun, hurry,” John commanded.

Dean hesitated and looked down at the gun. You looked between the two men, confused as to what was going on.

“Give me the gun. What are you doing, Dean?”

Dean backed up. “He’d be furious.”

John turned away from the window. “What?”

“That I wasted a bullet. He wouldn’t be proud of me; he’d tear me a new one.” Dean cocked the gun and pointed it at John. He pushed you behind him, covering you with his free arm protectively. “You’re not my Dad.”

“Dean, it’s me.” John looked at him like he was crazy.

“I know my Dad better than anyone. And you ain’t him,” Dean responded.

“What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Stay back.”

Sam came into the room, shocked to see Dean pointing the gun at John. “Dean? What the hell’s going on?”

“Your brother’s lost his mind,” John scoffed.

“No, he hasn’t. It’s not your dad, Sam,” you said.

“I think he’s possessed. I think he’s been possessed since we rescued him.” Dean began to get upset.

John protested, but Sam turned to you and Dean. “Dean, how do you know?”

Dean was fighting back tears. “He’s... he’s different.”

“You know, we don’t have time for this. Sam, you wanna kill this demon, you’ve gotta trust me,” John stated firmly.

Sam stepped back behind you and Dean. 

“Fine. You’re all so sure, go ahead. Kill me,” John spat, seeming emotional. He looked down and waited. Dean held the gun on him, but couldn’t pull the trigger.

“I thought so.” John looked up grinning; eyes yellow with snake-like slits running down the middle.

Sam lunged at him, but was thrown and pinned against the wall. 

“You son of a—” John threw you back against the wall next to Sam, too; cutting you off. Dean shouted your name but ended up pinned as well.

John picked up the Colt that Dean had dropped. “What a pain in the ass this thing’s been.”

“It’s you, isn’t it? We’ve been looking for you for a long time,” Sam stated.

“Well, you found me,” the demon grinned.

“But the holy water?” the younger son asked in reference to the bit he'd splashed on him during the rescue.

“You think something like that works on something like me?” he taunted.

You tried to fight against the force that had you pinned down, but couldn’t.

“I’m gonna kill you!” Sam screamed.

“Oh, that’d be a neat trick. In fact—” he put the gun down on the table, “—here. Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy.”

Sam looked down at the gun, but nothing happened.

“Well, this is fun. I could’ve killed you a hundred times today, but this... this is worth the wait.” He stalked over to Dean who struggled against his power. “Your Dad: he’s in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says ‘hi,' by the way. He’s gonna tear you apart. He’s gonna taste the iron in your blood.”

“Let him go, or I swear to god—”

The demon cut Dean off. “What? What are you and god gonna do? You see, as far as I’m concerned, this is justice. You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter. The one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand.”

Dean mockingly groaned, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What? You’re the only one that can have a family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?” The demon smiled maliciously. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. I did. Still, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“You son of a bitch,” Dean spat.

“I wanna know why. Why’d you do it?” Sam asked.

“You mean why did I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?” He turned back to Dean. “You know, I never told you this, but Sam was going to ask her to marry him. Been shopping for rings and everything.” He turned back to Sam and walked over to him. “You want to know why? Because they got in the way.”

“In the way of what?” Sam asked.

“My plans for you, Sammy. You... and all the children like you.”

“Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh? Cause I really can’t stand the monologuing,” Dean remarked.

The demon strutted back over to him. “Funny, but that’s all part of your M.O., isn’t it? Masks all that nasty pain; masks the truth.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” Dean ground out.

“You know, you fight, and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don’t need you. Not like you need them. Sam: he’s clearly John’s favorite. Even when they fight, it’s more concern than he’s ever shown you. And (Y/N)? Your thing with her is pretty pathetic, I gotta say.”

“I bet you’re real proud of your kids, too, huh? Oh wait, I forgot. I wasted ‘em,” Dean challenged, smiling. John looked at Dean and backed up, putting his head down. When he looked back up, Dean yelled in pain.

“What are you doing to him?! Stop!” you cried, fighting against your invisible restraints even harder.

Dean began bleeding heavily from his chest. “Dad! Dad, don’t you let it kill me!”

You struggled as hard as you could to get free, but you helplessly watched blood flow out of Dean’s mouth.

“Dad, please.” Dean’s cry broke your heart just before he passed out.

“Dean!” you and Sam yelped. You were suddenly let go, and you dove across the floor to Dean. He slumped to the ground, bleeding profusely.

“Dean, Dean, look at me, baby, please,” you cried. You looked up at Sam pointing the gun at John as you pulled Dean into your lap.

“You kill me, you kill Daddy,” the demon taunted Sam. 

“I know.” He fired the gun and shot it in the leg.

Sam rushed over to you. “Dean? Dean, hey? Oh god, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“Where’s Dad?” Dean groaned, coming back to.

“He’s right here. He’s right here, Dean.”

“Go check on him.”

You stayed with Dean, crying as you brushed a hand over his cheek. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled despite the situation.

“Shh, shh, stop it.” You shook your head. You turned the palm of your hand up that had been sitting on his chest. It was completely turned red. “Oh, my god.”

He grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over yours. “I’m okay.”

You turned back to John and Sam as the older man yelled, “Sammy! It’s still alive. It’s inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son! Do it now!”

“Sam, don’t you do it. Don’t you do it,” Dean pleaded.

“You’ve gotta hurry! I can’t hold onto it much longer! You shoot me, son! Shoot me! Son, I’m begging you! We can end this here and now! Sammy!” John begged.

“Sam, no!” you said.

“You do this! Sammy! Sam!” The demon suddenly fled from John, and the man collapsed on the ground.

John looked up at Sam accusingly. You called the brunet over to you. “You gotta help me. We gotta get him to a hospital now,” you cried. You and Sam shouldered Dean and brought him to the car while he groaned in pain.

You sat next to him in the backseat. His body was slumped over against the door, and you leaned against his chest to make sure his heart was still beating. Or, that was what you told yourself, at least. Despite the situation, you found the feeling of him against you comforting.

Sam got his father down in the car and began to speed away from the cabin.

“Look, just hold on, alright. The hospital’s only ten minutes away,” Sam told his father.

“I’m surprised at you, Sammy. Why didn’t you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this? Killing this demon comes first— before me, before everything.”

Sam looked up at you and his brother in the rearview mirror. “No, sir. Not before everything. Look, we’ve still got the Colt. We still have the one bullet left. We just have to start over, alright? I mean, we already found the demon—”

Suddenly, the car was thrown to the side and continued to skid down a hill. You held Dean against you despite the blood soaking into your hair and clothes and silently prayed for this all to be over. You could feel the side of the car had been pushed in on top of your legs, and finally, the car stopped moving. 

“Dean!” you cried. “Guys!” No one was responding to you. “Dean!”

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[deans-baby-momma]

The Story of Us-Chapter 8

A/N: This is a rewrite of a story my good friend @spnbaby-67 allowed me to take and rewrite. All mistakes are mine. This is canon divergent, meaning some things that happened in the show will still happen here but with my own twist to it.

Summary: She and Dean met when they were kids. Even at such a young age, she knew that he was her soulmate. Being the daughter of a hunter, Michaela (Micki) Singer knew the life he led came with a price, but she was up to the challenge.

Pairings: Dean Winchester/reader, Sam Winchester/friend!reader, John Winchester, Mary Winchester (mentioned only), Bobby Singer, and more from the Supernatural universe.

Warnings: Flashbacks are in italics, fluffy stuff, angst stuff, character death, kidnapping, depression, semi-dark themes

WC: 1,556

Winter (early February) 2000

It's been a little over 2 years since Micki had broken up with Dean and after he and his dad left,  she never saw or heard from him. 

She hadn't really meant to break up with him; had said it was over out of anger but he'd been gone before she had a chance to apologize. And he never called nor returned to Sioux Falls.

At graduation, her dad had been the only one there to clap and cheer for her. Dean had swore he'd be there and be her loudest supporter. But alas when the time came, he was nowhere around.

She couldn't really blame him though as she'd never reached out to him either. She'd just been so pissed at him first for blaming her for the pregnancy scare and secondly for just shrugging it off, pledging to do better; to always wear a condom.

That wasn't the point and she had hoped he would understand just how great of a mistake they had made. But he just acted as if it was no big deal. It was, to her!

Now, she is a graduate of Sioux Falls High and instead of heading off to college as her Dad had suggested,  Micki had opted to stay back and man the multiple phone lines her dad had.

She was the secretary for the FBI, the police and the CIA but she also answered the calls that came in for her dad about handling monsters and demons.

A few of the hunters that have called in end up showing up on their doorstep and Micki begins getting to know one in particular, Steve Franklin. Steve was a little bit older than Micki but had been privy of monsters and demons for much longer.

He was chasing a monster that had taken out a whole family in a couple states over. It was the first time Steve had run across anything like it, so he called Bobby and showed up with the evidence to pore over the lore books.

He and Micki hit it off and before he left to go take care of what they had learned was a rugaru, he'd asked her out.

Steve and Micki had dinner at the local diner in town and then went to the movie theater to watch X-men. They ended up in Bobby's driveway, liplocked and quickly rounding second base.

The only thing stopping them was headlights shining through the windshield and the driver's side door opening before Steve got jerked out of his seat.

Micki scrambled out the still open car door to see what was going on. What she sees in front of her equally baffles her and enrages her. Dean fucking Winchester is slamming his fist into Steve's face.

"Goddammit Dean!" she yells. "Stop!"

He lands one more punch to Steve's bloodied face before he lets go of the other man's color, making Steve fall to the ground. 

"What the fuck Mick?" Dean says, stalking across the gravel toward her. "You just out slutting it up with every Tom, Dick and Harry?"

The slap echoes as Dean's head whips to the left. He is stunned into silence. 

"Listen here you asshole! It's none of your goddamn business what I've been doing. We-" Micki gestures between them. "-broke up and you left. I haven't heard from you in two fucking years! How dare you come back here and call me a slut! I hate you!"

The tears are streaming down her face, ruining the makeup she'd spent two hours on, her chest is heaving with anger and she grits her teeth so hard her jaw begins to hurt. 

"What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

Before Dean can answer, the screen door screeches and her father steps out  with a rifle poised to shoot. He looks at the scene before him. Micki's tear-stained red face, Dean's remorseful expression and Steve still on the ground, groaning in pain.

"I heard shouting," he explains as he decocks the gun and lowers it. "What the hell is going on?!"

While Bobby is helping Steve to get cleaned up and out the door, Micki and Dean sit at the kitchen table; Micki still seething and Dean penitent. Neither of them say a word as Bobby ushers Steve out of the house and to his car before he comes back in, “What in the world is going on with you two idjits?”

They both start speaking at the same time. “He ruined my date!” “She was practically fucking that guy right out there!”

Bobby holds his hand up to silence them. He shakes his head and turns to click the coffee pot on. It’s too late (or too early) to be dealing with this shit. As soon as the water starts percolating, he turns back to the two lovebirds.

“Dean,” he sighs as he runs a hand down his face. “You broke my little girl’s heart. That right there gives me every right to shoot you full of holes. And Mick, honey. I know he hurt you and left but did you even give him a chance to talk before you laid into him?”

Micki had ultimately had to tell her dad about the pregnancy scare and that she had broken up with Dean. It’d broken Bobby’s heart hearing that she had gone through that alone and hadn’t come to him. Did he think she was too young at that time to have a baby? Damn straight! Hell, she’s still too young in his eyes but what was done was done and he would’ve loved the child immensely, if there had been one.

“Dad,” Micki whined. “He had no right to pull Steve out of his truck and wail on him like he did. I’m not his property!”

Both men looked at the grown woman sitting there grumbling like a petulant child. 

“She was…she…they….ugh!” Dean tries to defend his actions but he knows he was in the wrong and there is really no justification for his behavior, other than that he was extremely jealous. “I’m sorry. I just….I pulled up and saw them getting hot and heavy and I just…I went into a rage okay?” He turns to Micki to look her dead-on. “ Don't you get it Michaela? I got pissed because I.....I love you."

Micki is shocked at his confession. He had never uttered those three words to her. In all the years they were together, even when she said them, he never repeated them back to her. 

And now, two years after they break up, he says he loves her?! He willingly and freely admitted he does actually have a heart that feels? 

She can't help but to think it's just a ploy to get laid though. Was he out there striking out and thought she'd be an easy target if he told her he loved her? 

Or had he finally grown a pair and was ready to admit his feelings? 

PRESENT DAY (2008)

Dean shushes and utters loving words to  Micki as he wipes the tears from her face. 

"Baby, whatever it is, we can get through it if you wake up," he whispers as he rocks her listless body. "I need you to wake up honey. We need you. Please babe, show me those beautiful eyes, so full of love and adoration."

After a few minutes, Micki seems to calm down and no more tears escape her closed eyes. Dean settles her back into her spot and arranges himself around her, pulling her head onto his chest, like she had slept so many nights before he went to Hell. 

He closes his eyes and immediately his mind starts pulsing with flashbacks of eerie screams and flickers of his bruised and bloody body hanging midair by chains and hooks in his skin. 

He opens his eyes wide and stares at the ceiling of their shared bedroom, trying to calm his racing heart and toxic self-hatred. 

The only thing that brings him to the present is movement to his side before his 

daughter makes her presence known.

Dean slides out from under Micki and sits up to see Maren awake and cooing, kicking her little legs.

"Hello beautiful. Did you have a nice nap, my love?"

Dean picks his little girl up, cradling her in his arms as he sits back onto the mattress against the headboard.

"Your mom is Superwoman," he tells the baby in his arms. "She is so good and pure and honorable. She's too good for your old man, I tell you that."

Dean looks down at the comatose woman beside him. He loves her so much, they've been through a lot of shit together and she always amazed him with her resiliency, the way she could bounce back from whatever crummy and atrocious situation the couple found themselves in..

"I'm not worthy of her love and loyalty. I'm nothing but a grunt, a lowly peon," Dean admits as he looks from the first love of his life to the newest one. "She is the phenomenon, a one in a million natural. And I hope you grow up to be just like her, Maren Jade Winchester."

"That name has a nice ring to it," Dean hears before looking up from his little girl's gorgeous face. 

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​ @spnbaby-67​ @tftumblin​ @sea040561​ @delightfullykrispypeach​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @atc74​ @vicariouslythruspn​ @squirrelnotsam​  @sandlee44​ @blacktithe7​ @hoboal87​ @mogaruke​ @deanwanddamons​ @supraveng​ @deandreamernp​ @akshi8278​ @lyarr24​ @maggiegirl17​ @chriszgirl92​

[sp1resong]

Mothwing or Hollyleaf!

goddammit i wrote this all out and then accidentally refreshed the page

HOLLYLEAF:

sexuality headcanon: ace lesbian!!

gender/pronouns headcanon: transfem but doesn't really care about this whole 'gender' thing

rate them out of ten: 7/10

favorite thing about them: the concept of her character

least favorite thing about them: her numerous inconsistencies and general. warrior-cats-ness. also the whole warrior code thing,, she should've just rejected it entirely and decided that she doesn't need it to be moral

why i first started liking/disliking them: i just thought she was cool the first time i read the books and that opinion hasn't changed

do i relate/project onto/kin them: not really

favorite quote/moment: idk i don't remember shit about canon

my fav ship: cinderholly could be cool!! i have a whole au about them (the unraveled fate au)

my fav platonic friendship: does fallenholly count?? i choose to read them as a qpr

a ship i hate: not sure

do i prefer canon or fanon: fanon

random headcanon: she's autistic

what color do i picture them as: black w/ a lighter underbelly. sometimes tortoiseshell but it depends on the au

cat breed headcanon: uhh oriental longhair if i had to choose

unpopular opinion: i don't ship fallenholly romantically

things i associate with them: ravens, a sort of bright green and black color palette

song i associate with them: bird song by florence + the machine

favorite MAP/PMV/AMV with them: why isn't that an excellent question! hollyfawn seems cool but it's not done yet,, uhh the look what you made me do map was one of the first ones i watched so it's pretty nostalgic to me

MOTHWING:

sexuality headcanon: lesbian and polyamorous

gender/pronouns headcanon: trans woman, she/her

rate them out of ten: 8/10

favorite thing about them: the way she believes in starclan but chooses not to follow them/thinks they're flawed. only smart character here

least favorite thing about them: the way her character has kind of degraded over time

why i first started liking/disliking them: fuck starclan

do i relate/project onto/kin them: not really

favorite quote/moment: idk

my fav ship: sighs. mothpool. i'm boring ik

my fav platonic friendship: idk, her and mistystar maybe?? especially in the rewrite. love me a good tragedy

a ship i hate: idk

do i prefer canon or fanon: fanon

random headcanon: more autism. most of how i characterize her could be considered headcanon actually

what color do i picture them as: she's such an amber tabby. amber as in the actual cat color. like this:

(source)

cat breed headcanon: norwegian forest cat

unpopular opinion: mothpool isn't her entire personality

things i associate with them: moths, obviously. uhh golden jewlery?? idk

song i associate with them: idk. maybe metaphor by the crane wives?? not really but

favorite MAP/PMV/AMV with them: probably the faust, midas, and myself map!