#driven series wallpaper

[iris1885]

[coryndoll]

chrysanthemums

drew starkey x reader zombie apocalypse au

— “you’re the gun in my lips that will blow my brains out.”

content: zombie apocalypse, death, violence, guns, lowkey actor!drew x camp counselor!reader in an apocalypse, drew saving reader & reader being stubborn asfuck i fear

authors note: me after rewatching twd asf LMAO im on s6. if u wanna be added to the tag list for this upcoming series, feel free to lmk thru replies, anons, dms, or reblogs !!

drew steps into the house, its rotting frame creaking under his weight. the walls sag like old men, peeling wallpaper revealing layers of neglect beneath, as if countless lives have been lived and lost within these confines.

he shuts the door behind him, careful not to lock it; the last thing he needs is to be trapped in here if things go south.

his heart pounds in his chest as he takes another step forward, his eyes scanning the dark corners of the room, wide and alert. he grips his baseball bat tightly, knuckles turning white against the wood.

the floorboards groan underfoot, each creak sounding like a warning, and he winces at the noise. if there’s a stiff inside this house, it’ll hear him for sure. every instinct screams at him to turn back, but he forces himself to move deeper inside, driven by a desperate hope that maybe—just maybe—he’ll find something useful.

he drops the bat to one hand, using the other to push open the door to the nearest room. the stench hits him like a wall, forcing him to pull his mask up over his nose, just below his eyes, and he glances around.

he rummages through the debris, sifting through old clothes and broken furniture. there’s nothing here but memories, and he wipes his hands on his pants in frustration.

he turns to leave, swinging the door back open, but he’s met with the cold steel of a gun pressed to the side of his cheek.

“don’t . . move,” a voice commands, low and steady. he freezes, heart racing, eyes darting to the figure standing before him. and you’re the one there, gun raised. it isn’t anything fancy, just a glock 19 you scavenged from a body at an overrun gas station weeks ago.

your finger rests near the trigger, tense and ready.

you size him up, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. drew can feel the heat radiating off your body, but once you see that he’s just some random guy, you lower the gun, stepping back slightly. “jesus christ,” you mutter.

he watches you, the gun hangs loosely at your side now, but he can see the edge of caution still lingering in your posture. your eyes are wary, scanning him for signs of threat, and he takes a slow step back, raising his hands slightly in a gesture of peace.

he can see the shadows under your eyes, the blood on your skin and clothes.

“i thought you were one of ‘em,” you say as you regain your composure. you reach down and grab the bag of cans you’d found just moments ago. the metal clinks softly as you pull it off the floor.

you don’t want to linger any longer. the silence stretches, and you know you need to keep moving, find your next shelter, your next meal. you turn sharply on your heel, ready to head out the door, but the moment you step toward the kitchen, you hear him behind you.

“hey— no, wait!” drew’s voice cuts through the silence, and he steps forward, but you quickly glance back over your shoulder, every instinct telling you to keep your distance. “one’f who?”

he quickly pulled his mask down from his face, revealing his expression—breathless and earnest, like he’s just realized how much he needs you in this hellish world.

“nobody,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. your eyes narrow at him. he places his bat on the ground beneath him, then raises his bare hands slightly as if to show you he means no harm, that he’s unarmed, but you can’t shake the feeling that this could all turn sideways in an instant.

“look,” he says, his voice casual yet urgent, “we should— we should stick together. it’s safer that way, right?”

you don’t falter, “not happening.” you start moving again, but he quickly intercepts you, stepping toward your path.

“c’mon,” he presses, “you can’t be out here alone. it's a death sentence. we have a better chance if we watch each other’s backs. there are worse things out there than me.” his eyes scan the room, then dart back to you, a flicker of desperation beneath the charm.

you squint at him, trying to gauge if he’s being genuine or if it’s some trick to win your trust. “and how do i know you’re not one of those worse things?” you retort, standing back on one of your legs. your mind races with the memories of the past year—trust has gotten you burned more times than you can count.

“because . . . i’m not a monster,” he replies, dropping the friendly act. “i’m just tryin’ to survive. there’s safety in numbers.” he pauses, seemingly aware of your silence. “i’m drew, by the way,” he adds, but you don’t respond with your name, keeping that information to yourself as a protective measure.

you look him over, “i don’t need a partner,” you insist, the words feeling more like a defense than a conviction.

“maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softening, and he follows you into the small kitchen, “but you don’t have to do this alone. just . . . think about it. we could cover more ground, find better supplies.”

you shake your head. “i’ve done fine on my own,” you argue. drew’s gaze is steady, not giving up on you, and it annoys you more than it should. you take a step back, glancing toward the door.

“look, we could—”

“no,” you cut him off sharply, your patience thinning. “you don’t know me, and i don’t need deadweight slowing me down.”

he opens his mouth, likely to say something else, but you turn abruptly, stepping outside into the dim light of the fading day. as you walk toward your car, a small hatchback parked in the driveway, you can feel his presence behind you, like a shadow you can’t shake off.

“where are you going?” he calls, his voice trailing after you.

“my car,” you reply curtly, not bothering to look back. your mind races with the possibility of getting out of here, of leaving him behind. but then a small voice in the back of your head—one that you’ve trained yourself to ignore—reminds you that you can’t keep running forever. maybe it would be easier to team up, to have someone who knows how to navigate this decaying city.

“do you even have gas?” he asks, quickening his pace to catch up with you, his footsteps crunching on the gravel. “we should check—”

“i know my car,” you snap, opening the door and peering inside. a few old cans roll around on the floor, remnants of a past scavenging trip. it’s not much, but it’s yours. “i can handle myself.”

“i believe you,” he says. “but gas is running low everywhere. i could help with that, you know. if you let me.” he leans against the car, his baseball bat resting against his thigh. you can’t help but glance at it, reading his mannerisms.

no.

you slip into your car. your heart races as you grip the steering wheel, torn between the urge to drive away and the nagging feeling that you’re leaving someone behind. glancing in the rearview mirror, you catch a glimpse of drew as he watches you leave.

there’s a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but you shake it off, convincing yourself that he’ll manage. he’s resourceful, right? he’ll find a way to survive, just like he’s been this whole time anyway.

the engine hums to life, and you pull away, the tires crunching against the gravel. the sun dips lower in the sky, and you remind yourself that you can’t afford to be weak—not now, not in this world.

as you drive, the evening air grows cooler. it’s getting dark. then, ahead, you spot movement. a dog is darting between a cluster of empties and a man, barking wildly. your instincts kick in, and you slow down, eyes narrowing as you assess the situation.

the man chasing the dog doesn’t look like its owner. there’s a wildness in his eyes, a desperate edge to his movements, and the knife glinting in his hand sends a chill down your spine. this isn’t a rescue mission; it’s a hunt.

you stop the car just in time, your heart pounding in your ears as the empties turn their heads, slow and shambling, drawn to the sound of your engine. you curse under your breath, the instinct to protect the dog outweighing your better judgment. you can’t let them hurt it, and you can’t let the dog end up being that man’s dinner.

grabbing the machete from the passenger seat, you open the door and step out into the fading light. the dog continues to bark, but you move swiftly, cutting through the first two like butter, the blade slicing into their skulls. blood and decay spray against your skin, but you push the discomfort aside.

the dog’s barking intensifies, and you leap into action, striking down another empty. you feel the rush of your heart as you move, each swing of the machete is quick and precise, but the smell of rot fills the air, overpowering and sickening, making it hard to concentrate.

but you can’t stop now. you push forward, cutting through the ranks of the undead, clearing a path toward the man and the dog. you’re almost there when he notices you, eyes narrowing in irritation. he shifts his weight, ready for a fight.

he lunges toward you, and you barely dodge his first strike, the blade missing you by inches. you sidestep, retaliating with a swing of your machete. he blocks you, and you can feel your heart racing as you circle him, trying to find an opening.

he charges again, and you duck as his knife whips past your ear. you retaliate with a slash of the machete, catching him across the arm. he hisses in pain, dropping his knife, but he doesn’t back down, lunging forward with renewed fury.

you back away, but the ground shifts beneath you. you stumble, catching yourself just before you lose your balance, but he’s on you, driving you back toward the treeline. you slam your foot down, pushing against him, but he pushes harder, and you feel yourself going down.

you grapple, fists flying as you wrestle for control of your machete. his grip tightens around your wrist, and for a moment, panic surges within you. you can’t let him win—not now, not like this. with a sudden burst of strength, you twist your body, throwing your weight against him, and finally, finally, you manage to free your machete.

without hesitation, you drive it into his neck, feeling the sickening squelch of flesh giving way. he gasps, surprise flooding his features as you twist the blade, but before you can pull the weapon free, he collapses, taking you with him as you tumble down a hidden slope you hadn’t noticed, “shit!”

the world spins around you as you roll, slamming against the ground hard enough to rattle your bones. pain erupts in your head as you hit a rock. the last thing you see before darkness creeps in is the dog barking at the top of the hill, confused and agitated.

then everything fades away into silence.

you wake slowly, vision blurring as you try to make sense of the world around you. a dull ache pulses through your skull, and your body feels heavy, weak. blinking, you try to take in your surroundings.

a small fire crackles in front of you, the orange flames licking at the night air. it’s dark, and the sky above is blanketed in stars. confusion prickles at your mind—where are you?

you shift, but your head throbs with a vengeance, and your muscles feel like lead. beneath you, something hard gives slightly under the pressure: a backpack wrapped in a jacket to act like a pillow, just something to lay on. you hadn’t even registered it was there until now. as you move, the material rustles, and a small twitch of pain shoots through your neck.

god, your head hurts.

blinking again, you force your vision to focus. in your peripherals, you spot the dog from before. it’s lying nearby, tail flicking with calm awareness. oh—right. the dog. you were protecting it before everything went sideways, before that asshole with the knife and the tumble down the hill.

the hill.

the guy died.

he’s an empty.

panic grips you, and you spring up, or at least try to like the empty will attack you at any moment—your limbs are weak. your hands automatically search for your machete. first, your boot. nothing. then, the sheath that’s supposed to be strapped to your calf. but it isn’t there either.

panic claws at your chest, making it hard to breathe. your leg is wrapped in a makeshift bandage, clean but light, and you can’t feel a thing from it. what the hell happened?

your breath quickens, a desperate, uneven rhythm as you struggle to find your weapon around you, your fingers scrabbling at dirt and a few wood chips. where is it?

that’s when you hear him. “relax,” the voice says, dry. “you’re not exactly in fighting shape, anyway.”

your eyes snap to drew. he’s sitting a couple feet away, leaning against the base of a tree. there’s a bar clamped between his teeth, and he’s tearing off a piece with a mixture of irritation and exhaustion. he chews, watching you with that same exasperated look he wore back when you left him on the road.

the day hasn’t been kind to him, either; his face is lined with fatigue, and his clothes are more scuffed and dirty than before. the granola bar he’s eating must’ve come from some recent scavenging effort, something you don’t remember finding yourself. at least he hasn’t gone through your supplies—or maybe he has. you wouldn’t know.

you glance around the makeshift camp. your hatchback sits a tree or two away, its dirty, beat-up exterior looking just as you’d left it. a tiny sense of relief washes over you, though you’re still on edge.

the dog from earlier trots up to you, sniffing your leg before nuzzling your head. you watch it, feeling a rare warmth unfurl in your chest. it’s safe. you’d saved it. no more running, at least for now.

drew’s still sitting there, silent as he chews, gaze unfocused and distant, watching the dark woods. he hardly notices you looking at him until he turns slightly, catches your eye, and acts. biting down on the bar to hold it in place, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out another granola bar.

without a word, he tosses it over. it lands in front of you, and you stare at it, your lips pressing into a thin line. drew mutters something under his breath. “not much, but it’s what i could find this morning. for both of us.”

you don’t move. you’re too stubborn to accept his food or the silent offer of care. your hand flexes against the dirt, trying to push yourself to your feet. drew sees you trying to stand and quickly drops his bar, scrambling into a crouch. he moves forward with practiced precision, catching your wrists just as you’re about to collapse again. he holds your arms gently but firmly, pinning you back against the makeshift pillow.

“fuck—!” you yelp, frustration breaking free. rage sparks in your eyes, and you glare up at him, teeth clenched, breath coming in shallow gasps. drew is hunched over you, worry creasing his forehead, his gaze scanning your face and hair for any signs of new injuries or, god forbid, crawling insects.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” you spit out.

“what’s wrong with me?” he echoes, voice even but laced with exhaustion. “what the hell is wrong with you? you nearly killed yourself trying to play hero. maybe let someone help you for once.”

he lingers there, doesn’t pull back, still making sure you’re not about to hurt yourself—or him.

you grow quiet again, the fight draining from your body as drew watches you closely, his shoulders tense, but when it becomes clear you aren’t about to launch another desperate attempt to stand, he releases his grip on your arms and leans back. he picks up the granola bar you rejected, his movements resigned.

you sit up, slower this time, shooting him a glare as your hand moves cautiously to your leg. your fingertips brush the bandage. it’s secure but not overly tight. you feel the slightest prickle of guilt mixed with irritation as you look back at him.

drew meets your gaze, his jaw set. “when you fell,” he begins, voice low as he swallows, looking down at his granola bar, “you scraped your leg. nothin’ that’s gonna kill you, but it was bad enough to need wrapping. infection out here is just a different way to die. we can’t afford that.”

you catch the way he says ‘we,’ and your brow furrows. “we?” you echo, your voice colder than you mean it to be.

he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “yeah, we. as in, both of us. like it or not, we’re out here together now. you got hurt trying to save that dog, and—hell, i know you think you don’t need anyone, but . . .” he pauses, choosing his words carefully. “i couldn’t just leave you there. especially when that stiff was gonna come back to life while you were out.”

your eyes narrow, “i didn’t ask for you to find me. or to save me,” you snap, bitterness lacing your voice. the implication hangs in the air: you’d rather be on your own, even injured and vulnerable, than owe anything to him.

drew’s mouth twists. “yeah, well, maybe you didn’t. but i found you anyway, and that’s where we’re at. it’s not just about what either of us wants anymore; it’s about surviving. and as much as it annoys you, we have a better shot together than apart.”

you grit your teeth and your mind fights the idea, refusing to accept that this stranger—this person who insists on sticking around—might be right.

he studies you for a long moment, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. “you gonna tell me your name?” he asks, breaking the silence, his voice softer than before. for him, it’s been a full day since he first introduced himself, and yet he’s still left in the dark about who you are.

you clench your jaw, your lips pressing into a thin line as you consider staying quiet again.

his gaze is steady. “you think i’m a liability?” he asks you.

“i know you are,” you reply, tilting your head. “and if you keep bothering me, i might just throw you to the empties myself.” it comes out half-jokingly, but it’s a warning that carries weight—an unspoken understanding that you will do what it takes to protect yourself.

“empties—yikes. and that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” he replies, a lopsided smile breaking through his frustration.

“harsh is surviving another day in here,” you say. “i can handle myself, thank you very much. if you can’t keep up, then you’ll find yourself with the rest of them.” you nod around you, not an actual direction, indicating the danger that lurks just beyond the trees you can see from there.

he shifts his weight, contemplating your words. “i’m not asking you to babysit me. i can keep up,” he insists. “i just think we could help each other. you might be able to throw me to the stiffs, but what happens when there’s more than just one? or when you run out of supplies?”

“i’ll take my chances,” you respond. “i’ve gotten this far on my own. it’s worked for me.”

he sighs, clearly exasperated but not willing to give up. “you’re stubborn,” he states, but he can’t help but admit that he admires it about you. “but that won’t get you everywhere. sometimes you need to lean on someone else.”

you shake your head. “i said no. if you keep pushing, i swear—”

“you’ll throw me to the stiffs, yeah, i get it,” he interrupts, a wry smile playing on his lips. “but let me just say, it’s a hell of a lot easier when you’re not facing down a horde alone.”

you hesitate, contemplating his words. trust doesn’t come easy, not when you’ve seen what people are capable of when pushed to their limits, even though you can go for a companion out here.

“you don’t even know where to look for supplies,” you say, trying to sound tougher than you feel. you can almost hear your heart thudding in your chest, “i’ve been doing this for months. i can find what i need.”

“you act like you’re the only person in this universe who’s been practically living in a cemetery this last year! it’s getting harder out here,” he replies, his eyes serious now. “you’ll wish you had someone watching your back. you probably already have.”

you push your hands into your pockets, feeling the rough edges of the cans you collected earlier. the truth is, the thought of partnering up is enticing, but the fear of betrayal hangs heavy in the air.

you let out a reluctant breath, muttering, “y/n.”

he doesn’t miss the way you almost bite down on the name, as if even giving that small piece of yourself away is a battle. but drew’s expression softens, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. it’s not a grin of triumph but rather a look of someone who knows that even the smallest steps matter.

“y/n,” he repeats, testing the sound, as if committing it to memory. “nice to meet you, officially.”

he shifts slightly, his eyes searching yours. “look, just think about it. we’re stronger together. and if it helps, i promise i won’t let you down.”

you hesitate, glancing back at him. there’s a flicker of something—a potential alliance, perhaps—but the instinct to protect yourself runs deeper than any desire for companionship. finally, you turn your back on him, determined to get to your car.

“fine,” you say, voice steady but laced with reluctance. “but if you try anything—”

“you’ll be the first to know,” he cuts in quickly, a ghost of a smile appearing as the tension between you both shifts, just a fraction, toward something resembling partnership.

early tags: @iissza @lotuslovers @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @yootvi @skyslowalking @hoelesslyt @ariiwritess @beebeerockknot @0-tatiana-0

[silverthehedgehogharacteristics]

Silver the hedgehog traits

Strong Sense of Justice (Driven to right wrongs in the world, spends most of Sonic Forces wanting to “settle the score”)

Hopeful Optimist. Believes “there’s always hope as long as you don’t give up”(JP Sonic Forces) and has a “positive way of life that inspires people and makes them want to cheer him on”(Sonic Channel Silver Introduction Story)

Kindhearted (Altruist with a strong desire to help others. Empathetic to the state of the world around him for both the environment and people. Wants to “protect smiles” and make people happy because he grew up in a world where everyone lived in despair(Silver Intro Story))

Has an “honest, unpretentious and kind demeanor”(SC Staff Column Wallpaper) and an enchanting smile(His smile fills Elise with trust and joy during their performance in Otherworld Comedy Act 4 and someone he serves apple slices to can’t say no to his smile even though they're full already)

Relentless Determination. Doesn’t give up easily (got exact hedgehog apple slices after 40 tries)

Naive (Has a somewhat black and white perspective. Expects people to believe him when he says he’s from the future)

Forthright. Straightforward and Honest to a fault (He can’t lie) Wears his heart on his sleeve

Blunt and Rude (the rough side of being straightforward and honest) Quick to Insult people. He has no filter and will call you an idiot to your face if he thinks you’re an idiot. In Japanese he uses casual/informal impressions “Ore”(I) and “Anta”(You)(instead of the polite “Anata”), also points at people he talks to(rude gesture) and crosses his legs while sitting which is roughly the Japanese equivalent to putting your feet on a table. Silver is informal overall in contrast to his polite mannered inspiration Future Trunks. Silver’s rudeness is opposed to Eggman Nega’s over politeness

Focused. Goal Focused. (even during things like competitions. He says the Jade Ghost Wisp is the only item he likes because it let’s him disappear and focus on racing in the Team Vector interview) Straight-To-The-Point Mindset (seen throughout Sonic Forces)

Proactive

Not trusting. (Hounded Dodon Pa throughout TSR, was questioning Mephiles’ mission even as he and Blaze reaffirmed killing Sonic being the only option, took time to work with others in the Rivals series)

Hot-blooded, High-Spirited/Passionate (can get loud and carried away when riled up), Puts his all into what he gets invested in(I’m giving this everything I’ve got!), feels things strongly

Emotionally Immature (unregulated/unfiltered unlike the repressed Blaze). Hot Temper/Easily Angered  (like Blaze) fumes at Jet’s provocations in the 2012 Olympic Games

Rash and Reckless (Can deal with things too head-on or take on everything himself because of the strength of his feelings(Silver intro story) which can make him impulsive) Can be slowed down by doubt and indecision however

Brash, Abrasive and Juvenile (How he’s young and immature)

High Aggression (He can be feral). Determined Expressions and Aggressive Body Language even during competitions or tasks he's focused on. Needs to be held back at times (2012 Olympics, how his stoic partners help him). Often makes fists, punches things when he’s frustrated and gets up with his fists in Sonic Forces

Headstrong. Confrontational (Doesn’t take kindly to being treated like an amateur in Otherworld Comedy Act 8)

Competitive (Almost fights Blaze over who could deal with Orbot and Cubot on their own in Colors DS)

Confident in himself. Has a smug attitude about his abilities and trains regularly (said to make steady efforts in apple cutting wallpaper story, Talks about training a lot in Olympic Games)

Fierce Warrior (fought and struggled for most of his life in dangerous disaster/monster filled environments, almost as strong as Shadow, enjoys brawling, has no regard for pain, immediate fight response when surprised in Generations) Silver’s backstory is about him constantly fighting against Iblis, Iblis monsters and disasters like Flame Tornadoes for most of his life to bring peace to the world, due to this he is deeply committed to and appreciative of peace and prosperity but also has a pretty violent personality because of it

Can be ruthless towards his goals (has robbed, sneaked and killed before), Can “sometimes calls forth great power without mercy”(Silver Intro story). Silver inherits the pragmatic and somewhat ruthless “get-it-done” mentality from Future Trunks

Extremely Brave (No regard for his own safety. Fight response to danger) Undeterred by being kicked in the head by Shadow or smashed across the street by Sonic in Generations. Endures "pain beyond description” caused by his powers in the Silver intro story

Values bravery/directness and dislikes cowardice/cowardly tactics (Sonic Rivals 1+2, Team Vector Nintendo Dream interview)

Very Perceptive and Intuitive (possibly psychic intuition) has been a successful detective and solved problems by thinking in all his major game roles. Sees through Nega’s disguises by noticing small details

Blaze’s equal partner. Skilled competent person that can perform multiple different jobs including being a delivery boy, a butler and a celebrity genius skating coach. Other skills shown in 06 Town Missions include expert flying, sharpshooting (among the best in Soleanna’s 1500 year history), solving mysteries and being able to beat large hordes of enemies (His life in the 06 future+Town Missions 5,9,10,13,16 and 18)

A reliable friend that's protective of the people he cares about, stands up for others(Mario & Sonic 2020) and enjoys the peace he protects by engaging in cheerful activities (Silver Intro story)

Lives in Good Future Soleanna post 06(He was always intended to live there as that was the original reason he was going to be named Venice. Also inferred in his Sonic Channel intro story and Otherworld Comedy Act 4). Thinks things in Sonic’s time are dated (sometimes, in Colors DS and Rivals)

Introspective and Sentimental (Says his favorite moment in racing is seeing everyone come together and giving their all to a single objective)

Enjoys sightseeing, competitions and going on journeys(Olympic Games, Sonic Pict). Enjoys all the cheerful activities Soleanna has to offer

Has a mischievous side (Commemorative Illustration Series)

Might have a weakness for small cute things. (He plays with the Chao in Sonic Rivals 2 and a Nintendo magazine comic)

Often shown to like apples/apple flavored foods (Ate apple flavored calorie bars in the 06 Future according to Sonic Pict art)

Breathlessly enjoys seeing Smiles and Beautiful Scenery (World Peace, the reason there’s a maple leaf on his head) Because of his empathy he is sad to see these things destroyed but is also vicious to anything that threatens them. His feeling reflect the state of the world around him

Blue Skies and people living in prosperity make him feel at peace (in contrast to the apocalyptic devastation and suffering he’s experienced)

Taurus(Nintendo Magazine JP Interview) Enhancer-Emitter type. Enhancer being someone that is determined and simple, never lies, hides almost nothing, is straightforward in actions and thinking, whose words and actions are often dominated by their feelings and is very focused on their goals, and Emitter being someone that is impatient, not detail-oriented and quick to react in a volatile manner but can also calm down and forget easier

Polar opposite of Eggman Nega (Blaze’s best friend, Pure, Young, Honest, Rude, Empathetic, Impulsive/Reckless, Naive, Practical/Focused, Altruistic, desiring Peace and Happiness and being willing to die to protect the world in contrast to Eggman Nega being Blaze’s arch enemy, Twisted, Old, Deceitful, Polite, Psychopathic, Calculating, Sophisticated, Petty, Egoistic, desiring Chaos and Destruction and being willing to die to destroy the world)

Sources: English AND Japanese versions Sonic 06, Sonic Rivals 1 & 2, Sonic Colors DS, Sonic Generations, Sonic Forces, Team Sonic Racing, Mario & Sonic at the 2012, 2016 and 2020 Olympic Games, Sonic Channel Stories, Sonic Pict art, Nintendo Dream Magazine articles with Sonic Team input, Sonic Team developer interviews and the Japanese cultural context behind Silver’s character

[danganronpa-rejuvenation]

It's Attack #1, baby! Hilariously enough, the three characters attacked were posted in what I'd like to call "eras", so the first few pieces of art I'll show will only be consisting of one character. And to start off, that's Misao!

This piece is by @tsunanami17, who I'm super grateful for giving me this super-cute full-body art of Misao, which just-so-happened to be a convenient wallpaper size for my tablet! They're probably best known for their upcoming fangan Driven Betrayal, but they also have several Cyberpunk 2077 OCs and an in-production magical girl series called "Heart Guardians". Check out their Art Fight profile here if you get the chance!

[cboffshore]

Power nap, power trip, whatever - you've got a reputation to uphold. This is "Fury of the Storm."

Wojira was a LOT of fun, and even though she was destructive as hell... I kind of miss her, you know?

In my first version of the Wojira design, even with my limited fashion skills, I actually produced something semi-decent that I'm willing to share for comparison's sake:

Look at that! A whole three different brushes! All in all, I actually really liked this rendition; my first attempt at a remaster was just going to be this, but Better (TM).

And then I sat down at my drawing tablet (which is just a touchscreen Chromebook that can do a deep backbend) and... I couldn't. I resketched the outline on my croquis and my heart simply wasn't in it. So I put her to sleep for about twenty seconds and then reawakened her by slotting in the Amulet of Panic (which doesn't have a dragon head on it - it's got a carving of me frantically scribbling). Luckily, it didn't take a few hundred trials, and I landed on something that kept some of what I originally set out to do and introduced neat new twists.

Overall vibes: The original was supposed to be very supervillainy, which is obvious in terms of structure: sleek train, athletic boots, dark colors, oversized armor. In theory, this was solid, but I realized I'd approached it all wrong. Wojira is (was?) a literal origin story. Why did I try to assign this ancient mythological sea goddess a modern supervillain look? She's a classic! This time, I decided to lean into that with a Greco-Roman war goddess vibe: draped fabric and gladiator-esque boots. Hack off the layered train and it's practically battlefield-ready.

Speaking of layered fabric: Wojira is, honestly, slightly funny (remember the puppy head tilt when Jay sidetracks her?); there's something ironically very human about her. With that in mind, I gave a little thought to her circumstances when wrinkling the dress. Imagine that you're a goddess who, after being defeated in battle, is sent to a millennia-long sleep. After a bunch of scientific poking and prodding, you're forcibly woken up, tased repeatedly, and driven around like an oversized golf cart. Of course you're not going to look 100%! You're going to be rumpled by default.

While we're on the topic of looking messy: I don't generally go for wear-and-tear in my designs unless I think it enhances the work (looking at you, Nelson and Antonia). "Fury of the Storm" is a rare exception, and the damage appears in the cloak in the form of a scorched neon texture along the edges. This is a very literal interpretation of her wings, which I think are incredibly cool.

Headdress, clasps, and torso: not much to this beyond that I like Wojira's horns so much that I wanted to put extra ones on. The headdress is pretty straightforward - amulets, lightning circlet, chain veil to symbolize Kalmaar's control. The torso armor just exists to repeat that motif and lend extra mythological vibes to the whole look. While we're talking about Kalmaar, the clasps holding up the dress and pinning the cloak in place are directly traced from the arrow elements I used in the KPS and act as further representation of his hold over her. Once removed, the entire dress falls apart - just like his plans once his trident snapped.

Only one more to go in the series! For the few of you who have followed along, my deepest thanks - I hope the finale piece lives up to whatever expectations you have. I hope they're good ones! In the meantime, your promised bonus wallpaper. I really like this one, actually - I don't do a lot of very dark backdrops, so this was a fun challenge.

Unfortunately, it also looks like one of those paper cups from the nineties. But, like, an evil version. Put your Sprite in one of these and it'll just leak onto the floor.

[gadgetrevive]

Samsung's Bold Claim: Can the Galaxy Z Fold 6 Reclaim the Throne?Samsung has long been a dominant force in the foldable phone market, but recent competition from Huawei has stirred the waters. The burning question on everyone's mind is whether the Galaxy Z Fold 6 and its sibling, the Flip 6, with their advanced AI features, can help Samsung reclaim its throne. Samsung Mobile's CEO seems optimistic, predicting a 10% increase in sales compared to their predecessors. Let's delve into what makes the Galaxy Z Fold 6 special and whether it can truly help Samsung regain its lead.Samsung's Optimism and Market StrategyThe CEO of Samsung Mobile, in a recent interview with a local publication following the Unpacked event, expressed confidence that the Z Fold 6 and Flip 6 will boost sales by 10%. This optimism stems from the anticipated enhancements and refinements in these new models. Samsung sold around 12 million units of the Z Fold 5 and Flip 5. A 10% increase translates to an additional 1.2 million units, a promising sign for Samsung, especially after last year's dip in market share.Design and Build QualityNew Rubber LiningOne of the less-discussed but significant changes in the Galaxy Z Fold 6 is the switch from a glossy to a matte finish for the rubber lining between the frame and the screen. This seemingly minor tweak can make a big difference in everyday use. The matte finish not only enhances grip but also reduces fingerprints, keeping the device looking cleaner for longer periods.Concentric Rings Around Camera LensesAnother notable design element is the concentric rings around each camera lens. While these rings add a touch of style, they are quite sharp, to the point where running your fingers over them might leave a mark. This design choice might divide opinions, but it undeniably gives the phone a unique look.Always-On Display WallpaperThe Z Fold 6 now supports always-on display wallpapers, a feature that was previously exclusive to the S24 Ultra. This addition allows users to customize their screens even when the phone is locked, adding a layer of personalization that many users will appreciate.The Quest for ThinnessOn the other side of the foldable phone market, Honor has been making waves with its Magic V2, a foldable that is an impressive 9.9mm thick compared to the Z Fold 6's 12.1mm. Honor's marketing has been bold, even mocking Samsung's foldable. While the Magic V2's thinness is indeed commendable, it is essential to remember that specs are just one piece of the puzzle.Durability and Software QualityDurabilityWhen it comes to foldable phones, durability is crucial. The Z Fold series has consistently demonstrated superior build quality and robustness. Samsung's rigorous testing processes ensure that each device can withstand the rigors of daily use.Software QualitySamsung's foldables are also known for their exceptional software, optimized specifically for the unique form factor of foldable devices. The competition still lags in this regard. Samsung's commitment to rolling out regular updates keeps their devices feeling fresh and up-to-date for years, ensuring a long-term reliable user experience.AI Features: A Game Changer?Samsung has packed the Galaxy Z Fold 6 with several AI-driven features, hoping to set it apart from the competition. These include chat translation, interpreter mode, live call translation, and Google's new Circle the Search. While these features are impressive, they might not be compelling enough on their own to justify an upgrade for some users.Sketch to ImageOne particularly intriguing AI feature is Sketch to Image. This allows users to draw on a photo or a blank note and generate an image from the sketch using AI. It's a fun and impressive tool that showcases the potential of AI in everyday use, even if it's not something that will be used daily by everyone.Pre-Order Offers and DiscountsSamsung is offering a variety of pre-order incentives for the Galaxy Z Fold 6. There's a $100 discount available today only, which drops to $50 starting tomorrow until the pre-order window closes.

Additional perks include a free storage upgrade, up to $1,200 in trade-in discounts, a free Samsung Care+ plan, and several bundle offers. These incentives make it an excellent time to consider purchasing the Z Fold 6.The Foldable ExperienceAt the end of the day, the Galaxy Z Fold 6 might not be the absolute king in any single category, but it offers a well-rounded experience that is hard to beat. Foldability is not just about having the best specs; it's about the total experience. Samsung has consistently delivered on this front, with a combination of great hardware, software, and long-term support.Conclusion: Should You Buy the Galaxy Z Fold 6?The Galaxy Z Fold 6 represents a series of refinements over its predecessor. If you're someone who scrutinizes every feature under a magnifying glass, you might find it challenging to justify the upgrade. However, if you're new to foldables or have been eyeing the Fold series for a while, now is an excellent time to jump in.For those looking for reliable phone repair services, Gadget Kings PRS is your best bet. They offer top-notch repair services to keep your devices in perfect condition. Visit Gadget Kings PRS for more information.Stay tuned for my long-term review of the Galaxy Z Fold 6, where I'll dive deeper into its performance, battery life, and overall usability over an extended period. The foldable phone market is evolving rapidly, and Samsung's latest offering is a testament to their commitment to innovation and excellence.

[digitalcarat]

“The Latest Buzz: Samsung Galaxy S24 – Unveiling News, Leaks, Expected Price, and Release Date"

📱✨ Exciting News! 🚀 Samsung's Galaxy S24 series is making waves in 2024! 🌟 Unveiling on January 17th - mark your calendars! 🗓️ Get ready for stunning design changes, vibrant colors, and a powerhouse of features. 🌈

🔄 Evolutionary Design: Expect a sleek, boxy design inspired by Apple, and a flat panel on the Galaxy S24 Ultra. Colors galore – from Titanium to Amber Yellow!

📊 Display Revolution: Galaxy S24 Ultra rocks a 6.8" Dynamic AMOLED with 1440p resolution - a visual feast with 2,500 nits brightness! 🌞 S24 Plus steps up with a pixel-dense QHD display.

⚙️ Power Within: Powered by Snapdragon 8 Gen 3, offering a seamless experience. Up to 12GB RAM, 1TB storage - Your pocket-sized powerhouse!

🔄 Software Magic: One UI 6/6.1 based on Android 14 for a super-smooth interface. Expect AI enhancements and exciting new features! 🚀

📸 Camera Marvel: The Galaxy S24 Ultra boasts a whopping 200MP main camera! 🤯 Capture moments like never before with AI-driven tools and camera upgrades. 📷✨

💡 AI Awesomeness: Samsung steps up its AI game with wallpaper engine, Magic Editor-like tools, and Live Translate Call!

🌐 Global Release: The countdown is on! Expected release shortly after the grand reveal. Brace yourselves for a smartphone revolution!

Stay tuned for the future of mobile technology - the Galaxy S24 is set to redefine smartphone excellence! 📱 #SamsungGalaxyS24 #FutureIsHere #TechRevolution

[wallpaperfrog]

Wallpaper Frog: Movie Wallpapers, TV Series Wallpapers

Find high quality movie wallpapers, tv series wallpapers. 20M+ movie photos, TV show posters, backgrounds to download in HD, 4K and 8K resolution Website: https://wallpaperfrog.com

https://www.youtube.com/@WallpaperFrog/about https://twitter.com/wallpaperfrog https://www.pinterest.com/wallpaperfrog/ https://www.flickr.com/people/197912101@N02/

https://peatix.com/user/16462910/view

https://peatix.com/user/16462910/view

[idrellegames]

How are you able to plot/plan/outline your if game?

I'm a pantser but I've been trying to plan out my own if so I don't get off track or suddenly lose motivation to write but I can't seem to focus on it. My mind always go blank when trying to outline it.

Like I have the main gist of what I want to write about I just have trouble with what to actually put in it, I guess 😅

Long-form narratives are really difficult to write if you don’t have an outline. You’ve probably seen that in action—we can all probably name a book series or TV show where it feels like the writers/showrunners were making things up as they go along, with no concrete plan for the ending. Without some kind of plan, long-form fiction can quickly become an incohesive mess. When you throw non-linearity into it, it gets even more complex.

Interactive fiction is a bit of a beast. Depending on how complex your choices are and how much continuity you have to track, the size of your project can double or triple very quickly. It’s crucial to have some kind of plan; otherwise, you’re going to get overwhelmed by variations and branches. Either you’ll end up in a position where there is too much content for one person to write to account for all the variations, or you’ll back yourself into a corner where you’ve completely lost the ability to proceed forwards.

If you’re struggling with outlining, don’t try to tackle everything at once. You don’t need to create a full play-by-play outline of your game right at the beginning. Start broad, then narrow things down as needed.

I’m a plotter. I love making outlines. But even I can’t sit down and figure everything out in one session. Sometimes I need time to sit with an idea for a while before I stumble across its best version. Sometimes I won’t know what I need from a section of the story until I’m writing it.

I sometimes joke that I am in a constant state of outlining—because I am. I like to envision an IF game’s acts, chapters, scenes, and story beats as the building blocks of a house. I can’t know what furniture will be in the rooms or what wallpaper will be on the walls if I don’t even have a blueprint.

Step 1: Beat Chart

The first outline I make is a beat chart. The beat chart is the initial guide to the whole game. I use it to map out the game’s scope in the broadest sense possible and to find the major story beats. These are linear plot points or bottlenecks—the cornerstones of every playthrough that cannot be changed**.

Where does the game start?

What is the driving force behind the main action?

What complications prevent the action from being resolved?

How does the action resolve and how goes the game end?

**depending on how choice-heavy your game is, #4 may have multiple answers.

The beat chart is extremely important because it helps to determine the scope of the game. I like epic fantasy, so the scope of my game ended up being quite large, but IF doesn't need to be complicated and long with thousands of branching paths. During this process, I’ll use the beat chart to determine how many acts my game needs and how many chapters will be in each act. It will be different for every developer (a three or four chapter game probably does not need act breaks).

You initial beat chart doesn’t need to be complicated. If you have a lot of ideas or a general gist of what you want, use it to turn those ideas into plot points. Find your game’s throughline. What is the main “thing” that connects all of your ideas and in what order? Your throughline doesn’t have to be plot-based, it could be emotional or character-driven. It depends on the genre and type of story you want to create.

If you’re struggling to decide what goes into your beat chart, then think about this:

What draws you to this story? What is the thing that excites you the most?

How does your setting affect the characters?

How do you characters affect the setting?

Step 2: Act Breakdowns

When the beat chart is finished, I’ll do a secondary break-down that acts as an overview of each act. I treat the act overviews in a similar way to the full game break down, as if each act is a game unto itself. I’ll figure out the throughline of the act (the main goal, its complications and how it resolves) and break it down in much more detail that I did on my full game beat chart.

I’ll note any major bottlenecks (areas that the player will always encounter, regardless of their choices). Bottlenecks or choke points are really important to keep your non-linear story on track. Unless you’re making a very short game, if you don’t have bottlenecks and railroad the player at certain points, your variations will grow exponentially until you literally cannot write that much content anymore. Long-form IF needs bottlenecks.

I will also note any major scenes that are choice-dependent and how they shift depending on the player’s continuity.

How detailed I get will depend on which act I’m working on. Since I’m currently developing Act 1 of my game, its outline is much more in-depth than my outlines for Acts 2 and 3.

Step 3: Chapter Breakdowns

I break my outline down even further and into even greater detail when I start writing a chapter. I don’t do these ahead of time—any ideas or details I think of while I’m working on other areas of the game will be noted and added to my act outline. My chapter outlines consist of the chapter’s individual throughline and its goals, complications, and consequences for different actions. I only do my chapter outlines when I’m about to start writing a specific chapter. This lets me take any deviations to the Act outline/game beat chart into account and make necessary adjustments.

Step 4: Even More Breakdowns!

Sometimes when I’m writing, I’ll do more detailed breakdowns of the scene I’m currently working on. This is one of my strategies for getting over writer’s block. If I’m stuck, it’s usually because I don’t know how to proceed. Writing down the next sequence of events, step-by-step, helps me get unstuck. I don’t need to think about how things happen anymore, I can just focus on writing them.

Final Thoughts

I don’t do all of this at once. I didn’t do my beat chart, my Act 1 outline, and my Chapter 1 outline all in one day. Or week. Or even month. I did them when I needed to, with lots of writing or worldbuilding happening in-between.

I think one of the things that stresses people out about outlines is the idea that your outline needs to be a fool-proof tool that knows everything about your story right away. It’s not. If you don’t know how you get from Point A to Point B right away, that’s fine—you might find it along the way. But you should know where you’re going. It’s hard to make a cohesive story if you don’t know the ending.

Outlines are flexible. If you put something in an outline, you can take it out later. Adjust and adapt as you write. An outline is a roadmap, one that can be revised multiple times as your story grows. I learn a lot about my story, world, and characters by writing them. This is why I’m in a constant state of outline revision. Ideas change and take different forms because I discover things along the way. While I always know where I’m going, sometimes I need to revise the exact path I take.

I hope that helps! Good luck with your game. 💕

[lixiesbakery]

Dating Hwang Hyunjin would include...

Masterlist - Information - Dating Series

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 350+

- Hwang Hyunjin is someone who prefers to test the waters when he realizes his feelings for you. 

- He’ll be extra observant, going as far to ask his members if they’d overheard you say anything about him. 

- The whole group is over his constant badgering; so they encourage him to just talk it out with you. What’s the worst that can happen? And so he takes their advice, braving his anxiety about asking you out.

- He is the softest boyfriend; so kind and gentle. You’ll always feel loved, it’s one of his top priorities. There’s no lack of being told just how beautiful he finds you, or how proud he is of you for your accomplishments. 

- On the flip side, you too keep a close eye on him, making sure to often ask how he’s feeling. You know he has the tendency to overthink so you try your best to reassure that the ideas he has of himself sometimes just aren’t true. 

- You both enjoy taking time out to go for a walk in a newly discovered park or trail with kkami. It’s a peaceful activity that gives you both room to talk, or just walk in silence if that’s what you both desire in that moment. 

- Next to walks in nature, I feel like he’d also love to go out for late night adventures with you, kkami tagging along if he’s at home. There’s something so intimate in feeling like you two are the only ones out then and there. 

- Lots of photos! He likes taking pictures as keepsakes of the time he spends with you; his wallpaper is a picture of you and kkami in this large stretch of open field, kkami curiously sniffling at a bright yellow flower while you flash the camera a wide grin.

- I feel like he would love it if his S/O had the same mentality as he does; someone who puts their all into the things they love. It’s a great motivator for him to have someone as equally driven as he is. 

[silverthehedgehogharacteristics]

Silver Characteristics Part 1

Justice -  Driven by a strong Sense of Justice. Very confrontational because of this, will take on anyone to right wrongs or help his friends. Has zero tolerance for injustices and things like breaking promises. Seeks to settle scores(Sonic Forces) and get back for those that have been wronged(or himself if you mess with him). Sometimes grapples with doing the right thing. His wish is to maintain peace, not to eradicate evil(Sonic & Silver).

Hope & Optimism/Positivity - Embodies hope and does not give into despair no matter the circumstances(fought through the Iblis future in the hopes of seeing a blue sky). Believes “There’s always hope as long as you don’t give up”(JP Sonic Forces quote). Inspires hope in others in the darkest moments(Sonic 06 last episode, Forces, helping Elise through her anxiety in Otherworld Comedy). Has an “Honest, unpretentious and kind demeanor”(Sonic Channel Staff Column Wallpaper) and an Enchanting Smile(His smile fills Elise with trust and joy during their performance in Otherworld Comedy and a recipient he serves apple slices to can’t say no to his smile even though they're full already in Wallpaper Comedy 2022). “His way of life inspires people and makes them want to watch over him and cheer him on forever”(Sonic & Silver).

Kind - Is an Altruist with a strong desire to help others. His kindness is the only thing that can make him drop his mission as he can’t say no to a sad face and will stop to help those in need(Amy in 06, Soleanna Post Office in Sonic Pict). Actively goes out and does things like serve apple slices, deliver Christmas presents, play holiday mascots and engage in Cheerful Activities(Sonic & Silver). Wants to become a hero because it means being someone that can ‘protect smiles’, wants to “protect smiles” and make people happy because he grew up in a world where everyone lived in despair(Sonic & Silver).

Peace - Fights for World Peace. Empathetic to the world around him so his feelings reflect the state of the environment. Destroyed environments sadden and upset him while Beautiful Scenery and places with people prospering/living happily leave him breathless(in contrast to the apocalyptic suffering, darkness and devastation he’s experienced). Blue Skies make him feel at peace and people’s Smiles make him smile. These things are very important to him and he is vicious to anything that threatens them. Hs head quills are in the shape of a Japanese Red Maple Leaf which represents peace and prosperity.

Determination - Determined to protect peace. Arguably the most determined character. Doesn’t give up easily(got exact hedgehog apple slices after 40 tries) no matter how badly he’s hurt or how hopeless the situation. Has no regard for pain/massive pain tolerance(Kept fighting after being kicked in the head by Shadow and skipped across the street like a rock by Sonic in Generations, endures "pain beyond description” caused by his powers in Sonic & Silver).

Forthright - Straightforward and Honest to a fault, he cannot tell a lie(though he can change the subject). Is direct, blunt and wears his heart on his sleeve. Like his namesake he is said to have purity(Sonic & Silver).

Brash - Described as “Young and Immature” by his creator Shun Nakamura. So straightforward and honest that he’s Rude and Blunt. He has no filter and will call you an idiot to your face if he thinks you’re an idiot. So direct that he often ignores manners and social customs(even Sonic says that he has an attitude in Rivals). Abrasive and quick to insult enemies and competition. Prone to sarcastic remarks(“What am I doing?” when traveling with Amy in 06, "They think THAT is what the future is like? Please." in Colors DS). Headstrong(Doesn’t take kindly to being treated like an amateur in Otherworld Comedy Act 8). Has a Mischievous Side(Commemorative Illustration Series). In Japanese he uses informal/rude impressions “Ore”(I) and “Anta”(You)(instead of the polite “Anata”), points directly at people as he talks to them(confrontational rude gesture) and crosses his legs while sitting(roughly the Japanese equivalent to putting your feet on a table). Has a Henery Hawk-like personality, especially in the Rivals games(He has almost everything in common with that character) Informal overall in contrast to the polite mannered Future Trunks.

Naive - Has a Black and White mindset/Innocent in his ideals. Expects people to believe him when he says he’s from the future or explains outlandish situations just because he knows them to be true. Can be unfamiliar with things in the past. Can sometimes take things literally(has an angry “What’s so funny?” attitude when he doesn’t understand things).

Sentimental - Appreciates little things and finds great beauty in nature and simple parts of the world that most people take for granted(Comments on the beauty of a beach in TSR). This side of him ties into his peace themes due to his ability to appreciate beauty and serenity(also what a maple leaf represents) in various forms. Enjoys sightseeing and going on journeys(Colors DS, Olympic Games, Sonic Pict) because of this. Can be Introspective/contemplative(sits paused on his mission to destroy the Iblis Trigger in 06, thinks heavily about his worries about Dodon Pa in TSR). Says his favorite moment in racing is “seeing everyone come together and giving their all for a single objective”(Team Vector Interview).

Emotional - High-Spirited and Hot-blooded. Emotionally immature and unregulated. Feels joy and rage loudly but sadness and contemplation quietly(can get loud and carried away when riled up). Puts his all into what he gets invested in(I’m giving this everything I’ve got!). Easily angered/has a temper like Blaze(he’ll twist you if you mess with him). Needs to be calmed down/held back at times(Olympic Games). Dead quiet when contemplating his dilemma and the loss of Blaze in 06 or thinking about his anxious feelings in TSR. Can deal with things too head-on or take on everything himself because of the strength of his feelings(Sonic & Silver) which can make him Impulsive and Reckless. Is passionate and controlled by his emotions while Sonic and Shadow are calm and cool.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Cat Got Your Tongue

Chapter One

Master List /  Series Master List

A/N: This series is set in the same world as Bare In The Woods (a one-shot were-bear Henry Cavill story). This series will be cross posted between Tumblr and AO3. As Tumblr has no way of preventing minors from reading the smutty bits (and there will be smutty bits) those chapters will only be available on AO3.

My archive work is available to Register Users Only. This means Yes, You Must Have An Account with Archive to read my work. If you'd like more information on how to acquire your Free archive account, please see this post. All you need is an email address to sign up. That's it. Just do it people.

Read on AO3 here!

Summary: The community of Salvation holds many secrets, not the least of which is the diversity of were-folk who call it home. Ember Porosha is one resident for who Salvation isn't just the town's name but her saving grace. After outrunning her past, she's resigned herself to playing surrogate to everyone else's children and never having her own. A mate was not in her future, and she was learning to live with that. Until he walked through the door of The Last Book and Brew.

Thomas Loki Hiddleston wasn't going to be in town long. Here for the naming of Henry and his wife's baby girl and presentation to the weres of Salvation, he planned only to stay a few days. A small town like this could never offer him the outlet he needed for his cat's dark desires, nor could he hide what he was for long. His nature would eventually need an outlet and Salvation held nothing for him. Or so he thought. One wiff of Ember's unique scent and he knew he'd found a long thought lost to him future.

But when she doesn't fall at his feet, and proves more stubborn than a mule, can he resit taking her in hand long enough to win her heart? Or will the bond between true mates not be enough to tame this wild hellcat.

Series warnings: Were-Creatures, Cats, Bears, Smut, Shameless Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Dom/sub, Blood, Blood Kink, this one could (will) get kinky

***

When the sleek black car drove through town, Ember gave it only a passing glance. It was odd, sure, but anyone who drove a Jag was so far out of her league they were playing on a different ball diamond altogether. The car screamed money, something she cared little about.

Sure she needed it, everyone did, but Ember was content with what she had, and in this sleepy town cradled lovingly between the mountains, she didn't need much. She had her sweet yellow cottage, her bookstore, and a community of friends when she desired company. And now, with the snow falling thick on the ground, she would have another singular pleasure. 

Ember's little snow leopard heart leapt at the thought of running through the high passes and sliding down the long slopes, her wide paws keeping her above the snowpack instead of sinking in while her thick coat kept out the cold. It had been too long since she'd last played in her were form, and was looking forward to going out to the ranger station in a few days to visit with Henry, his wife, and their little cub. 

The sweet baby girl already had Henry wrapped firmly around her finger, and Ember couldn't help but laugh at the goofy smile that perpetually graced his face when he looked at his family. 

If a pang of jealousy jabbed her heart, Ember didn't let it show. She'd resigned herself to a lonely life a long time ago. 

The bell over the door of her little shop gave a merry jingle, and she placed the last of the new James Patterson novels on the shelf before dusting off her hands and stepping out from behind the bookshelves to smile at Lorraine, the town's most gossipy raven.

If she was fluttering into The Last Book and Brew, then Ember was about to hear an earful.

***

Tom swept into the charming inn and forced himself to smile at the woman behind the desk. He'd spent a miserable six hours on the road, driven through a blizzard, and killed his cellphone when he'd dropped it in an icy puddle two hours prior as he'd filled the car with petrol. But there was no alternate way to get to Salvation, buried deep in the mountains, except to drive. 

And Salvation was where he needed to be. 

His old friend, Henry, was celebrating the birth of his first cub, and Tom dropped everything to come and see the little darling Henry was blessed with. And to meet the woman who'd tamed the giant bear after all this time. Sadly, he'd been unable to attend their wedding, but he refused to miss the welcoming of a new were into the community, whether he belonged to the Salvation clan or not.

That didn't mean he wouldn't give Hen the gears for choosing to live in some backwater nowhere even if it was beautiful here. 

Still, Tom preferred the city for its indulgences and entertainments. No, he couldn't fall on all fours and run through the concrete jungle he called home, but he'd long come to terms with his destiny. It wasn't as if there was a panther out there waiting to run under the moonlight with him. 

He was going to be a lone cat, a bachelor. He'd resigned himself to it, for no matter what anyone said, no one - were or human - had ever submitted wholly to his dark desires and chosen to stay in his possession afterward. They were all far too soft for his liking, ending in no more than a one-and-done.

At least, he could stalk the clubs and play with those unaware of his darkest needs and wants in the city. Tom was not a Dom to be denied, and those who gave in to the allure of his pretty face soon learned all about the devil underneath his Gucci suit.

"Hello, darling," he purred to the desk clerk. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, checking in. I believe I have a reservation."

She blushed to the roots of her hair, sputtered, and nodded. "Of-of course, sir. If-if you'll sign a few things and put your card on file, I can get you situated on your back- In your room!" she corrected, staring at her hands. 

Tom couldn't hide his smile, but he swallowed his laughter. It was always the same. The sweet little birds flocked to him, but they had no idea a predator was stalking them.

He went through the incidentals, signed her documents, collected his key and listened intently when she told him about the room, breakfast, the restaurant, spa, and pool. His ears perked up at the last. He did enjoy a refreshing swim. 

"And if you fancy something other than regular coffee or black tea, there is The Last Book and Brew just down the street. Ember makes the best scones and tea."

"Does she now?" he murmured, eyeing Irene - her name on a little plaque pinned to her chest - as she handed him back his credit card. "Perhaps I'll check in on it. A cuppa does sound delightful." The drive had been long, and tea might be just the pick-up he needed before calling round to Henry's. 

He nodded to Irene and headed for the stairs instead of the elevator. Three floors were nothing for his long legs, the exertion minimal, as he hiked to the third floor and down to the end where he fit the old-fashioned key into the antique lock and pushed open the door. 

Tom was pleasantly surprised to find a mixture of well-kept antiques and modern furnishings decorating the space. While the bed and mattress were new and covered with clean, white duvet and sheets, the dresser - upon which sat a television - was a heavy mahogany buffet with curved Queen Anne legs. The bathroom was a revolution of modern plumbing though a cast iron tub stood on clawed feet beside a glass shower big enough for two. Gilt framed mirrors hung above dual vanities into which water poured from brushed gold fixtures. 

It was all very romantic with its old-world charm though the inn was showing its age. Wallpaper lifted at the edges, millwork was chipped and rubbed in places, and a few of the lovely old tiles on the floor in the bathroom were cracked. But with the likely age of the building, it wasn't so surprising. If the gorgeous stone building weren't at minimum a century, he would eat his scarf. 

She could be an absolute beauty with effort and enough money. Yes, he would be comfortable here for a time. The Salvation Inn would suit him.

Tom made his way to the windows that looked out on Salvation's main street. The road was a mess of dirty snow, sanded and salted for ease of travel, but the thick white flakes floating down turned the quaint replica gas street lights into white-topped monuments of winter. Storefronts glowed with welcoming light, still running their Autumn displays, creeping toward American Thanksgiving. The commercialization of Christmas had yet to appear, giving everything a cheerful, colourful cast he found pleasing to his senses. 

Cars moved without hurry, mimicking the people coming and going about their business. Everyone was bundled up, but no one seemed to mind the cold and the snow. To be expected, he supposed. They lived in the mountains where snow fell early and lasted late. 

As his gaze traversed the lane, his attention landed on The Last Book and Brew and caused him to tilt his head, intrigued. Unlike the other traditional storefronts with their brick faces and colourful awnings, gold filigree writing on wooden signs, the little bookstore had a distinctly different feel to it. 

The door, window frames, and brickwork that accented the front of the building were painted a shiny, deep black. There was no awning but three stunning lanterns hung above the windows on wrought iron arms, beautifully curved like the elegant lines of a woman's body. A sign in the same black iron hung perpendicular to the door. Shaped like a shield or some family crest, the words The Last Book and Brew glowed crimson outlined in gold, while a raven of the same black iron sat guard, casting judgement on all who entered. Red velvet mounded in the windows, lovingly cradling the displayed books like sacrificial offerings. 

Someone knew what they were doing, for that was the sexiest storefront Tom had ever seen.

Utterly enchanted and desperate to see if the interior matched the exterior, he left his leather valise unpacked on the bed, pocketed his key, and headed for the door.

Irene looked up as he passed her, but Tom paid the clerk little mind. He was on a mission, a hunt now, needing to discover the answer to the mystery of just who this Ember of Last Book and Brew was that she could create with such aplomb a store so alluring. 

There was no wind when he trotted down the inn's exterior stairs and out into the snowfall. Traffic was light, so he crossed mid-street, avoiding puddles and snowbanks in an attempt to keep the Italian leather of his shoes dry while large flakes of falling snow collected in his dark ginger locks. He reached the door and admired the ornate handle before opening the door into another world. 

Tom stepped inside and stared in amazement. He'd never thought a bookstore could be moody, but this one certainly was. The floors were highly polished ebony wood that led into dark railings which spiralled past the sunken first-floor cafe up a short flight of stairs toward the bookstore beyond. 

He admired the cobblestone floor in the cafe, again shiny with polish, sealed he suspected to make cleanup easier. Upon them sat a virtual Mad Hatter's Tea Party of chairs, all shapes and sizes separated by wrought iron tables topped with glass. And though the chairs were unique in shape, they matched for colour, upholstered as they were in the blood-red and black brocade that turned them into a sexy indulgence he prayed were as comfortable as they looked. 

And hung above it all, like a lady's magnificent fascinator, was a chandelier worthy of the name. Clearly electric, it appeared to drip ropes of black jewels and crystals as long as his palm, lit by three dozen candles that flickered with faux flames. It was spectacular.

Beyond, the cafe counter, like a walnut dream, appeared to be a repurposed and rehabbed saloon bar where elegant scrollwork on a pristine chalkboard announced the daily specials. He could see the cakes and pastries in their glass case, and while his stomach rumbled to remind him of the last meal he'd eaten, Tom was too enthralled with the decadence of the store to allow himself to be led by his nose when a small sign at the foot of the stairs requested no food past that point. 

Another small sign asked him to wipe his feet, which he did without thought, before heading up the short but wide curved stairwell to the second floor into the fantasy world of someone's most magnificent mind. 

He felt guided by the hand of a fae as he wound his way through ebony bookcases over hardwood floors, beneath more hanging lanterns and delicate chandeliers. The soft white of all the lights allowed him to read titles and leaf through pages without feeling as if the overhead lights would eventually dry out his eyes or buzz their annoyance through his brain. Every so often, he came upon stands of lightly scented candles, or soaps, or lotions made with all-natural products and tingling with the lightest touch of were-magic, causing Tom to look at the store with deeper senses. 

The corners and cardinal points of the space had crystal wards, he realized, and the soft pulse of benevolent magic left him at ease. Whoever this Ember was, she bid all who came to her sanctuary welcome. 

Even more intrigued than before, Tom found his way toward the counter where voices spoke in hushed tones, intent on finding the owner and congratulating her on the sensual, slightly erotic nature of her store. It left him breathless in a way that was hard for him to come by, and yet even as it pulled at his dark, seductive nature, he knew a family could come into such a place and find it magical, like falling into the rabbit hole of a dark Alice fantasy.

"That's nice, Lorraine, but I don't think Henry would approve of you gossiping about his friend."

Tom stopped in his tracks. Warm brandy and velvet bled over his senses, stroking straight through him to the soul of his cat. The panther purred and preened, wanting the owner of that voice to pet him and whisper words of seduction in his ear. 

"Poppycock! Some big-city fella isn't going to care if we mountain folk talk about him."

Ugh, raven. He'd know that grating tone anywhere.

"Besides, he's some fancy lawyer or something," the raven, Lorraine, continued. "I'm sure he's used to people talking about him."

"It is still impolite."

Tom shivered, eyes half-lidding. He had to roll his head, stretching his neck to keep from sprouting fur. What he wouldn't give for one night with the owner of that voice. 

Never one to hide in the face of scrutiny, Tom glided out from behind the bookshelf and smiled at the two women. "Actually, I run hotels."

The raven eeped and jumped, spinning to face him. She was older than he'd suspected, her dark hair thoroughly saturated with grey though her eyes remained clear brown orbs. The other, oh, the other, he could not help but stare.

Her face was the kind that would make angels weep with sharp, classic features, high cheekbones and a pointed chin like a sweet little fox. Her big eyes widened in surprise, showing off the shocking green, so pale and light they were almost neon when the light caught them. The heavy fall of thick curls that slipped from her shoulder left his mouth dry with the desire to sink his fingers into the mass that started black at the root and faded into tones of silver and dark grey, hinting at patterns like small rosettes. 

A sleek, lithe body lovingly caressed by a sweater of raspberry wool and leggings of black knit glided out from behind the cash desk, her steps silent in small silver ballet flats. "Mr. Hiddleston?"

"Indeed," he purred, accepting her hand when she offered it. He captured it between both of his rather than shaking it as presented and held it lightly. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, at your service, love. My friends call me Tom."

"Ember Porosha. Welcome to Salvation and The Last Book and Brew." She tilted her head, causing all that lovely hair to slide to the opposite shoulder. "Henry speaks highly of you."

"Mm," he chuckled, adjusting his grip to lightly press his thumb into the palm of her hand as he brought her knuckles to his lips. "Brags, does he?"

"Terribly," she agreed with a smile.

Tom smirked and pressed his lips to her skin. He inhaled and went rigid. That scent, the sweet smell of pine and snow somehow laced with the delicate notes of summer dreams, drowned him, flooding his lungs until he was sure he would never be able to breathe again without breathing in Ember's delectable fragrance. 

She tried to retrieve her hand. Tom growled, low and deep, more a purr than a reprimand, and opened eyes he knew would glow green with his cat. 

"Well, hello, pet," he smiled. "It seems I was wrong." He wasn't destined to be alone after all.

Sharp claws latched into his hands. "I've no desire to start anything with you, true mate or not."

He dropped her hands and brought his to his mouth to catch the blood seeping from the minor wounds. "We will see about that."

She hissed at him. 

Tom threw his head back and laughed before gliding into her personal space and threading his fingers into her hair. "Spit all you like, little kitten. I always get what I want."

"I think it's time you left, Mr. Hiddleston," Ember growled, her hand on his chest to keep him at bay. 

"Tea first," he smirked. "I'm gagging for a cuppa. Haven't had a decent one all day!" He stroked the silvery strands before letting them fall through his fingers. "Is your coat just as soft, Kitten?"

She glared daggers at him. "Leave."

He chuckled but stepped back, practically able to see her tail flick in anger. "Until later then, Ember."

***

He turned on his heels and sauntered away, leaving her seething behind him. How dare he. How dare he! How dare he assume such liberties when they'd only just met. When it was clear he was only passing through and would leave nothing but devastation in his wake.

"How dare he!" she hissed and stormed toward the back of the store to her office to calm down, forgetting Lorraine was still there.

Ember didn't slam the door, knowing he was still in the store, and she'd be damned before she gave him that much power over her. She would not be brought to heel like some… some… Kitten!

She growled a low sound and clenched her fists, determined to get control of herself and that snow leopard rolling like a damn hussy inside her.

She'd smelt him the moment he'd stepped beyond the books—dark spice and leather, mandarin and rosewood, with notes of cinnamon and vanilla. Ember's mouth watered with the desire to taste his skin and see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

"No," she said firmly. Her cat scoffed. "He won't stay here. He's a big city panther, and we will never go back." She was determined to live alone, be alone because she was safer that way.

Salvation was, well, their salvation. When she was most desperate for a new start and a place to hide from her past, Salvation was there with open arms, and an established were community.

Her cat settled down with the reminder and left her alone to pick up the phone.

Ember dialed the number by heart and waited for them to answer. "Hey, Henry, it's Ember. About tonight. Something has come up… I'm… not going to make it."

Next Chapter

[lady-of-the-lotus]

It’s not Wei Wuxian’s fault that A-Yuan thinks he’s a rabbit, or Jiang Cheng’s fault that toddler Jin Ling used to Zidian to short out the city’s power grid, or Xue Yang’s fault that little A-Qing was strapped to his chest during a motorcycle joyride down the highway, but they are stuck going to family counseling, along with a bored Lan Wangji, a giggly Xiao Xingchen, an out-to-lunch Lan Xichen, and an indignant Jin Guangyao. A lonely Nie Huaisang gets in on the action by joining all twenty group chats and sending way too many gifs.

And, all the while, a rebellion is brewing on Wangxian’s block, their neighbors driven mad by the incessant midnight duets.

Poor Dr. Wen Qing, child psychologist and therapist extraordinaire. What has she done to deserve this?

Read On AO3!

Or read below if the spirit so moves you:

There’s a letter nailed to the door when they arrive home.

Wei Wuxian rips the letter from the nail and reads it aloud.

“ ‘We, the undersigned, do hereby declare Wei Wuxian and Lan Wanji to be persona non grata on Cultivator Court for the following reasons: One: Wild animals leaving unspeakable ‘presents’ on our lawns—’ ”

Wei Wuxian looks up. “That would be Lil’ Apple. Do they sell donkey diapers?”

Lan Wangji unlocks the door. “What else?”

“ ‘Two: Gangs of feral rabbits rampaging through our flower beds!’ –They do have a point here. How they keep getting loose I’ll never know. ‘Number Three: Loud duets at midnight. We get it! You’re in love! Get a soundproof basement or shut the hell up!’ ” Wei Wuxian wrinkles his nose. “Who spit in their bean curd?”

“Where do these people meet, and can I join?” asks Jiang Cheng.

* *  * *

One month earlier:

It's all the daycare’s fault, really. And also the gang’s mutual pediatrician for getting involved and setting them up with a family therapist.

And they all know they should be grateful that the authorities are letting them off easy. But—

Weekly family therapy sessions that double as parenting classes? They all already know how to change diapers and hide the matches and make airplane noises.

And none of it’s not any of their faults. More of a…

“Series of misunderstandings,” explains Wei Wuxian to Dr. Wen Qing. “I’m sure when you hear the full story, you’ll laugh too. Right, Lan Zhan?”

“I don’t think she ever laughs,” whispers Xue Yang to Xiao Xingchen, who can’t see Dr. Wen’s impassive face but dissolves into a fit of giggles anyway.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes at the two of them and turns to Dr. Wen. “How long is this going to take? My new fashion line launches next week! I don’t have time for this—ow!” He jerks around at A-Yuan, who's gazing up at him innocently. He glares at Wei Wuxian. “Your carrot-brained little son bit me!”

Wei Wuxian scoops his son up onto his lap. “Don’t worry, A- Yuan, Uncle Cheng didn’t mean it—”

“Thumper!” A-Yuan corrects him.

“I’m sorry. Don’t worry, Thumper , Uncle Cheng didn’t mean it.”

“That’s normal,” says Xue Yang. “ ‘Thumper’?”

Xiao Xingchen hushes him.

“I just meant I’d go for a better name,” Xue Yang goes on. “Like Iago or Mushu if we’re picking from annoying cartoon animals. Doesn’t Thumper get shot?”

“You’re thinking of Bambi,” says Meng Yao irritably. He doesn’t look up from his phone as his finger moves in a blur over the screen. He’s missing several important meetings to be here. “He's the one who gets shot.”

A- Yuan’s eyes are huge. “Bambi gets shot?”

“No, Bambi’s mother gets shot,” Xue Yang explains.

A- Yuan bursts into tears.

Lan Wangji shoots Xue Yang a look that’s pure poison.

Dr. Wen clears her throat. “This is perhaps a good example of the dysfunction that—"

“Don’t worry, Thumper’s parents are just fine!” Wei Wuxian tells A- Yuan, squeezing the boy tighter. “Jiang Cheng, show him their pictures on your phone!”

“Do you think I have cartoon rodents as my wallpaper?”

“Google it!”

“Kid’s got to learn about death sometime.” Xue Yang places a lollipop in A-Yuan’s plump little hand. A-Yuan grins at him through his tears. Xue Yang is the kids’ favorite, to the jealousy of everyone but Xiao Xingchen, who is just as beloved. “See? Now he’ll always remember it as something sweet.”

The entire group gives him a Look, save Xiao Xingchen, who’s smiling and nodding.

Sometimes I think he’s deaf as well as blind , Meng Yao texts the others. There are an endless number of group chats, with most created just to complain about the people not on that specific group chat.

WWX : That’s cruel, but...

Jiang Cheng makes an impatient sound. Jin Ling is perched on his knee, slobbering on his custom lotus-patterned purple leather cell phone case. He takes his phone out of the toddler’s mouth and sets him down on the floor. “Can we move this along? Some of us have better things to do.”

“Yes. Thank you, Mr. Jiang.” Dr. Wen glances around the circle of folding chairs. “Now, do we all know why we’re here? Mr. Xue? Would you like to go first?”

Xue Yang stops picking at his chipped black nail polish. “What?”

“Do you know why you’re here, Mr. Xue?”

“I told A-Qing to stop biting people unless they really deserve it, and besides, she’s fully vaccinated, so I don’t see the problem there—”

“Mr. Xiao? Any ideas?”

Xiao Xingchen clears his throat and shuffles his sandaled feet, nervously smoothing the fringe on his oversized tie-dye poncho. “I’m not exactly sure why we’ve been included in a Jiang family therapy session, to be quite honest.”

“Your husband and daughter have been…implicated in some of the group��s…let’s call them mishaps, and as your daughter has adopted A- Yuan’s rabbit fixa—wait a minute, where is your daughter?”

“Xingchen’s got her,” shrugs Xue Yang.

JC - JGY - WWX - Jin Ling’ Uncles

JGY : *That’s* reassuring...

JGY : They make baby leashes for a reason

WWX : Lan Zhan threatened to buy me one the last time we went to the mall. I was lost for a half hour

JC : Are you sure he wasn’t just trying to lose you in the crowd?

WWX : Actually, I think Lan Zhan *did* buy the leash in the end…

*Jiang Cheng has left the chat*

Dr. Wen inclines her head. “Your husband is beside you, Mr. Xue. Your daughter is not.”

Xue Yang cranes his neck around the room. “I’m sure she’s fine, wherever she is. Unrelated question, are all of the valuables around here locked up, or—?”

“Mr. Xue—”

“We’ll know soon enough anyway. Is there an alarm system? No, don’t tell me. I’d rather be surprised. Be right back.” He tucks his phone inside his ripped black jeans and leaves the room, whistling. The clomp of his heavy combat boots disappears down the hall.

“Don’t worry,” says Xiao Xingchen, who seems to have missed a good half of what his husband has said, as usual. “This happens all the time. A-Qing has an excellent sense of direction.”

WWX - JGY - XY - JC - LWJ - Cabbage Patch Kids

JC : What the hell does that mean? The kid’s like 5

WWX : 3, tops

JC : No way she’s 3. She stole my watch last time she played w Jin Ling

LWJ : Are you certain that wasn’t her father?

NHS : XXC would never hahaha 😭 😭 😭

WWX : Huaisang! Whassup!

NHS:

WWX: You change the chat name again? I like it.

JC: Can he take my place here? This whole thing is inane

WWX : "Inane"! So you *have* been using the Word of the Day calendar Lan Zhan bought you!

JC : Shut up

JGY : Like a 5-year-old stealing a watch makes any more sense than a 3-year-old?

WWX : Oh we’re back on that?

NHS : Who stole who’s what now?

LWJ : *whose

JGY : Jiang Cheng was robbed by a toddler.

JC : Don’t you have some corporate espionage to go do or someone’s job to steal or something?

NHS:

JC: Send one more gif and I reach through your phone and strangle you

NHS:

WWX: Did you watch Shrek again without us? That’s A- Yuan’s fav movie

NHS: ur always so busy w lwj n the baby n playing w ur corpses lately!

Dr. Wen sighs. “All right, then. Who would like to go next? Mr. Jiang? How about you? Phones away, everyone, please.”

Jiang Cheng makes a show of being annoyed at having to look up from his phone. “I shouldn’t even be here. This is idiotic.”

WWX - NHS

WWX: Or “inane”

NHS:

“That’s not what the power company report says, Mr. Jiang. Now, I don’t mean to accuse you of anything, but there are concerns—”

“I swear Zidian was depowered when I gave it to Jin Ling to play with,” Jiang Cheng says irritably. “He teethed on that thing for months as a baby. It’s fine.”

WWX -XY - LWJ - JGY - 🧟 🍬 🐇 🤠

JGY: Did Jiang Cheng just tell a mandated reporter that he let Jin Ling teethe on his magic lightning whip?

XY: dammit Im missing all the good stuff!

LWJ: *I’m

NHS:

JGY: You’re wasting my phone’s memory with these ridiculous gifs.

NHS: *inane gifs

XY: Jiggy why don’t you just have your 🍬 🍭 👦👨 buy you a fancy new phone with more memory?

NHS:

WWX: XY did you find A-Qing?

NHS: He lost A-Qing again?

LWJ: …Again?

XY: NHS do you like your tongue where it is or

NHS:

JGY: ?

XY: fingers. whatever.

WWX: I'm lost too

XY: nvm

JGY: That was edifying.

“Now, Mr. Jiang, I don’t mean to insinuate that you let your three-year-old nephew play unsupervised with a dangerous weapon that mistakenly activated and went on to fry the power grid and knock out all power within a five-mile radius for two weeks—”

JGY: Despicable inefficiency

“—or that you took him to a weapons expo, because, I quote ‘He’s going to have to learn to fight eventually anyway’—”

“It was an archery range.”

WWX - LWJ - NHS - Wen Chao Sucks!

WWX: Start ‘em young

NHS: i think it's inane

NHS: WWX? did LWJ smile at that one?

LWJ: No

WWX: He’s laughing on the inside

NHS: how….inane

“Mr. Jiang? Have you any response?”

Jiang Cheng crosses his arms over his chest. Jin Ling is hopping around on the floor with A- Yuan. Obviously not electrocuted, Jiang Cheng thinks, so what’s the problem? “So when my brother blows out the entire neighborhood’s power doing illegal experiments in his garage it’s okay, but I plug a space heater into the same outlet as a toaster and I’m suddenly the devil incarnate?”

NHS - WWX - JGY - Two Bros & A Guy

NHS : Why would you need a space heater in the kitchen? what I do is turn the oven on and that gets the room all hot

WWX : I think you need a new oven

NHS : Are ovens not supposed to do that??

WWX : Do fridges radiate cold?

NHS : I never thought about it that way 🤔

JGY : In the history of the world, nobody ever has.

WWX : Also, all of my illegal experiments are electricity-free.

JGY : …Jin Ling is never spending the night at your house again.

WWX : I said electricity-FREE!

JGY : Because a fridge full of corpses that you and that psychotic hooligan are trying to raise from the dead is so much better.

WWX : A) it’s a top-of-the-line industrial freezer, not a fridge, and B) those corpses were ethically-sourced—locally-sourced, anyway—

NHS : free-range & organic

WWX : zip it Huaisang

NHS : 🐓

Dr. Wen taps her clipboard with her pen. “Mr. Jiang, nobody's accusing you of anything. This is simply—”

“Whatever. What about him?” Jiang Cheng jerks a thumb at Meng Yao. “At least I didn’t set fire to anything.”

Meng Yao straightens up indignantly. “That was an accident!”

Dr. Wen looks like she wants to go home. “According to the fire marshal’s report, it—”

“I’m so terribly sorry I’m late!” A slightly disheveled Lan Xichen appears in the doorway, Xue Yang behind him. “I locked my keys in the car, and was going to call AAA, but then I remembered that we aren’t members—did you know you have to be a member?—plus my phone—”

Xue Yang slaps him on the back. His other hand, gloved as always, is holding A-Qing by the hand. Her oversized pockets clink suspiciously as she runs to go play with A-Yuan and Jin Ling. Today Xue Yang has dressed her in a pink poodle skirt, black boots with frilly socks, and a black T-shirt with the words “Daddy’s Little Delinquent” in pink script, pulling her hair into spiky little pigtails.

“—and the look the bus driver gave me when I tried paying with the $50 I luckily had in my pocket!”

“He’s telling the truth,” Xue Yang says. Over the years, an odd friendship has sprung up between him and Lan Xichen. “He has a stamped bus pass and everything. Look at the poor man. Had to squash in with the hoi poloi. He won’t be over this for weeks.”

Lan Xichen is blinking too much. “And someone on the bus stole my wallet, though I could have sworn I left the bus with it—”

Xue Yang winks at A-Qing, who grins at him and pats the bulging pocket on her frilly pink skirt.

JC - WWX

JC : Why is my lead fashion designer wearing CROCS??

WWX : His house keys must have been on the same keychain. Lan Zhan said he took today off from work

JC : Okay but why are they orange?

WWX : Not everything he owns has to be blue, you know

JC : His contract clearly states at least three out of every four articles of clothing have to be blue!

WWX : Relax, lil bro

JC : He’s the face of our Overly Elaborate Yet Elegantly Simple Eveningwear division!

NHS : Who is?

JC : GET BIRD BRAIN OFF THIS CHAT OR I SWEAR TO ZIDIAN—

NHS : 😿 who just showed up? Xichen?

WWX : Yup he just arrived after a harrowing bus experience

NHS : https://cutt.ly/Mks2dgu ?

JC : Does anyone actually like when people send them links??

NHS : https://cutt.ly/hks21H8

Meng Yao is wearing what Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang call his "customer service smile," a holdover from his dark days in retail. It's the closest he ever gets to showing irritation towards his fiancé. “Why didn’t you Uber over, Xichen?”

“I locked my phone in the car with the keys—”

“It’s fine, Mr. Lan," says Dr. Wen. "Please have a seat. You’re just in time. After all, you were mentioned by name in the fire marshal’s report, along with the somewhat contradictory descriptions of ‘dazed’ and ‘hysterically sobbing,’ which naturally piqued my interest—”

Lan Xichen seats himself beside Meng Yao. He's still looking somewhat frazzled Then again, his main two facial expressions are “gentle smile” and “mild anxious look.” “That was an accident. The fire, I mean. A little mishap.”

“Gentlemen, all of these incidents cannot be mere ‘accidents’—”

“I was meditating and A-Ling wandered in and knocked over the incense burner,” Lan Xichen explains hurriedly. Meng Yao, well-practiced as he is at hiding his emotions, winces slightly. “The window was open, and there was a breeze, and A-Yao just bought these new gauzy curtains that tend to flap about quite a bit—”

XY - JGY - LWJ - JC - NHS - Crossing Us Is A *Great* Idea

XY : And burn quickly

NHS : What am I missing???

XY : Insurance fraud

NHS:

XY : Yes. We’re all complicit now

JGY : Xue Yang, have you heard of a little something called libel?

XY : 🖕 We should go back to building with asbestos like they did in the good old days

JC : We’re all so glad you’re here, Xue Yang

NHS : I need to adopt a kid so I can join your group or something, this sucks, you get to go this secret club every week, jc I see wwx even less than you do

JC : stop talking

XY : What color baby you want, NHS?

JC : What the hell??

XY : That was a joke

NHS: ....

“…and I was so deep in meditation I didn’t notice the flames until the fire department arrived, but A-Ling was fine, just fine, and all the fire fighters were so very nice…”

WWX : Can confirm. Xichen was more traumatized than the kid. The firefighters had to wrap him in like fifty foil blankets

XY : XXC tells me Himbo stayed with you a full week, was that why? my boy didn't tell me

LWJ : “Himbo”? He got 1600 on his SAT.

XY: Term of endearment he knows he’s my boy plus the guy locked his keys and phone in the car for the second time this month

JC : At least he feels remorse over his child endangerment, unlike certain other people I could mention

LWJ : "Child endangerment"?

XY : Tell us again about how Jin Ling used to teethe on Zidian, JC?

NHS:

“Dr. Wen will be pleased to know that my apartment is now fully equipped with a top-of-the-line sprinkler system,” says Meng Yao smoothly. “No more incense, either. This unfortunate incident will never be repeated again.”

XY - WWX - JC - Odd Man Out

XY : At least not until the insurance money runs out

WWX : 😒

XY : Not that he needs it, after landing Himbo

NHS:

WWX: Those jokes really aren't funny

NHS: 😔

JC: Dammit NHS are you in every chat?? Did you change the chat names? Why aren't you showing up on half the participant lists?? Did you hack our phones or what??

NHS: Don’t be so *inane*

Wei Wuxian titters.

“Mr. Wei? Since you seem so eager to speak, perhaps we should move onto your issues, then.”

Wei Wuxian straightens up and points to his chest, the picture of innocence. “Me?”

Dr. Wen smiles thinly. “You, Mr. Wei. Perhaps you can tell us your side of what the school is referring to as ‘The Radish Incident.’ ”

“Well….” Wei Wuxian darts a glance over at Lan Wangji, who is as impassive as ever. “I was just burying him for fun, you know. We like to pretend he’s a radish—“

“A radish?”

“It’s a…you know. A game. I personally like potatoes better, but—”

“Mr. Wei, several parents complained to the school.”

“Because we were hogging the sandbox.”

“Because your son was running around screaming ‘I’m a chubby little radish boy!’ Which in itself would not be cause for concern. But coupled with his troubling behavior the following week—"

XY - JC - JGY - Two Men & A Half

XY : Where did she get these records? Who does she work for, the NSA?

NHS : She’s an astronaut?

JGY : How did you sneak into this chat? And did you rename it?

NHS : 😉

JGY: You're what, an inch taller than me?

XY: someone struck a nerve

JGY: It's just derivative of the other group chat, that's all.

NHS : u said no to "gettin' jiggy w it" i had no other choice. anyway what's happening over there?

JC : I’ll give Dr. W this, that kid is weird.

NHS : who a-yuan?

JC : I’ll give Dr. W this, that kid is weird.

JC : I mean, he’s my nephew, he’s a great kid, that’s not what I’m meant—

XY : *delete delete*

JC : How does your hippie husband put up with you??

JGY : We suspect brainwashing or blackmail.

“—when he decided he was a rabbit or," Dr. Wen continues, "or, as he put it, ‘Daddy’s Huggy Little Bunny Boy.”

“He is Daddy’s Huggy Little Bunn—"

“And only responds to the name ‘Thumper,’ refuses to eat anything other than carrots or food containing carrots, insists on wearing bunny ears—"

XY - NHS

XY : If it’s good enough for Louis Belcher, it’s good enough for Freaky Little Bunny Boy

NHS:

you watch the show too?? I call mingjue “bob” - u know - grumpy mustache guy

XY : I’m sure that’s gone over well

NHS: he’ll learn to love it

XY : A-Qing loves Louis

NHS:

“—hops around instead of walking, and has convinced others of the same…fantasy.”

Everyone glances over at the three children, who are hopping in a circle. A-Yuan has a fluffy little tail on the seat of his pants, carefully sewn on by Lan Wangji. Jin Ling has a handful of cotton balls that had been badly superglued on by an annoyed Jiang Cheng. And A-Qing has a wad of blue cotton candy taped to her frilly pink skirt with a strip of duct tape. As they watch, Jin Ling rips the cotton candy off and stuffs it in his mouth. A-Qing shoves him onto his cottony rear end.

“That’s my girl!” Xue Yang calls.

“Daddy’s proud of you!” Xiao Xingchen adds, though he’s not quite sure what’s going on.

Dr. Wen sighs. “I’m still unclear about how this started. Was it the rabbit incident? Mr. Lan—" She nods her head at Lan Wangji to differentiate between the brothers. Lan Xichen has fallen asleep in his chair, exhausted by his first-ever bus ride. “—I mean, I beg your pardon, Dr. Lan. Perhaps you can fill us in on that? He told his teacher he was attacked by a rabbit monster."

“So he was bitten by one rabbit!” Wei Wuxian says when Lan Wangji just eyes her coldly. “It wasn’t Lan Zhan’s fault. That rabbit was bad news. It had this gleam in its eye—lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eyes—"

Xiao Xingchen emits a muffled little squeak. Xue Yang looks annoyed. He hates when other people make Xiao Xingchen laugh.

NHS - JC

NHS:

JC: yes yes we all get the Jaws reference

NHS: the last movie we all watched together : /

JC: yes I just said that

NHS: like three months ago

JC: and?

NHS: just saying...

“He was scared of the rabbits after that, and so Lan Zhan told him that rabbits only bite their own, and, well…I mean, we have a hundred rabbits in our backyard. It was either rehoming them and making the news like those crazy cat people, or making A-Yuan feel better.”

A-Yuan hops past, wiggling his cotton tail.

Jiang Cheng rubs his temples.

“All right, Mr. Wei. Thank you. That’s…elucidating. We’ll delve into that in future sessions. Now, perhaps we can discuss the June 7th incident involving you and Mr. Xue?”

Xiao Xingchen starts to laugh again. Xue Yang grins to himself.

LWJ - JC

LWJ : What happened on the 7th?

JC : Am I my brother’s keeper??

“Now, the seventh? I was…hard to remember, all that time ago…” Wei Wuxian taps his chin. "The mists of time and all that."

“It was three weeks ago, Mr. Wei.”

“The seventh….the seventh…was that a Tuesday—?”

“Wen Chao had it coming,” said Xue Yang. Smirking, he twirls his ponytail around a finger. His ponytail is long and sleek and sprouts from the top of his head like an 80s schoolgirl's. “Amiright, ‘Mr. Wei’?”

Wei Wuxian coughs. “You mean the Wen Chao who lives on Qishan Road? That Wen Chao?”

“That spoiled rich kid?” Jiang Cheng asks. (“As if you’re one to talk,” says Xue Yang.) “With the oversized Humvee and tractor-sized tires with spinning rims? Zipping down the street at all hours and blasting his music? I went to college with him. He used to leave double-deckers in the bathroom at frat parties.”

Dr. Wen swallows a long-suffering sigh. “Thank you, Mr. Jiang. I’m sure that information will prove most helpful in evaluating your brother’s case. Mr. Wei, your arrest, combined with the Huggy Little Bunny Boy Incident, does not fill me with confidence.”

“Not arrested—"

“Taken for questioning,” Xue Yang agrees. “By the neighborhood watch. Golf dads and wine moms. Very different from 'arrested.' "

"And you should know," says Meng Yao.

JC - JGY

NHS : What’s going on? What am I missing????

JGY: Did you just make a new group chat? Your name isn't showing up. This is disconcerting.

NHS: don’t worry about it

JC : We’re talking about Wen Chao

NHS : overcompensating humvee ex-frat boy with the hair gel? vomit in the jacuzzi and streak across the field at the big game wen chao? ur babysitter's cousin?

JC : The very idiot

NHS : He has nice sunglasses

JC : For a Russian mobster

NHS : Says the guy who owns a purple zebra striped jacket

JC : Says the guy with more bird-themed shirts than Winston Bishop

JGY : Touche.

NHS : i didn’t know u watch New Girl 2! we must talk l8tr shorturl.at/vDI26

JGY : Your abbreviations are marginally shorter than the actual words.

NHS :

JC : Cleaning bird cages does take up most of one’s afternoon

NHS : see, u get it

JC : Dr. Wen isn’t buying whatever WWX is selling here.

JGY : Wen Chao is related to Dr. Wen. If WWX had any more sense than a chipmunk, he’d realize that. No matter how much you hate someone, family is family...

“Wen Chao was a public menace,” says Wei Wuxian self-righteously. “He deserved what he got. Speeding down the street all the time. Think of the children!”

LWJ - WWX

LWJ: Why is this my first time hearing about this?

WWX: You’ve heard me complain about WC a million times. I even named a group chat after him!

LWJ: Wei Ying.

WWX: You were off visiting your uncle with A-Yuan ! You left me unsupervised! I am not to be blamed!!!

LWJ: We’ll discuss this later

WWX: 😓

“Perhaps the better question is where you got all those fish,” says Dr. Wen.

Everyone turns to look at Xue Yang.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he grins.

Xiao Xingchen chuckles.

“Five hundred dollars in damages, Mr. Xue. Raw fish juice is difficult to get out of faux tiger fur upholstery, I understand.”

Xue Yang flaps his hand. “His father can afford it.”

“That is not the—" Dr. Wen stops, perhaps realizing that an argument with Xue Yang means forfeiting a chunk of her sanity. “Moving on, Mr. Xue, can you explain this picture you posted on social media?”

“That picture’s an old one. A-Qing’s just a baby.”

“Mr. Xue, given the recent threats you made towards A-Qing’s daycare teacher for putting her in a time-out for stealing her classmate’s graham crackers and apple juice, this is relevant.”

“Posting that to the public account was a mistake, if that’s your concern. My Insta for A-Qing is private, but I was in a candy store and got kind of distracted by the new sugar-frosted fruity explosion jaw-busting mega bombs—"

“You fail to understand the issue, Mr. Xue. What’s that in her mouth?”

“Fingers. Or is that a toe?”

Xiao Xingchen laughs.

“They weren't real,” says Xue Yang.

WWX - JC

WWX:

JC: Great more gifs

“I think I have one with the Halloween store tags still on—" Xue Yang scrolls through the hundreds of photos of A-Qing filling his phone. “Should be one in here somewhere—oh, look, Xingchen, these are from your birthday party; I tell you, Amazo the Magnificent had no sense of humor at all; you’d think nobody had ever replaced his rabbit with a porcupine before-"

Jin Ling hops by. “Rabbit!” he cheers.

Jiang Cheng groans.

“There is blood on the fingers, Mr. Xue.”

Xue Yang gives a breezy laugh. “Paint. The springy plastic is perfect for teething. You just put it in the freezer for a few hours—real fingers wouldn’t work; they’d freeze solid, which makes good ice packs for those hard-to-reach places, sure, but as far as teething goes—”

Dr. Wen holds up a hand. “Thank you, Mr. Xue. That’s enough. My next question is about this speeding ticket, which you received while your daughter was strapped to your chest.”

“She was wearing a helmet!”

“You were driving a motorcycle down the highway, Mr. Xue.”

Xue Yang glances hurriedly at Xiao Xingchen, who’s frowning. “These were two separate incidents—"

“Mr. Xue, I don’t think that that makes it much better—"

“Ouch!” Meng Yao shoots to his feet. “He bit me! Your son bit me!”

Wei Wuxian scoops up A- Yuan, who's looking very satisfied with himself. “You shouldn’t have worn a carrot-orange shirt, then.”

“It’s not orange, it’s beige—"

“Maybe he was aiming for Xichen’s crocs and missed,” Xue Yang suggests.

Meng Yao pats his pockets. “Where’s my phone?”

Xue Yang winks at A-Qing, whose already-stuffed pocket is bulging further. Xue Yang likes dressing her in disarmingly cute dresses and skirts with huge pockets, the better to hide her loot. She grins and twirls a pigtail like Xue Yang twirls his ponytail and skips off with Jin Ling and A- Yuan.

Meng Yao is wearing the fixed smile of a Starbucks barista whose customer just asked to speak to the manager. Never a good sign. “Could somebody be so kind as to call my phone?”

Wei Wuxian makes a show of dialing. No one else moves. Lan Xichen mumbles something to himself in his sleep, chin sunk deep in his chest.

“Sorry, Jiggy,” says Wei Wuxian. “Maybe you left your phone at home?”

“You all saw me using it not a minute ago, and kindly stop calling me Jiggy—"

“A-Yao?”

Meng Yao’s customer service smile slips. “Just stop talking for five seconds, that’s all I ask—"

Dr. Wen shakes her head. At this point she seems more bored than anything else. “Moving along, Mr. Xiao, this is perhaps inconsequential when held up beside your husband’s joyrides with A-Qing—"

“Not a joyride,” Xue Yang interrupts. “That motorcycle is registered in my name. Well, a name—"

“—but A-Qing’s teacher has told me that she witnessed you allowing A-Qing to take candy from strangers.”

“The lady seemed nice,” says Xiao Xingchen, folding his hands placidly in his lap. “She had peppermints.”

Xue Yang sighs fondly.

JC - WWX

NHS: thnx for calling me WWX. reception could be better but this is better than anything on tv. literally candy from strangers?

JC: Dear heaven HE’S back. Just text a chat you're actually on!

NHS: ‘Dear heaven’?

JC: This is inane!

WWX: …not bad

Xiao Xingchen smiles. “She smelled like snickerdoodles and lavender.”

Dr. Wen sighs. “Mr. Xiao—"

“I’ll talk to him later, doctor,” says Xue Yang, patting Xiao Xingchen’s arm reassuringly. “Anything else? What did Mr. Beige do?” He grins at Meng Yao, who’s still looking for his phone.

“Mr. Meng, aside for the fire, which we’ve established is not your fault—though, fiance or not, you should be a bit more judicious in your choice of babysitters—"

Lan Wangji shoots Dr. Wen a look that almost melts the metal clip on her clipboard.

She absorbs it without so much as an eyebrow twitch. “—there is the Treehouse Incident, though I don’t believe the collapse of your nephew’s treehouse was your fault.”

JC - WWX - LWJ - We’re All Cool Here We Promise

NHS : i hear he bought the biggest fanciest one he could then set it up himself and then it fell down at the first storm. if that’s not a metaphor for his life I don’t know what is

JC : That wasn’t funny, someone could have gotten hurt

WWX : it was kind of funny

NHS : it was very funny

LWJ : "Hurt" like a baby at a weapons expo?

NHS : LWJ IN DA HOUSE!

JC : It was an ARCHERY RANGE

LWJ:

NHS: LWJ USED A GIF IM DEAD LMAO—

LWJ: *I’m

“We are suing the playhouse company,” says Meng Yao. “Right, Xichen?”

“Hm?” Lan Xichen sits up with a jerk. “I beg your pardon?”

Meng Yao gives him a patient smile and turns back to Dr. Wen. “As you can see, we have the situation well in hand.”

Lan Xichen has no idea what he’s talking about but nods along anyway. “Of course we do. In fact—" He whips out a recorder and starts playing “Wonderwall.”

“That was…lovely,” says Dr. Wen once he finishes. “Don’t do it again. Now, moving on to the County Fair Incident—"

“Which was an accident!”

“One more interruption, Mr. Wei, and you will be asked to return for solo counseling."

JC - LWJ - XY - NHS - Lan Wangji Pls Stop Vetoing All My Best Chat Names Thnx

NHS : Make him stand in the corner! LWJ, does that ever work at home?

XY : I think he uses *stronger* methods 😏

*Lan Wangji has left the chat*

JC : Xue Yang shut up I will end you that’s my brother

XY : End me with your sparkly little whip? 👀

JC : Your husband’s sitting right next to you you little freak. Allo people are so fricking annoying!

NHS : hey!

JC: I call it as I see it

NHS: your one to talk 😒

*Lan Wangji has joined the chat*

LWJ : *You're

*Lan Wangji has left the chat*

XY : How old were you when you lost your sense of humor, Grape Boy?

JC : “Grape Boy” is that the best you can do?

XY : there are children present

NHS : 🤭 🤭 🤭

JC : Same way there are children present while barreling down the highway at 80 mph on a motorcycle?

NHS:

XY : The state troopers blew that way out of proportion

Dr. Wen taps her clipboard. “Stealing livestock violates Section 2 of the Farm and Livestock Act—”

“No harm no foul,” shrugs Xue Yang. “And Xiao Xingchen gave all the trampled people candy afterward, so we’re all square. Well, snacks, anyway."

“Good snacks,” Xiao Xingchen adds. “Carob-covered rice cakes and trail mix.”

NHS: 🤢

“You can’t just hand out nuts children who might have an allergy—"

“There were also boxes of raisins. Full-size.”

Dr. Wen struggles to keep from rolling her eyes. Jiang Cheng rolls his hard enough for the both of them.

JC - NHS

NHS:

JC: wtf is that get that off my screen

“According to the police report, all three of your children broke into the paddock, released the donkey, and rode him down the main promenade, scattering fairgoers in their wake. I have the video.” Dr. Wen holds up her phone. Loud screams and merry-go-round music blast from her phone. “Mr. Xue? Anything to say?”

“That guy was barely trampled,” says Xue Yang. “Also, I had nothing to do with opening the paddock, whose latch sticks (just by the way), or helping the kids up onto the donkey, so—"

“This was found at the scene.” She holds up black leather necklace with a single red bead. "Look familiar, Mr. Xue?”

Xue Yang touches his bare throat. “I’ve been framed.”

“And this.” She holds up a flute and glances over at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian darts a quick glance over at Lan Wangji, who does not look amused. Then again, he never does. “Since when was I even a suspect—?"

“Since you left your flute there like an idiot,” says Jiang Cheng.

“Lil’ Apple’s paddock was too small! I had to do something."

“Gentlemen—"

The cuckoo clock on the wall goes off, waking up Lan Xichen, who’s drifted off again. He whips out his recorder again but Meng Yao lays a gently restraining hand on his wrist.

Dr. Wen rises. “We will continue this next week. In the meantime, I have some worksheets—"

JC - NHS

JC : Kill me now

NHS : i wouldnt tempt LWJ if i were u…

JC : not like I take up any of WWX’s precious time anyway anymore. LWJ goes out of town and WWX teams up with that nutcase ex-juvenile delinquent of all people to vandalize WC’s car?? In college we stole WC's team's stupid tortoise mascot together

NHS : …..i'll call u later

JC : Please don’t

NHS :

NHS: u can come over on ur own to watch a movie or smthing u know

NHS: ur new line launched already so ur not so busy now right?

NHS: u can bring jin ling along as a chaperone if u want

NHS: hello?

NHS: that was a joke…

JC: okay but no more romcoms

NHS: u brought mama mia over last time not me

JC: I grabbed the wrong dvd

NHS: …..🤐

JC: 🖕

NHS: 😏 see u soon

* * * *

One month later:

“Best session yet!” says Wei Wuxian as they pull up to his house in Jiang Cheng's sleek purple Jaguar. “I mean, Dr. Wen wasn’t thrilled about the whole ‘our kids visited Nie Huaisang’s bird sanctuary and now think they’re skvaders’ thing, but all in all—"

“Just get out of the car.” Jiang Cheng gives him a little shove. They’d all been busy this past month, and had only seen Nie Huaisang once, but that had been enough to convince the kids that they’re hybrid bunny-birds. “I’ll wait outside while you go and get Jin Ling—" He stops. A letter is nailed to the front door.

“Is someone starting another Protestant reformation?” Wei Wuxian jokes. He grins at Lan Wangji, who raises his eyebrow slightly. Excellent. So he found the joke as funny as he did, though going by the way he eyes the nail he’s not thrilled about what just happened to the door’s glossy blue paint.

Wei Wuxian rips the letter from the nail and starts to read aloud. “ ‘We, the undersigned, do hereby declare Wei Wuxian and Lan Wanji to be persona non grata on Cultivator Court for the following reasons: One: Wild animals leaving unspeakable “presents” on our lawns—’ ”

Wei Wuxian looks up. “That would be Lil’ Apple. Do they sell donkey diapers?”

LWJ unlocks the door. “What else?”

“ ‘Two: Gangs of feral rabbits rampaging through our flower beds!’ –They do have a point here. How they keep getting loose I’ll never know. ‘Number Three: Loud duets at midnight. We get it! You’re in love! Get a soundproof basement or shut the hell up!’ ” Wei Wuxian wrinkles his nose. “Who spit in their bean curd?”

“Where do these people meet, and can I join?” asks Jiang Cheng.

Wei Wuxian slings an arm around his shoulders, the first time in weeks. Jiang Cheng hasn’t seen much of his brother outside of the counseling sessions. “Dr. Wen says that kind of negativity is toxic.”

Jiang Cheng grunts, but lets Wei Wuxian keep his arm on his shoulder. “I’ll show you toxic—”

The babysitter is sitting under the table with Jin Ling and A-Yuan when they enter the house, building a miniature cenotaph made out of blocks.

“The kids okay, Wen Ning?” Wei Wuxian asks him.

Wen Ning peers out from between two chairs. “We were under siege for a couple of hours. Pitchforks and torches, same old thing. But we turned out the lights and stayed away from the windows and made s’mores.”

“So that’s what happened to all the plastic lawn flamingos. Trampled by angry villagers."

Jiang Cheng pinches his temples. “I told you adopting an incontinent donkey was a bad idea. At least keep his paddock locked.”

“We don’t have to tell your sister about this, do we, Wen Ning? …Good. What did the mob look like? Did you catch any names?”

“They were led by a fat man with a goatee and a skinny old guy with beady eyes and a moustache like two long droopy rat tails." Wen Ning crawls out from under the table. “The skinny guy was wearing bright red and blue and purple clothes and the fat guy had a bullhorn. And my cousin Wen Chao was in back yelling something about the rising cost of dry cleaning in this day and age, I think?”

“Yao and Ouyang.” Wei Wuxian makes a face. “Power couple from hell, and I should know. I’ve been there.”

“Are they those nosy neighbors you’re always complaining about?” asks Jiang Cheng.

“They’ve been after us from day one!”

“Well, having that fierce corpse of yours key their car didn’t help.”

“That was an accident.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“You know, Nie Huaisang has been texting me about this house for sale next door to him,” says Wei Wuxian thoughtfully. “Lan Zhan, maybe we should check it out?”

Jiang Cheng picks up Jin Ling and pats him gently on the back. “You’re just going to have the same problem with the angry villagers, just across town.”

“No, it’s a big corner lot. I’ve seen it. Looks like the Addams Family lives there. Comes with its own little graveyard and everything. Huaisang’s family owns it, and they’ve been trying to unload it for months, but everyone thinks it’s haunted just because of that time I brought those fierce corpses with me on a visit and they got loose—but that’s neither here nor there. It’s perfect!”

Lan Wangji nods.

“Whatever.” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Let’s get going, A-Ling.”

Once he’s strapped Jin Ling into his car seat, he takes out his phone.

JC - NHS

JC : Your plan worked

Nie Huaisang:

???

Jiang Cheng: yeah. Thanks for riling them up behind my brother’s back all month. Class move. Direct and straightforward

NHS:

NHS: not that they needed much inciting. wwx blowing up the garage was the last straw

JC : was still weirdly convoluted for no reason

JC : Not sure why you had to get me involved either

NHS: says the guy who lives 20 blocks away but still volunteered to file the noise complaint because, i quote, “the duets *R* annoying”

JC : well you can’t file a complaint about them stopping mid-conversation with you to gaze soulfully into each others’ eyes for ten minutes

NHS : *snort*

JC : If you miss WWX so much 🙄 why didn’t you just tell him straight out instead of pulling this shtick?

NHS:

NHS : there’s another house available down the street just fyi…

NHS: my big fat greek wedding sat night? u bring the dvd n i’ll get the pizza

Shaking his head, but smiling to himself, Jiang Cheng starts the car.

[speedypandaweasel]

One Big Adventure - a Wilford Warfstache and Abe story (Non-Ship) (2,914 Words)

Thank you for the request @canceltheact! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

If you would like to submit a request, see the information at the Masterlist and submit through the Q and A!

PSA - THIS IS NOT A SHIP oke, let us begin...

Dazed images fog up the minds of two *very* hungover men as they stagger their way up to the apartment. Abe fumbles his way through the door and over strewn clothes. He continues on and manages to put together the kaleidoscope of scenery that is right in front of him. To his left, a saggy sofa sits and a cheap TV dangerously hangs off the stripping wallpaper by a thread. To his right, a grimy kitchen is on display which even the worst chef in the world wouldn't waste his time in. The other man, however, is blabbering away, slurring his words like a car on an icy motorway. "HA!, I tell *hick* you Abe, I'm so glad I remembered you, you see *hick*, I can't even remember where I put my-" Aaaand he's gone. His body moulds into the cushions that poorly support his droopy frame, and his scuffed platform boots dangle over the side. Abe smiles, slightly soberer than before. Who would have thought that this stock still of a man, whose only aesthetics were the colour beige and veterans, would somehow have a goofy, lighter side to him? All the criminals he's met and caught among the years...

Hold up, has he met anyone? He can't remember any experiences where he HAS met any, so why did he think that? Hm, must be the Tequila talking. Abe hopscotches over the empty Wine and Martini bottles that are decorated across the stained carpet. Damm, William has not been taking care of himself. Mind you, neither has he so he can't really say anything. He arrives into the walk-in kitchen and opens a dusty cupboard. His tired eyes only meet with shot and tumbler glasses.

How much does this Man drink!? Shuffling used plates and greasy cutlery out of the way, he fills a scotch glass with water. Dowsing the liquid felt like heaven. His exhausted physique felt like a body that's been stuck in the desert for a considerable amount of time and didn't know it needed water to survive. Oh, now he feels the headache coming on.

Reader, you know when water tastes funny? It's because your brain hasn't been receiving enough H20 because you've been drinking too many energy drinks. Yeah, that feeling is exactly what Abe is feeling right now. CONTINUING ON!

The scotch glass watches from the draining board whilst the Detective plays the quietest game of the floor is lava, whilst the moustached man is making much more noise. He manages to reach a corridor which he thinks leads towards the bedroom and tiptoes down the tight hall to find a vacant room. On the way, he passes another room. It was Barnum's. His mind was split in two, Does he go in? Or stay out? Through the crack in the door, the catastrophe has indeed spread into his sleeping quarters. A mountain of flamboyant disco clothes gathers dust in front of his Chester draws, the bed's not made and more liquor bottles are having a social gathering on top. Oh William, you may be a murderer, but you need to prioritise yourself. He takes a last look at his passed out flatmate down the hallway, before shutting the guest bedroom door. Grey. It's all he's met with. Much like his exterior. He slips his shoes off and starts to unbutton his off-white shirt. he runs a hand down his chest and over the scar. How the Hell did he survive that? He can't be bothered to go into it right now, he's too tired. He snuggles into bed and does the infamous cold bed dance.

You know the one.

Abe gets out of the tempting bed once more and walks back into the living room. He creeps over to William, the man's mouth catching flies. He carefully takes his enormous shoes off and places them on the floor. Barnum's mismatch socks disappear underneath the blanket. "Night William."

~ A gorgeous smell of Breakfast wanders its way through the apartment and Abe groggily wakes up. His eyes peel open and with a yawn, he trudges through to the living room. Remembering from earlier this morning, he needed to position himself for his dance routine around the non-existent floor. "What are you doing my main man?" Barnum brightly asks, a hearty chuckle accompanies the question. Resided in the pristine kitchen, his big, strong hand holds a Skillet and two China plates are centred on the pebble grey marble island. Abe, however, is currently squatting as though he was playing a game of leapfrog with some imaginary friends. The Detective goes to jump but then is taken back at the sight. The apartment is now spick and span, no more Wine Bottles, no more strewn clothes. The windows are tied wide open and it overlooks the sketchy neighbourhood that they reside in. "How did you do this?" "Do what?" "You know, clean up this quickly?" Barnum checks his watch. It's 7:30 am "Oh well you see, I ironed a nice pair of jeans and found a lovely dandelion coloured shirt. Accompanied by some rainbow braces I think I look quite dashing don't you think so?" "No William, I-I mean the Apartm-AAH!" Abe clings his hand over his head, damm this- "Headache is killing you?" William slides a glass of water over with an Aspirin pill. "And no, I didn't clean the apartment, she did." Wilford looks- wait, why are you looking at me!? "Anywho, we need to get going my slightly hungover companion! But first, breakfast!" Wilford sets a serving plate down of a full English Breakfast: Sausage, an Egg, two cooked Tomatoes, Bacon rashes, Baked Beans and a slice of Buttered Toast. Wow. He didn't know William could cook? The two men got stuck in right away and the TV is turned on. Two bright and very similar faces appear on the screen "Badgers the secret Killer?... And now for the weather, Jim?"

The camera pans to, what they believe, is Jim. Their face resembles a deer in headlights. "I swear, they don't know what they're doing. It's hilarious!" The Detective says with a mouthful of Toast. Barnum laughs, wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes a swig of his Orange juice. "Right! I mean, who is their boss anyway?!" The men eat and laugh their way through their plates talking about what topics they would cover if they were reporters. After a while, they both recline back into their bar stools and the cook starts to tidy up the dirty dishes. "Oh, no, let me do it. It's the least I can do." "You're alright my man, I've got this. Besides, you need to freshen up!" "But whe-'" "First door on your left"

They share a light chuckle. "Thanks Wilford, I really appreciated that," Abe says before going back down the hallway, whilst Wilford rolls his sleeves up and starts to clean the less-silver cutlery.

He smiles. That's the first time he's ever said that to him. "No problem Abe."

~

The passenger door slams shut on the Detective's Vintage SUV and Wiford pulls out a gigantic map from his pocket. This map includes hundreds of paths scrawled with crayons and a hint of Martini can be smelt.

"Are you sure, you know where you're going?" Abe questions. Judging by what that map reads, they are going to get lost very easily.

"Of course I know where I'm going! I am Wilford Motherloving Warftsache after all." A pang of guilt hits the Detective, he genuinely can't remember who he was.

"Ok, Wil, you can drive."

After playing at least 3 rounds of rock paper scissors, or when Wilford won, Abe hesitantly let the murderer drive. God knows where though.

Wilford excitedly thrust the keys into the ignition. He couldn't wait for what the day entailed!

"Careful Willford, you're gonna break the keys!" Abe says through gritted teeth.

"Oh pah-lease! I know how to drive" he retaliates. His brown boot floors the pedal and reverses straight into the iron fence.

"Yep, it's working."

The Detectives face, now pale, grips tighter onto his seatbelt and his feet are glued to the floor. "Wil, of course it's working. Now, step on the ga- nope, that's the brakes Wilford."

Pedestrians quiver in fear as they see a horribly driven brown vehicle screech to a stop and then start again. They have to clamp down on their ears as the monster of a car drives past them down the alleyway, swerving left and right much like the driver's speech the other night.

The SUV survives to the end of the road and dents a stop sign perched, well once, straight on the kerb.

"Will, which route are we taking?" Abe asks as he takes the map from the driver's hands.

"It's the one marked Highway of Life, it's gonna be a good one, trust you me."

"Well, this has got off to a surprising start so why not go for an adventure?" Abe says. He's given up at this point.

~

"LIFE IS A HIIIGHHWWAYY! I WWAAANNNA RRIIDDEE IIT ALLL NIIGGHTT LOOOOONNGG!" The two pop stars start belting out of the car as Wilford drives them to their last stop. Who would have thought that two polar opposites positions of the law would be in the same car together, let alone blasting Disney songs out of the car.

Wilford's hair whips away from his face as the SUV's top winds down.

"LIFE NEEDS A BIT OF MADNESS EH ABE?"

"HELL YEAH IT DOES"

The Afternoon sun blazes down onto their blacked-out sunglasses and the Golden Gate bridge paints a picture for the Detective that prescribes him with a carefree attitude.

Life was his to choose and he was here for it.

~

The SUV turns off the Highway onto Richmond Street. The Afternoon sun glowing dimmer.

Just in time.

Now reader, if you haven't read my WKM Tumblr Song series, then you won't understand this next section.

The SUV passes bountiful shrubberies and picket fences. Cherry Blossom dust drift its way into the car and Wilford starts to tear up.

"You ok Buddy?"

"Yeah, I'm ok." After all his years of interrogation, Abe knows that that answer was a lie. Yet, he didn't want to push it.

The car comes to a halt and is parked underneath a summer coated oak tree.

"Why'd we stop?"

"I want to show you something."

Abe opens the vintage door and steps out. In front of him, wildflowers and grass sway on the cliffs breeze and small pink flowers grow on its edge. Overhead, a sea glistens with sunlight rays and pink and amber hues dust the sky.

Man, this is enough to make a grown man cry.

The cars driver door can be heard shutting and a shadow walks up behind him. An intimate silence roots itself between the two men.

"You may be wondering why I brought you here."

Abe nods, still looking forward, yet intriguingly listening.

The man sighs, "I used to come here all the time as a young lad. We used to have picnics and dance until dawn. We were so free up here. Away from life, away from Duty, and she was away from Him, that was all that mattered. "

His voice breaks.

"But things change, people change and suddenly, I couldn't do that anymore.

That's why I want you to see it."

Wilford wanders over to their spot and picks up one of the pink flowers sprouting through the grass.

"You may have thought of us as the scum of the Earth Detective. But there are two sides to every story."

The Detective joins the Murderer and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Wilford chuckles. The last time he was here, he was completely and utterly alone. He was like- like a freshly born fawn still trying to find his legs into this world that didn't make sense.

But now...but now things are looking a little brighter.

"If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, just name it."

"You can't do anything really, it's just the way this messed up world works."

The two friends sit down in the grass, making fresh new imprints into the cliff edge, next to two fading ones.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure" "How many people have I killed?"

...

That question lingers in the air for an uncomfortably long time. All that can be heard are the lapping of the waves below them and the occasional swallow talking in the trees.

...

"I don- don't know Wilford," Abe breaks the silence, "I should know, but I-I don't.

...

Abe looks at Wilford, his broken and tear-stained eyes manage to glance back before returning to look out at the sunset.

Abe must do something here. But what? He said himself that nothing can be done so what can he do?

He reminisces on the day they were reunited. So much anger, so much confusion. But Wil was so cheerful, not a care in the world!

Now look at him.

And it was all his fault. If only he didn't get involved...

A second flashes by and Abe does something he should have done the second Will did it.

He hugs Him.

...

"I'm sorry Will."

...

Moments cling on for seems like forever and the embrace is broken. The two tear-stained friends look up.

The afternoon sun has now gone beneath the horizon and is replaced with the all too familiar twilight scenery, which glows softly for miles and miles, each star a lantern that has been entrusted with keeping something special.

"There was another reason why I wanted to bring you here."

Wilford wipes his eyes with his sleeve. "Do you see that star, the big one?"

"Yeah" "That's the Evening Star. That Star is the reason why I have hope. And now I want to share that hope with you. I know we got off the wrong foot but since we're in the same boat now, I think it's time I opened up about where I've actually been."

Abe swallows, this man is truly broken, and he can't do anything about it.

"Thank you for trusting me." "We're not done yet. It's your turn!" "What?" "Make a wish." Cautiously, the Detective slowly stands up from his permanent grassy imprint and walks towards the cliff's edge. The man looks around and sees only patches of shrubbery and wildflowers.

And his newfound friend encouraging him to proceed.

He clasps his hands together and wishes hard. His eyes scrunch together as he becomes a child once more as well. His once tight shoulders have finally become relaxed. After so many years of searching for answers, he doesn't need to worry any more.

A single tear is swept away from the Murderers face as he watches on from the patch of grass. He remembers that feeling and the dream he wished for all those years ago. Yet now, his wish is slowly changing.

Granted, he can't remember who he was but bully does he know what he wants to be. And being here for him, at this very moment, is a wonderful way to start it.

Abe's hands fall to his side and he stares out onto the ever stretching view. His feet are glued to the spot and his mind is only fixated on that one goal. Wilford slowly joins his side, already having a hunch on what he dearly wants.

"What did you wish for?" The Murderer asks.

The Detective huckles, "Now if I told you, it wouldn't come true, would it?"

"Very true my friend."

Little did the men know that their newly found wishes were the same.

"Don't you mean, Best Friend?"

CRACK

The heartwarming moment is abruptly stopped by the sky blasting wide open and millions of sounds exploding across the cliff. The light breeze has rapidly sped up into a storm and is propelling thick gusts upon the two.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL NOW!?" Wilford yells at the hole, completely unfazed.

"YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS!?" Abe yells at his Friend.

"OF COURSE I DO, IT'S TIME FOR WORK."

"WORK!? SINCE WHEN DO YOU HAVE A JOB!?"

"WE ALL HAVE A JOB - WE'RE ACTORS! I'LL EXPLAIN EVERYTHING IF WE DON'T GET SPLIT UP."

"IF WE DONT GET SPLIT UP!? WHERE ARE WE GOING!?" "I HAVE NO IDEA! BUT THAT'S THE FUN OF IT! AFTER THREE, WE WALK IN."

"ARE YOU CRAZY WE'RE GONNA FALL!"

"TRUST ME, WE WON'T."

Wilford grabs Abe's hand and he stares at him. Abe stares back, fear-stricken. Finally, he nods.

"TOGETHER?" "TOGETHER."

"ONE"

"TWO"

"THREE!!!!" The two Actors charge straight over the cliff and into the blinding light.

~

Wilford finds himself in some kind of leather chair with neon lights surrounding him. A script in one and his prop gun in his other.

No pants on, no wonder he feels too comfortable.

He scans his scene and sees his co-actor, Kathryn, running her lines on the other side of the room.

A chair sits opposite him and behind that, a red T-30 minutes until showtime sign is displayed for him.

Abe, however, isn't needed on set yet. His adventure hasn't begun.

But both of their characters will have to cross at one point or another, it's just a matter of time. Yet for a fact, no one can edit their Friendship; Their Joint Wish.

Because, as they say, Life is a road that you're travelling on, when there's one day here, and the next day gone.

[jawritter]

You and Me...

Chapter 23 FINAL CHAPTER

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non con, male!rape, injury, violence, discription of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self harm, panick attackes, implied female non con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chatper Warnings***  Memory of flashback, panic attack, breif discription of panic attack. the feels, all the feels, some fluff in there too, the worst part of this chapter is the flashback, and maybe some language, I don’t want to give to much away lol.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 3k

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine!, Please do not copy my work!! Feedback is gold! I hope you enjoy this one! (flashback is in italics). The is the final chapter, and man this was a journey for me, I hope you all enjoyed reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it. 

Summery: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter you course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getthing through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

Taking the last leg of your journey in one day, the two of you pulled into Seattle somewhere around 7pm, three days after the two of you had left Austin. 

The night you had spent in Salt Lake City together had stretched into the early morning hours. You'd never felt so close to someone. So in love with someone. 

You couldn't believe that soon enough you'd be Mrs. Ackles. It didn't seem real. 

You watch through the windshield as your soon to be husband checked into the Shafer Baillie Mansion Bed and Breakfast. A beautiful bed and breakfast in Seattle, Washington. He'd planned this whole trip down to the last tinny little detail. Stopping at little stops along the way. All the time just spent getting to know each other. Getting closer than you'd ever been with each other. 

He paid the young lady at the front desk area that they had set up for check-ins. Then came walking out of the building. He'd enjoyed himself these last three days. You could tell. He just seemed to be over the moon since you’d left Salt Lake City, but watching him walk out to the car tonight, you could tell he was tired.

"Everything okay babe?" you asked, opened your car door for you, and grabbed your bags from the trunk. 

"Yeah, I'm just tired." he said, walking by you and pecking you on the cheek before you both head inside. 

He did look tired, but you couldn't help but worry that the reason he was acting this way was because you were so close to Vancouver. 

So close to doing what he feared doing the most. 

He loved shooting Supernatural. Often he said he felt lost when it was over, like a part of him was missing. Still there were new fears for him as he made this journey. Things and triggers that he didn't have to fight before. 

Getting into the room, and getting your thing settled. He turned and flopped himself down on the bed. Groaning a little when he was finally laying flat. Stretching his arms over his head. You sit down next to him and start rubbing his chest through his thin T-Shirt. 

"You sure you okay babe?" you asked him, laying down next to him. Cuddling into his shoulder, and rubbing your hand over his chest. 

"Yeah I'm okay, I just got a lot of memories that I'm fighting right now." he said, smiling at you a little. "I haven't been this close to Canada since I locked the door to my apartment, and headed back to Austin the day after we shot the last scene on Supernatural."

You wrapped your arms around him tighter, letting him relax into you. 

"It was a part of my life that I thought was close. That I'd left behind me. Not that I'm not grateful, and glad for another opportunity to do this, I guess I'm just afraid of the outcome. I don't want the show to wash out like some of the other comeback shows have. I've invested too much time into this to watch it fail." He said, rolling over to his side so that he could play with your hair.

“You guys are going to be just fine, you don’t have anything to worry about.” you tell him, watching as his eyes became heavy while you carded your hand through his hair. 

“Let’s just order some take out tonight, I’m exhausted.” he mumbled as his eyes closed, and his breathing became heavier. 

You leaned down, and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Okay baby.” 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning the two of you found yourself pulling into the parking lot of the Supernatural set. This is where he was going to be leaving the car that you two had driven up here to be auctioned off for charity. 

Cliff had left a black SUV here for the two of you to use while you were here. 

You only had to be in Canada a few days to look for, and sign some paperwork on an apartment that Jensen was looking into getting. His old apartment. So it shouldn’t be a problem. 

"So, I take it we're flying home then?" You asked him as you both got into the SUV. 

"Oh yeah. I don't think I'm that spunkie to make another three day drive back to Austin." Jensen said with a laugh before closing the door he looked around. There seemed to be no one else here. 

Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel a moment, Jensen then got out of the car, and looked around while leaning on the door. 

"What are you doing?" you asked him, opening your door, and watching him closely as he walked up to the gate. Pulling out the key card that Clif had given him to open the security gate again. 

"Come on I wanna show you some things, from what they tell me, all the old sets are still standing." he said, eyes bright with mischief. 

"Well wait for me!" you yell at him as you run after him into the set. 

The two of you walked through different sets that were still standing. Even after all this time. Even though it had only been about a year and a half it was still a little creepy to you. It looked old and abandoned. Which didn’t help the creepy factor at all. 

Jensen walked around with your hand in his, telling you different stories and memories from his time spent on the show.  

"Our trailers used to be parked over there. That's where the makeup and wardrobe trailer was. That's where they usually had the food tent. That Wearhouse over there is where they kept the Impala's. Those I know they took when the show ended. There's no need to look there.” He said, walking around like he knew exactly where he was going. Just like it had all just shut down today. A far off look in his eyes as memories flooded their way though his mind. 

Finally coming to a big mettle building he stopped, pulled out his keys again. 

"This should be it." He said, trying different keys. You stood there in silence as he worked. A little nervous about what awaited you on the other side of the door. Finally you heard the lock click as he opened it for the first time in over a year. 

The mettle door scraped the ground loudly as it  opened with a loud creaking sound that seemed to echo throughout the entire lot. Turning on the light on the phone he looked in. 

"Yep, this is it." He said, walking into a dark room only lit by his phone. There was red wallpaper, a fireplace, a desk, and an attached kitchen. Different things you couldn't see in the dark that he seemed to be able to make out easily. 

"Jensen where is this supposed to be?" you asked him as he came back over to where you were standing. 

"Bobby's old house. The living room and the kitchen. Man I spent a lot of time here." he said, looking around almost like he was going to cry. Reaching over standing in the middle of the mostly dark room Jensen reached his arms around your waist, and pulled you as close to him as he could. 

"Thank you for coming to do this with me." he whispered into your ear as he held you. "I needed this. I needed to remember what it was like to be here. What it was like to do this again. I needed to remind myself how much I missed it." He said. 

Turning you brought your lips up to meet his.

 "I told you almost a year ago, no matter what happens. It's you and me remember?" you asked him. He kissed you passionately. 

"Yeah.. You and me." he said, before leading you out of the building. Locking doors on his way as he made his way out to the car that was waiting for the two of you. 

It'd been a long year. A lot of hardships, and recovery from things that should have never happened. This time you felt like the winds of change were blowing in the favor of the two of you. This was the beginning of something good. It had to be. You'd both been through too much to have something go south again. You were both do for some good karma. 

Somethings people were just meant to do. Playing Dean Winchester, you felt, was just that for Jensen. It was what he was always meant to do from the very beginning.

----------------------------------------------------------

**Time jump seven years later**

Jensen's POV:

The stage lights were shining horribly bright in Dallas as Jensen and Jared tried to see the person standing off to the right side of the stage. It felt like they were miles away from the individual that was waiting to ask them a question.

"Hi!" Jared said. "I think there may be a person over here?"

The crowd chucked for a moment.

"What's your question?" Jensen said with a chuckle.

This never gets old. He could do it over and over again, it will always be his favorite thing to do. Getting to interact with his fans. Even though it could get a little stressful and tiresome at times, it was worth every hour of sleep missed.

"Hi! My question is for Jensen! You guys stopped filming the last season of Supernatural in its 20th season. These conventions are still going even though the new seasons have stopped. Did you guys see that coming, or was it something that came as a surprise to you?" she said.

She seemed older, and more confident than the fans that normally came to the microphone to ask them a question.

"No, we didn't see it coming. We thought well, the show is over, and the conventions will stop, but people just kept asking us to come, even offering to host these things in new cities. It's still growing even though we've finally put Sam and Dean to rest. This show is STILL impacting people's lives, and we couldn't be more blessed to have you guys. Without all of you these things wouldn't be happening, and wouldn't still be possible. So thank you." he said into the mic.

The crowd cheered as usual. More questions went through the mics. After all these years people were still coming up with good questions, which was impressive. When the show was over they were able to kind of give their own opinions so that put a new spin on things every year.

"Hi" Jared said, the girl that was standing on his side of the stage.

"Hi..." she fumbled nervously with her shirt. "My question is for Jensen," she stuttered into the mic.

"What is up with you getting all the questions today?!" Jared retorted into the mic. Jensen just smiled, and winked at the crowd.

"My home town dude, what did you expect." 

A soft laugh went through the crowd.

"What's your question?" they said together, causing a laugh to erupt through the crowd again.

"Over the years you have become a large advocate for people who are recovering from violent tramas... You know... similar to what you went through.... How did you get to the place you could talk about that... and do it so in a way that it doesn't trigger you anymore?" she asked, looking at her feet more than she looked at him.

He knew immediately that she'd been through a similar thing. Her body language screamed it for her.

After all these years he'd learned the tale signs.

The way she avoided eye contact with anyone. The way she shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, fidgeting, unable to stand still. Keeping an odd distance from all the other people that were standing around her.

He couldn't help the memories that flooded through his mind. All the milestones that he and y/n had made with each other's help. All the years that he had to struggle. Even though the attack was years behind him. The triggers that sometimes still came out of nowhere. The nightmares that haunted him for years before finally going away. For him though, his therapy had become helping other people that had gone through similar things.

One of the worst panic attacks he'd ever had was the first time Dean had to be tied to a chair by a monster they were hunting.

---------------------------------------------

"Babe, if you can't do this it's okay. Just tell the writers, and I'm sure they can work around it." y/n said, wrapping her arms around his shaking frame. He'd been up two days dreading this scene. He knew it would happen eventually. He knew he'd have to face this.

"No, I'm doing this. I'm tired of people treating me like I'm fragile and shit. I can do this. I just got to balls up and do it." he said, working himself up like a football player before a difficult play.

"Jensen, it's time." The props girl said, coming over to the side of the set where the two of you were standing.

Jensen walked over to the chair. He wondered for a moment if this is what people felt like walking up to the electric chair. Sitting down they started to put the ropes around his wrist. Immediately the flash backs started, but he fought against them. He was already starting to sweat. Pushing painful memories down he tried not to dwell on what felt so real going on in your mind.

Y/n was kneeling down in front of him, her hand on his knee.

"Please baby, don't do this. I can tell you're struggling already. Don't do this." you begged him. Jensen was determined though. He was going to get past this, he had too.

"No. No, I can do it." he said through gritted teeth.

The director yelled for everyone to clear the set. Y/n Leaned down, and kissed his cheek before turning to walk away. As soon as she left the shaking started to get worse, that tightening feeling in his chest becoming almost unbearable.

They yelled for quiet on the set. It was getting hard to breathe and the room around him seemed to be spinning, everything sounded distant in an uncomfortable way, and Jensen could have sworn his tongue was glued to the roof of his extremely dry mouth. J

ensen looked over to y/n and Jared who were standing on the other side of the directors chair. Watching with worried faces.

That's never happened with a panic attack before.

Normally he knew when they were starting, and was able to take control of them by now. Even though he knew this was nothing but a panic attack. It was threatening to overtake him quickly.

"Action!"

The monster who was supposed to be a werewolf walked over to him sensually, her long nails dragged across the table as Dean struggled with his restraints. She was going through her lines. Salturing over she ran her finger nails down Dean's chest, just like the script instructed her to do. His body jerked hard in response. It was getting hard to stay in the present. To stay focused.

She picked up the knife laying on the table next to him.

"I should gut you right here. Leave you scattered all over the room for your precious Sammy to find when he finally gets here. After what you did to my sister." She sneers in his face, and puts the knife up to his throat.

The room went black.

--------------------------------------------------

That was the worst flashback/ panic attack he'd ever had. It was so bad it triggered a seizure. It took weeks to recover from that one. He wasn't allowed to be tied to any more chairs.

Jensen felt Jared slap you on the shoulder and bring you back to the present. He was smiling at him reassuringly. Jensen looked over to the side of the stage that the family and friends usually sat at. You were sitting there smiling at him.

"It took me a long time to get to the point I could do this. I still have bad days. I still get triggers. Sometimes without warning. I had to learn the hard way that what happened to me does define me. I'm not a victim unless I chose to be. My biggest therapy was learning how to share what happened to me with others. To help others get through some of the same things that I went through. I'm not fully recovered even though it's been years. I take things one day at a time. I decided that Instead of letting what happened to me control my whole life. I was going to take control, and use it to help others. Now I've spoken everywhere from hospitals, to church youth groups and camps."

Jensen took a deep breath, and looked over at the poor girl standing there hanging on his every word.

"It's been hard. It's never been easy. I'll always have the scars from what was done to me. Even though you can't physically see any. Every day is a blessing to me. I'm thankful for every person that I can touch. If it helps someone else, it makes the struggle worth it. My best piece of advice I can give you is this. It's okay to have bad days, it's okay to feel like shit, it's okay to have days that you can't even look at yourself in the mirror, I know I have. It's all part of the process. Get support. Someone you trust that can help you, I know if I didn't have y/n...I wouldn't be here today. I probably would have succumbed to depression, and you guys would be leaving flowers at my grave site today."

The crowd cheered in response. The girl thanked him and walked back to her seat. He made a mental note to go have her brought back stage so that he could talk to her in private.

"Okay guys I'm getting the signal. We got time to take one more question." Jared said.

Jensen pointed at the girl that was standing off on the other side of the light. "Yes, what's your question."

Your POV:

You sat there watching your husband answer questions, and joke with his friend. It was down to the last question. It was a light question about taking selfies with Misha on the boat. Thank God.

Sure he'd gotten to where questions about what happened to him didn't bother him in the least, but you knew after a while it could be taxing on anyone to have to answer question after question on that subject matter, and you would be glad when this con was over, so that you could go home to Austin for a little while with your husband.

Finally everything was over and Jensen weaved his way over to you. Not bothering even trying to go backstage.

He walked up to you wrapping you in a hug.

"You did great babe." You tell him, and he smiled that smile that damn near knocks you off your feet every time.

"Are you okay? No sign that the baby is coming is there?" he asks, putting his hand on your swollen stomach.

"No. Still safe and sound in there." you tell him, pulling him in to kiss you before he's ushered away from you to the next photo opp.

You were so proud of that man.

You couldn't believe how far he's come since you met him. He was everything you ever wanted and more. You couldn't wait until your baby was born. Part of you hoped that the little boy looked just like his daddy.

Sure a baby at Jensen's age wasn't something that was planned, but life had plans you guys didn't know about, but welcomed when you found out you were going to have a baby. Deciding you would be surprised, and wait to find out the gender, much to the annoyance of Gen, and everyone else that was part of the SPN family.

Life finally was looking up for you guys. Even though Jensen had some bad days. He gets better and better every day.

Just like you had promised him in the beginning you were with him every step of the way.

The picture from your wedding that sat proudly on your mantel in your home had a wood burned carving in it that said. "You and Me."

A constant reminder that no matter what you faced. You'd get through it together.

"You and me. No matter what." you whisper, as your husband walked toward the young girl that was struggling with her question. Stopping the whole progress to the photo op room just because he wanted to talk to her.

He may not be perfect, but to you he was perfect in every way.

Life had changed a lot since you met Jensen all those years ago in that small studio in Austin, Texas.

Even though there were challenges you both had to face, and lessons that you had to learn most normal couples hopefully would never encounter. It didn't destroy you.

It made you stronger.

Yes, there are monsters out there. They walk among us every day. They hurt people, and they do things to people that are down right inhuman and cruel.

Yes, bad things happen to people that don't deserve it.

Living in fear is NOT an option.

Watching Jensen overcome what happened to him was one of the hardest things you ever had to do, hell it changed you both.

Spiritual, mentally, and physically, neither of you would ever be the same.

Now you watched him take what was done to hurt him, to tear him down completely, and build up others. Strangers. People that he owed nothing, but instead let LOVE win.

There's no other person you'd rather spend the rest of your life with, scars and all.

No matter what life throws your way, no matter what may happen tomorrow. You would get through it together.. Just like you always promised.

You and me.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[no-whump-on-main]

Elora Series-2

Back at it again with part 2!!

I am slightly sleep deprived excuse grammatical errors.

TWs: mention of drugging, possessive whumper.

     Clyde Anderson wasn’t an idiot.

     He was reckless, maybe, and a little crazy, but he wasn’t an idiot. He had left a completely clean crime scene; not a single strand of hair was left behind, not a single lost eyelash, nothing. As soon as Elora finally gave in and passed out, he took the SIM card out of her phone and crushed it to bits with his foot, though he kept the device itself to dispose of farther away. It didn’t take him long at all to secure her wrists and ankles with thick rope, just to ensure she couldn’t try anything in the off chance that she woke up before they reached their destination. Once she was tied up properly, he shoved her and her bag into the trunk before getting back into the driver’s seat and speeding off.

     The drive was long, but not terribly so; it was just about two hours, driven straight through. That was another of the geniuses to his plan; they’d be crossing state lines, twice. That, on top of the squeaky clean scene, made Clyde confident that the police wouldn’t have even the slightest chance of ever finding Elora. 

     In all honesty, he didn’t know what he was going to do with her. He had a couple of plans, but after that, he was lost. It didn’t seem plausible to keep her forever, but a body to hide would complicate things even further. He could let her go, eventually, but he’d have to rough her up pretty bad to scare her out of telling anyone about him.

     Overthinking was a demon. That was a problem to be dealt with later. All he knew at the moment was that he had to have her, and now he did.

     Ever since some drunk guy at the bar started rambling to him the wretched bitch who killed his niece, curiosity had eaten at his soul, itching to know more. They became newfound drinking buddies, and he pressed the other man for details every night out for weeks, yet somehow came off without any suspicion. Clyde asked for all sorts of things-her name, where she was from, how she knew his niece-and Dante always answered without question. 

     The gist of the story he was given was that Dante’s niece, Wren, had been dating this girl for years, which he had never liked in the first place, but one day, when they were sixteen, she took Wren up a mountain and killed her. Clyde had a feeling that wasn’t the entire story, but he truly didn’t care. His fascination was with the Elora, not what she’d done three years ago.

     He truly didn’t need much information from Dante, anyways. After a few basic questions, he got everything else he needed from facebook stalking.

     And now he’d been watching her for almost five months.

    It still felt surreal that he’d finally talked  himself into biting back his worries and taking her. He couldn’t explain his feelings about the situation if his life depended on it, but something felt so viscerally right now that she was finally with him, just a few feet away in the trunk.  It was as if Elora had always belonged to him, and now things were just as they were supposed to be. 

     He had her. He finally fucking had her.

     About thirty miles away from where he grabbed her, he tossed her SIM-cardless phone out of the window into a soaked ditch on the side of the road. Even if the device was recovered, it wouldn’t have a chance of turning on after soaking in rainwater for so long. 

     The rest of the drive passed uneventfully, just as Clyde had hoped. He never stopped once, and was incredibly careful to drive lawfully so as to not attract the attention of any cops.

      Their final destination was a shitty apartment in an even shittier town in Connecticut. The name Pleasant Park Apartments poorly hid the harsh reality of asbestos-filled walls, cigarette butts lining the sidewalks like snow, and neighbors who were either always too high to give a shit about anything or just naturally apathetic on their own. Clyde had been there for seven years, and was numb to the conditions at this point. He used to live in a nice condo on the better side of town, but after some bitch that couldn’t take a damn joke got fired from his job as a mechanic that paid a pretty penny, he couldn’t afford it anymore. His new job as an insurance agent hardly covered rent for the shithole he had now, but it was all that he could get. At least the coworkers weren’t shit.

     After parking the sedan close to his building, Clyde took Elora’s bag out of the trunk and slung it over his shoulder, then proceeded to lift her out of the trunk, holding her beneath her knees and around her back in a bridal carry. She was still completely limp, her body almost jelly-like in its unconscious state. He didn’t anticipate just how heavy she’d feel when he had to carry her up three flights of stairs. By the time he put his key in the door of apartment 307, he was panting heavily, more than ready to drop her in the bathroom prison he’d already prepared for her. 

     The bathroom was obviously not an ideal location; a basement would have been preferable, but in a two bed two bath apartment, there wasn’t another place to put her. The spare bedroom was too close to the outside and had windows-what if a cop patrolling around looking for druggies heard her, or she lifted the blinds to signal for help? The master bath and bedroom weren’t options for the same reason, and neither were the kitchen or the living room, with far too much open space to properly contain Elora. That left the small guest bathroom in the hallway; the door to it was directly across from the front door of the apartment, but that was the only negative. It didn’t have any external walls, and was easy to rig into somewhat of a cell.

     It wasn’t anything fancy, but it wasn’t awful, either. Clyde had never used it, sticking to the master, so it was clean, but the decor was straight out of the eighties, with yellowing floral wallpaper and a big white mat that had begun to grow mold from the surrounding humidity in the center of the room. The bathtub was straight ahead from the door, and the very clearly aged toilet and vanity were along the right wall, lining up with the showerhead. 

     Clyde did indeed drop Elora, kicking the door closed behind himself then immediately heading over to the bathroom and all but tossing her into the tub. He flinched, though, at the sound of her head smacking against the hard tile that lined the side walls. That was probably overkill-even he knew that.

     He didn’t have time to fuss over it, though. He didn’t know how much time he had until she woke up. 

     A week prior to the kidnapping, he’d purchased a length of heavy duty chain and a few padlocks from a local store. With a bit of ingenuity, he figured out a way to rig them to the bathtub’s faucet without having to install any sort of extra hardware into the walls to prevent them from slipping off. All it took was the tension of looping them around both the faucet and the handle that controlled the water and a few extra wraps around; after being secured with several padlocks, there wasn’t a single plausible way for the chains to be pulled off of the wall. All he had to do after that was secure the loose end of the chain to a pair of handcuffs with another padlock, and he had all he needed to keep Elora exactly where he wanted her to be.

     He untied the ropes from her hands and feet, replacing those around her hands with the cuffs. He didn’t worry about securing her feet in any way, as the amount of chain left after the jerry-rigged suspension between the handle and faucet was so short that she would have to hunch over to stand, anyways. She wouldn’t be able to go far with that.

     He double-checked everything before leaving the bathroom, each padlock, each individual chain link, and the bathroom itself for any hazards that could be within her reach. There were none. Everything was utterly perfect.

     Satisfied, Clyde turned off the lights, closed the door, and headed into his bedroom which was just a door away down the hallway, a gleeful smile on his face.

-

     Elora awoke slowly, in several stages. At first, she couldn’t even tell that she was waking up at all, as wherever she was, it was pitch black. She then realized that she was in fact somewhere, and that somewhere was unfamiliar. She bolted upright with a start. Her head ached horribly from the sudden motion and she flinched, sucking in a loud breath. Ow, shit. Confusion then hit her. Where was she?

     The memories came next. She jerked her wrists back abruptly and heard the clanking of metal, feeling tightness around her wrists as something resisted them moving. It kept them together when she tried to pull them apart, as well..handcuffs?

     Her first instinct was to scream and jerk as much as she could, fighting chains that she couldn’t even see. She thrashed as hard as she could, her throat feeling raw as she screamed for what felt like an hour.

     Soon, though, she fell silent. Dead silent. She swore she could hear footsteps, and they were getting louder. Maybe someone was coming to help her? This could all be a huge misunderstanding.

     A door she didn’t even know was there opened and she held her breath. A small amount of light came into the room, but it seemed to be dark outside of wherever she was, too.

     She watched as a shadowy figure reached into the room, flipping a light switch. Bright fluorescent lights crackled on immediately, and Elora blinked, her eyes having become accustomed to the darkness.

     She whipped her head around to look at the figure after her eyes adjusted. They panned to his face, first; he was a man, with a scraggly goatee and brown hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed or cut in a long time. His eyes were brown, the whites bloodshot. She could see it in his face that he was slightly overweight, and his skin had an almost-sunburned appearance despite it being the middle of November.

     His mouth started moving. He was speaking. His voice was rough and loud.

     “Hello.”

     Elora’s eyes then panned down to his body. She recognized the clothes he was wearing. She recognized them. It had been too dark to make out his face when she was being kidnapped, but she remembered his clothes. A gray tee shirt and straight-leg jeans. He took her. He was the one. He-

     She began screaming again, and then she heard him laugh at the sound of her cries.

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