#ellen is dove (crying)

[alienheartattack]

Sticking my head in the ground and insisting that AOT never ended, it just sorta trailed off and ended with Yams going on permanent hiatus, and whatever's being released this weekend is just an OVA.

Someday I'll be able to eloquently detail how fundamentally betrayed I felt by how slapdash and philosophically inconsistent the ending was, how Eren and Armin's conversation both sidelined Mikasa in her own story and appeared to endorse fascism and genocide, how wildly offensive the extra pages were in terms of Mikasa's inconsistent character development and her designation as eternal Eren simp, and the 47,000 other complaints I had with the writing of the series, but I don't know if that's gonna happen anytime soon, or ever. I loved doing AOT fandom stuff and I still love my Rivamika crew, but I just feel sick with disappointment when I think about AOT as a whole.

I do kinda want to watch the finale but I haven't seen a single episode since the final manga chapters dropped over 2 years ago. I've never had my love for a series killed so thoroughly and completely before, and now it's truly over.

[shinzou-wo-sus-sageyo]

really shitty eren yeager moodboard ft. wildly out-of-context manga spoilers

[jellofish-of-the-deep]

Y/N Dies of a Caffeine Overdose and Lycaon Finds Your Corpse in a Public Bathroom

Read on ao3 here:

It was a day like any other for the employees of Victoria Housekeeping. Rina was ordering her Bangboos (Bangboo? Bangbi?) to dust the bookshelf, Ellen was holding the vacuum cleaner in one hand while tapping at her phone in the other, and Corrin was busy being useless.

In the middle of the room stood Von Lycaon, proud and diligent president of the company, the pocket watch in his paw reflecting gilded sunlight onto snowy fur. In a smooth, practiced motion, he stowed the watch in his breast pocket, sighing.

“Corrin, although I admire your tenacity, your performance has been lacking this morning. I have noticed a twenty-two percent decline in incomprehensible sobbing from you today, and an almost seventy percent decrease in rampant property destruction. At this rate, you are never going to hit your quota.”

“Ah!” squeaked Corrin as she tripped over thin air, catching herself by stabbing her saw blade into their very rich client’s very expensive and irreplaceable rug. The rug spontaneously burst into flames. The pair looked at it for a second, before Corrin practically slammed her head into the ground. “I-I’m very sorry for not meeting your expectations, Mr. Lycaon!”

“It is quite alright Corrin, we each have our off days. However, may I inquire as to the reason for your lapse in focus? If there is any way in which I may assist you in upholding your ‘dojikko-moe’ character, as the kids these days call it, I shall be happy to lend you my aid.”

“Please… please don’t ever say that again, boss,” Ellen muttered emotionlessly, blood trickling from her ears.

“Well, you see, Mr. Lycaon… I-It’s [Y/N].”

Lycaon raised an eyebrow. “The Proxy?”

“Yes! I’m just so worried about them, Mr. Lycaon… Oh, they’re not in danger or anything! At least, I don’t think so…”

Lycaon did that thing that hot fictional men do where they put their index finger and thumb on their chin. “Would you care to elaborate, Corrin?”

“Oh, yes! Well, it started last week…”

One week ago

After two hours of crashing into every single person who walked by, Corrin finally managed to escape the train station and step into Sixth Street. It was one of her favorite places to visit, as it was never too loud and there were plenty of alleyways she could duck into to break down crying at a moment’s notice.

Unfortunately, Corrin did not have time for a nervous breakdown today, as she was here to run an important errand for Victoria Housekeeping: namely, to repair their Butler Bangboo that she mistook for an Ethereal yesterday before promptly brutalizing it with her fully charged EX Special Attack. Now, if she remembered correctly (a rare occurrence), she just had to turn this corner to get to the Turbo Remodeling Shop…

“FUCKING SHIT GOD DAMN IT I’M GOING TO END IT ALL!”

At the sudden string of expletives, Corrin yelped and dove headfirst into the nearest trash can, startling the cats that happened to be sleeping inside and leaving Corrin with a fresh set of claw marks on her face.

“W-What was that?” Corrin whimpered, peeking around the corner. The noise, she now recognized, was coming from the music shop, Bardic Needle.

“WHAT DO YOU M E A N, I’M OUT OF MASTER COPIES??? I HAD HUNDREDS OF THOSE LITTLE SHITS SAVED UP!!!”

A tired, robotic sigh echoed across the street. “Please, [Y/N], this is quite inelegant-”

“QUIET, ELFY, OR I’M DOWNLOADING YOUR AI INTO A B-RANK W-ENGINE!”

That was [Y/N]’s voice! But what exactly was upsetting them so much, Corrin wondered, as she trepidatiously slid open the door.

“H-Hello, Master Pro-”

“CORRIN SWEETIE PLEASE YOU HAVE TO HELP ME I’M LOSING MY MIND,” [Y/N] screeched, causing Corrin to flinch and knock over an antique record player.

The legendary Proxy was hunched over in the middle of the store surrounded by a comically large pile of nearly identical music disks, hair completely frazzled, eyes bloodshot, looking as though they had just snorted several lines of Ether powder. Elfy stood in the only uncluttered corner of the room, hands dragging down her face, muttering to herself about closing down the shop and taking a swan dive into the nearest Hollow because Corruption couldn’t possibly be worse than this. Corrin hadn’t realized that robots could have bags under their eyes.

Corrin cleared her throat. “You seem to be in a lot of trouble… M-May I ask what is bothering you, Master Proxy?”

[Y/N] visibly took a deep, shaky breath, and tried to lower their voice. “Well, you see… I’m trying to farm Fanged Metal Drive Disks for mommy sorry I mean mommy sorry I mean mommy sorry I mean Jane Doe, but these stupid things KEEP GIVING ME HP AND DEF SUBSTATS!!”

Corrin cowered in fear at the sudden volume, but [Y/N] continued to raise their voice to a howl. “AT THIS RATE I’M NEVER GOING TO REACH 420+ ANOMALY PROFICIENCY FOR MY TOP TIER S-RANK DUMMY THICC HOT RAT DOMMY MOMMY WAIFU! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!”

“Please, try to calm down, Master Proxy! I-I don’t exactly understand any of what you just said, but I’m sure it’s very complicated Proxy things that I’m not knowledgeable enough to understand… A-Anyways! Let’s try to think about how to approach this!”

Corrin frowned. “You mentioned earlier that you were ‘out of Master Copies’, whatever that means, but… Is there a way to get more of them? O-Or, maybe there’s another way to get…” she looked around at the hundreds of music disks piled on the floor, “…whatever it is that you need, without them?”

“I can’t get any more Hi-Fi Master Copies,” [Y/N] groaned, “I’ve already maxed out my Fortnite Battle Pass this season. And the only other way to get these is through Routine Cleanup, but I’ve already used my Battery Charge for today… Unless…”

[Y/N]’s eyes widened.

“OF COURSE! I just need to get more Battery Charge, and then I can suck the military’s dick for CDs as much as I want! And the best way to do that is…”

[Y/N] turned around, crouched down into a running start, and tore through the wall of Bardic Needle, leaving behind a [Y/N] shaped hole.

“CAFFEINE!!!” echoed their voice, leaving Corrin and Elfy to stare at the now-demolished music store.

“W-Well, I’m glad I could help?” Corrin called back, hesitantly.

Elfy very calmly turned around, sat down in her chair, and began a factory reset.

Present day

“So, then they went to the coffee shop, you said?” Lycaon asked, rubbing his temple.

“Yes, Mr. Lycaon! I spoke with the barista later. Apparently they had a heated argument, because he’s only supposed to serve customers one coffee per day, but he gave up after [Y/N] threatened to drink a k-cup mixed with ketchup and orange juice.”

“I… see…” Lycaon frowned, unsure as to how to process this.

“Was it with or without pulp?” Rina asked, scribbling in her cookbook. Her two Bangbongle flew out from the drawer they were cleaning.

“Ewwwww, orange juice with pulp fucking sucks!” Drusilla pitched in.

“Fucking sucks! Fucking sucks!” Anastella parroted.

“Rina, for the sake of our clients’… survival, I would urge you not to replicate the Proxy’s handiwork in a professional setting,” Lycaon coughed, as Rina’s Bangbussy giggled to each other.

“Do it when I’m around,” Ellen said, “I kinda wanna try it.”

“Ahem. Returning to the matter at hand,” Lycaon gave a pointed look to Rina and her Boob, “I do not understand much about the underlying issue myself, but I am concerned about how much stress it seems to be putting the Proxy through. Corrin, was this the last time you spoke with them?”

“Yes, Mr. Lycaon, I-I tried to message them several times this week but they didn’t respond, and when I went back to their video store there was only the Bangboo at the front desk… I’m really worried about them, Mr. Lycaon…”

Lycaon sighed. “It is no wonder you have been struggling as of late.” He retrieved his pocket watch and flipped it open. “Well, as proud representatives of Victoria Housekeeping, it would be quite unbefitting of us to leave a client in want of assistance, would it not?”

He smiled and reached down to pat Corrin’s head, who squeaked and leaned into his paw. “Don’t worry, Corrin, I’ll go check in on them, to make sure that our friend is doing okay.”

The mood was becoming too fluffy for a crack fic, so Corrin promptly tripped and broke a vase that was filled to the brim with live spiders.

~~~

After sending the Proxy a message and confirming that there was no response, the first place Lycaon investigated was the Random Play video store. He was greeted only by the cheerful ehn-nas of Bangboo 18, which was disappointing but expected.

He then tried Bardic Needle, which was permanently closed. Listening to the gossip on the street, he learned that the owner of the place had transferred her consciousness into a Bangboo and ran off into the night to find a new calling in life. To each their own, Lycaon supposed.

Finally, Lycaon walked into Coff Cafe, and was greeted by a robot slumped over on the bar.

“Ugh… I swear to god, [Y/N], if you keep coming in like this, your next coffee will have cockroach powder in- Oh wait, you’re not [Y/N]!”

Tin Master looked up at Lycaon and sagged noticeably in relief.

Lycaon raised an eyebrow. “Good morning to you, sir. As a matter of fact, I have come here for the purpose of inquiring about that very person. You’ve seen [Y/N]?”

Tin Master groaned. “Been taken hostage by them, more like.” The robot slammed his head down onto the bartop. “Yes, I’ve seen them. For the past week, they’ve been coming into my cafe every ten minutes to order a coffee. Twenty. Four. Hours. A day.”

The barista sighed. “I know that my cafe is open 24 hours, but even us robots need some downtime to recharge, you know? But every time I try to explain that to them, they just pull out a thermos of that horrid concoction…” He shuddered. “I’ve had to run on low power mode just to survive! Isn’t it awful?”

Lycaon blinked. “I… am very sorry to hear that, sir. Are they here right now?”

“Yeah, they went to use the bathroom. That was what, ten minutes ago, now?” Tin Master looked up at the clock and squinted blearily. He rubbed his eyes. “Huh, I could’ve sworn it hasn’t been that long.. I guess my internal clocks are malfunctioning from battery deprivation.”

Lycaon tried to quell the rising anxiety in his throat. “May I ask sir, how long ago did they enter the bathroom?”

“About two and a half hours ago.”

Lycaon’s eyes widened. “And they’re still in there?”

“I never saw them walk out, that’s for sure.”

Lycaon sprinted past the disoriented barista and slid to a stop in front of the single-stall bathroom. He hurriedly knocked on the door. “Master [Y/N], are you in there? Can you hear me?”

He placed his ear against the door. He faintly picked up on weak gurgling that his heightened Thiren senses were able to identify as that of the Proxy.

“Master Proxy! Forgive my intrusion, but I am opening this door to confirm your safety! Yell at me if you wish for me to stop!” Lycaon shouted as he broke open the lock with one swift kick (he made a mental note to reimburse Coff Cafe later). He pulled, and the door swung open.

The bathroom was a complete mess. The mirrors and tiles that were normally kept, according to Tin Master’s sanitary standards, “shinier than my ex-wife’s crocodile tears during the custody battle, like, she had artificial tear ducts installed into her frame and everything,” were spattered with speckles of fresh and vaguely coffee-scented vomit. In the middle of the carnage was [Y/N], slumped over and drowning in the toilet bowl.

“Proxy!” Lycaon yelled in alarm. His cybernetic leg pistons fired as he propelled himself towards [Y/N], grabbing them by the collar out of the toilet with one hand and steadying them with the other.

[Y/N] coughed and sputtered, dangling limply from Lycaon’s arms. Their skin had turned a deathly pallor, and Lycaon could see their cheekbones - when had the Proxy last eaten anything of substance? They opened their eyes. “Wha- Huh? Where am I-”

“[Y/N]! You are currently located in the lavatory of the Coff Cafe establishment on Sixth Street. What happened? Do you require me to call you an ambulance?”

The video store manager groaned. “Probably, yeah, I think I might’ve had too much caffeine- urp-” They gulped, then turned around and threw up violently in the toilet. “Uh, shit.”

There was now a bloody mess inside of the toilet. “That’s not good,” [Y/N] mumbled, blood dripping from their mouth. “Chat, I think I grinded too hard.”

They collapsed.

“Proxy!” Lycaon yelled, catching [Y/N]. He pulled them close to his chest, and took out his cellphone. “I am going to call an ambulance for you, Master, just stay with me!”

[Y/N] closed their eyes, sighing dreamily. “Oooohhh… I can’t believe I get to spend my last moments on earth cradled in the arms of a furry butler sexyman… My life’s mission has been fulfilled, now I can die in peace.”

Lycaon paused, and coughed into his hand. “You will have to pardon my coarse language, Master Proxy, but I must ask: What the actual fuck?”

[Y/N] took one final breath, and went limp in his arms.

“Proxy? Proxy?!” Lycaon shouted, checking for a pulse. Their heartbeat was as still as a rock.

“No… Proxy!!!”

~~~

The funeral was a sombre one in spite of [Y/N]’s efforts to “spice it up”, according to their will. At one point, an unnecessarily high-quality animatronic made to resemble [Y/N]’s rotten corpse violently burst from the ground, causing Nicole, Billy, and Corrin to faint. Corrin somehow managed to land on the casket and smashed it open, creating even more chaos as everybody scrambled to repair it. Anby was the only person who found it funny, which [Y/N] would’ve considered a win in their book.

Ben, the executor of the will, downed two bottles of aspirin. (As unwilling as he was to set up pranks for a day of mourning, the terms of the will were VERY clear and legally bulletproof. Ben wondered how much money [Y/N] spent on lawyers and elaborate props for this. He also wondered why they had to choose him, of all people.)

Rina floated over to where Lycaon was standing.

“You realize it’s not your fault, dear,” she said to him with a saddened expression, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. Even her usually energetic Bag were silent today. “You did everything you could.”

“I know, Rina. It’s just…” Lycaon hung his head. “I have failed my clients in the past, over the course of my career. But never before have I had one lose their life while under my watch. Not just a client, a comrade …” He clenched his fist. “I should have been there sooner.”

“Not even you can be everywhere at once, Lycaon,” Rina reassured him. “At the very least, you made sure that they weren’t alone when they passed away. Speaking of which,” she tilted her head, “What were their last words?”

Lycaon thought about it for a second.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck.”

[firstprince-ao3feed]

Take my hand take my whole life too...

by Justsomehowexistingidekhow “Please don't give me a fright, please tell me” his hand which is not holding Alex's is currently shaking, he's practically vibrating right now. She sighs and looks at the documents “We've run a few tests and some blood work as a precautionary measure, and I need you to listen to me carefully” Or The fic where Alex has pancreatic cancer. Inspired by the movie, 'Spoiler alert: the hero dies' Words: 5165, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Oscar Diaz (Red White & Royal Blue), Ellen Claremont, Nora Holleran, June Claremont-Diaz, Percy "Pez" Okonjo Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Major Illness, Cancer, Character Death, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, POV Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Needs a Hug, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, supportive parents, Angst, Fluffy, really fucking fluffy, I Might Need A Hug, idk how to tag, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Married FirstPrince, Christmas fic, Did I Say Fluffy?, Crying, Heartbreak, no beta we die like arthur fox, Henry misses Alex, Henry misses his father, Depiction of Death, Sad, Original Character - Freeform via https://ift.tt/tBEg0Ui

[thebadhalfofafandom]

Aight, let’s talk about the SNK elephant in the room (spoilers)

I actually liked the ending, it’s obviously had it’s problems as with literally any series that’s ended ever. (And let’s get this out of the way, if I see any harassment thrown Isayama’s way then congrats on having the maturity of a 8 year old COD player.)

Like with every series, it could’ve benefited from a bit more time, which could easily be added onto the anime. The anime has always added a bunch of little details and moments that have been superior to the manga (ie: Annie’s laugh, that ‘glitched’ preview clip at the end of the 5th op before shiganshina, etc.)

And while I think it’s kinda a cop out to turn everyone back to normal and removing the curse of ymir/titans in general, all we wanted for these characters was for them to be free, and now they are and people are upset about that(?)

I feel as though Eren was always going to be a complex character who would always hide what he was thinking, what he was really thinking anyway. And before I hear “Eren killed 80% of the human population, why are they sad over him”, they knew eren for years/a decade, Mikasa and armin practically their entire lives. Wouldn’t you still hold at least some fondness of someone you knew for half your life. And Mikasa loved Eren, of course she still has those feelings after his death. I’m not condoning shit but you have to understand these people still wept when they thought they killed reiner in the shiganshina arc, Reiner was one of the worst people they’ve met up until that point and they still cried.

If you were expecting some bloody horror ending where everyone died, then I’m sorry but these fuckers deserve to live and be free and I’m god damn happy they get to live their lives and that Levi can finally rest  and that Gabi suplexed falco and that Historia is finally happy. There are so many stories nowadays where the ending is left ambiguous or where the characters lose too much for it to be considered a win or just doesn’t end at all (or suffers a fate worse than death by having a shitty spin off/sequel).

tldr: don’t send threats to isayama, these characters deserve happiness and freedom after spending most of their lives in turbo ultra hell and Eren is an obvious bastard but of course his friends still have some fondness about him. AND SCENE

[sadaakirah]

Ellen become a dove (crying)

Source

[alwaysrunningoutoftime]

#BuryTheScarfMikasa #BurnTheScarfMikasa

*contains talk about chapter 139, so do not read if you do not want to be spoiled. Heavily anti er*mika. Also, I'll be using Aaron/Ellen, just in case*

Hi Hi !! fellow Mikasa and Rivamika fans, and anyone else who stumbles across this who was gravely disappointed in Mikasa's ending. I've been somewhat of a lurker, and I've enjoyed seeing the fanart, reading the fics, and all the theories and analyses, so thank you to everyone who has shared their content. I don't usually share my thoughts so publicly ('cause I'm always nervous I won't communicate all my emotions properly), but I have this idea and I'd love to share it, and might as well take the opportunity to criticize 139.

My Thoughts On Mikasa's Ending and Her Scarf

After chapter 139, I was thinking about Mikasa's scarf and whether I wanted to continue imagining her in it anymore, e.g. when reading fics or fucking fantasizing lmao. See, the scarf used to be her indicator; it was very much part of her person. And, in the beginning, it represented warmth and comfort. After the traumatic experience of seeing her parents brutally murdered, we can't deny that, in the beginning, that's exactly what Aaron represented for her (warmth, safety, security, and comfort). But, overtime, we've seen how the scarf has come to represent Mikasa's over attachment to Aaron.

Over the series, we see Aaron Yoghurt and Mikasa grow apart, and the infamous line: "I've always hated you, Mikasa" is the final nail in the coffin. In this arc, we see Mikasa's crafted image of Aaron begin to crumble ('cause he's a fucking mass murderer now), and we finally see her take off that scarf. Thus, separating herself from Aaron. And when she finally put it back on to behead Aaron, I had hoped it was one final 'hurrah!'; one last moment to tie to the scarf before burying it. And how fitting would that have been for the very thing that once tied them together to free them both?

But, no. As we all witnessed in the last chapter, the scarf is still wrapped around Mikasa even three years later. We have Ellen Dove's pathetic lines: "Even after I die... I want to be at the front of her mind for a while! Ten years, at least!!!", paired with the final lines: "Thank you for wrapping this scarf around me Ellen."

Now, what the hell does that say to a reader? I get everyone's defensiveness about how it's okay for Mikasa to grieve. But the main issue is Yams' storytelling and how that portrays and reduces Mikasa as a character.

There was this blatant contrast of every single person moving on, doing something with their lives. Then, there is Mikasa, crying at the graveyard of a dead mass murderer. The scarf clings onto her like shackles, not allowing her to be free and live life. Not to mention the fact that in the same chapter, Mikasa was shown to have 'freed' Ymir from her abusive relationship, only to revert to the same behaviour a few panels later.

I'm not gonna go much deeper into it, but we all were able to draw parallels between Ymir-Fritz and Ere*ika, right? It's disturbing, it's alarming, and so very harmful that Yams wasn't even careful with word choice in displaying an abusive relationship. Instead, he painted it in a good light. So, you can see how in her final goodbye just how badly this has framed Mikasa's character. Reducing her to a mourning widow of, once again, a mass murderer.

SO, HERE'S MY IDEA: A PROJECT/MOVEMENT/PROTEST

We, as a collective fandom (rivamikas and anyone who loves Mikasa and was hurt/offended/disgusted by her ending), could stop putting Mikasa in a scarf NOW. As we've all said, that crusty, rusty, musty, dusty, germ-infested, disease-bringing shit needs to die and stay dead. It's time we all say goodbye to it.

A movement of fanarts/fics/any other content of Mikasa burning the scarf, burying it, or simply showing her without the scarf and any other creative thing your mind comes up with. THIS IS A PROTEST of what that thing now represents. Being shackled to a pathetic mass murderer, clinging to a toxic love, living in the past, living for a man and not yourself, and not moving on or being happy. I think it could kind of be a way to allow ourselves and Mikasa to move on from chapter 139; a kind of CATHARSIS. We still stand with Mikasa and everything that is good about her, and will not allow that to be her ending.

And, sure, include Levi (preferably, holding her neck as he kisses the living daylights out of her, kissing her bare neck, and perhaps even a little conversation about the scarf). BUT, REMEMBER, THIS IS MAINLY FOR MIKASA, AND ALL THE WOMEN SHE REPRESENTS.

If you feel as passionately about this as I do, then include the hashtag #BuryTheScarfMikasa or #BurnTheScarfMikasa to all your future posts of Mikasa without her scarf. (I'd like to think 'Bury' is more gentle, while 'Burn' indicates rage lol)

(also, to note: I'm looking at post war and cottage core fanarts and a lot of you guys are already doing this! Guess I might be late to the party. If so, then I'd like to ask any of the artists and anyone in general: how much were you considering Mikasa's scarf when drawing/writing her? And what will you do now after reading 139 and this? I'd love to hear your thoughts. Also I'd also like to ask that you please reblog this to spread the word. Thank you for reading :)

[thediamondolls]

this list is ever changing, check back for updates!

TV Muses:

Heidi Barrie / Buffy the Vampire Slayer ( fc: shelley hennig )

Jo Harvelle / Supernatural ( fc: alona tal )

Ruby ( v. 1.0 ) / Supernatural ( fc: katie cassidy )

Saxa /  Spartacus ( fc: ellen hollman )

Santanico Pandemonium / From Dusk til Dawn ( fc: eiza gonzalez )

Vanessa Styles / From Dusk til Dawn ( fc: adrianne palicki )

Serena van der Woodsen / OG Gossip Girl ( fc: blake lively )

OC's:

Aoife / Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter ( fc: katherine mcnamara )

Ebony Sparda / Devil May Cry ( fc: emeraude toubia )

Eirny / X-Men ( fc: danielle rose russell )

Ekaterina Romanov / John Wick ( fc: megan fox )

Freki / Werewolf lore ( fc: katherine winnick )

Keres Angelos / AHS Coven ( fc: ryan ashley malarkey )

Laura Lawrence / Cobra Kai ( fc: jeanine mason )

Lilith / Biblical / Mythology Based ( fc: samantha robinson )

Mariella Salvatore / The Vampire Diaries / The Originals ( fc: giulia de lellis ) 

Remini : x5-404 / Dark Angel ( fc: lindsay morgan )

Video Games:

Faith Seen / Far Cry 5 ( fc: anya taylor joy )

Jill Valentine / Resident Evil ( fc: tbd )

Lilith the Siren / Borderlands ( fc: tbd )

Susie Jordan aka The Legion / Dead by Daylight ( fc: lights poxleitner )

Movies:

Amber Sweet / Repo! the genetic opera ( fc: ryan ashley malarkey )

Marnie Wallace / Repo! the genetic opera ( fc: emily blunt )

Delta / Jurassic World ( fc: adrianne palicki )

Fox Mask / You’re Next ( fc: jon bernthal )

Ginger Fitzgerald / Ginger Snaps ( fc: katherine isabel )

Holly Garling / PET ( fc: ksenia solo )

Jennifer Check / Jennifer’s Body ( fc: megan fox )

Kirby Reed / Scream 4 ( fc: hayden pantierre )

Tattoo / Moulin Rouge! ( fc: ryan ashley malarkey )

Tracy Bingham / All Cheerleaders Die ( fc: natalie alyn lind )

Comics:

America Chavez / Marvel ( fc: xochitl gomez )

Bobbi Morse / Marvel ( fc: blake lively )

Christine Palmer / Marvel ( fc: rachel mcadams )

Clint Barton / Marvel ( fc: aaron paul )

Dinah Lance / DC ( fc: katherine winnick )

Jessica Jones / Marvel ( fc: krystin ritter )

Natasha Romanov / Marvel ( fc: ana de armas )

Oliver Queen / DC ( fc: charlie hunnam )

Sersi / Marvel ( fc: gemma chan )

Tandy Bowen / Marvel ( fc: olivia holt )

Zatanna Zatara / DC ( fc: emeraude toubia )

Literature:

Cherry / Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter ( fc: brianne howey )

Corky Corcoran / Fear Street Cheerleaders ( fc: sabrina carpenter )

Itzpapalotl / Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter ( fc: becky g )

Jeyne Westerling / ASOIAF ( fc: lily james )

Rafael Espinoza / Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter ( fc: clayton cardenas )

Raina Wallis / Anita Blake: vampire hunter

Ridley Duchannes  / Caster Chronicles aka Beautiful Creatures ( fc: dove cameron )

Rosalie Hale / Twilight ( fc: sydney sweeney / anti smeyer )

Rosha Nelson / Fear Street: The Perfect Date ( fc: olivia holt )

Shiera Seastar / ASOIAF ( fc: tbh )

Sookie Stackhouse / Southern Vampire Mysteries aka True Blood ( fc: tbd )

Stormy Llewellyn / Odd Thomas ( fc: danielle campbell )

Vivian Gandillon / Blood and Chocolate ( fc: virginia gardner )

Request:

Churchill Creed / Pet Semetary ( fc: zane holtz )

Eventide Grimhilde / Grimm / descendants multi-fandom ( fc: sofia carson )

Fawkes / Harry Potter ( fc: ana de armas )

Hedwig / Harry Potter ( fc: diana agron )

Jane Foster / Marvel ( fc:  alicia vikander ) 

Sansa Stark / ASOIAF ( fc: sophie turner )

[alienheartattack]

What are the leaks??? I haven’t heard anything about them…

Zekken is posting leaks on Baidu. The leaks are fucking bonkers so far and are unconfirmed, but Zekken has been right before. I thought he was full of shit when he leaked Ellen becomes dove (crying) but... welp.

So far, what’s come out is that Mikasa has a husband (possibly Jean) and a child, Paradis gets destroyed in the end, and the power of the Titans remains. There’s no proof that any of this is true. I really hope it isn’t, but who knows?

[warm-starlight]

ellen actually became a dove 😂😂😂

(Crying)

😂😂😂

[leaderoflostboys]

come away little light || closed

Irish Countryside, 1846, 9:30 pm

Peter alighted a poorly thatched roof of a farm and sighed. He had been aiming for the early 1990s, in hopes of finding Lion King bug pops to bring to Fauna, but had ended up somewhere so far from where he’d find those, that he’d spent most of the day wandering around. Ireland was always beautiful, but everyone seemed so sad here, moaning on about not having potatoes. He planned to try again tomorrow, and decided to take a rest on this rooftop for the night. The stars were all twinkling, and the brightest start to the left seemed to wink at him. He stretched out, arms tucked behind his head like a pillow, toes scratched by the rough thatching. His mouth became a cave as he yawned, bare chest rising and falling gently as he settled into sleep.

12:00 am

The siren of a child wailing woke Peter, and he opened one of his sore eyes at the start. He lay there waiting, hoping someone would tend to the child, but as it carried on, Pan sat up, straw poking out of his hair. Leaning back on his hands, he pushed himself to stand up, and walked the length of the roof casually. He leaned forward on the gable, head stuck out over the edge to see if any lamps were lit. When it was clear that the house was all dark, he dove forward silently into the air, and hovered outside the open window.

His eyes took only a moment to adjust to the darkness inside, and he could see a small bed containing a little lump of a child, and across the room from it, a cradle with the screeching babe. Peter stepped in through the ledge, down one step onto a small trunk situated by the window. He floated in coolly, and perched himself on the edge of the cradle in a squatting position, peering down at the reddening face of a child no more than two years of age, his face distorted in an uncomfortable cry. Pan cocked his head, and after glancing back over his shoulder to the other sleeping child, slowly rocked to the left, and then the right, picking up a gentle rhythm on the cradle. The babe quieted slightly, curious as to what was causing the movement, and peered down the cradle to see Peter, who gave a slight wiggle of his fingers as a hello. The boy watched Pan in rapt attention, eyes closing ever so slowly, the rocking pulling him back towards slumber.

“Oh my!” a quiet voice behind Peter made him start and nearly fall into the crib. The jerk made the baby’s wail begin again, and Peter hopped into the air and spun around to see a young girl sitting up in the center of her bed. “You--you can--” she started, and Peter crashed backwards against the wall, ducking behind the crib. “D-demon?” she cowered slightly, drawing her bedclothes up to her nose.

“No!” he choked, glancing at the open window, weighing his options. “Boy,” he said, pointing at his chest. “Flying boy,” he added, and to his delight, she lowered the blankets, an amused, curious smile playing about her lips. “Peter,” he added in introduction, standing up properly.

“Maureen,” said the little dark haired girl with a tilt of the head. “How do you do that?” she asked, and Peter took to gently rocking the cradle once more to silence the cries of the baby.

“I just push it from side to side,” he responded with a frown.

Maureen giggled and shook her head.

“No, the other thing. The flying.”

They always ask that.

“I’m really smart,” he flashed a pearly grin, cocking his head to the side. The girl laughed again, pushing her blankets off and climbing out of bed. As she walked towards him, Peter rounded the opposite side of the crib, not wanting Maureen to get too close.

“Are you magic?” Peter weighed the question for a moment before shaking his head.

“No, just clever,” he responded, now on the other side of the cradle; he was closest to the window now, and she closer to the door. He wondered if she would run out and tell her parents, but she just gave a small smile.

“What are you doing in my bedroom?” Maureen asked, a glint in her eye.

“I heard him crying,” he commented, pointing at the baby that was only whimpering now.

“Her. Ellen’s just hungry,” Maureen responded, looking down at the baby. “She’s always hungry.”

“We should get her some food then, right?”

The girl looked at Peter as though he were the most curious thing she’d ever seen, and he probably was.

“I can’t tell if I’m dreaming,” she said softly, circling the cradle again, and Peter wondered if they’d do this silly dance all night, or if she’d realize he didn’t want her to get too close. He had no intentions of bringing anyone to Neverland tonight. “Why do you move away from me?” Maureen asked, a slight lilt of hurt in her voice.

“I--” before Peter could answer, he stepped backwards onto sharp jack piece and crumpled to the ground cursing a pirate word and grabbing his foot. It set Ellen off crying again, and he hissed angrily before going still as a mouse. Maureen turned around to face the door, a hand on the cradle. Someone was coming up the stairs, and the curious, brave girl turned to Peter with a face as white as a Neverland ghost.

“Go. Go now. He’ll kill me if he thinks I’ve got a boy in here,” she said in a rush, and without a word, Peter was out the window in a flash. He stayed close; he didn’t want Maureen to get into too much trouble for his sake.

“You.” An angry, accusatory voice grunted from inside the window. Peter had his back to the side of the house, listening intently. “ ’Ow many times do I have to tell you.”

The man sounded like the layabouts that hung around Mulligan’s; drunk and brutish, looking for someone to fight. His blood began to boil in his veins when he heard a distinct kick of wood, and the baby gulped and swallowed a cry.

“Shut up, you.” He growled at Ellen, who was whimpering. Babies didn’t stop crying like that because of a kick to the cradle. Unless it’s happened before. Unless it already knows to give up. “And you. Wakin’ ‘er up. When yous knows we t’ain’t got nothin to give her. I could kill you fer that.” There was a resounding slap that could only come from a palm connecting with a face. “But I won’t do that. You know why? ‘Cause your mother’d wake up to ‘er firstborn dead and would lose that baby I put in her from the shock. An’ we don’t want that. Might be a boy.”

Peter really didn’t like this man; he felt his hand move instinctively to his dagger.

“You’re a right stain in my life, you know that? Sixteen an’ nothin’  but another mouth to feed. ‘Ad to take you in if I wanted your mother, didn’ I? I come in after workin’ all day, no dinner to speak of, no wife awake to lie in, only to hear you wakin’ up wee Ellen. Ah I could kill yeh. I could kill--” The voice stopped a moment, taking a step forward. “I’ll teach ye to torment your sister,” he stated with a finality that Peter despised, and Pan closed his eyes as the fury burned inside of him. The unmistakable sound of a belt sliding through cloth loops swished through the air. For a moment, Peter thought he might strike Maureen with it, but instead of buckle hitting flesh, it hit the floor.

Pan’s eyes whipped open; his blood that had been fuming suddenly ran cold, and his decision was made. He span in the air and stood in the window frame, his body blocking out the little moonlight that had come in, appearing just as the burly, drunken man had shoved Maureen down onto her small bed.

“Wha’? What is that? Get down from th--” Peter gave a dark grin at the man’s confusion, and relished the look of terror on his face as Pan floated forward. “Demon!” The brute cried, putting his hands up, keeping his eyes on Pan as he circled backwards, trying to get away from him. Peter kept on grinning, a twisted pleasure at the man’s fear rising up in his chest. “Get away from me!” He yelled, backing towards the window as Peter predicted in circling him, shepherding him to the window.

“I know what you were going to do, you nasty old man,” Peter spoke in a voice he saved especially for the damned. “I’ve seen your kind, crawling over my island. Boorish devils.” He said, corralling the man back to the open window. “Know what happen to boars that go mad?” he asked, a glint in his eyes as he raised his sharp dagger.

Maureen’s stepfather shook his drunken head, unable or unwilling to speak. The dark haired girl was in the corner of the room now, hands on either side of her head. 

“We gut them!” Peter cried, raising his weapon above his head with both hands. He had no intention of sullying his blade. He knew what would happen next, and found it funny.

As predicted, in fear the man stepped back, tripping on the small trunk at the window, and tumbled out into the night. There was a distinct crack as the man’s neck folded into itself as his head connected with the ground outside. 

Peter leaned out, watching the hulking, still shell of the brute for any signs of movement. He didn’t want to, but he wasn’t against stabbing if the blighter was still alive. Peter gave a satisfied nod, tossed his dagger in the air once, spinning it and catching it deftly before sheathing the blade. He turned to Maureen who was staring at him in mortified shock. 

“Is he--” she started, taking a cautious step forward. 

Peter nodded solemnly. 

“Oh, Peter,” Maureen stepped closer towards the window. When she was nearly in front of it, Pan stuck his arm out to stop her. 

“You don’t want to do that,” he said gently. The girl froze before turning into Peter’s chest, crying. 

“Oh, it was awful,” she whimpered. Peter held her calmly, though every fiber of his being wanted to move away. Maureen clung desperately to Peter, her arms over his shoulders, sobbing heavily into him. “Oh-” she peeled herself off of him suddenly, fear welling in her eyes. “They’ll all think I killed him. And what’s mother going to do?” 

Peter frowned at the change. He’d just helped get rid of a villain. What more could there be?

“I suppose I could work,” the girl continued, sniffling. “But then to leave her with Ellen and the new baby?”

“Don’t you have family here?” Peter asked. “And isn’t it better to have that man gone?”

“Fionn was terrible,” Maureen agreed, picking up Ellen and cuddling her close. “But he did provide us food and shelter. And took us in when father died.” She closed her eyes. “And no. It’s just me, mum, Ellen, and that little stranger inside of mother.” Maureen began to cry again into the soft hair on Ellen’s head.

Peter sighed inwardly before shaking himself.

“Can’t you just say someone came in and killed him?” he asked, irritation only somewhat masked. 

“In my room? Why? No one would believe me.”

“Maybe someone hated him--”

“Everyone loves him. They’d all point the finger to me. It’s not like you came to steal anything and he happened to get in the way.”

Her words struck an idea inside of him. It wasn’t a new idea. He’d had it dozens of times. 

“Come away with me.”

Maureen looked startled, but there was a longing in her deep, brown eyes. 

“I can’t.”

“Come away and leave it all behind.” The girl looked thoughtful, but then shook her head. 

“I can’t leave them,” she said ruefully, clutching Ellen close to her chest. 

“Bring her too,” he told her, stepping closer. “We’ll have loads of adventures and you won’t have to explain to anyone.” There was an eagerness in his tone now. The seductive dulcet call that every sad and lost child bent to in the end. 

“I can’t,” Maureen murmured again, this time raising a hand to her stomach. “This wasn’t the first time Fionn has come home drunk and angry.” She spoke softly, as though it were the first time she’d spoken of it aloud. “I can’t,” she repeated, and held Ellen out to Peter. “But she can.”

Peter’s head buzzed at the action, and he instinctively took the shy babe. He looked down at her, and then back to Maureen. 

“Why?”

“If Ellen is gone too, it will look as though someone killed Fionn and took her. She will be safer with you.” Pan couldn’t process this, unsure that this was truly a good idea. 

“What about you? Fionn’s gone.”

“There are always men like Fionn. And mother finds them. With you, she’ll be safe. And maybe one day...maybe one day you’ll bring her back. When I’m grown and out of this wretched house.

Peter held the little one close to his chest, the feeling so unfamiliar. He’d played at being father in the past, and treated his lost boys like a family. But never a lost girl so small. It could be an adventure, a small voice in his head spoke. He cocked a brow at Maureen, taking it all in, before giving a small nod. 

“Okay,” he agreed, holding onto Ellen a bit more firmly. “Are you sure?” He asked, noting Maureen’s tear streaked face. 

“Yes. Only,” she reached out, stroking Ellen’s pink face. “Only do come back with her.” Peter nodded. “In three years. Can you return in three years?” She asked, eyes welling with tears. “How can I contact you?” 

Peter reached out, pulling Maureen into his side and brought her to the window (although, not close enough that she could peer down at Fionn’s shape). 

“See that star? The bright one to the right of the moon,” he nodded to the sky. When she confirmed, he looked down at her. “Call to it at midnight. I’ll hear you,” Peter told her. Although this was a lie, he thought it a pretty lie, and he’d remember to come back when the little one was three years older. Probably.

After a tearful goodbye, and packing a small bag of Ellen’s things, Maureen watched Peter take off into the night with her sister. The girl dropped to her knees at the window, heart breaking. 

It wasn’t until two nights later, after a day full of screaming from her mother; of having the police come around; after the wake where everyone in the village had come around to say goodbye to Fionn; after having to explain a hundred times over that she never saw who took Ellen, or who killed her stepfather, that Maureen felt a sinking regret. 

She lay awake in the dark, listening to the clock ticking, waiting. At midnight, she sidled to the open window, clutched the frame and looked out at the stars. 

“Peter. Bring her back. Oh God, bring her back.”

The air was cold, and the only movement in the firmament were the clouds rolling over the moon. Peter did not come back, and would not. For Neverland is for the lost ones. Neverland is for forgetting.

[bubblegumnebulaa]

ELLEN BECOMES DOVE (CRYING)

[sadaakirah]

Oh, so those "Ellen becomes a dove (crying)" memes on Reddit turned out to be true 🤡

[flannelshirtandjeans]

Here is a piece of writing of my original character (in my friend’s original world haha!) This piece contains a non-graphic birth scene, allusions to abortion and unsafe pregnancy business, difficult motherhood thoughts, and planning but not going through with child abandonment,  so like. a strong dead dove do not open warning xD DW tho, these mom and son love each other The Most eventually! Just! sometimes the journey to motherhood is not easy, and sometimes you aren’t a great mom always! (Especially if you have other trauma going ont.) And sometimes it ends differently than it does for Ellen - maybe somebody else DOES what she planned but didn’t end up going through. HERE I AM ONCE AGAIN EXPLORING PARENTHOOD OKAY. Anyway:

WANTED, NOT WANTED, WANTED--

When the baby comes, it feels like the inevitable crashing on her, all of her past that she's been trying to run away from catching up to her when she's too heavy and tired to run, and in too much pain. She isn't ready for it - never intended to be, half hoping that nature would take care of it, with her working and doing all the things a pregnant woman shouldn't, like lifting heavy things. She'd hidden being pregant all this time, and is pretty sure that nobody outside of her husband and his family and herself know that she is with a child at all. Maybe her husband even hopes that she would have ended it before it had a chance to grow. She almost had. The people she works with don't know, the people in the shelters and taverns she frequents have no idea, there is not a soul she's told or shown. She's grown small, and been able to hide the belly, and the aches and pains, and kicks and wiggles, all this time she's been able to do that. 

 But she can't finish it alone. The child is born at the end of a long day of pain in the shelter she is staying at at the time, after and a whole lot of denial and trying to pretend that it's not happening in the hopes that it would stop happening that way - but of course nature doesn't work like that. The owner of the shelter wraps the child in towels and tries to hand it to her, but Ellen pushes her hands away and lies in the ruined sheets for a long time refusing to even look at the child or anyone else, while her body does whatever it's supposed to after the birth itself. They don't force her, and many of the other women spend time passing the child around and cooing at it in her stead. She can feel their eyes on her like spiderwebs, and knows they judge her, wonder about her.

But when the child cries and fusses for food and they bring it to her again to feed, she can't avoid looking at it, and the first thing she sees is its wrinkly, frankly stupidly large ears, and tears burn in her eyes and something else in her chest. 

 "Dammit," she squeaks with a strangled laugh because the love she feared and tried to push away all these months sparks that heat in her heart at the sight of those ears - she's not in love, but in that moment she feels how terrifyingly deep and strong that love could be. She wipes away a tear and cries her way through the feeding. The stupid ears wiggle when the child eats, and Ellen, despite trying to look away, is mesmerized. Is this what her ears looked like when she was a baby?

When the child is done, she doesn't hold it again for a long time. Most of the other room goes quiet for the night as one by one the other women go to sleep. Before the owner leaves and goes to sleep herself, she tells Ellen that in the morning she "must unfortunately go - this shelter does not allow children even with their mothers". Ellen doesn't hold it against her; she knows the rules and knows she's been bending them already. She doesn't sleep even though she is exhausted and feels like she is at the end of the road - the path vanishes into the jungle in front of her and she doesn't know where to go from here. She's spent all this time thinking that she'd just be able to do all of this alone and leave the child in an orphanage or something, sneak away like a cat in the middle of the night and just... hope that the baby would be taken care of, and she herself, well... would be alone with her secret. 

 But now in the middle of the night, sitting next to the child at the foot end of her bed, she's not so sure... of course it isn't that easy. When the baby next starts fussing and crying, she's gotten dressed, packed her things, and left money to pay for the ruined bedding, and she leaves with the child on her arms into the warm night. 

 Maybe, she thinks hazily, the humidity will smooth the wrinkles in its ears.

And epilogue:

She isn't seen at work for a week, she's saved up money for this exact reason, and when she shows up, she has the baby strapped with a length of fabric onto her chest - its ears are less wrinkly and crumpled now, and look even stupidly bigger. It sleeps against her chest peacefully, and the entire crew gathers around to marvel at it and its ears.

 "The baby comes as a package deal with me now," she tells them instead of answering any of their questions like where did that come from, or what the fuck, Ellen? , "so is that gonna be okay or do I have to go looking for other work?" 

 Her supervisor looks at her up and down, scratches his head, and eventually asks: "Does it need to be paid?"

[fratboyvivimatthews]

the devils winning the cup (whew never thought i’d say that) and daddy hughes putting your baby in the cup and it’s just a chunk o muffin in the cup and it’s so fucking cute

fun fact: as a baby i got to sit in the Stanley Cup:0

“do you think he even knows what going on?” brady asked looking up from the ice to the one month old baby in your arms. you shot an amused smile to the boy you’ve known forever before he’s cheek went red, “don’t answer that question, i know the answer.” 

you laughed slightly before looking back to the ice watching right in time for jack to shoot the puck down to the empty net. loud cheers filled the arena, that goal being the final blow to the flames with only three seconds left on the clock. a proud smile formed on your face as you watched your boyfriend look up the suitehe knew you were in with his family, along with the tkachuck’s. jack’s hand raised and pointed right at you causing your cheeks to flush red. 

and just like that he lined up for the final face of his third year in the nhl, and already coming away with a Stanley cup. when the announcer called the final goal, and jack’s name the rock went crazy, it felt like just yesterday you were hearing his name called in it for the first time. and now you were sitting in a suite for game six of the Stanley cup final listening to it again. “look mom, you’re not the only one crying!” luke called pulling you out of your thoughts. you looked to your left seeing the whole hughes family staring at you. 

“hormones,” you smiled eyes quickly glancing down to your son smiling widely. ellen stood up from her seat before walking up behind your own wrapping her arms around your shoulders as the devils celebrated on the ice before lining up for the final handshakes. “i just didn’t think it would happen this fast you,” you confessed keeping your voice quiet so none of the boys heard you get sentimental. she hummed in your hear squeezing your upper body tight, both of you looking down to grayson. 

“i know sweetheart, you guys are twenty-one and have a family!” she exclaimed. “and now a Stanley cup champion, it’s very exciting.” you nodded watching as jack hugged matthew before moving on to the next person in line. you turned your head to look at the women was basically your second mother considering how long you’ve been with jack. “i’m sure this isn’t what you thought was going to happen, huh?” 

you shook your head laughing, one hand coming up to wipe away the tears. “not exactly,” you answered shifting in your seat, fixing how grayson was resting in your arms. “but i wouldn’t changed anything about it, sure it was hard having gray right in the middle of the play-offs, but we made it work.” 

the two of you fell silent as the conn smythe winner was getting ready to be announced, and that meant just brought more tears to your eyes. you watched as jack skated over to the trophy, quickly glancing up at you again before smiling for a picture. it was only fitting he won, in the first round against the rangers he had three goals, and two assists, from there he just thrived. 

“gray look,” you cooed, his blue eyes staring up at you, “that’s daddy.” you pointed up the big screen where jack’s smiling face was, gray looking up at it smiling. “see brady, he does know what’s going on,” you commented looking over the younger tkachuck who’s cheeks flushed again. 

“y/n/n, can i take him?” quinn asked right as his mother was going to speak again. his eyes moving to grayson, “i’ll give him back when we go down to the ice, but I-” you cut quinn off by handing your son over to him with a smile. 

“i needed a break anyways, i wanna party,” you cheered throwing your arms around luke’s shoulders. “i’m dating a Stanley cup champion, and the conn smythe winner, you can have baby-sitting duty tonight quinn. grayson’s all yours after we get pictures on the ice.” quinn’s mouth fell open as he protested, complaining about how it should be luke. “hey quit complaining and look to the ice, your brother’s about to get the cup.” 

it wasn’t long after that the hughes family and you made it down to the ice, brady disappearing else where. grayson was still in quinn’s arms as you guys stepped out on to the ice, seeing as you were running ahead of everyone to congratulate jack. and as soon as you saw him there was no way anyone could stop you from running to him. “Jack!” you smiled causing him to look away from p.k, to see you booking it right to him. 

his arms opened wide for you as a million dollar smile, one that was just for you (and now grayson) worked it’s way on to his face. “oh my go y/n,” he sighed as you dove into his chest, not even phased by how horrible he smelt. his arms wrapped around you tightly lightly rocking you back and forth. “wait, where’s gray, and the rest of my family?” jack asked confused. 

“i uh, kinda ditched them,” you mumbled cheeks heating up. “quinn has gray, but i couldn’t wait to kiss my Stanley cup champ.” 

“you still haven’t kissed me yet,” he teased as your hands spun his new hat so it was on backwards. standing on your tip toes you placed your lips against his, feeling as you both smiled against one another. “god i love you so fucking much y/n/n,” he breathed once you pulled away. his lips pressing against your forehead. 

“i love you so fucking much too j,” you replied running your hands down his arms. he pulled away from you quickly, leaving you confused. you looked over at lindsey and p.k., before they pointed to behind you. turning on your heels you watched as jack cradled grayson against his body. you walked over to your boys smiling, arms wrapping around jack’s torso. “he hasn’t stopped smiling since you scored the second time tonight,” you commented. 

jack pressed one more kiss to grayson’s forehead before handing him back to you so he could hug his family member’s starting with ellen. you stood next to luke watching as jack started talking with teammates, some of their wives and girlfriends coming up to look at grayson seeing as everyone was in love with him. ten minutes later jack was skating back over to you guys only this time with the cup in his hands. “y/n/n put gray in it,” jack stated setting the cup on the ice kneeling down next to it. 

you bit your lip worried about your baby’s safety, of course you’ve seen countless people put their children in it, but it doesn’t stop you from worrying. “babe, it’ll be okay. we’re gonna be holding him the entire time.” sighing you caved, handing off your bag and phone to ellen before kneeling down next to the cup. 

“j, i just don’t want him to fall or something,” you said voicing your conern as you held him up over it. “like how you almost dr-” 

“we don’t need to bring that up,” jack said with wide eyes not wanting his mom to know how he tripped on his own feet and almost dropped your son, who wasn’t even two weeks old yet at the time. sighing you place grayson all the way in, a giggle leaving his mouth. jack’s hands also helped keep your son sit up as you both looked at his smile. 

“i know my grandson is cute, but it would be nice if you looked at the camera,” ellen teased, “i want this to hang up in the living room.” you smiled wider before looking away from you son up to the camera. after a couple more pictures with the two of you kissing his cheeks you grabbed grayson, and jack grabbed the cup so you could get family pictures. 

soon jack was being called for, more interviews seeing as he was the star of the night scoring both of the devils goals, and being the conn smyth winner. “can i have gray?” he asked you before he left to speak to Kathryn tappen from nbcsn. 

you eyebrows raised as you slowly handed him over, “why do you want gray, you’re about to go do another interview j.” he smiled at you, holding grayson against the devils crest. “oh, i get it now, you wanna show off your baby.” 

“what can you blame me?” he asked smiling down at his son. “he looks just like his mamma, and i show her off all the time,” your cheeks heated up as he looked at you with a knowing smile, trying to score points for after the celebrations, “i think it’s time i show him off more. the girls love him.” you hummed with a playful eye roll. 

“just go superstar, you’re keeping them waiting.” you pressed a kiss against it his cheek, then grayson’s. 

“i can keep them waiting all night,” he smirked. “i busy talking to my fiancé.” your heart stopped as he said it, “i know it’s not the proposal you thought you’d have y/n, i don’t even have a ring, but we both knew it was going to happen sometime soon, and why not right now?” 

you smiled before kissing him, careful to not hit grayson. “it’s perfect jack, and of course i will. but you need to go do your interview. now go,” you said laughing finally getting jack to skate away to Kathryn who’s been waiting this whole time. 

“sorry about the wait,” you heard him say as you leaned against ellen, “but i just won the Stanley cup, and this guys mom.” you heart swelled at his words as he glanced back over to you. “hi y/n, we love you.”

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

Missing Her - Part 5

Dean x Reader; Sam Winchester, Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle, Bobby Singer, Ollie (OFC)

Series Summary: Dean is on the verge of going to Hell, and Sam is reaching out to an old friend who he thinks holds the key that could change Dean’s future. When they get reunited, a long kept secret comes out, that can’t stop him from going to Hell, but it changes everything for him when he returns. Seeking out the woman he loves and getting back what he lost, while still managing to stop Lillith from breaking the seals may be more difficult than he thinks.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Warnings: Language, Canon Divergence

WC: 4.8K

Beta’d by @closetspngirl who just keeps being amazing <3 Banner made by me, pics found thanks to Google.

You bolted upright and panicked for a moment, unsure of where you were. It was familiar, but not from your recent memory. Focusing on some things around the room, it took a minute or two, and the recognition of the ZZ Top poster on the wall, but you realized that you were in Ash’s room at the Roadhouse.

Muffled voices from beyond the closed door carried in. When you went to investigate out in the bar, you saw Dean and Ollie playing pool. Not wanting to disturb them, you tip-toed out of Ash’s room and watched from the shadows.

“Alright,” Dean said moving the crate over to the long side of the table. “What do you do first?”

Ollie climbed up on the plastic milk crate and took the cue stick from his hand. It was one of the shorter ones, but still too big for her small size. She still managed to get her grip on it properly and bend over the table.

“First, you line up your shot,” she said, closing one eye and positioning her hand slightly off proper stance. Dean leaned over and moved her hands where they needed to be but then backed off to watch her.

“Right. Then what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, watching her carefully.

“Then, look for your next shot,” Ollie replied confidently.

“Atta girl!” he said and moved around to the other side of the table. “Which are you looking at?”

Ollie stood back up and examined the layout of the billiard balls in front of her. You couldn’t see the whole table, but you watched her face as she tried to decide what to do. The way her young features were set in determination as she chewed her bottom lip, only highlighted the Winchester genes even more.

Finally, she pointed at an obscured part of the table. “There.”

“Yes!” Dean exclaimed and walked back around to her. “Now, when you draw back to hit the cue ball, if you hit it here,” he pointed to the center bottom part of the ball, “that will make the ball recoil after hitting this one and roll back to line up the other shot. Got it?”

“Got it!” Ollie nodded and bent back over the table. Dean helped adjust her arm slightly, but he stepped back when she began to find her stroke and hit the ball. The cue did exactly what she hoped it would, bouncing the seven ball into the pocket, and rolling it back to line up her next shot.

When it rolled to a stop, Ollie jumped off the crate, then up and downing, cheering, and Dean shot both arms up in the air in a celebration of victory. “That’s my girl!!”

Ollie’s face was just full of elation, her smile going ear to ear. She jumped up at Dean, slapping him a vicious high five, to which he pretended it hurt. Dean shook off his hand and mumbled something to Ollie you couldn’t hear. You watched as your daughter flung herself at Dean and wrapped her arms around his waist to embrace him tightly. He hugged her back, letting her be the one to pull away first. She bounded back towards the table, hopped back on the crate and repeated the process.

This time, Dean took a step back and watched her. Even from the distance, you noticed the emotion around his eyes. He wasn’t crying, but the lines in his face were betraying the build-up of feeling that was growing inside him. He sucked them back down, his pouty bottom lip clenching at the process, all while watching his daughter play pool like a natural.

Dean felt your gaze on him and finally noticed you standing in the shadows. He didn’t call out your name or wave you over, but the corner of his mouth tugged into a thoughtful smile before he turned back to Ollie to help her with her grip.

No matter what was about to go down with demons and angels, at that moment watching your daughter play pool with her father made it feel like all was right and perfect in your world.

Ollie must have felt you lurking. After she took her shot, she turned and saw you watching from the fringe.

“Mom! Dean is teaching how to play pool!”

“I see that,” you said and flashed her an encouraging smile as you came further into the room. “I just hope he’s not teaching you how to hustle pool.”

“C’moonn,” Dean whined, feigning offense. “I wouldn’t do that… not until she’s older. The girl needs some kind of skills to fall back on.”

Closing your eyes, you shook your head and tried to stifle a laugh. When you opened them again, Dean was right beside you, but watching Ollie continue to line up shots.

“She’s pretty good, you know. We’ve only been at it for an hour, and she damn near ran five shots in a row before.”

“Smart, sassy, and a hell of a shot… just like her daddy,” you wiggled your brow at him, earning you one of his infamous smirks; the one that made you fall for him in the first place.

“Well, I can’t take all the credit. The sass, she gets that from you,” he said seriously, then noticed your expression and tried to backpedal. “I just mean--”

“Yeah, yeah… just quit while you’re ahead, hm?”

Dean’s cell vibrated with Smoke on the Water before he could relent. He dove into his pocket, pulling it out quickly and sighing with relief when he saw Sam’s name.

“Hey! Dude, where are you?” he asked in a terse greeting. Dean held up his finger, asking for a minute then went walked over to the bar so he could talk to his brother with some privacy.

You nodded and watched him walk away, taking a moment to appreciate the view. There was a brief moment you forgot about everything that was hanging over him, and you by extension, and you let yourself dive into a fantasy where you, Dean and Ollie could be a happy family. Barbecues, holidays, library dates, school plays, Uncle Sam and Aunt Ellen coming to visit… maybe even more kids. Dean could still hunt--you’d never try and make him stop, it would be a fruitless effort anyway-- but he could, and he would always find his way back to you…

“Mommy?” Ollie asked, pulling on your sleeve to get your attention.

“Hmm?” you responded, and looked down at her with a hazy expression she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“You okay? You look funny.”

“I’m fine, Ol. Just thinking…”

“About what?”

Nothing wanting to place these hopes and dreams on her until you knew how things would shake out, you just smiled a big and said “Pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes! Auntie El said to come to the house today and she’ll whip you up a batch. Plus, she’s fixing up our old room for us. You mind crashing with her for a while?”

“Will you stay there with me?” she asked, a momentary flash of panic streaked across her young face. “Will Dean?”

Crouching to be eye level with her, you brushed a strand of hair from her face and forced a calming, happy smile.

“Me, absolutely. Dean… I don’t know, Ollie. He’s got some work he needs to tend too,” you paused and glanced over your shoulder to where Dean was pacing and talking low, but animatedly on the phone, then turned your attention back to Olivia. “But, between you and me, I sure hope he does.” You winked at her and she giggled softly.

“Mom?”

“Hm?”

“I hope so, too.”

“What do you say, you go gather your things from Ash’s room, and maybe we get ourselves over to Ellen’s? I’m sure you’re hungry considering you didn’t eat last night.”

“I am hungry. I’ll go grab my stuff!” she squealed and bounced off in the direction of Ash’s room, then suddenly stopped and turned back to face you. “Do you think Auntie El has bacon?”

“She better!” Dean exclaimed as he came up behind you, “It’s one of the most important food groups.”

Ollie giggled and shook her head. “No it’s not,” she laughed and rolled her eyes, but then her face went serious, and she looked more like Dean at that moment, than she ever had before. “But it should be.”

You and Dean both held it together until she had disappeared into Ash’s room, then began to laugh.

“Is she always like that?” he asked as his gaze still lingered in the direction she went off in.

“Yes. Yes, she is. I told you, Dean, she is your mini-me,” you smiled and ribbed him with your elbow. “So, what did Sam have to say?”

Dean’s expression faltered, and gone was the dreaming, poetic look of a father who loved his child, but that of a man scared for her future. His gaze fluttered to the floor, and he stopped and started speaking more than a couple of times before he sighed in resignation.

“I don’t know,” he breathed and rubbed a hand over his face. “He should be here soon, but, I dunno. Something’s up with him.”

“I remember you said something about that the other day. What is it? What’s he doing?”

Dean passed you a glance that said you’d never believe him if he told you.

“Try me, Dean. C’mon… the Sam I saw earlier this year--”

“That was the Sam before I went to Hell. He changed. He’s... “

“What?”

“Look. Y/N, there’s a lot I haven’t told you about what’s going on. I know I gave you the Cliffs Notes version, but the reality of the situation is seriously way more fu--”

“I’m ready!” Ollie called out as she rejoined you and Dean near the pool table. “You think Aunt Ellen will let me come back later and play pool?”

“Maybe! But first, let’s get there and get you fed, ok?” you said and reached out for Olivia’s hand.

She slipped her small fingers into yours and gave you a gentle squeeze. “Let’s go eat!” she exclaimed and reached her other hand up to Dean.

“Girl after my own heart,” he mused and gave Ollie a wink.

“Well… I’ll be…” Bobby said with a snort as his eyes flickered between Dean, standing beside him, and Olivia, who sat in the kitchen eating pancakes. The old hunter took the trucker cap off his head and itched the side of his scalp, before replacing it, then turning to Dean with a look of pure disbelief. “I just… I never had a damn clue. How the Hell did your brother keep this quiet?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know, Bobby. But he did. Dad, too.”

“And the girl? She never told you she was pregnant?”

“No,” Dean replied lowly and cleared his throat, glancing up at Y/N who was sat next to Olivia in the kitchen. “She called to tell me, dad found out instead and did what he did best...” he trailed off and shrugged with his expression.

“Meddled. That’s what he did,” Bobby grumbled. “Dammit, John…” Bobby growled a sigh and patted his adopted son’s shoulder. “I’m real damn sorry he did that, Dean. He had no right.”

“It’s okay, Bobby. It’s done. Not like I cam reem the guy out now, can I?”

“Still… all that you missed out on,” Bobby shook his head.

“She’s here now, that’s what I gotta be grateful for. It’s time to step up and protect my kid and right now, I don’t know if I can do that alone.”

Dean’s gaze caught Bobby’s, and his heart broke when he saw the fear reflecting in Dean’s eyes.

“I’m here, son. For whatever you, and her, may need.” Bobby patted his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, then turned his attention to Y/N. “Now, what about the girl’s mama. What’s the story there?” Bobby eyed him carefully, trying to read Dean’s expression where the mother of the girl was concerned.

“That? That’s a story for another day, Bobby. Just know that keeping her safe is just as important as keeping Ollie safe. No way I’m gonna lose her again.”

“Alright. Just checkin’,” Bobby said, focusing his narrowed gaze on the strange woman in the kitchen. “All this time, she’s known the life… known Ellen and Jo. Why didn’t she tell anyone that the kid was yours?”

“Dad scared the shit out of her. He made her believe that if any more Winchesters were born into the world, they would just be ripe for the supernatural pickin’s I guess,” Dean shrugged. “He wanted her to end it. Gave her money to terminate the pregnancy. Instead, she took off, found Ellen, and did what she thought she had to do.”

“You ain’t mad about that?” Bobby snorted. “Can’t say I’d be too quick to forgive if I were you. Not like she magically lost your number. She still coulda--”

“Bobby, come on. Just let it go, alright? Y/N and I, we’re good. I want to put all that in the past and just focus on now. We certainly got enough on our plates with Lilith and the seals, don’t we?”

The old man nodded and ran a hand over his beard, letting it fall from his face with a sigh. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

“Alright then. Let’s focus on that, and keeping them safe,” Dean paused and looked back to the kitchen, where half his heart sat, laughing and eating pancakes. “Because losing them, even after just having them in my life for a few days… I don’t think I could come back from that, Bobby.”

“Then that’s what we do.” Bobby’s hand clamped down tightly on Dean’s shoulder, again, in an effort to offer him some reassurance. Dean nodded and bit down on the inside of his lip to try and keep his emotions in check.

“First things first,” Dean said, turning away from the kitchen and back towards Bobby. “Where the HELL is Sam?”

“Beats me. Said he’d be here an hour ago. Do you think he went to the Roadhouse instead?” Bobby asked though he could sense Dean felt it was something more sinister. “I know that look, boy. Spill it.”

Dean shook his head slowly. “I don’t know… he’s been different. He’s lying to me, sneaking off more. I’m worried about him.”

“What else is new?” Bobby asked sarcastically.

Dean rolled his eyes. “This is different, Bobby. It just is.”

“I get that, Dean. But Sam is a grown man. He’s allowed to go off without your permission.”

“Yeah, but what’s he doing when he’s gone? Hmm? God only knows--”

Before he could continue, Olivia came into the room, a wide smile that was covered in traces of chocolate and, plate of pancakes in her hand.

“I brought you some,” she said, beaming up at Dean and holding out the plate. “I even made sure mom put bacon on there.”

Dean took the plate happily. “I am starving, how did you know?”

“Cause, you’re a boy. Boys are always hungry,” she said and shrugged as if it were the most commonly known fact in the world. She looked up wearily at Bobby, having only just met him and unsure of what to make of the gruff old hunter.

“Do you want some, too?” she asked him shyly.

“I sure do appreciate the offer, but I’m good honey,” Bobby replied with his friendliest grin and winked.

Ollie flashed a shy smile and ran back to the kitchen, promptly jumped back into her chair and held up her plate up to Ellen, asking more pancakes. Dean shoved a fork of the food in his mouth and groaned as he chewed and swallowed.

“Oh man, so good,” he mused while savoring the taste of the pancakes before snapping off a piece of bacon in his mouth.

“Least you ain’t lost your appetite,” Bobby laughed and shook his head. “Come on.” He motioned his head for Dean to follow him back into Ellen’s kitchen.

“Anyone heard from Sam yet?” Ellen asked when they joined the group in the kitchen. “We really need to get talking about events that are unfoldin’,” she said then glanced down at Ollie. “Figure out some things.”

Y/N nodded. “Soon as Sam gets here, I’ll take Ollie--”

The sound of a car door from outside grabbed everyone’s attention. Dean placed the plate of pancakes back to the table and glanced outside Ellen’s kitchen window to see Sam getting out of the ride he had to hijack to get there. Dean’s brow furrowed when he saw Sam was limping towards the house. From the distance of the window, it looked like Sam had blood on the side of his face.

Dean darted out the back door, with Bobby following quickly behind. Ellen looked out of the window and quickly turned to Jo. “Joanna Beth, take Olivia upstairs, now.”

“But mom--” she began to protest.

“Now! Sam may need Y/N’s help,” she barked.

Jo’s gaze flickered anxiously between her mother and Y/N. The moment the back door opened and she saw both Dean and Bobby helping him into the house, she promptly grabbed Olivia’s hand.

“Come on kiddo, let’s go get the pancake gunk off ya.”

Olivia began to protest but the moment she saw Sam’s bloody head, she got up and nearly ran from the room. Once she was clear, Y/N sprung into action as Dean and Bobby dumped Sam into one of the kitchen chairs.

“Ellen, get your kit. I didn’t bring mine and he needs some stitches.”

The kitchen was virtually silent while you attended to Sam’s wounds. All he had been able to get out so far, was that he went to the Roadhouse and found it in ruins. After that, he said everything went dark.

Ellen had fallen into one of the kitchen chairs when she heard the news about her bar; a blank expression clouded her face as her knuckles grasped the edge of the table so hard they turned white. Bobby and Dean both tried grilling Sam for details, but he wasn’t of much help.

“Man, I dunno what happened. I pulled up and it was in ruins,” Sam paused to wince as you put the last stitch in place above his brow. “It looks like it had been hit by a meteor… smashed to bits and still smoldering,” Sam rasped, the pain of the attack still coming in waves. “I’m so sorry Ellen.”

Ellen continued to sit quietly dumbfounded at the table as Sam recounted his story of finding the Roadhouse destroyed.

“When I came too, they had me pinned down, and were spouting off some garbage about the angels, and how Lilith would succeed in freeing Lucifer from his cage.”

Listening carefully, but not saying anything, you felt like you may be sick. What they were talking about went beyond anything you understood about the supernatural world.

You finished up Sam’s stitches and put the suture kit back in the lockbox where Ellen kept it. When you sat back in the chair beside her, that’s when it hit you how closely you, Dean and Ollie must have come to missing the attack. Bobby stood behind Ellen, his hands on her shoulders trying to help keep her upright.

“We can rebuild it, El. We’ll figure out a way,” Bobby said lowly and passed glances to Sam and Dean, who nodded sympathetically.

“Hell yeah--” “You know it--” they replied simultaneously.

“I’m gonna find those black-eyed bitches,” Ellen growled, toying with the glass of whiskey now in front of her. “I’m gonna send each one of ‘em straight back to the pit.”

“We will, Ellen. I promise you that,” Dean said and looked to Sam. “Not that I’m complaining, but why let you live? Did they just beat the crap out of you for kicks?”

Sam shrugged half-heartedly. “Not sure,” he replied, but conveyed a look to Dean that meant, ‘we’ll talk later’. Dean continued the silent conversation with a furrowed brow, but Sam every so slightly shook his head. ‘Not now,’ it said.

“Alright, so what now?” you asked, ignoring what was going on between the brothers; not like they would answer you if you asked.

“This has to be what we were talking about last night,” Dean said, turning his attention to you. “If Jim is possessed, and he knows we came here--”

“Wait, Jim? YOUR Jim?!” Ellen fummed, the fire in her expression just as deadly as the one that brought down her bar.

You nodded apologetically. “It’s why we’re here,” you replied softly, giving Dean a pensive glance. He nodded, gently prodding you to continue. “Jim didn’t take well to seeing Dean with Ollie. It turned into a fight when we dropped Ollie off at his place the other night. I thought he was just being a jerk--”

“He pinned her against the front door, hard,” Dean added through gritted teeth.

“If not for Ollie being there…” you shrugged. “Seeing her stopped him, so we left. But later, she said that she thought his eyes went black and that the living room smelled like rotten eggs.”

“Sulfur,” Bobby whispered, coming to understand the point they were getting at. “You think he got possessed? But when? Where?”

You nodded. “Look, he wasn’t a great guy for the last year of our marriage, and once or twice things got.... rough, between us.” Dean noticeably tensed at the mention of it. “But I don’t know; he was different. More intense than usual.”

Bobby walked around to the opposite side of the table and poured himself a shot of whiskey. Once the burn wore off, he cleared his throat. “So, let me get this straight… did your ex--”

“Jim.”

“Right, Jim, did he know about the life? Does he know the truth about what’s out there?”

“No, he had no idea. I told him Ellen was my aunt, Jo was my cousin. He never really cared to know my family, never asked about them. In fact, he always acted like I was an orphan. Never wanted to know about my folks, siblings… any of it.”

“That didn’t raise a red flag?” Bobby asked curiously, folding his arms over his chest.

“Bobby, come on,” Dean sighed. “Give her a break.”

“No, he’s right, Dean. I should have wondered why,” you looked back to Bobby and got where he was going. “You think he had been possessed from the beginning?”

Bobby hemmed and hawed for a moment, and then shrugged. “It’s possible. If the demon was there the whole time, it wouldn’t make itself known unless it wanted too. Maybe once Dean showed back up…”

“Dammit,” Dean muttered under his breath, his eyes fluttering closed as his gut swelled with vile.

You reached over and gently touched his forearm. “Hey, this isn’t on you.”

“The Hell it ain’t!” Dean barked, letting the anger he had towards himself take over.

“Heeyyy, guys… little ears back in the room,” Jo said as cheerfully as she could and walked into the kitchen holding Olivia’s hand. She had been freshly showered and dressed. Jo even took the time to fix her hair in french braid pigtails making her look at least three years younger than she really was.

“Hey baby,” you said and opened out your arms. “Come here, there’s someone you gotta meet.”

Olivia slowly entered the kitchen, looking between you and Dean, then very carefully in Sam’s direction. She looked at him curiously, her fierce green eyes scrutinizing the now bandaged wound on his head, along with the cut on his cheek.

“Is he ok?” she asked you in a loud whisper.

“Yeah, he’s alright. Just a little accident on the way over. But, this guy right here, this is your Uncle Sam. He’s Dean’s brother.”

Olivia immediately looked at Dean, who nodded and smiled, confirming what you just told her.

“Remember I told you about my little brother?” Dean asked her, “Well this is him.”

“He’s not little at all,” she said, still eyeing Sam carefully. “Is he the one that makes you eat all the healthy things?”

Dean laughed. “He sure is. So, if he ever tries to get you to eat kale… just say no, kid.”

Ollie giggled and left your side to move closer to Dean, and then hesitantly closer to Sam.

Sam smiled at his niece with an expression of disbelief, all previous talk of demons momentarily forgotten. “Hi there,” he said and held out his hand to her. She placed her little fingers in his and shook his hand.

“Hi.”

“You probably don’t remember me, I saw you once when you were super small.”

Ollie turned to you, and you nodded. “You were only two, Ol.”

“Oh, then I definitely don’t remember,” she said.

“Well then I guess we have to make some new memories, huh?” Sam said, his grin stretching from ear to ear, despite the pain it caused the wounds on his face.

“Sure. Are you staying here at Aunt El’s too? Are we all going back to the bar?” Ollie looked around at all the adults faces in the room, and with the exception of Jo’s, realized everyone looked very sad. “Why’s everyone so mopey?”

“Aw honey, c’mere,” Ellen said and patted her lap. Ollie bounced over to her and sat on Ellen’s leg. “Apparently there was an accident right after you left there today. The bar is gone.”

Ollie’s face scrunched up in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a long story, Olivia. I promise to tell you more about it later.”

“But, I wanna know now,” she whined. “I’m not a baby, you can tell me grown up things!”

“Olivia.” Dean’s tone was stern but not loud. “Mom said later, okay? There’s a lot going on right now, kiddo. It’s not that we don’t think you’re big enough to hear it. It’s just, we want to understand it ourselves before we tell you.”

Dean raised his brow as he gazed at her, hoping she would understand and back off. You knew how stubborn she could be, and watched the two of them have their stare down, seeing who would be the first to crack.  

Olivia’s body relaxed, and she nodded ever-so-slightly. “Okay.”

Dean smiled at her. “But, I did hear that Aunt Ellen has a killer pool table in the basement. I bet you if you asked Jo nicely, she would take you down and let you practice some. You can show her what I taught you this morning. Whatcha say?”

Olivia turned to Jo, who flashed Dean rueful glance, but eventually smiled at Olivia. “Sure, come on, Ollie, show me what you got.”

Once again, Jo held out her hand for Olivia to take, and lead her from the room. When they were out of earshot, you couldn’t help but chuckle, and pat Dean’s knee.

“Nice save, dad,” you teased.

“Dude,” Sam spoke up. “You have a daughter…” he snorted a disbelieving sigh and just shook his head. “I mean, I knew she existed, but just seeing you two in the same room…”

“Then maybe you shoulda spoke up about it sooner, boy,” Bobby said, though he lacked any kind of accusatory tone. “John I believe, but you? Keeping something like this from your brother for so long? That’s not the kind of secret, you keep from family.”

Dean sighed heavily. “Bobby, c’mon. I thought we were letting all that go. We got bigger problems, remember?”

“Hey! Enough, alright. We need to deal with these demons that just burned down my bar. Which, apparently includes your ex-husband, Y/N. So, why don’t you start from the beginning and tell us everything you know about Jim.”

“Before you do that,” Sam said, standing from the chair, “I need to talk to Dean for a minute, alone.”

“Whatever you gotta tell me--”

“No,” Sam interrupted. Sam no-so-subtly motioned his head towards the back door.

Dean stood from his chair, his expression wrought with concern. “Alright little brother, lead the way.

Once they were outside, Sam paced back and forth for a moment before he finally faced Dean. Frustrated, Dean raised his brow in question and sighed.

“What the hell, Sam? What’s going on?” he asked, tired from the constant feeling of secrecy that surrounded Sam as of late.

“Those demons that were at Harvelle’s, they didn’t just kick my ass for sport. They did it because they wanted me to deliver a message.”

Dean’s expression fell and he felt his veins run cold. “What message? For who?”

Sam hesitated for a moment, calming his own anger in order to be ready and deal with the rage that he knew would erupt in his brother the moment he passed along the demon’s warning.

“To you,” he paused and raised his brow, “they said, ‘don’t think she’s untouchable’.”

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