#he keeps writing letters to sam

[xxlittle0birdxx]

Bucky is a little indifferent about most holidays. And by a little indifferent, he means he can take or leave most of them after spending a good portion of his life as Popsicle Assassin.

And Valentine’s Day? No, thank you.

Enter one human sunflower named Sam Wilson.

Sam loves holidays. Bucky’s indifference makes him want to go all out. He starts sending presents a week in advance.

It starts with a bouquet of heart-shaped balloons. Bucky entertains the idea of using them for target practice with his favourite knife, but his upstairs neighbour has been ultra-snarky about noise ever since New Year’s Eve, and Sam and Bucky got a little enthusiastic about ringing in the new year. (She left a note on Bucky’s door telling him she didn’t mind if he watched those movies, but could he please turn the volume down?)

Next is a Wallace and Gromit style sheep plushie. It’s soft and fluffy. Bucky puts it in the middle of his bed, telling it it’s only for a little while, and don’t expect to stay there. (It’s still there at Thanksgiving…)

A bag of coffee beans from the place Bucky likes with a note to “Try the French press, old man.’ Bucky proceeds to make it in his old school percolator.

A box of chocolates. The ones that made Bucky’s eyes roll back in his head when they tried them a few months ago.

A bottle of ink for his fountain pen. And a box of fancy stationery. Because Bucky doesn’t do phone calls. But he writes letters to Sam.

On February 13, someone arrives with a grocery order. It’s all the ingredients for dishes that Bucky loves, especially when Sam cooks them.

On February 14, before Bucky even had his first cup of coffee, there’s a knock on the door. He answers the door dressed in his boxers and a pair of socks and nothing else.

It’s Sam.

He makes Bucky a dozen heart-shaped pancakes. The kind of mac and cheese that makes Bucky moan when he eats the first bite. His grandma’s gumbo. His mother’s red beans and rice. His titi’s cornbread.

Not once do the words, “I love you” cross his lips.

But Bucky knows.

And that’s how Valentine’s Day became his favourite holiday.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

The Winchester brothers? Oh I think you mean Sam Leahy and Dean Singer <3 I think their mom is Mary Campbell-Winchester so maybe that's where you got confused <3

[grimdarling69]

Another deaged Ellie and Dan, but Danny was reincarnated as Damian Wayne

Danny Damian because he was Damian now, wasn't he? He remembers now the Fentons, the GIW, Sam and Tucker, jazz. He wonders if they could have also followed him here. A part of him longs to see his fraid again, but are they his fraid still? He was a new person. Son of The Bat and Heir to the Demon Head. Something Dami he remembers reminding people of. If only Sam could see him now, he knows she'd love that. "Who's edgy now?" He can picture her saying. He can almost see Tucker laughing so hard he'd fall out of his seat.

Crack

The sharp sound of the thunder brings him to the present. He looked over at his clock, 3:00 A.M. The witching hour he can hear Ellie tell him with a mischievous smile on one of their flights around Amity Park. She loved to drag him and Dan sometimes Vlad if he was feeling friendly. Dan, his future evil self tormented by the deaths of all his family and friends, so hurt he got Vlad to rip his human half out so he didn't have to feel the pain. Ellie, his clone, created by Vlad to be the perfect son, too bad she was a daughter. Looking down at his stomach where their cores are now incubating, he couldn't help but wonder if Vlad had anything to do with this.

He shook his head as if that would rid himself of that thought. Vlad was a real fruitloop,but he would never purposefully endanger Dan or Ellie. Vlad, in his twisted and weird ways, did love them in his own ways like kidnapping and keeping him hostage to save Ellie. He had forgiven vlad for the desperate attempt to save his daughter, but incubating Ellie and Dan's cores would make him their father now, too. Ew, coparenting with Vlad does not sound like a fun time. He glanced down and lifted his shirt hesitantly. If he focused on his stomach, he could see a faint blue and red glow emanating from his stomach. Red, Vlads' color, he thought distantly. Hopefully, it didn't mean much. As if signaling him, the envelope they had carried with them to him fell off the bed carried to the floor by the slight breeze.

Lighting lumineating the bedroom, making the crisp white color shine for just a second. He tentatively reached down to grab it. He was being a baby. He was a trained assassin from birth, and his fear trained beaten out of him a long time ago. Some part of him whispered his father and Richard's teachings of being brave but not without fear.

He paused. Father would want to know everything. His past life, Ellie and Dan, the ghosts, being a halfa. He wouldn't understand, Richard would try to, but not even he could never really understand. He couldn't subject his babies to that. He couldn't live with the threat to being ripped apart molecule by molecule. His father's lack of emotional intelligence certainly would not help young halfas. He was fourteen again the age he was killed in his first life. The age he started facing ghosts from another dimension.

He started younger in this life. Killing younger, he learned to fight his whole life. Jazz would hate that. Jazz... he wondered if she was alright if she survived the attack... no, there's no time to think of that right now. He ripped open the envelope( like a band-aid, Richard would remind him), and he noticed Vlad's familiar fancy fruitloop writing immediately(he had fancy fruitloop writing now, instead of the chicken scratch Jazz chided him over). So he was right about one thing this had vlad all over it.

Dear Daniel,

Though I understand you might not be Daniel when this letter finds you. I have been reincarnated into another life as I believe you have as well. My new name is Alexander Luther. I own a corporation called Lexcorp. I unfortunately can not change the name according to my board. The idiot lot of them.

He snickered at that. His smile dropped immediately. Vlad was Lex Luthor, the archnemesis of Superman. Jon would most certainly not like this. He forced himself to read on before he spiraled further.

I regained my memories after an experiment went wrong. I know how original. My new incarnation was able to open a small portal that grew in size, and eventually, somehow Danielle and Dan fell through. The portal then exploded, and I regained my memories. Unfortunately, it destabilized their clone bodies. I couldn't grow working bodies in time, and eventually, I had to hope they could find you. I hoped somehow that the yeti doctor would have imparted some of his strange knowledge onto you that might save them.

Vlad, no Lex still wrong. Vlad was somewhat right about that. During one of his all things ghostly lessons from Frostbite, he told him of how in the old ages ghosts often incubated their ghostlings. A protective measure back when magic and spirits were more prevalent. He didn't really understand it back then, and he doesn't understand it much now, either. Apart from the fact he was doing it, he supposed. What if he did something wrong and he lost them? He doesn't think he could live out his half-life if he lost them again. He needed to get to Vlad, and quickly too so they could start building a new portal to the infinite realms.

If this letter finds you. Come find me immediately at these coordinates. I've gone deep underground to escape my new archnimesis's suoer senses. I've m started research on a new portal, but I'll need your endeneering skills. This world is severely lacking in ectoplasmic science and engineering. I am once again forced to start from scratch on my own. Once we get the portal open, you'll need to go straight to The Far Frozen.

It's as if he's reading my mind, I think jokingly.

P.s. One of my experiments may or not have regiven then my new DNA in an attempt to restabilize them.

Only Vlad.

Well, it looks like they actually were going to be coparenting after all. This was going to go great.

I sigh and lean my head back down on my pillow. He committed the cords to memory before lighting the letter on fire with the lighter he kept in his bedside drawer. Point to assassin training. Jason would be proud. He supposed he could stay for a month or so before leaving, which would give him enough time to get away or think of some kind of mission to give himself. He shoots up. Todd had died and came back. He was a revenant. He couldn't stick around if he were to visit he'd know something was wrong immediately even if he didn't understand it.

He sprung out of bed quickly, but quietly, his foot steps perfectly silent despite his rushed mood of packing a bag. He packed a few pairs of clothes and lots of hidden weapons, some snacks he kept hidden for that should keep him fed on his journey but leaving any sentimental things behind. He glanced longingly at his sketch pad, but Vlad was most likely under the water judging by the coordinates he was given. Who knows if it would survive.

He checked the pack, making sure he got all he needed. He promptly checked it again. Twice. After deeming it sufficient, he willed himself to open the door. He mentally cataloged everyone in the manor. Pennyworth was most likely still in Father's room, making sure he actually listened to his insructions. Richard and Todd in Bludhaven and Crime Alley, respectfully. Cain and Brown in Hong Kong. Thomas was sleeping after his dayshift.

Everyone accounted for except Drake. He was most likely using Pennyworth's attention on Father to work cases. He just had to take the risk. For his ghostlings, for himself, Vlad. He crept down the hallways. He was opening the grandfather clock in record time. He went slower this time. He would use his powers, but his father had supernatural wards of all kinds in the cave. Who knows what they did. He was also admittedly trying to save his little energy for his voyage on the open sea. Light snoring hit his ears as he peered around the corner.

Thank ancients.

Drake was sleeping at the batcomputer, still in his Red Robin suit sans mask surrounded by his poor choices. Empty coffee cups and files spread around. He would still need to be quiet, Drake was a light sleeper, as was everyone else in his family. He grabbed the keys to his bike quickly, sneaking by. If he wasn't ditching his bike at Gotham Bridge, he would have disabled his trackers. He checked the gas and made sure he could make it. That's when he made his first mistake.

Putting the gas jug back down, he accidently hit another of one of his siblings' tools to the floor. He tried catching it without success, but it fell anyway, the loud clang echoing. Mistake number two.

Shit.

"Huh? What's happening?" Drake arose sleepily rubbing his eyes.

He froze. Mistake number three.

"Damian? What are you doing down here?" His eyes landed on him, and he spoke confusedly with his voice heavy with sleep or lack thereof.

He panics. He's blaming the pregnancy hormones on this.

He runs.

"Damian!" Drake responded to his dead sprint with his own. "Stop!"

He reaches his bike, and he turns the keys and prays. Luckily, it comes to life. He fumbles with his helmet it would hide his tears he needed it. who knows if he'll ever get to see them again. He shoots off down the tunnel. Flicking the cave door open remotely.

Another bike rears to life behind him. "Damian wants going on?" Drakes voice echoes in his ears. He can almost taste the concern in it amplified by the helmet. He ignores it and accelerates. He ignores the returned acceleration behind him.

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

Tim has no clue what made Damian panic enough to run away. He quickly ran to his own bike while swearing. Damian is already gaining distance on him. After another attempt at getting Damian to calm down and talk, he calls the only person Damian would actually listen to.

He hopes Dick will forgive him for waking him at five o'clock in the morning on his day off.

[wrenwinchester]

I clicked Sam because that was my immediate response, however, the order of likeliness is Sam, Jack, Cas, then Dean. (I do strongly believe that Dean would keep a diary though.)

Sam would write about his day, he probably started doing it with Jess, and then after she died, he just marked how many times he thought about her that day, or things that reminded him of her, or he wished he could see with her. Eventually, it was just routine, he went back to writing about the small pleasures in life, when he’d get Dean to go to the farmers market with him, just the really mundane stuff as a way to remember to enjoy life.

Jack’s first few diary entries would be literal moment by moment recollections of his day, but eventually it would devolve into ramblings, potentially mementos of things he collected throughout the day taped into the diary. Also things he was trying to understand or learn about, and just new things that he experienced, whether he enjoyed them or not, and if he would do it again. He also writes about his mom, what he thinks she would say about different things he’s done, asks if she’s proud of him.

Cas would be trying to understand new experiences, or write about the movement of bees, and other special interests. He’d also write poetry. Poetry about Dean, about Sam, about the men who helped him see humanity as more than just apes. He’d write about his experiences when he was a human, about the homeless epidemic, and whatever else he felt like was weighing on him. He’d write about how much he loved the Winchesters.

Dean would trauma dump at first, after Sam made him start “journaling” (Dean refuses to call it a diary) because he needs to process it all somehow. But eventually, Dean would just write his silly little thoughts, his deepest desires, things he wants needs to remember. (Alternatively Dean starts writing in a diary journal after the witch hex in “regarding Dean”). He draws, mostly people’s faces next to their names, mostly from memory.

*There's no way to make this question into a poll, so you can answer it in the tags.

[imastoryteller]

Write Like a Director: Crafting a Cinematic Novel (With Examples)

Writing a novel like a movie means propelling your reader through scenes with relentless momentum, slashing through fluff, and ensuring each word drives the plot forward. Trust your readers to connect the dots through dialogue and action, immersing them in vivid, immediate experiences without drowning them in verbose descriptions. Every chapter should feel like a high-octane scene, keeping readers on the edge of their seats, hungry for the next twist, the next revelation. Keep it tight, keep it thrilling. Here are some examples to illustrate each aspect of this dynamic storytelling approach:

Fast Pacing

Chase Through the Alley: Jake sprinted down the narrow alley, the thud of heavy boots echoing behind him. A sharp left, then a right—no time to think, just run. This example thrusts the reader directly into a high-speed chase, emphasizing immediate action and urgency.

Heist in Progress: The vault door creaked open. "Thirty seconds," Maria whispered, stuffing bonds into her bag. The alarm blared. "Move!" The scene conveys a sense of time running out and rapid movement, maintaining a brisk pace with no room for delays.

Dynamic, Fast-Going Plot

Kidnapping Twist: Laura opened her front door to find an empty stroller on her porch. A note inside read: "If you want to see her again, come alone." The unexpected discovery of a kidnapping sets up an immediate and compelling conflict, driving the plot forward swiftly.

Escape Plan: The prison lights flickered. "Now!" whispered Tom. They climbed through the hole, hearing guards’ shouts in the distance. The urgent breakout from prison keeps the plot dynamic and intense, with characters constantly on the move.

Show, Don't Tell

Fight in the Ring: Blood trickled down Max’s face. He clenched his fists, dodged a punch, and delivered a powerful uppercut that sent his opponent to the mat. The physicality and immediate consequences of the fight are shown through actions rather than explained through exposition.

Silent Farewell: Tears streamed down Lily’s cheeks as she handed Jack the letter. Without a word, he turned and walked away, his shoulders slumped. The emotional impact of the farewell is conveyed through the characters' actions and expressions, not through internal monologue or narrative explanation.

No Tedious Descriptions

Quick Change: Sam grabbed the nearest shirt and jeans, pulling them on as he ran out the door, glancing at the clock—he had five minutes to reach the station. The scene moves quickly from one action to the next, providing only essential details to maintain momentum.

Sudden Revelation: In the dim light, Sophie saw the glint of a ring on the thief’s finger. Her father's ring. She gasped, stepping back. The revelation is made through a brief visual detail, keeping the description succinct and impactful.

No Infodump

Mid-Battle Realization: Amidst the chaos, Sarah recognized the tattoo on the enemy soldier’s arm. Her brother. She hesitated, the war raging around her. The revelation about the brother is integrated into the action, avoiding lengthy explanations and keeping the focus on the immediate situation.

Urgent Discovery: Ethan flipped through the ancient book, stopping at a page with a familiar symbol. "It's the same as the pendant," he muttered, pocketing the book and running out. The discovery is brief and directly tied to the plot's urgency, with no extensive background information provided.

Avoid Fluff

Straight to Action: Ben didn’t bother with pleasantries. “We’re out of time,” he said, throwing the bag into the car. “Get in.” The scene cuts straight to the critical moment, avoiding unnecessary dialogue or description.

No Idle Chatter: Emma answered the phone, cutting off the caller's introduction. “What’s the plan?” she demanded, glancing at the clock. The character immediately seeks vital information, eliminating small talk and focusing on the plot's progression.

Tight, Immersive Narrative

Immediate Danger: As the elevator doors slid open, Mark saw the bomb timer: 00:10. He dived for the wires, heart pounding. The imminent threat and the character's swift reaction immerse the reader in the tension of the moment.

Critical Decision: The bridge was collapsing. Anna had seconds to decide—jump or try to save her friends. She took a deep breath and ran back. The character's quick decision-making in a life-or-death situation keeps the narrative focused and engaging.

By applying these principles, you can craft a novel that feels as dynamic and engaging as a blockbuster movie, keeping your readers hooked from the first page to the last.

---

+ If you find my content valuable, consider Support This Blog on Patreon!

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpxdc AU: Damian decides that it’s time to go collect his brother from his assignment. Danny is starting to sniff out some non-ghostly bullshit for once.

Damian knew his twin had been exiled from the age of seven, banished to travel and observe how scientists around the world engaged with Lazarus water. The only word that Damian received that his spare was still alive were the letters of lab reports and findings that were sent back to base. As the Heir, he’s pushed to be better lest he himself be exiled or simply executed. Danny becomes a fleeting thought and then once Damian arrived in Gotham, a none existent thought.

They weren’t raised to be friends or even friendly. The were not taught codependency or allotted time to bond. The could have been perfect strangers if not for their appearance and the stories of Danny’s shortcomings becoming Damian’s praise.

It’s only once Tim informs him of an intercepted letter, one sent and saved from years prior, that Damian recalls Danny enough to care. Tim prompts him to share more, especially given the coup recently committed by Deathstroke (Slade) and Talia gone into hiding with her zealots.

At family dinner that night Damian supplies: “I suppose I should be the one to bereave my twin of his assignment. His reports will certainly go unread.”

Chaos in the Batfam ensues- meanwhile across the country- Danny sneezes and finishes writing his yearly report: “No major discoveries aside from public record patents (attached), No assistance required. -Spare”. He doesn’t know why he bothers, he hasn’t received any contact from his mother or grandfather since he was 10ish and certainly hasnt thought about his twin. But, if there’s a chance (even an itty bitty one) that his reports are being read and are holding off his reassignment, he’d rather keep assassins out of Amity Park.

Little does he know that this letter is about to be intercepted by Pru, former assassin and friend of Tim Drake. He hadn’t expected his twin to suddenly arrive and tell him that his job was done. And certainly, seeing a plane filled with an uncomfortable looking ‘family’ that requested he join them and get to know Gotham and his birth father, was not on his bingo list.

Danny does his best to let them down gently- and they seem to be accepting that he’s acclimated to this weird little town and will leave him be- when Danny suddenly has to transform into Phantom in front of them to handle a rocket sent by Skulker.

They are less willing to accept his appeal to be left alone after that… Damian is trying to “bond” with him and all the others are trying to “help” in their own way.

Sam and Tucker howl with laughter at Danny’s suddenly very large family- all while secretly working with the Wayne’s to get Danny the fuck away from the Fentons before the scientists do something they can’t undo.

[bluerosefox]

GHOSTS WITH HEARTBEATS

When Jason had been going to Gotham Academy, he had (for a good reputation for the media and to help him catch up on his penmanship, remember he had been on the streets and dropped out of school before getting picked up by Bruce for a while) signed up for a penpal project for 'less privileged people' to write to.

(Although Jason was annoyed the penpal project stayed within the states and only selected a middle of nowhere town, he knew the Richie Rich Elites would never subjugate their 'Heirs' to actual kids in need of learning how to read and write)

But Jason didn't mind his penpal.

Danny Fenton was a riot to talk, err write to in all honestly.

From his dry punny humor (and boy can he give even Dick a run for his money in the pun department but hey using some of them actually got Dick to warm up to him a few missions ago) and death jokes so many death jokes, to his nerdy love for space Jason enjoyed writing to Danny.

Even the short stories he would write about a ghost kid protecting a small town from other ghosts was interesting to read. He really liked the different kinds of ghosts there could be. Granted some seemed very OP like that Clockwork dude.

Jason liked writing to Danny, and even after the penpal project was over they had plans to keep sending letters, maybe even exchange numbers soon...

But then he died by the hands of the Joker.

The letters leaving Wayne Manor may had decreased but the letters being sent never did or at least until a few years ago.

Then Jason somehow returned to the land of the living.

Got taken by the LoA, tossed in the green waters and turned into their Pit Raged weapon for a while before leaving them behind and setting out for his revenge against the Joker and to force B's hand.

And becoming a Crime Boss for a while too. Can't forget that.

Point being with all this going on, the old warm memories of exchanging letters with Danny Fenton was pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about for a while.

It isn't until one afternoon at Wayne Manor that while roughhousing with Dick, who had Jason in a brotherly headlock as they walked down a hall to one of the sitting rooms, that while Jason had slipped out of Dick's hold had stumbled into a hallway desk that had a few things on the top of it, one of the things being a small box that tumbled off when Jason hit it.

The box lid opened and out of it spilled out a good number of letters.

"Shiii-p, dang it Dick!" Jason said when he looked at the mess he accidentally made and stopped himself from swearing, the place might be named Wayne Manor but everyone knew this was Alfie's domain and no swearing was a rule within his halls.

Dick only laughed and teased only in a way a sibling can do "Hey not my fault your as big as a tank Jaybird! We should get you some caution signals if you keep bumping into things!"

Jason flipped him his favorite finger, thankfully Alfred only knew when they swore thus it did not summon him, and bent down to the letters.

His hands froze when he recognized the hand writing and the address it was sent from.

"From: Danny Fent Nightingale

Amity Park, IL"

To: Jason Todd-Wayne

Gotham City, NJ.

Wayne Manor"

And when Jason opened the letter. He really wasn't expecting what was written inside.

"Jason.

I'm finally leaving Amity Park. I can't be there anymore, not after everything. I'm too tired, and emotionally hurt. Everything is just to much. And I can't keep doing this to myself. My parents still can’t understand there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me or why I refuse to let them take care of Ellie, I refuse to let her live the way Jazz and I did, Jazz has to much on her plate already with her own life and college but she’s been hounding me to reach out to mom and dad, Sam refuses to listen to me when I tell her I want to be more than ‘Phantom’ in Amity Park, and Tucker is so busy trying to get into a good college and job we barely have time to talk nowadays. And don’t get me started on Vlad, that fruitloop’s been breathing down my neck since Ellie’s deaging.

Despite how much of a hellhole you like to call it, I think Gotham might be my, no mine and Ellie’s best bet of living some kind of life, especially now since the whole deaging she had to go through, she needs an ectoplasm rich city as well and since she has no actual papers because she was my clone and I remember you saying Gotham has people who can create new identities and-

I’m rambling again, to letter you again. I really need to stop it.

I can’t keep pretending you’re going to read these.

I know you’ll never read these. You’re gone. I can’t even find you in the Realms no matter where I look.

I’m sorry. For using you as, well, a way to vent my life for last couple of years. I shouldn’t had done it but it helped me.

Believing my friend was still alive and getting my letters I mean.

Again I’m sorry.

This will be my last letter to your ghost, pun unintended.

Goodbye Jason. Wish us luck in your city.

-Danny Fen-Nightingale...."

The sent date on the letter was roughly eight years ago.

[the-avengers-not-the-nazis]

Bad moon rising I

Summary: After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.

Word count: 3.1k

Poly!lost boys x Emerson!reader

[1] [2] [3] [4]

A/n: This is the first time writing for the lost boys, I will let yall know if there are any major warnings in each chapters or not. But I hope that you guys enjoy reading the first chapter.

‘Don't go around tonight

Well it's bound to take your life

There's a bad moon on the rise’

Your legs were killing you. 

After hours of sitting in the back seat of the Land Cruiser, you were growing restless. And Nanook didn’t really help when the dog draped his entire body over your lap, his weight making both of your legs go numb. 

You could hear the sounds of your brothers and mom arguing over which radio station they should listen too for the rest of the drive. The occasional static from the radio making you roll your eyes. 

Maybe your legs weren’t the only thing tired from the long drive, maybe the voices of your family were starting to drive you crazy. 

“Oh,” your mom suddenly said, turning up the music that was currently on. “This one is from my generation.” A smile inched its way on your face as you watched mom dance along to the music. 

Both Sam and Micheal turned to face each other, a soft grin playing other lips as they listened to the ole timey song. “Keep going.” They said together. 

“Ok, ok, I get it.” Mom said as she switched the channel. “My music isn’t hip enough for you guys.”

You leaned forward in your seat, hand resting on Nanooks fur to keep him still. “Hip?” 

“Yeah, you know. Cool, fresh, narly.” Your mom told you, bringing her hand up to do a surfers hand gesture. 

You glanced over at Micheal, trying to see if he too was hearing what mom was describing. He just gave you a playful eye roll, and a shake of his head. Not wanting to tell mom that nobody actually used those words in real life. 

“We’re almost there.” Your mom told you in a sing song manor. 

Glancing past Micheal you saw a billboard, the words Welcome to Santa Carla read across the front, an image of the towns beach drawn on cartoonishly. 

Sam let out a gag, his nose turnt up towards the window. “What’s that smell?” He asked, quickly rolling up the glass to try and block the stench from entering the car. 

Mom closed her eyes, taking a long sniff of the outside breeze. “That’s the ocean air, baby”

“It smells like someone died.”

You snorted at your youngest brothers comment, he wasn’t totally wrong. The saltyness that suffocated the air around you was a bit much, but you’d grow used to it, you all will eventually. 

“Look guys, I know the last year has been tough.” Mom said, glancing back at the rear view mirror at both you and Micheal. “But I think your really gonna like it here.”

You couldn’t count on either hands on how many times your mother had said those exact words to you three. It always starts with the ‘I know’ and always ends in your really gonna like this place. But, if you were being a hundred percent honest you missed back home. 

All of your friends and what’s left of your now broken family is all back home in Phoenix. And you know that mom is doing all that she can to keep everything positive, but deep down you know that the divorce is hurting her just as badly as it is hurting you and your brothers. 

As the car continued to drive down the road, you watched as the sign showed the back. It was packed with graffiti art and even a couple of stickers stuck to wood. But, what caught your attention most was the five letter word painted in black and red. 

Murder capital of the world.

Upon entering Santa Carla, you’ve noticed that there is just about any type of person you could imagine walking along the streets. There were girls in bathing suits, guys with halve shaved heads, groups of tourists, the locals, nerds, jocks. Hell you even saw a dog with its fur colored pink. 

You just hoped that at night the people were better looking. 

Mom pulled beneath the cover of a food shack, allowing everyone to step out and get some fresh air after ten hours on the road. Sam leashed up Nanook and took him to the bathroom, also venturing his new home town by himself as he did so. 

You woke up your legs as you stepped out of the Land Cruiser, the nerves shooting up and down your body, you wobbled a bit on your feet before steadying yourself against the car. You felt sweat begin to form beneath your clothes, causing them to stick uncomfortably to your skin. “Holy cow.” You muttered gently fanning yourself to try and cool off a little. 

You were used to the heat from the sun, but God, the humidity is what’s gonna kill you this summer.  

As you continued to fan yourself off, you noticed all the small shops that surrounded you. They were old and kind of antique-ish looking. But, past that laid the boardwalk, were you knew you’d be spending the remainder of you summer break and nights. 

Sam came jogging back towards the car, Nanook right on his tail. He stopped before mom as he pointed a finger at the boardwalk behind him. “Mom! Mom, there’s and amusement park right on the beach.”

Instead of acknowledging the said park, you watched as mom pulled out a small wad of cash. Placing it in Sam’s hand she gestured to a group of homeless kids rummaging through the dumpster. “Sam, tell those kids to eat something. Will ya’?”

As you watch Sam walk over towards the kids, you notice a telephone pole covered from head to toe in posters. Stepping away from the car and wandering over you read a few, hoping to catch a couple help wanted ads or even just something small enough to help out your family. 

Though instead of any job listing you did find a good amount of missing children posters. Actually, it’s just about a missing everyone poster. There is a little boy that looks about six, a grainy picture of him is nailed down with staples. And beside it is a man in what looks like his mid to early fourties, his balding head and crooked teeth makes you wonder who would miss a guy like that. 

Glancing past the telephone pole, you eyed the teenagers in the dumpster carefully. For all you know these kids could go missing next, and no one would try and look for them. 

The thought made your stomach twist in a discusted knot, the idea that you or even one of your brothers could turn up missing one day and nobody would bat an eye, didn’t sit right with you. 

A car honked from behind you, turning around you noticed that your family is back in the cars AC and that they are all waiting on you. “Y/n, sweetheart.” Your mom called, poking her head out the window. “We have to go, grandpas waiting for us.”

You quickly made your way back to the car, plopping back down in your seat as mom slowly pulled out of the food shack. The feeling of cold breeze in your face cooled you off a lot more than your hand did. 

After a while the car pulled up to an old two story house, the arch way made out of tree limbs and nails made you question how sturdy that would actually be in a storm. Once the car came to a complete stop everyone piled out, the dirt road beneath you dirtied up the end of your blue jeans. The bottom of your converse’s making little patterns in the grime. 

Micheal, who had decided to ride his bike for the rest of the drive, slowly unstradled the vehicle, his eyes darting around the front yard of the house. Wood carvings of animals and an old trailer was near the back of the yard, the fence that surrounded us was slightly spaced out and cut into sharp ends. 

“This is homey.” You muttered to micheal, the backpack that you carried felt heavy on your back after hours of not wearing it. 

Micheal hummed in agreement, albeit sarcasticly. 

Glancing back at the house itself, you took in the porch, it had one too many rocking chairs and wooden tables for you to count. There were even empty beer bottles rolling across the porch floor. But, you stopped judging the home style around you when you noticed a pair of legs laid out on the ground. 

Taking erie steps, you all cautiously eyed the body. Both fear and concern bubbling deep inside of you. Fear that this would be the first dead body you’ve seen and concern over who will come and clean it. 

Mom walked ahead of you and your brothers, crouching down by the head of the body. “Dad?” She asked, swiping hair out of his face as she did so. “Dad?”

“It looks like he’s dead.” Micheal stated, eyes glancing swiftly from his mom and the supposedly dead body before them. 

Mom shook her head, gently shaking her dad awake. “No, he’s just a heavy sleeper.” 

“Why is he asleep on the porch?” Micheal asked, trying to understand the older man. 

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, taking in the supposedly dead corpse in front of you. “Is the heat from the sun gonna make his body decay faster?” You pondered out loud, ignoring the glare your mom gave you. 

“Yeah. And if he’s dead can we move back to Phoenix?” Sam added on for you, receiving the same look your mom just gave you. 

“The both of you be quiet.” She scolded. 

Suddenly grandpas head popped up, his eyes half lidded as he held a smug smirk. “Playin’ dead. And, from what I heard doing a damn good job of it, too.”

You watched as mom playfully swatted at her dad, before leaning down and giving him a good hug. Sharing a quick glance at your brothers, they both held the same expression that you did. Confused and slightly baffled at how the old man acts. 

The inside of the house looked just like the cabins from Friday the thirteenth. The floor was wood, the stairs were wood, an even the walls were wood. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the refrigerator and sink were made out it, too.

You walked through the house with a cardboard box labeled kitchen, both Sam and Micheal right behind you. Though Micheal was carrying a barbell with a couple of weights and shirts on it, and Sam had a bowl on his head with tied up comics ontop. 

“This place is straight out of a horror movie.” Sam whined, as they reached the kitchen. “I wouldn’t be surprised if their are dead body’s buried somewhere.”

“It’s not that bad.” you tried to reason, placing the box onto the counter and cutting through the tape. 

Sam stared at you bewildered, “Not that bad? Not that bad!” He started to raise his voice, setting down the comics and bowl beside you as he continued. “There’s no TV. Have you seen a TV? I haven’t seen a TV.”

You shrugged your shoulders, taking a couple porcelain plates from the box and setting them in a cabinet. “Use your imagination.”

“Imagination?” The boy raised his voice a little bit higher. “You know who else used there imagination? The Torrence family, and they ended up trying to kill each other.”

“Ok, one this is not The Shinning. And, two, you kill me I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

Micheal chuckled at yours and Sam’s conversation, “Oh, you think this is funny Micheal?” Sam asked the irritation of no TV or even MTV was starting to get to him. 

“A little.” He told his brother, placing the barbell down and walking back towards the car. “But, we’re flat broke, Sammy. Can’t afford a new TV for this joke of a place.”

You walked back and forth from the car, box after box, cutting open and placing your stuff with Grandpas. It was tiring, but, you wanted to get it done now so that you could go to the boardwalk tonight. 

Though your brothers on the other hand, weren’t as helpful as you were trying to be. 

Sam ran through the living room, swaying between the boxes that littered the ground as he sprinted away from Micheal. The said older boy was running down the stairs, he hoped over the railing near the bottom and took off after Sam. 

You were pulling out a vase from a box, tearing off the bubble wrap and placing it perfectly on the table. You took a small step back and eyed the spot, debating if you should move it one way or another for it to look right. 

But, as you stepped back, you acidently stood right infront of Micheal’s path. He collided with your side, sending you both tumbling to the ground. “Dammit, Micheal!” You shouted, quickly getting up just as your brother did. Continuing with his chase after Sam, you immediately ran after him. 

“Hey, guys, no running in the house.” Mom called out to the three of you, though no one paid her any mind as you all just continued to chase one another. 

Sam stopped before two sliding doors, shoving each of them open. You and Micheal caught up with your brother, you about ready to shove Micheal for knocking you to the ground, when you saw what laid behind the double doors. 

Taxidermy animals laid on the table in front of you, some were even hung up to the ceiling because there was no more room on the surface. The three of you stood shocked at the room, you more disturbed that so many dead animals were cut open like they currently were. 

“I think we found the dead bodies, Sam.” You told him, referring to your earlier talk about grandpa hiding dead corpses. 

Sam let out a snort, eyeing the room with interest. Micheal leaned up against your side, his elbow coming up to rest on your shoulder. Even at pratically the same height he liked to remind you which of the two was the tallest. 

“Talk about Texas chainsaw massacre.” 

“Rules.” A voice suddenly called out, bringing each of your attention to grandpa who had a cardboard box in hand. “We got some rules around here.”

He gestured with his hand to follow, which you all did begrudgingly. The old man led you to the refrigerator, and upon opening it you saw a sign that read, ‘Old fart’. You hid your amused smile behind your hand as Grandpa began to explain the rules. 

“The second shelf is mine.” He stated matter of factly, easing the sign to show a couple of beer bottles and a box of Oreos hidden behind it. He waved a finger at all three of you, “Don’t nobody touch the second shelf, ya’ hear.”

You nodded along with your brothers, grandpa then waddled out of the kitchen leaving you to trail behind him. You watched discustedly as Micheal began to shove his finger in Sam’s ear, the younger boy trying to push him away when Micheal wrapped an arm around the poor boys neck. 

Clearing his throat, Micheal directed his attention back at grandpa. “Hey, grandpa? Is it true that Santa Carla is the murder capital of the world?” He asked, refusing to let Sam go from his grasp. 

Murder capital of the world. 

Those were the exact words you’d read off the back of the billboard. You hadn’t known that Micheal had read that aswell, although he appears to be taking the towns chosen nickname more jokingly than you had. 

Grandpa slowly turned back around to face the three of you, his eyes darting across each face. “There are some bad elements around here.” He told you, though his voice seemed to be a lot more serious than anything. 

Sam finally shoves Micheal off of him, “Woah, wait a minute. You mean to tell me that we moved to the murder capital of the world?” He asked, getting close to the old man’s face. “Are you serious grandpa?”

You watched as grandpa took his time with his next words of choice. “Well- let me put it this way; if all the corpses buried around here were to stand up at once, we’d have a serious population problem.”

That did about anything but soothe your racing mind. Are we gonna get killed here? Are you actually going to go missing and nobody would care? Could Sam, Micheal or even mom turn up dead one day?

Your thoughts immediately went back to the missing posters, all the untraced people that had disappeared off the face of the earth. And not one of them had been found. You don’t think your gonna like it here all that much, you concluded. 

Mom suddenly sauntered in the living room, a stack of hats resting ontop of her head. “Oh, Dad. You’re gonna give them nightmares.” She told him, not wanting to deal with three teenagers wandering into her room at night complaining about what grandpa had told them. 

Grandpa waved his hand, dismissing her accusation. Changjng the conversation, he picked up a TV guide that sat on the end table, waving back to you and your brothers he began to explain another rule of his. 

“Now, when the mailman brings the TV guide on wensdays, sometimes the corner of the address label will curl up.” He pointed to the address label on the guide, the corner slowly thrusting itself up towards the ceiling. “You’ll be tempted to peel it off. Don’t. You’ll end up ripping the cover, and I don’t like that

He tossed the TV guide back on a different table, making his way back to the taxidermy room. He yanked the sliding doors together and they closed with a great, smack. “And stay out of here.”

Grandpa then walked away, though not before Sam stood in his pathway, excitement rising in his chest. “There’s a TV?” He asked, slightly crossing his fingers for the man to say yes. 

“No. I just like to read the TV guide. Read the guide and you don’t need the Tv.” He then walked away, leaving Sam with a disappointed look. 

“See,” you told him, walking towards a couple of boxes that were laid about the living room floor. “Now, you get to use you imagination.”

Sam pointed a finger at you, “When we go crazy, here- and we will, you’ll be the first that I kill.”

You pushed Sam out of your way with your shoulder, balancing the box on your hip. “Then be prepared for me to haunt you until the end of times, Samuel Emerson.”

A/a/n: Hello and thank you for reading the first chapter :) Now we won’t meet the boys until the next chapter, but I am debating if I should just make that chapter about you meeting them or add on. I still haven’t decided. But thank you again and the next chapter will be done as quickly as possible ;)

[takumiraine]

Once Upon a Time chapter 9

Danny is still going through it, but it gets better I promise.

Taku note: jesus fuck putting the links in on these ones was a beast. I actually had to LOG IN to tumblr on my COMPUTER. ick.

<first> <prev> <next>

There is some texting abbreviations here. The abbreviations are: B, meaning Bruce, obviously. It is saved as just ‘B’ in his phone. R, meaning Replacement which is Tim. Tim is saved as Replacement. DB is Damian, saved as Demon Brat. D, is Dick, and is just saved as an eggplant emoji in Jason’s phone. This may or may not be relevant later.

—-

Okay. Okay. He needs a plan. He needs to think and form a plan. He needs a computer. He grabs a notebook. Scrambles around his upturned apartment until he finds a pen. Starts writing equations. The equations will solve to binary numbers. Each one a different letter. His brain is humming. He double checks his work. Triple checks it. Tears the page out.

Checks the work again.

He grabs a bit of his remaining cash. Climbs out onto his fire escape. Phases his hand through the glass to carefully reset the trap.

Move on silent feet, sticking to shadows. Hoodie on and hood over his head. Silent and fast. Alert. Find an Internet cafe. Buy an hour of computer time. Log onto the conspiracy site. Send a new private message.

Carefully type in the equations with shaking hands. Time ticks by so slowly and yet so fast. Equations come back to him. Solve. Translate. Read. Send more back. More frantic than before. They have to run. They have to hide. They cannot come here.

He received a picture of a chocolate bar in return.

They’re coming here. They’re coming. They’re coming and Danny can’t stop it. Can’t stop any of it.

He deletes the messages. Logs out of the website. Clears the history. Takes the paper. Leaves the building. Burns the paper to ash.

Hears a van. Pulls his hood further down over his head. Has to get to the observatory. That was the agreed upon meeting place. Has to get there. Has to hide.

Has to find a way to keep them safe. He’s out of practice. He doesn’t have the upper hand. He’s so scared. Scared for his friends. He gets to the observatory. It’s dark in there. Locked. Danny finds a ladder. Climbs. On the roof. The dome is solid. Cold. Damp. He sits in the shadow of the lens. He waits.

Time moved. Time stood still. Heavy cloud cover meant he couldn’t watch the passage of time in the moon and stars. That was Gotham. Last clear night or day was a long time ago. Danny couldn’t breathe.

Loud footsteps. He pressed himself deeper into the shadows.

“D…?” The voice was familiar. Danny peered out into the darkness, and saw two familiar faces.

“Tuck… Sam…” he croaked, voice raw like he had just spent hours Wailing.

“Hey Danny, good to see you.” Sam sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The Fenton Creep Stick laid across her lap. Tucker came to join them, sitting on his other side and rifling around in his backpack. Before Danny could process it, a couple high protein granola bars and a bottle of strawberry pedialyte was put on his lap.

“Eat. Panicking burns calories and you need them.” Tucker insisted, nudging him gently. Already Danny felt the panic subsiding, leaving him exhausted. He ate the protein bars mechanically, forcing himself to focus on the taste and the feel of them between his teeth. He needed the nutrients desperately. After the protein bars were eaten, Danny chilled the bottle of strawberry drink and popped the cap off, chugging it.

“Alright. Now that you’re sort of fed and hydrated, breathe. You know I love the whole dead vibe as much as the next girl, but you’re still half human.” Sam rubbed his leg with her free hand and Tucker rubbed his back. It was soothing and almost involuntarily he took a deep breath in and out, then another, and another. He felt his mind settle. When he could finally think clearly again, he pulled them both close in a hug.

“Ancients, I’ve missed you guys…”

“Us too man. Us too,” Tucker agreed, squeezing Danny back just as tightly.

“Now, not to turn you back onto a doom spiral, but what the hell happened?” Sam asked once they pulled back from the embrace.

“Well, it’s kind of a long story. But I’ll tell you everything.” And Danny did. He started with getting enrolled in school, which they knew, because Tucker helped. Then with the cute guy that befriended him out of nowhere, and although he kept the name to himself, Sam clocked his crush almost immediately.

“It’s okay Danny, I have a radar for that. You were in love with me for how many years now?” She teased. “I am now able to spot a Danny-crush from a hundred yards.”

Tucker laughed with her and Danny groaned putting his head back in his hands. “I hate you so much sometimes…” he moaned.

“Yeah we love you too buddy.” Tucker patted him again. “Keep going with the story.”

He did. The tutoring, the meetings with red hood, and then finally, the week before and that evening. Again he left out the fact that he recognized Hood’s real identity. Sam and Tucker wouldn’t tell, but he couldn’t out another hero in good conscience. Even if they were fighting.

“Shit man.” Tucker scooted himself closer, while Sam did the same on his other side. “That was…”

“I’d rather fight Skulker and Technus together without my powers or a thermos…” he mumbled, pulling his knees to his chest and pressing his face into them.

“Okay. So here’s what we’re going to do. Tucker is going to make sure none of his trip lines have been tripped, I’m gonna make sure no creeps sneak up on us here. You’re gonna take a nap. You look like you’re about ready to drop dead again.” Danny nodded into his knees, and Tucker got out his pda and got to work.

Slowly, Danny’s breathing evened and slowed then stopped almost completely. Having his friends nearby meant he was safe. Safety meant sleep.

Jason was out looking. He started at Danny’s apartment, but he wasn’t answering, there was no sound of movement, the thermals were all ambient, so he moved on.

The longer he looked the more he realized, he barely knew anything about Danny. Danny was great at hedging around questions about himself. Turning the conversation back to Jason, or topics that were safe. The weather, the best places to get burgers, the best type of tree to climb, the best dangerous animal to be freed from the zoo. That last topic was courtesy of Damian but…

Then Jason remembered. They had been eating outside after dark. Danny had looked up at the sky and sighed, then pointed fries accusingly at Jason. “Your dad is like, richer than anyone else here right? He should really do something about all this smog. Seeing the stars at night is one of life’s great pleasures.”

“You could go to the observatory,” Jason had suggested, fairly used to Danny occasionally having ideas for Bruce’s money without any real interest in using it for himself. Always for the betterment of the city as a whole.

“That’s a last resort option. Nothing beats constellation spotting laying on a rooftop. You should be able to see Orion’s Belt over….” Danny looked up at the sky, head shifting as he oriented himself to north and then pointing “over there, somewhere.”

“Well, I’ll bring it up and see what WE has in the works for ecological initiatives.” Jason had said, taken in by how certain Danny was. He could have been bullshitting Jason, but sure enough when he looked it up later, Danny had the right idea, even if he was a few degrees off in his estimation.

Not having any better idea, Jason sped off towards the observatory.

Danny had been asleep for maybe an hour when the motorcycle was heard pulling up. Tucker turned off his modified PDA, the backlight in the screen would have given them away in a heartbeat.

Once the motorcycle turned off though, Sam woke up Danny. He woke with a silent start, looking around to see what had alarmed his friends. When he felt the familiar press of another halfa’s core he pressed a hand to each of their knees and wrote a small smiley face on them. Danny did not miss the way Sam’s grip on the creep stick tightened.

Jason didn’t immediately think anything of the observatory as he circled it. There were two hot spots on the roof that were likely just horny teenagers. He would make his loop and then head off. At least, that was the plan until he spotted the ice cold person shape between the two warmer ones.

Nobody ran that cold except Danny.

Jason stood at the base of the ladder and considered his options. He didn’t know who Danny was up there with. He didn’t know if Danny was in danger. Though the pit in him wasn’t any more riled up than it normally was. He didn’t know if Danny would throw his ass right off the roof. There wasn’t anything around here for him to grapnel onto if he was.

‘I did not know your trip into the pit made you a coward, Todd’ he could hear Damian taunt in his head.

Shaking the thought of his brother off, Jason climbed the ladder. The moment his helmet popped over the roof Danny’s eyes were fixed on him. “Go away J-Hood.”

Jason was momentarily surprised, Danny had obviously not expected him to come in costume, but corrected himself fairly flawlessly. Not outing him to the two people who were holding him protectively. Must be Sam and Tucker.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Are these your friends?” He asked, not moving any further up the ladder. Danny nodded, continuing to glare over his knees.

“Sam and Tucker. They knew me… before everything else.”

Jason nodded. Climbed up enough to get a good look. “I have a safe house nearby. Can we go there and talk?”

“Is more of your little guano group” Sam snickered at the name and Tucker gave Danny a fist bump, “going to hunt me down if I don’t?”

“No. But you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

Danny looked between his friends for a minute, before slowly uncurling and standing, helping his friends up. “Fine.”

Once they were all on the ground they walked to the safe house, a couple blocks away. Once they were inside, Jason pulled off the helmet.

“Jason Todd. Also known as Red Hood.”

He noticed Sam give Danny a look, and he made a face back at her. Tucker rolled his eyes. “You talk to the Bat?” Danny asked, rather than confront his friend.

“Yeah. But that’s not the important part. After we talked tonight Oracle noticed something. The firewall was an automatic scoop. Anything related to your parents’….hobby got thrown into a…. Technological bucket. It’s why your messages never made it to the League.”

Danny took a step back, and Sam and Tucker automatically moved closer, supporting him. “You…. Heard the messages?”

“There was video too. Of… an attack.”

“Of course those assholes were filming it.” Sam tightened her grip on the creep stick as she spoke. Danny raised a shaking hand to his face, feeling for something. His eyes had gone unfocused.

Damn it. Jason took a step forward and Danny flinched, the air going cold. “Easy D.” Tucker soothed. “You’re in Gotham. We’re gonna go sit.” Sam and Tucker bullied Danny to the couch. Tucker sat next to him, while Sam stood in front of them protectively. When she caught Jason trying to look around her she snapped to get his attention.

“Hey, Danny needs some water. About 35 degrees if you have it that cold, cold as you have otherwise.” The snapping and hyper specific orders placed her in his memory. Samantha Manson. Daughter of the Amity Mansons. They attended a few Galas when she was younger. She was very insistent on her veganism even then.

Jason wasn’t about to argue with a woman holding a bat. If Sam was anything like his brothers, she knew how to use it even before the vigilante training.

He brought Danny water, tap with a couple of ice cubes, and passed it to Tucker, who was still talking quietly to Danny. Danny was nodding and occasionally giving a thin half smile, but was able to hold the glass on his own and sip from it.

“We need a plan.” Danny said after he finished drinking.

“Batman wants to talk to you.” Jason told him, which got Danny opening his mouth to protest.

“First,” Sam interrupted, looking at Danny then at Jason, “Tucker is going to do his checks, Danny is going to sleep, and we are going to wait.”

“I don’t need to sleep.” Danny crossed his arms, protesting.

“And Dash didn’t shove you in a locker at least once a week.” Tucker’s response was combined with an eye roll. “You look like you just went a dozen rounds with Skulker without your powers. You need pizza rolls and a nap.”

“You make me sound like I’m a kindergartener.”

“I think I have pizza rolls.” Jason interrupted the protest. “I’ll kill the lights, make the brat’s pizza rolls for you and you just lay there until they’re done.”

Danny scowled at Jason for hanging up on him but as Tucker slid off the couch onto the floor in front of him, Danny obediently laid down. As Jason pulled the bag out of the freezer and started the oven heating, he watched Danny’s breathing slow down and even out, then stop altogether.

Sam followed his gaze and took Danny’s sleeping form in quickly before peering at what Tucker was doing. Seeing that the people Danny knew the longest weren’t concerned about his lack of visible breathing, Jason settled a bit, texting the family chat.

From J: so I found Danny. But he has backup now. He managed to get in contact with his friends.

From B: Are you on your way?

From J: no. He was freaking out. Right now he’s asleep on the couch and I’m making pizza rolls.

From DB: Excuse me zombie child, those happen to be mine.

From J: Better learn to share now before you learn the hard way like Dickie, Timber and I did.

From B: Jason, please.

From J: what? It’s not a lie. He’s the fourth Robin that we know about.

From DB: I am the best. I will not be replaced.

From R: idk Dami, the new kid has black hair, blue eyes and a troubled past. He’s adoption bait. Hopefully he didn’t lie about his age and really is older than you.

From D: it’s never easy having to hand over the spandex and cape to a younger more dangerous Robin.

From DB: So you admit that I am the best.

From D: no I said you were younger and more dangerous than we were as Robin. Except for maybe Jay. He liked to bite criminals.

From J: hey! They were the idiots who put their hands near my face. I grew up hungry. You eat what you can.

From B: Before this gets more out of hand, Jason, do you know about when you will be arriving?

From J: probably going to leave here in 45 minutes to an hour. I will let you know.

Jason was going to take his time cooking those pizza rolls correctly. He wasn’t going to let them ooze out everywhere, then they would have to cool so when Danny inevitably wolfed them down he wouldn’t scorch his mouth. Allow for some wake up time…

Jason was completely, and understandably in his opinion, giving Danny as much time before the meet the family scene happened. The guy had been through enough.

[lordprettyflackotara]

summer of sam || sam golbach

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. wooo it’s getting hot in here. tw: subby sam, stripper/dom reader, humiliation, degrading, overstimulation, sub/dom dynamics in place, dry humping, choking, etc this is just complete and utter filth. ps: this is my first time writing the male to be submissive on this blog. W? L?

You were a professional at what you did.

Every summer in between college semesters you’d work the same strip club, earnings thousands of dollars all summer long. Ohio wasn’t known for its popularity in exotic dancers what so ever, your presence spicing up an otherwise dead club.

Over time you had grown a consistent fan base of men who awaited your return every summer. You were now on year five, your degree so close to being obtained you could practically taste it. It’s what kept you motivated to keep coming back. You had to pay for your degree somehow even if it was deemed shameful by your peers. Which is why you traveled to a town in Ohio far from your hometown, determined to make enough funds to scrape by the semester.

It was only week two of your return, word of your arrival spreading through the town. In an odd way it made you all jittery, feeling like a little celebrity. You were in your dressing room, pampering yourself with makeup before your set time on stage. Your eyes flickered to the door opening behind you, continuing to pat your brush across your cheek. Your body guard was the sweetest man alive, his chocolate eyes meeting yours.

“Hi Tommy, big crowd?” You asked. You had met Tom during year two of your ‘career’, the man fully dedicated to protecting you from creeps. “I’d say so, but I have an offer from a new comer. Wants a private dance,” He informed you. You set your brush aside on the vanity, grabbing a tube of lipstick. “As if, that crowd out there will provide me ten times whatever he could,” You replied. Tom cleared his throat, your gaze straying away from your plump lips to him. In his hand sat two wads of cash.

“This is fifteen thousand. He offered more if you come.”

You never did private dances. You had admittedly become egotistical over time, your time precious during the hotter season. The private dances were no where near as cash filled as public ones were. Undoubtedly you were the star of the show in this little town and you belonged in the spotlight. Your eyebrows had furrowed at the wads of cash, quickly sliding out of your chair. Your heels clicked as you grabbed one, running your thumb through it.

“They’re real?” You questioned. You already knew the answer, the tiny bumps across the blue band of the hundred dollar bills giving it away. “Every single one. He’s in room six,” Tom answered you. You nodded, handing him back the wad. “Stand outside of the room if you don’t mind. I want to see what this guy is all about,” You say.

You had almost forgotten what the hallway to the private rooms looked like, new purple led lights illuminating the dim hallway. Finding room six was a breeze, the numbers in bold letters hammered to the doors. You glanced over at Tom, nodding affirmatively for him to stand by its side. You shook off your nerves, remembering who you were. How many men would die to be in this one’s position. Your slender fingers gripped the doorknob, pushing it open.

The sight before you was not one you expected, a clean cut blonde sitting on the middle of a circular couch. His legs were spread, thin framed glasses sitting on his nose. His blue eyes met yours instantly, an undeniable intensity flooding the room. Tom closed the door behind you, giving you some privacy. The blonde awkwardly stood up, adjusting his tie. “Hi, i’m Sam,” He greeted. You watched as he held out his hand to you, waiting for you to shake it. You tried to conceal your confusion, shaking his hand. Your stage name fell off of your lips with ease,

“I’m Kailani.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Here um, sit sit,” He said, gesturing to the purple velvet couch. You followed his request, sitting down. “So Sam, what exactly did you request me here for?” You asked. Sam sat down as well, visibly nervous. He ran his fingers through his hair. “For a private dance..?” He replied, his tone sounding as if he was asking a question more than answering. You raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart no one around here pays fifteen thousand just for my consideration. What do you actually want?” You asked. Sam gulped, his adams apple moving as he fidgeted with his hands.

“It’s kind of a long story,” He began. You could feel your patience thinning. “Time is money and unless you plan on beginning to pay me for this I will not-” You began. Your words were sharply cut off as Sam reached in his pocket, setting another wad of cash on the clear coffee table in front of you. “That cover it?” He asked you. Affirmatively you nodded.

“My name is Sam Golbach, i’m a famous youtuber with an obsessed fanbase. I’m from here and heard through the great vine about you. Might I just add you’re even hotter in person,” Sam began. His name didn’t ring a bell, but his face did look vaguely familiar. “I’m here because you’re just as discreet about your line of work as I am about what I do in my spare time in the bedroom,” He continued. You arched an eyebrow, questioning his words. “You’re very obviously not from here, only here during the summer. My guess is that you’re in college or something similar, probably in a different state,” He answered.

Your stone cold expression fell, your face visibly telling Sam everything he needed to know. You felt the urge to get up and leave, the blonde seemingly reading your mind. “No no listen I totally get it, i’m not here to judge you or anything,” He rambled. Your eyes shot daggers as they met his blue ones. “Get on with it. What do you want?” You questioned.

“It is extremely hard for me to get laid without the media making a big deal out of it, I have some things I want to uh, try in the bedroom that the media would have a field day with,” Sam told you. You audibly scoffed, rising to your feet. “I’m not a goddamn prostitute. So what was your big idea? To come here and have me call you daddy and beg for your cock? Fuck you,” You snapped. Hastily you turned towards the door, Sam’s large hand grabbing your waist. You began to protest, Sam’s meek words cutting you off.

“Quite the opposite,” He said. He was practically shaking with nerves, his cheeks flushed pink. You froze in your tracks, looking at the desperate blonde. “I-I want you to use me. To treat me like a slut or something. I don’t want to be in control,” Sam explained. His cheeks were turning a deeper shade of red, his hand dropping from your wrist. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a black credit card. “If we make this arrangement for the entire summer, this is yours. It’ll pay off anything you need it to. Until next summer, where I’d like to do all of this again,” He offered.

You took the tiny piece of metal between your fingers. You had never held such a heavy credit card before. “What are your conditions?” You questioned. Sam lowered himself back onto the couch, rubbing the back of his neck. “No stripping while i’m around, which will be all summer. Obviously no telling anyone you ever saw me and um, I want it rough,” He answered. The offer was tempting, the boy in front of you practically a puppy dying to be played with. “Any hard limits I need to know about?” You asked.

“No anal, nothing too weird, I guess. I just want you to use me. I want to be your submissive who you use to get off.”

“And you want to start now?”

“Please.”

Fuck, his desperation was making your core throb. You slowly approached him, straddling him as you looked down at his flushed face. “Safe word is red if you want to stop for any reason,” You whispered, leaning close to his ear. Your breath was hot against his skin, a small groan escaping his lips. You rolled your hips against his, the blonde below you audibly whimpering. “There we go, keep making those pretty noises for me,” You cooed. You brought your index finger and middle to his lips, pulling them down teasingly.

“Open your mouth,” You purred. Sam opened his mouth, flattening his tongue out on display for you. You grinned devilishly as you shoved your fingers into your mouth. He groaned as you grinded down against him. “There we go, now the harder you suck them the faster I grind against that hard cock of yours, hmm?” You offered. Sam nodded profusely, groaning around your fingers as you rolled your hips against his. Your thin red panties bottoms creating the perfect amount of friction against your clit. You moaned as he swirled his tongue around your fingers, his hands placing themselves on your hips.

They slithered to your ass, massaging the mounds of flesh as you grinded against him. His whining noises were music to your ears. “Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” You say. Sam’s eyes began to roll into the back of his head, bobbing profusely on your fingers. “I’m gonna cum,” He moaned around your fingers, his words muffled. You grinned, a sadistic idea coming into your mind. If he wanted to be treated like a fucktoy, you’d treat him like a filthy fucktoy. “Go on, cum for me you pathetic thing,” You ordered. His hips stuttered, loud groans muffled by your fingers as he came in his pants.

You took your fingers out of his mouth, bringing them to your own. You licked his saliva off, his blue eyes blown with lust. Sam swallowed as he admired you. “Let me taste you, please,” He whispered. You grabbed his face, teasingly dragging his bottom lip downwards. “Get on your knees and keep begging. I’ll think about it,” You ordered. Sam quickly slithered out from underneath you, dropping to his knees without a second thought. He looped his fingers around your panties, your hand stopping him.

“Oh baby boy I didn’t say you could use your hands,” You chuckled darkly. Sam was in a state of euphoric bliss, your degrading words making his cock grow harder in his cum soaked boxers. You spread your thighs, the blonde nuzzling in between them. He put his hands on your knees, his submissive mind trying to figure out how to obey you. You frowned at his hands on your knees. “You just can’t stop using those hands of yours,” You noted. You leaned forward, the blondes breath hitching as you undid his tie.

He could smell your perfume as you leaned over him, grabbing his hands and tying them behind his back with his own tie. Sam gulped nervously as you sat back, giving him a mischievous smile. “Go on baby boy, put that tongue of yours to good use,” You cooed mockingly. Sam brought his head in between your thighs, biting the hem of your panties with his teeth. You bit your bottom lip as he dragged them down your thighs, your core throbbing in anticipation. This is what you deserved, a rich submissive man who was willing to do whatever you wanted.

Sam dragged your panties down to your ankles, watching you slowly step out of them. He nuzzled himself back in between your thighs, flattening his tongue against your folds. He groaned at your taste, your cunts sweetness an addicting sensation. “You taste so sweet,” He mumbled into your slick, his eyes fluttering shut. Your hips had a mind of their own, grinding shamelessly against Sam’s eager tongue. He sucked and lapped at your clit, before teasingly sticking it inside of your entrance. Your fingers raked through the roots of his hair, tugging at the roots.

The pain only made Sam moan louder, his cock growing fully erect in his pants. You could feel the cord inside your stomach tighten. You’d never had a submissive partner before, your core on fire from the pleasure the eager blonde was giving you. You’d never felt more empowered. “You’re doing such a good job Sammy, just like that,” You moaned. Sam whined as he shifted awkwardly in his pants, seeking any sort of friction for his own throbbing needs. He latched his lips around your clit, sucking harshly as you finally came.

Once the blonde saw your legs tremble, he began lapping up the juices you had produced. It was like a reward. “Just like that. Lick me clean or I won’t touch you,” You threatened, swallowing to regain your authoritative tone. Once you were satisfied with Sam’s performance you grabbed him by his button up, switching places with him once more. Your fingers played with his belt, your doe eyes meeting his. “May I?” You asked. He nodded profusely, licking his lips.

“Please.”

He lifted his hips, the two of you managed to slide his pants and boxers down to his ankles. In front of you was his hard cock, his cum covering the sides. “Such a filthy little boy, making a mess like this,” You commented. You straddled his hips, lining yourself up with his cock. Your eyes met his blue ones, studying his face carefully. “This okay?” You whispered. You leaned closer to the trembling man, his face flushed pink from lust. “More than okay, please,” Sam whined. You smirked as you lowered yourself on his cock, biting your bottom lip to hold back your own moans.

His cock was stretching you much wider than you had taken before, your walls fluttering around his cock. “Oh my God,” Sam groaned, throwing his head back. Once you sank fully onto him you grabbed his throat, your slender fingers applying pressure to the sides. “Look at me while I fuck you slut,” You ordered sternly. Sam forced himself to look at you, his hips attempting to move upwards to fuck you. He needed you. He needed you now. “Awe are you really trying to fuck me? Like the filthy whore you are?” You asked mockingly. Sam groaned as you applied less pressure, your hand still settled on his throat.

“N-need it. Need you. So bad,” Sam whimpered. He wished he could touch you, his hands still bound behind his back with his own tie. It was so demeaning, so humiliating. Yet he adored every second of it. He knew from the moment he saw you that you were the one for him. The one he wanted to give control to. To dedicate his body to. As you rolled your hips against his you could feel the vibrations of Sam’s whimpers against your hand through his throat. Sam was a panting mess, your hips bouncing on his cock faster by the second.

“My fucking God- you are so tight,” Sam panted. You squeezed his neck tighter, his vision becoming hazy. “Yeah? Fuck you’re such a cute little thing,” You huffed, his cock abusing your g spot with each roll of your hips. Your hand released his throat, his lungs immediately gasping for air. You wouldn’t ever admit it, but he felt fucking amazing. Far better than any other man you’d ever had. You weren’t proud to admit your career didn’t start off on such a high note, your legs having been opened for one too many creeps.

You’d had all kinds of affairs and arrangements, ones that fizzled out immediately. But Sam? The whimpering mess beneath you? You wanted to ride him like this forever. You felt yourself getting close to the edge, taking his cock as you pleased. “Mmm i’m close,” You murmured, biting your bottom lip. Sam was convinced he hadn’t seen anything near as sexy as you cumming on his cock. Your walls spasming around him sent him into a frenzy, his dick twitching and cumming inside of you. His face was beet red, his mouth dry as he panted below you. You were a slice of heaven, one he wanted to experience every chance he could.

You grinned as you leaned back, before lifting yourself off of him. Sam had foolishly expected it to be over, before watching you drop to your knees. “W-what are you doing?” He questioned softly. He watched in fear and lust as you licked up the side of his shaft. “I’m cleaning you up silly, i’m not rude you know. I have manners,” You answered. You began bobbing your head up and down his cock, his shaft growing harder in your mouth with each passing second. He squirmed as you swirled your tongue around his shaft, sucking both of your juices off of him. His body trembled as you licked his slit.

“Holy fuck that’s t-too much I-” Sam babbled. You pulled off of his cock, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. You pumped him with your hand, giving him a devilish smirk. “You can handle it. Let me clean you up. Be a good boy for me and take it,” You told him. Sam threw his head back as you began to deep throat him, your gagging only turning him on more. “I didn’t say you could look away Sammy. Look at me. Watch as I suck out your soul,” You purred. The blonde forced himself to look down at you, his legs trembling as you resumed sucking his cock.

His moans were incoherent babbles. “Fuck fuck fuck i’m so close,” He whined. The pleasure was becoming painful, your devious tongue and sinful lips showing no signs of stopping. You wanted to milk him dry. Sam’s hips jerked upwards as he came, his cum painting the inside of your mouth. You swallowed it with ease, before teasingly licking his slit. “You taste good,” You praised. You pulled away from his cock, the blonde shaking from euphoria.

You could feel his cum leaking down your upper thighs, an unholy idea popping into your head. You stood up, grabbing him by his shirt and forcing him to lay back on the couch. You straddled yourself over his head, your cunt inches away from his face, his blue eyes meeting yours, awaiting instructions. “Go ahead, why don’t you find out how you taste Sammy?”

[jossamology]

josssam headcanons. (part two)

❝ i thought we had a connection 𓈒　 　𓈒　　❞ sam giddings + josh washington this is part 2 of jossam headcannons, enjoy! x

josh pretending he’s not listening to sam’s ramblings, but he could recite every word back to her—her voice has become his favorite sound.

late-night confessions over text, josh sending her random deep thoughts at 3 am because sam is the only one he trusts with the parts of himself that he hides from everyone else.

falling asleep on the phone together, neither wanting to hang up first, so they just listen to each other breathing until they drift off, a silent comfort in the connection.

rainy days spent together indoors, sam curled up with a book and josh quietly sketching in the corner—neither of them needing to speak, the silence filled with unspoken understanding.

late-night gaming sessions where josh lets sam win (but never admits it), just to see the way her face lights up in victory.

josh calling sam his “wolf in sheep’s clothing” because she’s sweet on the outside but tougher than anyone realizes, and that strength is what draws him to her.

josh doodling on sam’s notebooks during class, little sketches of things that remind him of her—stars, wolves, and her favorite flowers.

autumn walks in oversized coats, sam tucked into josh’s side, their breath visible in the crisp air, but the warmth between them enough to keep the chill away.

josh never really liked rom-coms. he'd grumble and complain every time sam picked one, claiming he was more of a horror guy. but deep down, he always caved. he’d sit beside her, arms crossed at first, but slowly he’d relax, sneaking glances at her instead of the screen, watching the way her eyes lit up during her favorite scenes. and even though he pretended not to care, he secretly took mental notes of every movie she loved. later, when she wasn’t around, he’d rewatch them alone—just so he could memorize the parts that made her laugh or the moments that made her smile. it wasn’t about the movies for him; it was about knowing her better.

josh writing unsent letters to sam, pouring out all the things he’s too afraid to say out loud—how she makes him feel grounded in a way no one else can.

coffee shop hangouts, where sam orders something sweet and josh sticks to his bitter brew, always stealing a taste of hers just to make her roll her eyes at him.

camping trips where josh insists on building the fire, even though sam teases him that he’s “a city boy”—he just likes the way she laughs when she catches him struggling.

josh making playlists for sam but never sending them, just listening to the songs that remind him of her on repeat, wondering if she would feel the same if she knew.

josh and sam dancing in the living room was a rare sight. sam wasn’t much of a dancer, but when josh got a little too drunk, it was one of his favorite things to do. he’d stumble toward her, that familiar playful grin on his face, and pull her up from the couch. she’d protest at first, laughing, but she never resisted for long. josh would wrap his arms around her, moving clumsily but with surprising grace, using the slow dancing skills he’d picked up from his sister’s birthday parties. sam would rest her head against his chest, swaying gently to whatever song was playing, not caring about the missed steps or how offbeat they were. in those moments, it didn’t matter—he held her like she was the most important thing in his world, and somehow, despite her awkwardness, it always felt perfect.

josh confiding in sam about his darkest fears, trusting her with the pieces of himself he doesn’t show anyone else, her reassuring presence grounding him when he feels like he’s losing control.

sometimes, josh quietly feared that one day, sam would find someone better. he did everything he could to keep her close, always going the extra mile, because in his eyes, she belonged with him. he couldn’t imagine her with anyone else—she was his world, and he hoped, with every part of him, that he was hers too

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Heeeeeeeelloooooo, you write so well, I'm not even joking, you're one of my favorite ones on this app, I know you would write about the sister being stalked by a man/boy. I don't know how that would happen, I guess in one of the hunts she meets him and it's cute until they leave town and she keeps getting gifts and letters from the boy and Sam and dean think it's weird and she starts to get scared when she realizes he's stalking her, the gifts and letters get too personal and too much and they think it's better if they just go to the bunker, but somehow he gets inside the bunker and hides, and they only realize when in one night she wakes up and he's watching her and she just screams and freezes, what happens next, I'm sure it will be amazing, lots of love

A/N: OMG I THINK I WROTE A NOVEL?!? I just couldn’t stop writing and the next thing I knew it was like a million words long. I wanted this to be so in detail and so deep. There was just so much trauma to be written over so I made sure to capture every single emotion. I hope you guys liked this, Requests are still open!

Warnings: Stalker, Roofied, Sexual harassment, Sexual assault (kinda), cursing, violence

You and your brothers just had a successful hunt and were celebrating at the local bar in town.

“Here Y/N/N.” Sam said and handed you a shot. “Now this is great way to start off the night.” You smirked, motioning to the shot.

“Alright easy there tiger.” Dean said, sending you a disapproving look.

“I am 21 now Dean.” You reminded him.

“Alright you just turned 21.” He sighed, concerned about this new milestone you’ve hit and wanting to keep you as safe as possible.

“Still 21.” You sassed before you downed the shot and slammed the glass down on the table.

“That felt good!” You grinned at your brothers as a guy walked past you.

“Come play a game of pool with me.” He said flirtatiously and winked before making his way towards the pool table.

“I could use some fun.” You beamed, knowing pool was your favorite.

“I know you wanna have fun, but keep your guard up and be careful.” Sam warned as Dean glared at the back of the guy.

“Yeah tell him no funny business.” Dean huffed.

“He asked me to play a game of pool not go home with him.” You pointed out sarcastically.

“Yeah well if he did that then he’d already be dead.” Dean growled.

“Alrighty then. Another round of shots for Deano!” You said shooting Sam a look as you walked away. You heard Dean’s grumble behind you, but you were already past it. It was just a game of pool. When you reached the table, the guy was already waiting there for you. He was tall, with dark hair and a confident smile.

“I’m Ryan.” He said, introducing himself and handing you a pool stick.

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled, taking the stick from him.

“You’re beautiful Y/N.” He smirked which immediately made you blush.

“Why thank you, you’re not too bad yourself.” You said playfully and turned your attention to the pool table. You grabbed the cue ball with a practiced hand.

“I’ll take the first shot, you know ladies first and all.” You grinned, eyeing the balls on the table.

“I have a feeling you might beat me.” He chuckled, looking towards the pool table.

“I have a feeling that you might be right.” You smirked, lining up your break shot.

You were halfway through your fourth game with Ryan, your competitive streak still going strong. He had joked around and said that you couldn’t leave without him beating you at least once. As you were about to take your next shot, you suddenly caught Dean’s eye from across the bar.

“We gotta go.” He mouthed and made a wrap it up motion with his finger. You nodded and turned your attention back to Ryan.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go now.” You sighed and placed your pool stick on the table. Ryan’s demeanor changed instantly. His body language that shifted from playful to dark didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“You’re not allowed to go.” He said, his voice low and unsettling. He took a step towards you and your heart skipped a beat.

“What?” You chuckled nervously, trying to keep the situation light, but your hunter instincts were screaming at you to move.

“I’m not letting you leave.” He repeated, now too close for comfort. Your body went into high alert, and you began to slowly back away, but the wall behind you stopped you. The look of panic must have been clear on your face because something in Ryan snapped, and his expression softened into a smile, like nothing had happened.

“I never got my win!” He laughed, his voice going back to its charming tone. You exhaled and forced a smile.

“Oh yeah! I mean technically this is your win since I have to forfeit.” You said.

“I guess that will have to do.” He smiled before it faltered and he clenched his jaw. You stood there awkwardly trying to find a way out of the conversation.

“Okay uh yeah I should get going then.” You said.

“Bye Y/N. I hope to see you again.” He said.

“Yeah, nice meeting you. Bye!” You forced another smile, spinning around to walk back towards your brothers. But as soon as you turned away, your smile faltered, replaced by a deep furrow of your brows. Something about that interaction just didn’t sit right. Dean didn’t miss a beat. As soon as you reached him, his sharp eyes were on you.

“Everything okay?” He asked, his voice low.

“Uh…” You hesitated, instinctively glancing at Ryan. It was a fleeting look, but Dean caught it—his eyes narrowed immediately. He followed your gaze toward Ryan and then back to you.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.” You rushed to say.

“You sure?” His tone had shifted, no longer casual. His gaze moved back to Ryan, now squinting in suspicion.

“Yes,” you squeaked, your fingers tugging anxiously at your sleeve, betraying your nerves.

Dean's eyes flicked down to your fidgeting hands, and he exhaled slowly.

“Yeah, well, I don’t believe you, kid.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to explain.

“He just... something felt off at the end.” You said.

Dean’s expression softened, his voice quiet, but serious.

“Alright, kiddo. I’ve got your back.” He stepped closer, scanning the room.

“Do you need me to step in?” His eyes turned hard again, like steel, thinking about someone making his baby sister uncomfortable.

The last thing you wanted was for Dean to escalate the situation further. Ryan had seemed harmless enough. You were just in your head about it all.

“No, no, I think I’m just being overly cautious,” you said, lowering your voice, feeling the weight of embarrassment settle in. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of nothing.”

“Hey, trust your gut. If something feels off, it probably is.” Dean said, his voice softer now, though there was still an edge to it. You nodded, looking around the bar. Ryan had disappeared—gone without a trace.

“Well, looks like he left anyway.” You sighed.

“Yeah and we’re out of here once Sam gets back from the bathroom,” Dean replied. Just as he spoke, Sam emerged, heading straight for you.

“Alright, you ready to head out?” Sam asked, looking at you with a raised brow.

You nodded and the three of you walked out of the bar together.

————

It was a couple days later and you were only about 30 minutes away from the last town because you’d caught wind of another hunt. You woke up abruptly to a knock on the motel door. You noticed your brothers weren’t in the room so you peaked out of the peephole. You couldn’t see anyone so you quickly grabbed your gun. Carefully, you opened the door and saw a white bag on the ground. You picked it up with confusion and saw there was a banana nut muffin in the bag. Your absolute favorite muffin.

“What the hell?” You said to yourself. Where did this come from? Who dropped this off? Where were your brothers? You looked around, but didn’t notice anyone. You turned back into the room and shut the door. You placed the bag on the table and grabbed your phone.

‘Hey did you guys get me a muffin?’ You texted your brothers.

‘What?’ Dean replied.

‘No why? Do you want us to grab you one from somewhere on our way back?’ Sam texted.

‘Where are you guys?’ You texted

’Dropped Sam off at the library a little bit ago and I’m about finished checking out the scene.’ Dean replied.

‘We didn’t want to wake you up, you needed to catch up on your sleep.” Sam replied.

‘Someone knocked on the door, but when I opened the door no one was there. I looked down and there was a banana nut muffin in a bag.’ You texted.

‘That wasn’t us. Don’t eat it.’ Dean warned. You huffed out loud, feeling your hunger gnawing at you.

“Ugh you know it’s my favorite muffin though and now I want one😫’ You replied.

‘That’s weird, don’t eat it. We’ll stop and get you a muffin from somewhere on the way back.’ Sam texted.

‘A banana nut muffin?’ You questioned.

‘Yes, a banana nut muffin, you freak. Again, who eats banana nut muffins?!’ Dean replied.

‘Uh me and whoever this muffin was supposed to go to.” You responded.

‘Have a chocolate chip muffin like a normal person.’ Dean texted.

‘You know those are my second favorites!’ You replied.

‘You’ll get your muffin.’ Sam texted. You flopped onto the bed and sighed, staring at the ceiling. Stuck in your own thoughts you suddenly remembered that you told Ryan that banana nut muffins were your favorite muffin. A weird sinking feeling overcame you and you suddenly felt like you were being watched. You quickly shook the feeling off.

“I’m in my own head, I’m just paranoid.” You said out loud trying to convince yourself, needing to hear it to believe it.

“Perks of being a hunter I guess.” You sighed and grabbed your stuff to take a shower. You needed to get ready for the day especially because you were already running behind and your brothers were already out without you. You showered and got dressed. As you walked out of the bathroom, the motel door opened and your brothers walked in.

“Hey kiddo, Sam has your muffin.” Dean said.

“A banana nut muffin!?” You asked, excitingly.

“Yeah, that one.” Dean said and pretended to gag. He threw his bag down on the floor as Sam walked in behind him.

“Where’s the other muffin?” Sam asked as he handed you the bakery bag.

“Yum thank you!” You grinned and then pointed to the table where the other muffin was. You bit into your muffin as Sam walked over to where the other one was. He picked it up and looked inside the bag.

“Looks like a normal muffin.” Sam shrugged, looking towards Dean.

“Does that mean I can have that one later?” You asked with a mouth full of your muffin.

“No.” Both of your brothers responded at the same time.

“Okay fair enough.” You mumbled, swallowing your bite.

“You know what’s weird?” You asked, still trying to piece everything together.

“What?” Dean asked.

“I told Ryan that banana nut muffins were my favorite.” You trailed off, waiting for your brothers to dismiss your paranoia.

“Really? Huh.” Sam replied, processing the coincidence.

“Yeah, but it couldn’t have been him right? I’m just being paranoid.” You chuckled nervously, glancing towards your brothers in hopes of seeing a slight humor on their face, but you were met with looks of concern instead. When Dean noticed your face drop, he spoke up.

“Yeah kiddo, just a weird coincidence.” He said and sent you a quick smile. He didn’t want you to worry.

“Yeah okay that’s what I thought.” You said softly and sat down at the table to finish your muffin. As soon as you turned away, your brothers glanced at each other with concern, knowing that they stumbled into Ryan, in the town, earlier that morning. Sam walked over to the mystery muffin and immediately chucked it into the trash.

Weird things continued to show up at the motel door like flowers and little items. Each time there was never anyone around. Your brothers started to get concerned and you began to grow even more paranoid. The three of you had figured once the hunt was over and you were out of dodge, the weird things would stop happening. So the morning you were leaving town, you packed the car up with relief. You had about a 12 hour road trip ahead and you were going to stop halfway through and find a motel to stay at. You settled into the Impala for the long drive ahead, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something—someone—was still watching.

“Let’s find a bar tonight.” You said, trying to push the unease aside.

“Fine by me, I’ve gotta look forward to something at the end of this drive.” Dean smirked. After hours on the road, the three of you finally made it to a small, quiet town. You grabbed some food, checked into a dingy motel, and after making sure everything was settled for the night, the idea of unwinding with a drink at the local bar felt like a godsend.

“Finally.” You grinned as the bartender handed out the round of shots. You threw it back and asked for a drink before Sam and Dean even grabbed theirs. Your drink was placed down at the same time the sound of yelling and shuffling caught your attention. You turned toward the bar, eyes narrowing in amusement at the chaos. The sudden noise was enough to draw everyone's focus away from their drinks, and you were no exception. The fight only lasted a couple of seconds, but it was just enough time for someone to slip something into your drink when you weren’t looking.

“Well that was good entertainment.” Dean said before standing up.

“I’m going to go find some more.” He smirked and walked away from the bar. You were still riding the buzz from the shots you’d downed, so you decided to let your drink sit for a little longer as you continued chatting with Sam.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be right back.” Sam said, standing up. You nodded, watching him head off in the direction of the restroom. Left alone, you absently picked up your drink and took a big sip. You sat there, thinking mindlessly as you waited for Sam to come back, taking another sip of your drink. But as you put the glass down, a strange sensation started to come over you. Just as the unease settled in, Sam walked back to the table. You shook your head to clear it, but it only made things worse. The room started to spin. You grabbed onto Sam’s sleeve, your fingers tingling with a strange sensation.

“Sammy,” you whispered, your voice thicker than usual, a chill creeping up your spine. “I don’t feel good…”

Sam turned, his brow furrowing at the sight of you. The instinct to protect kicked in almost immediately, his eyes scanning your face for signs of distress. He took a step closer, gently pulling you into his arms to steady you.

"What’s wrong?" Sam asked, concern tightening his features as he steadied you. His eyes searched yours.

“I feel… funny.” You mumbled, your voice unrecognizable to your own ears. You couldn’t quite place what was happening, but everything about you felt wrong. Weak. Disoriented. Your vision blurred as you swayed slightly in his arms.

“Shh, take it easy,” Sam said, his grip tightening.

“What did you drink?” He asked, concerned.

"I-I don’t know.” You stammered, struggling to make sense of the haze in your head. The words wouldn’t come. The panic began to build in your chest.

"Sammy… what’s happening to me?” You whimpered. “I feel like I’m gonna die.” You whispered, unsure of what could possibly be happening to you.

Suddenly, Sam’s eyes went wide with realization.

“Okay, alright.” He muttered trying to keep the situation calm and under control.

“You’ve been roofied.” He said. He knew exactly what that meant and it terrified him.

“Somethings wrong. I’m scared.” You whimpered as you clutched onto his sleeves tighter.

"Listen to me.” Sam said, his voice low and steady, trying to keep you calm. "It’s the drugs. Someone slipped something in your drink, but I’ve got you, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you." He kept repeating the words, though his heart was hammering in his chest. He could already feel the overwhelming need to protect you—his baby sister against a predator. He wasn’t going to let anything bad happen. But you were already shaking with fear, your body trembling as you tried to push away from him weakly.

"I don’t…want anyone to touch me…" Your voice was strained, barely above a whisper. Your hands trying to push the danger away.

“Y/N/N, no one’s going to touch you.” Sam said urgently, his hands gripping your shoulders tighter, pulling you close as you fought weakly against him.

“I’ve got you, okay? I’m right here. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.” He reassured softly, urgently scanning the bar for Dean.

From across the room, Dean had noticed the change in your demeanor. He saw the way your body was trembling, the panic written across your face, and his gut twisted in response. He locked eyes with Sam and without hesitation, he was on his feet, moving toward you, his protective instincts kicking in.

“Y/N,” Dean said, his voice hard, but filled with concern as he approached.

“Kid, what’s going on?” He asked, glancing towards Sam.

“Someone drugged her.” Sam said, his jaw tight.

You looked at Dean, wide eyed and tearful.

“De…” You choked, your voice breaking.

“I’m scared… I- I don’t know what’s happening to me.” You barely recognized your own words, too foggy to make sense of them. You felt like your body was betraying you.

“I feel like I’m gonna die.” You whispered once again, your voice breaking.

“Y/N, no,” Sam said firmly, holding you close, his own heart pounding.

“You’re not gonna die. You’re just- it’s the drugs. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna get you out of here.” He reassured.

You were still confused and panicked, clinging to Sam’s arm weakly.

“I-I’m scared. What if something happens to me?” You whimpered.

Dean’s jaw clenched in disgust.

“No one’s gonna hurt you. I promise. We’ve got you.” Dean said before he wrapped his arm around the other side of you.

“We’re getting you out of here, kiddo.” He said, his voice soft but firm.

“Don’t let anyone—please no—don’t let—please.” You begged, words slipping out of your mouth in a garbled mess, but your brothers understood. They always did.

“No one’s gonna touch you, okay?” Dean’s voice was low, fighting off the rage inside him. “You’re safe now, and we’re gonna make damn sure you stay that way.”

"But… I… feel weird, De…" You whimpered, your voice barely coherent.

“Mm gonna… pass out, and mm scared…” Your words faltered, slipping off into nothingness. The fear in your voice hit Dean like a punch to the gut.

"If you pass out, you’ll still be safe, okay? We’re not going anywhere. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. We won’t let it." Sam said.

Dean nodded, his throat tight with emotion. He couldn’t stand seeing you like this, vulnerable and frightened. The thought of someone doing this to you made him sick.

“Just stay with us, kid. We’re with you, I promise.” He said as they gently guided you out of the bar, keeping you steady between them. You swayed, your legs unsteady, your body trembling as the drug continued to course through you, but they held you firm. They helped you into the Impala, keeping you between them as they kept you talking. Each word you spoke was slurred, and you kept shivering, your body fighting the effects of the drug.

“Just stay with us.” Sam kept saying, holding you steady, his hand brushing against your arm to comfort you. Dean’s jaw clenched as he stared ahead, fighting the urge to get back to the bar and deal with whoever had done this to you.

When you arrived at the motel, they helped you inside. You leaned against Sam, feeling weak, dizzy, and sick.

“I need to… I feel sick…” You mumbled.

Dean’s face darkened as he helped Sam help you into the bathroom, keeping his hands gentle on your shoulders.

“Yeah, you’ve gotta throw up, kid.” He said, his voice low. “We need to get the drugs out of your system.”

You could barely understand him, your body shaking so badly that you could hardly hold yourself up. You tried to push yourself upright, but your limbs felt so heavy. Dean's eyes softened, but there was no way around it. He placed his hand gently on the back of your neck and spoke calmly but firmly.

“Y/N, listen to me. You’ve got to throw up, alright? It’ll help. We’ll get you through this. You just need to trust me.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you whimpered, and as you went to protest, Dean’s fingers gently moved down your throat, making you gag. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, but Dean was right there, speaking in a low, steady voice. “You’re okay. Let it out kid. It’s okay.”

It felt like an eternity. Your body spasmed as you fought against the sickness and the overwhelming sensation of helplessness. But eventually, it passed, and you slumped against Sam, your body drained. Sam wiped your hair from your face, his expression soft.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, weak and exhausted. “I don’t know what’s happening…I-I don’t know.” You said still confused and everything being a blur. Sam’s arms tightened around you, his touch gentle but firm. He pressed his cheek to your hair, his voice soft and soothing.

“Y/N, hey, no. Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re not supposed to understand this, okay? None of this is your fault.” His hands ran through your hair in slow, comforting motions, as if trying to erase the fear from your mind. Dean, kneeled beside you, his face full of worry and love. He took a deep breath and reached for your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. His voice was low and tender, but firm with the promise of protection.

“You didn’t ask for any of this, Y/N. Someone was going to hurt you, they targeted you, but this isn’t on you. It’s not your fault.” He gently squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“We’re here, okay? We’ve got you. Always.” He promised. You felt the weight of their words settle into your chest, and though the fear still lingered, it was softened by their presence. You fell asleep shortly after, too exhausted to stay awake. Neither Sam nor Dean could rest. They took turns watching over you through the night, checking to make sure you were breathing, making sure you were safe. Both of them were sickened by what had happened, angry at whoever had done this to you, but all they could do now was protect you.

The next morning, you woke in a cold sweat, your heart racing, panic clawing at your chest. You couldn’t remember everything, the events from the night before felt distant and fragmented. “What happened?” You gasped, sitting up suddenly.

“What happened to me? Why can’t I remember?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a brief look before Sam moved toward you, his hand gentle on your arm.

“You were roofied, Y/N, but you’re okay. No one touched you. No one hurt you.” He promised. But you didn’t believe it. The anxiety grew and your breaths became shallow.

“I… I don’t remember. What if… what if something happened that I can’t remember? I… I… feel like… what if…” You couldn’t make out the words due to your panic. Dean’s jaw clenched. He hated seeing you like this, vulnerable and terrified.

“Nothing happened, kid. You were with us the whole time. No one’s gonna hurt you. You’re safe. But listen to me—if you feel like you need to talk about it, we’re here.” Your anxiety was rising by the second. You clung to Sam’s arm.

“What if it was Ryan…” You whimpered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Now suddenly terrified of the man. “He could be stalking me… I know he’s the one who was leaving things at the motel door…” You panicked.

“We’ll take care of it, Y/N.” Sam said firmly, not believing it was Ryan, but not having the heart to tell you that there were predators everywhere who lurked in the darkness. Dean noticed the fear still haunting your eyes and your body still trembling.

“But you don’t have to worry. You’re safe. And we won’t let anything happen to you.” Dean nodded, his gaze darkening with something that was close to rage.

“You’re safe, kiddo.” He said, his voice tight with barely contained anger. “We’ll handle it. Just breathe for me, okay? We’ve got this.”

Your chest was still tight with fear, the anxiety overwhelming. You could feel your panic subsiding a little with the strength of their words, but your mind wouldn’t quiet. The thought of Ryan, the unsettling presence of him lingering at your door, kept gnawing at you.

"But... if it’s him, Dean..." Your voice cracked as you spoke, barely above a whisper. "What if he hurts me?"

Dean looked at you, his face softening. He gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a way that was meant to comfort, to ground you.

"I don’t think it was him, kid. But if it is… we’ll deal with it. We’ll make sure he never gets close to you again. That’s a promise.” He said before Sam spoke up. Sam’s voice was steady, filled with the kind of quiet certainty that only a brother could give.

“We’re not letting anything happen to you. It doesn’t matter who it is. No one is going to hurt you, Y/N.”

You wanted to believe them, needed to. And with every word, every gentle reassurance, you felt the weight in your chest slowly lifting. You were still terrified, still shaken to your core, but in this moment—surrounded by them, wrapped in their unwavering protection—you felt just a little bit safer.

They were right. They would take care of it. They always did. Even when the fear in your heart screamed that something was wrong, you knew, deep down, that as long as they were there, they wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.

A few hours later, you were in the motel room, packing up your things while your brothers were busy outside, loading the car. Your phone buzzed and you glanced down at it, your breath catching in your throat when you saw the message. The words sent a chill down your spine:

“I almost had you.”

It was like the air sucked out of the room, and you couldn’t breathe. Your entire body froze for a second, the words echoing in your mind, over and over, until you couldn’t stop shaking. Just then another buzz rang through.

“I’m closer than you think.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and each breath you took was getting shorter, faster, and harder to take. Your vision blurred, your hands trembling so violently that the phone slipped from your grasp and clattered to the floor. The fear of him, of Ryan, washed over you like a flood, paralyzing you in place.

You tried to steady your breathing, but it only got worse. You were suffocating. You could barely think. All you could feel was the terror, the sense of helplessness that seemed to be creeping in around you again. You barely registered the sound of the door opening, but when your brothers entered the room and saw you frozen, staring at the phone on the floor, their faces instantly went from casual to concerned.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice was low, his gaze flicking between you and the phone, noting your pale face and the panic in your eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even breathe properly. Your chest felt like it was caving in, and you choked on a sob. Your body was trembling, your legs unsteady beneath you. Your breath came in sharp, gasping sobs, like you couldn’t get enough air.

Dean’s gaze flicked to Sam, and both of them took a cautious step toward you. Sam’s voice was gentle, but filled with concern. “Y/N, look at me. Talk to us. What’s going on?” Sam’s hand was on your back, trying to ground you, but it wasn’t enough. The flood of emotion, the terror, it was all too much. You couldn’t control it.

“Y/N, hey, hey, it’s okay,” Sam said, his voice gentle but filled with urgency as he tried to soothe you. “Breathe for me, okay? Just breathe. You’re safe. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

But you couldn’t stop. The sobs racked through you, violent and desperate. You couldn’t make sense of your words—nothing came out but frantic gasps and incoherent sobs. You stumbled backward, clinging to the edge of the bed, trying to stay upright. Your brain felt foggy, the panic overtaking every inch of your mind.

“M-my phone…” You managed to gasp, but the words barely made sense.

Dean stepped forward, kneeling down to pick up your phone from the floor. His hands were steady, but his jaw clenched tight as he saw the message that had sent you into this panic. He read it aloud, his voice cold with fury.

“I almost had you. I’m closer than you think?”

His jaw tightened, and you could see the fury building in him. “Who the hell…” He muttered under his breath, his voice low and full of anger, but there was also concern—so much concern—written in his features. His eyes darkened. “Goddamn it.” He said, coming to conclusion that you were right all along and it was Ryan.

Sam’s brows furrowed in confusion, his voice soothing, but cautious. “Dean, hold on, okay? It could be a wrong number. Maybe it’s just some sick joke. We don’t know for sure that it’s him.”

“Y/N,” Sam said quickly, now speaking directly to you. “It’s okay. Maybe it’s just a wrong number, alright?” But even as he said it, you could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He wanted to calm you, to make it go away, but the fear was already too deep. The message was too much.

Dean’s grip tightened on the phone, his face a mask of frustration and anger.

“I don’t care if it’s a wrong number, Sam. If someone’s messing with her—” He cut himself off, eyes narrowing as if trying to hold back the urge to act before having all the facts. You were shaking uncontrollably now, clinging to Sam as if he were the only thing that kept you from floating away into the panic that threatened to swallow you whole.

“Please… please… make it stop,” you sobbed, unable to stop the torrent of tears. “I can’t… I- I’m so scared…”

Sam wrapped both arms around you, pulling you in close, his voice steady but filled with desperation. “Y/N, we’re here. You’re safe. We’ll figure this out. We’ll take care of it, alright? No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna get close to you. We won’t let it happen.”

But you couldn’t stop the trembling, couldn’t stop the feeling that something terrible was waiting just around the corner. It didn’t matter that Sam was trying to calm you, or that Dean was ready to fight whoever had done this.

The fear was too deep and all you could do was cling to them as if your life depended on it—because, in that moment, it felt like it did.

You buried your face in Sam’s chest, letting the warmth of his arms envelop you, trying to believe that, somehow, you were safe. But the message kept ringing in your ears. "I almost had you. I’m closer than you think." It was like a shadow over you, and no matter how tightly they held you, you couldn’t shake it.

The ride back to the bunker was quiet. It had been a long, exhausting stretch of events, and the idea of getting home, even just to the safety of the familiar bunker, felt like a weight slowly lifting off your shoulders. But you couldn’t shake the tension you’d been carrying because of Ryan.

As you drove through the night, the road stretched on endlessly, the headlights of the Impala cutting through the dark, providing little comfort. A sudden pang hit your bladder, and you couldn’t ignore it any longer. You shifted in your seat, glancing at Dean.

“Hey, can we stop at the next rest stop? I really need to use the bathroom.” You asked, softly, still completely exhausted from your emotional turmoil.

Dean glanced at Sam, who nodded.

“Alright. There’s one coming up,” Dean said, pulling the car off the highway. “We’ll fill up on gas, you can go to the bathroom, stretch your legs, grab a snack if you need one and then we’re back on the road.” Dean’s protective streak had kicked in full force lately, especially after everything that had happened. He kept an eye on you constantly, like he was waiting for the next thing to happen, and part of you hated that, but you knew it was because he cared. Sam was always quietly watching, constantly reassessing how you were doing. You’d caught Sam looking at you more than once with that deep concern in his eyes, the same look he had when he thought you weren’t looking.

“Stay close, Y/N.” Dean said as you opened the door, his voice filled with a controlled kind of concern. “We’ll be right here. Just keep your guard up.”

“I’ll be fine.” You replied, attempting to sound convincing, but even as the words left your mouth, you knew it was a lie. You weren’t fine. Not really. But it was better than constantly showing how frazzled you felt. You were a hunter for God sake, you knew how to fight monsters. But Ryan felt worse than a monster, the way he had the ability to make you freeze was what freaked you out the most.

Dean pulled the car up to the gas pump, and Sam went inside, to pay for the fuel and grab a snack. You walked towards the restroom trying to ignore the way the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. The echo of your footsteps in the empty rest stop made your skin crawl. You told yourself it was just nerves. That you were being paranoid.

The bathroom was dark, lit only by the flickering fluorescent lights above, and it reeked of stale air and cheap soap. You walked quickly to the nearest stall, locking the door behind you. The last thing you wanted was to spend any more time in this place than necessary.

You exhaled sharply as you sat down to go to the bathroom, mentally trying to push away the unease that had settled in your chest. Everything’s fine, you told yourself. Just breathe. You’re fine.

But then it happened.

There was a soft click—barely audible, but enough to send your heart racing in your chest. You froze. The door to the bathroom had swung open—slowly and eerily.

A pool ball rolled into the stall with a dull clack against the floor, stopping just inches from your feet.

You couldn’t breathe. Your entire body went cold, and your heart slammed into your ribs. It was happening again. Ryan. You knew it in your gut—he’s here.

A panic that you could not control hit you like a freight train. Your mind screamed at you, but your body was already in fight or flight mode. Your hands shook violently as you tried to make yourself as small as possible, jumping up onto the toilet to hide your feet, praying to God that if he was here, he couldn’t see you. You scrambled for your phone, barely able to hold it steady. Your fingers were shaking so badly, it felt like you were losing control of them. You quickly typed a message, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears it was all you could hear.

Ryan's here. Please help. Please.

You hit send as quickly as your shaking hands would allow. You couldn’t risk making a sound, couldn’t risk him hearing you. Then the phone buzzed in your hand, and you nearly jumped out of your skin.

It was Dean.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you picked up the phone, holding it to your ear, barely able to speak through the tears welling in your eyes.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice came through, a steady presence despite the panic you could hear just beneath the surface. “Y/N, what’s going on? Talk to me. Where are you?”

“I… I… I’m in the bathroom,” you whispered, barely able to hold it together. “I—I think it’s Ryan. I’m hiding, Dean. I’m so scared. Please—please hurry.” In the midst of your panic, you didn't even realize you had grabbed the knife from your pocket—hunter instincts. You clutched the knife with a trembling hand as you listened to Dean.

“Okay, listen to me,” Dean’s voice was like a lifeline, and you clung to it, even as your panic threatened to swallow you whole. “We’re right here. We’re coming to you, alright? Just stay calm. Stay quiet.” A few seconds went by when you heard the click of the door again. You froze in place and you didn’t hear the voices at first. The knife was still in your hand, your breath coming out in ragged sobs. You were still convinced it was Ryan on the other side of that door. It was only when Sam’s voice broke through the fog of panic, softer but steady, that you recognized it was your brothers.

“Y/N,” Sam called, and his voice cracked just enough for you to hear how scared he was. “Y/N, it’s Sam. Unlock the door. It’s just us, okay? It’s just us. You’re safe now.” Your knuckles were turning white as you gripped the knife. You looked underneath the stall door to see the run down shoes Sam always had on. But you were still terrified. You could hear every heartbeat in your ears, every breath coming faster and more shallow than the last. Your fingers curled even tighter around the knife’s handle, the metal pressing into your palm.

Dean’s voice was next, firmer, more insistent.

“Open the stall, sweetheart. Let us in. You’re okay. No one’s going to hurt you.”

But the fear had a grip on you now, and you couldn’t let go. You squeezed your eyes shut hoping to escape reality when you heard rustling.

It was Sam, he had crawled underneath the stall. Then, suddenly, you felt something solid against your wrist. His hands were gentle but firm, prying your fingers away from the knife you had clutched, but you weren’t willing to let go. Not yet.

"No, Sam, no…" You gasped, your breath coming in ragged bursts as your free hand shot out, trying to stop him from taking the knife. “Don’t. He’s here. I have to protect myself. He’s—he’s—” You tried to fight against him, but he held you firm as he quickly unlatched the lock on the stall with his other hand to let Dean through.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Dean interrupted, and you heard him moving closer. The panic in his voice made you flinch, but you couldn’t stop yourself. "You don’t need the knife, kid. We’ll keep you safe." But you were shaking too hard, unable to think clearly. You tried to pull away from Sam, but he was right there, keeping you grounded. His voice was low, soothing.

“Y/N, let it go. You don’t need it. We’ve got you, okay? We’ll keep you safe. Just give it to me.” The next moment, you felt a gentle touch on your arm, and Dean’s voice softened, coaxing you.

“It’s okay, Y/N. It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you. Just... give us the knife.”

The words barely registered through the fog of fear, and you kept pulling your hand back, subconsciously trying to protect yourself with the knife. But Sam wouldn’t let go, gently but insistently removing your grip from the blade.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Sam murmured, his voice softer now, tinged with sadness. And then, slowly, you let go. Your hand, trembling uncontrollably, released its death grip on the knife, and Sam was there, gently pulling it from your grasp.

“There we go,” Dean said, his voice calm and soothing. Your body wracked with sobs, chest heaving as the tears poured down your face. You couldn’t stop.

“You’re alright, kid. We’ve got you.” Dean comforted you as Sam took care of the knife. Once Sam had it in a safe place, Dean ushered you both out of the stall, with urgency.

“Alright we’ve gotta get out of here.” He said on high alert. Dean had his hand guiding you toward the exit, every step purposeful, every motion an instinctual reaction to the threat that could be around the corner. He wasn’t just worried about Ryan or the fear you felt—he was scanning the area, his eyes darting from one corner of the rest stop to the next, his senses on full alert. He knew that, in situations like this, even the smallest thing could be a warning sign. Once you were safely out of the bathroom and outside of the rest stop, Dean’s pace didn’t slow. He didn’t give you the chance to second guess yourself, to freeze in place. He kept you moving.

“We’re almost to the car. Just stay with me.” He muttered, his voice low but firm, like a quiet command. Sam kept close behind you, watching your every move, staying attuned to the way your body shuddered with each passing moment.

Once you were all in the car, Dean started the engine quickly, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror before pulling out of the parking lot. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, but he kept his gaze focused, even as his voice softened.

“We’re gonna get get to the bunker and you’ll be safe there.” Dean calmed you. Sam leaned over the seat, his fingers brushing against your hand in a silent reassurance, his soft voice murmuring comforting words, “We’ve got you. You’re gonna be alright. We’re not going anywhere.”

And despite everything, despite the gnawing fear that still clawed at you, you found yourself believing them. Slowly, your heart rate began to settle, your breath no longer caught in your chest.

Dean shot a glance at you through the rearview mirror. His jaw was clenched, his brow furrowed in frustration—but when he saw the slight relaxation in your shoulders, the way your breathing steadied, he allowed himself to exhale.

“We’re alright, kiddo. We’ve got you. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

The Bunker had become your refuge. It was a safe place, a fortress—something that should have calmed you down. But every creak of the old walls, every gust of wind that rattled the windows, seemed to set off something inside you. You had days where you could function normally, where your mind didn’t constantly spiral into panic, but those moments were always fragile. The shadow of Ryan still loomed in your thoughts, and even though you were surrounded by your brothers, even though they were always there to watch your back, you couldn’t shake the fear that always seemed to cling to your skin.

Dean and Sam kept an eye on you, and they were more than just watchful. They were hyper aware of your anxious tics—your fingers twitching when you were nervous, the way you’d tap your foot repeatedly if you were on edge, the way your breathing would hitch in the moments before a panic attack. They knew you better than anyone, better than you even knew yourself.

You sat in the corner of the bunker’s kitchen, knees pulled to your chest, your hands tightly gripping the edge of the table. The world outside the safe walls of the bunker felt like a distant memory. Your breath came in shallow, panicked bursts, as your mind spiraled back to the last few weeks—the constant fear, the paranoia, the ever present sense of being watched.

You fought monsters. You faced things most people would only see in their worst nightmares. Hell, you had fought some of the most vicious, bloodthirsty creatures on Earth. But none of that compared to what Ryan had done to you. Nothing had ever made you freeze in place, completely shut down, like the thought of him did.

Monsters you could handle. But Ryan... he wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t something you could fight with a knife or a gun. He was human. And that made him so much scarier.

The weight of that thought pressed down on you like a physical force, crushing you. Why did this scare you more than anything else? You felt weak. Stupid. You should be able to handle this. You should be stronger than this.

But you couldn’t. And it made you feel small.

Dean and Sam came into the kitchen, both looking at you with concern.

“I feel so stupid and so weak. I can fight monsters, but a simple human makes me shut down?” You scoffed getting right to the point now looking at them with tears glistening in your eyes. Sam stopped in front of you, crouching down to your level, his voice soft but firm.

"Y/N," he said gently, “you’re not weak. You’ve faced things that would make most people curl up into a ball. But this... it’s different. And we understand why it’s affecting you the way it is.” He finished.

Dean’s voice was low, full of raw emotion. “He’s not a monster, kid. That’s what makes him so dangerous. He’s messing with your head. He’s going after you in a way that’s—” Dean swallowed hard, his jaw tightening in anger. “—in a way that’s different. In a way that’s... about your vulnerability.”

Your breath caught, and you fought back the sting of tears threatening to spill over. “I don’t want to be scared,” you whispered. “I fought monsters... but a human makes me freeze.” You said again, getting the point across to your brothers that you know you shouldn’t be scared of Ryan.

Sam’s hand landed on your shoulder, his touch warm and steady. “Sometimes, Y/N, humans are more dangerous than anything. He’s going after you in a way that... you can’t just fight off. This is about control. And what he’s trying to do to you—it’s more terrifying than anything we’ve faced.”

Dean nodded, his eyes dark with anger. "Yeah, he’s not after your life, Y/N. He’s after something much worse. He’s using you, manipulating you. And the way he’s targeting you sexually... it’s a violation."

Your whole body trembled, the thought of it too much to bear. The idea of being controlled, of being violated in that way, was suffocating. It made your chest tighten, your body go cold with fear.

"You don’t deserve this," Sam murmured, his voice full of emotion. "You have every right to be petrified. What he’s doing to you isn’t just terrifying—it’s sick." He let out a slow breath. "He’s not just playing mind games. He’s hurting you in ways that can’t be fixed with a fight."

Dean’s gaze softened, his usual tough demeanor fading. "You’ve been through hell, Y/N. And sometimes, human evil? That’s the hardest kind of monster to face. You have every right to be scared. But we’re going to find a way through this."

The words hit you like a wave, washing away some of the shame you had felt. They understood. This wasn’t just some fight or some hunt. This was different. And it wasn’t your fault.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Dean pulled you into a tight hug, his arms a wall of comfort around you. "You don’t have to thank us, kid. We’ve got you. Always."

Sam and Dean’s research had been relentless, and Dean. They were both determined to uncover any trace of Ryan’s past, to figure out whether he was truly a threat.

One night, while you tried to distract yourself with a book in the common room, Sam was hunched over his laptop, furiously typing. You had been trying to ignore the constant buzzing of his keyboard and the click of the mouse as he worked, but you couldn’t help glancing over.

"Anything new?" You asked, exhausted.

Sam didn’t look up, his eyes glued to the screen. "I’m digging through old records, old forums. He’s a ghost in the system, but there’s gotta be something."

A few minutes passed in silence. Then, Dean walked in, looking unusually serious. He was holding a set of files—notes, printed-out reports. He had been working his own angle, checking in with contacts and old hunters to see if anyone knew anything about Ryan.

“Anything on your end?” You asked quietly, anxiety creeping up your spine.

Dean threw the files on the table and gave you a grim look. “Nothing solid, but something doesn’t sit right. We’ve got a lot of leads on the guy—no criminal records, but that’s what makes it weird. People like Ryan? They don’t just disappear off the grid.”

You tried to force yourself to focus on his words, but the weight of everything you’d been through—the fear, the constant torment—was starting to take its toll. You rubbed your eyes, trying to stay strong. Sam noticed, and without missing a beat, he turned his attention back to his laptop, his voice gentle.

"Don't worry, Y/N. We’re getting closer. We’ll find him. We’ll take care of it." Sam’s reassurance had a weight to it. He wasn’t just trying to make you feel better, he was as focused as a bloodhound on the trail.

Dean nodded in agreement. "We’re going to find him and he’ll never bother you again."

Days passed, and though the investigation continued, the pressure of constant vigilance weighed heavily on you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was always watching, lurking just out of sight. Your nerves were frayed. Little things would trigger it—a knock on the door, a creak in the hallway, the sudden drop in the temperature of the Bunker’s stone walls.

You were in the kitchen, trying to get a glass of water. You’d been feeling restless for hours, but it wasn’t until you heard a soft sound—footsteps, faint but clear—that your heart slammed into your throat. You froze.

Someone’s in the bunker.

You swallowed hard, panic setting in instantly. Every part of your body screamed to run, to hide, to grab a weapon, but you were rooted to the spot.

You grabbed the closest thing to you—a heavy cast-iron skillet—and crept toward the hallway. Your breath was ragged, your heart beating so loud it drowned out everything else. Then, out of nowhere, you heard the familiar sound of a door creaking open.

It’s him. It’s Ryan.

Your mind went into overdrive. Without thinking, you darted around the corner, prepared to defend yourself, only to slam right into Dean.

"Y/N—what the hell are you doing?" Dean exclaimed, his eyes wide with concern.

You stared up at him, breathless, your hands still gripping the skillet. “I… I…thought that…”

Dean immediately caught on and with sad eyes, he took you into his arms.

“Alright I know. It’s okay.” He said, guiding you back into the kitchen with a firm hand. “You’re safe. I’ve been here the whole time. It’s just the bunker creaking.” He spoke softly, but his words barely registered. You were still on edge, your chest heaving as you struggled to breathe.

"Dean, I—" you choked out, shaking with fear. "I thought—"

He didn’t let you finish. He pulled you in closer. "I know. I know," He murmured, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

Sam appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“She thought she heard someone in the bunker,” Dean explained quickly, his voice still low and calm. “It’s okay, though. Everything’s fine.”

Sam nodded, his brow furrowed in concern. “Y/N, it’s okay. We’re right here with you. We’ve got you. You’re not alone in this.”

You nodded, finally letting yourself lean into Dean’s arms, your heart slowly starting to settle. The relief was fleeting, but it was enough to know you weren’t alone in this fight. You could breathe again, for now.

________

It had been a long next day of research and hunting. Sam and Dean had spent hours digging through files, trying to track down leads on Ryan. But after everything that had happened—after all the terror, the paranoia, the constant fear that hung in the air like a thick fog—they were both exhausted. The night had fallen over the bunker like a heavy blanket, and the silence was deafening.

But it wasn’t just the hunt that weighed on them. It was you.

Dean stood by the kitchen counter, staring down at his half-drunk coffee mug. He wasn’t drinking it. He hadn’t even taken a sip since he sat down.

“You saw her last night?” Dean’s voice was low, like he was afraid someone else would hear him. Sam, who had been pacing the floor, stopped for a second and turned to face him.

“Yeah. I saw it.” Sam’s voice was equally strained, and he wiped a hand over his face, as if trying to rub away the exhaustion.

“You think she’s okay?” Dean asked, his voice tight, filled with an edge that Sam wasn’t used to hearing.

Sam took a slow breath, letting the words settle for a moment before answering. He didn’t know how to say it without sounding weak. “No. No, I don’t. She’s… she’s scared, Dean. But it’s worse than that.” Sam’s brow furrowed as he moved closer, lowering his voice further. “It’s like she’s been breaking down more and more each day.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. He’d seen it too. He’d watched you freeze up, flinch at the slightest noise, and jump at shadows. He’d seen how her hands trembled when she was alone, how her eyes darted around like she was constantly expecting something—anything—to happen. It terrified him.

But what had happened in the middle of that night, had made his heart sink to his stomach.

He’d dodged the pan just in time, but it had been close. Too close.

And that was when it really hit him. You were spiraling.

Sam’s voice broke the silence. “She almost hurt you last night, Dean. She thought it was Ryan.” His words hung in the air, heavy and thick. “That’s not just paranoia anymore. She’s lost it.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the table. “I don’t know what to do, Sammy. She—she’s so scared of him. And every day it’s getting worse. But I don’t know how to fix this. Every time I try to reach her, it’s like she’s just… slipping away.”

Sam’s face softened, his eyes tired but filled with understanding. “You’ve seen her, Dean. She’s not herself anymore. I’ve never seen her this… broken. I think she’s just trying to survive right now. Trying to make it through the next hour, the next minute. But it’s eating her alive. And it’s getting worse.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, frustration and fear boiling beneath his tough exterior. He’d been the strong one his whole life, the one who protected everyone. But this? This was different. You weren’t just scared anymore. You were broken, and it killed him to see you like this.

“I just—I don’t know what to do, Sammy. I don’t know how to fix this.” Dean’s voice cracked slightly, betraying the deep pain he felt. “I’ve fought monsters, I’ve fought angels and demons, and nothing—nothing ever felt like this. This is different. This is personal.”

Sam’s expression softened even further. “She’s been through hell, Dean. Ryan’s a monster, and you know it. But what he’s doing to her... that’s worse than anything we’ve faced. He’s attacking her mind, her sense of control, her safety. He’s getting inside her head, and she doesn’t know how to fight back against that.”

Dean nodded, the tightness in his chest only growing. He knew all of that. He knew it. But hearing it out loud—hearing how bad it had gotten—just made him feel more helpless. His eyes met Sam’s, and for a moment, the weight of it all hung between them.

“She’s scared of herself now, Sammy,” Dean said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “She doesn’t know who she is anymore. And I—I—I can’t let her keep slipping like this.”

Sam stepped closer, resting a hand on his older brother’s shoulder. “We can’t fix it overnight. But we’ll be here for her. We’ll help her through it. And if we need to hunt Ryan down and make sure he never hurts her again, we’ll do that too. Hell, we’re trying to do that. But right now, we just need to be there. For her. For us.”

Dean sighed heavily, a hollow sound that seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. “I know. But damn, Sam... I just— I never thought I’d see her like this. She’s just… so scared.”

“I know,” Sam replied.

Dean took a slow breath, his fists clenched at his sides. He didn’t know how they were going to get through this, how they were going to help you heal, but they had to. For you. Because no one—not Ryan, not any monster—was going to take you away from them. Not without a fight.

The fight had come sooner than expected and not in the way they wanted—so not in the way they wanted

———

That night, you woke up with the feeling that something was wrong—something was off. Your skin prickled. Your body stiffened, like it always did when you knew you weren’t alone, but you hadn’t heard anything. No footsteps. No creaking door.

You froze.

The next thing you knew, a figure was hovering over your bed, looming in the dark. Ryan.

His face was twisted with that sick grin, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. You couldn't breathe. Your heart hammered in your chest.

His hands reached for you, and instinct took over. Panic. Pure, unfiltered panic surged through you.

“NO!” you screamed, your voice cracking with raw terror. The scream was torn from your throat before you could even think, before you could react, and you scrambled backward, the covers tangled around your legs as you tried to get away.

Ryan reached for you again, and you swiped at his hands, your own trembling in fear. You kicked your legs out, trying to get any distance between you and the nightmare looming over you. But it didn’t matter. He was too close.

A primal fear took over, and in that moment, you didn’t care about anything else but getting away. You couldn’t think, couldn’t make sense of anything. He was going to hurt you. He was going to touch you.

You managed to kick him in the chest, but he didn’t back away. He leaned forward, forcing himself onto the bed, and you fought back with everything you had. But you were weak. You were so weak. It was all you could do to flail helplessly against him.

Then, the door flew open.

Sam was there, standing in the doorway, his face pale with panic as he took in the sight of you struggling on the bed with Ryan. Dean was right behind him, eyes wild, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Dean roared as he charged forward. He didn’t hesitate for a second. With a wild force, he tackled Ryan off the bed, shoving him to the floor with an intensity that rattled the whole room and a force that made Ryan gasp in surprise.

Dean's grip was like iron, his face twisted in a mask of rage that you had only ever seen when someone dared hurt those he loved.

"Did you touch her? Did you touch her, you piece of shit?!" Dean's voice was thick with fury, a low, guttural growl of pure protective rage.

Ryan's eyes widened, his hands scrambling to break free of Dean's grip, but he didn't stand a chance. Dean slammed him into the wall with a thud that sent the room vibrating.

"Did you lay a hand on her?" Dean shouted, his voice cracking with fury. "Did you?" He slammed him against the wall again, fists swinging with devastating precision.

“You a piece of shit! You roofie her too?! Huh?!” He screamed, stopping for a moment and letting the room be still. “Answer me, bitch!” He growled and shoved him harder against the wall. Ryan started chuckling. A chuckle that was so evil, your breath got caught in your throat.

“I almost had you. So close in that bar. You were almost mine.” He confirmed. You, though, stood frozen, shaking violently, your body still trying to comprehend that he was there—that Ryan was there and he was there all along.

Your body felt like it was going to break apart from the inside, each sob ripped from you like it was being torn out of your chest. Your vision blurred with tears as your entire body trembled with fear. Sam rushed to you, holding you close to his chest.

“He’s not going to hurt you, okay? You’re safe. We’ve got you.” Sam’s voice was soft, but strained, as he knelt beside you, trying to ground you, trying to stop you from spiraling. His hands hovered over you, unsure of what to do, but he kept saying it, over and over. “We’ve got you. He’s not going to touch you.”

Dean had Ryan pinned to the floor now, holding him down as he growled, “You fucked with the wrong person.”

Ryan sneered up at him, but Dean didn’t hesitate. He leaned down, his face inches from Ryan’s, his voice low and full of venom, “You’re done.”

But your sobs only grew louder.

Sam, noticing how you were completely falling apart, moved even closer to you, lifting your head up gently and meeting your eyes with his. “Hey. Hey. You’re okay, alright? You’re okay. He’s not going to hurt you. We’re right here.” His voice, though calming, couldn’t seem to reach you. Not through the whirlwind of panic, the choking terror.

You kept gasping, clutching Sam’s shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. “He was going to... he was going to...” Your breath hitched, unable to complete the sentence and then you started to hyperventilate, your lungs unable to keep up.

Sam, visibly desperate, looked over at Dean. “We need to get him out of here. This isn’t helping her.” His voice was tight with emotion as he gently held you, his hands pressing you closer.

Dean’s face twisted in fury as he kept his eyes on Ryan. “We need him gone, completely gone.” Sam confirmed to Dean.

There was a beat of silence, before Dean’s jaw tightened, and he shouted, “CAS!” The desperation was palpable. They needed him. They needed something to stop this nightmare from getting worse. They couldn’t expect him to show up—after all he’s been MIA for the past couple months, but Dean prayed and he prayed hard.

Silence filled the room. It felt like eternity, the weight of it pressing on you, suffocating you. And then, without warning—Cas appeared in a flash of light.

“What is it?” Cas asked, his voice deep and serious. His eyes fell on you instantly, and he didn’t need to ask what was happening.

“We need him gone, Cas.” Dean’s voice was nearly breaking now. He was so close to losing control.

Without a word, Castiel stepped forward, his hand raised. In a flash, Ryan’s entire being seemed to freeze, his eyes glazing over as if everything about him was being wiped away.

For a moment, everything felt eerily still.

And then, Ryan collapsed to the floor, his body limp, his consciousness erased.

“Which timeline do you prefer I send him to?” Cas asked with a low tone.

“The one that’s going to make him suffer the most.” Dean raged. Another flash and Ryan was gone, away from you forever. Castiel turned to Dean, his face unreadable, but the weight of the decision hung heavily in the air.

"He's gone." Castiel said, his voice soft but firm.

"He will never remember anything about himself—let alone her. He will never come back."

Dean's eyes softened as he let go of the breath he'd been holding. "Good.” He said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Good." He stood back as Cas disappeared back into the light. Sam didn’t let go of you though. He stayed close as your body wracked with shudders. Your sobs came in gasps, your chest aching with the effort to release everything inside. You were falling apart, crumbling beneath the weight of what had almost been your reality.

"He was going to... he was going to..." You gasped through your tears, your words barely audible, as though speaking them made the fear real again. Your hands shook as you pressed them against your face, unable to wipe away the tears fast enough. "He was going to touch me. He was going to-"

"No. No, sweetheart," Sam murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "He's not here. He's gone. It's over, okay?" He held you tighter, one hand smoothing through your hair in gentle strokes, but you could feel the panic still surging inside of you, that paralyzing terror. It was a part of you now.

"Did he—did he touch you?” Dean's voice came low, ragged with an edge of panic. His fists were still clenched, his knuckles white from the tension. He couldn’t fully let go of the fury that had surged through him. But he wasn’t just angry at Ryan—he was angry at himself. He was angry because he wasn’t fast enough, because he couldn’t stop it before it almost happened.

You shook your head violently, your body trembling uncontrollably. “No... no, but he... he was going to. He was going to hurt me... I tried to fight him... I tried...” Your voice cracked, and another sob tore through your chest, shaking your body with it. You squeezed your eyes shut, as if doing so would somehow block out the fear.

Dean’s jaw tightened, his eyes scanning you like he was looking for the faintest sign of injury, but all he could see was the deep terror etched on your face. “You fought, kid. You fought him with everything you had,” he said, his voice gruff, though the softness was there too, buried underneath the anger. “You’re safe. You’re safe now.” But it didn’t feel safe. Nothing felt safe.

You clutched at Sam’s shirt, still shaking, still lost in the aftermath of what had almost happened, the sensation of Ryan on top of you, trying to press closer, his hands too damn close. The image wouldn’t leave your mind. You couldn’t make it stop. Your breath hitched in your chest, coming in short, sharp gasps, as if you couldn’t get enough air to fill your lungs.

Sam’s hand continued to stroke your hair, but you couldn’t ground yourself. The panic wasn’t letting go. The terror hadn’t left you, and it was suffocating. Your throat felt tight. Your pulse hammered in your ears.

"I thought he was going to- he was going to touch me, Sam. I couldn’t stop him..." You couldn’t say it without choking on it.

“You stopped him.” Sam whispered, his voice tight with emotion as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “You stopped him. You’re okay.”

But it didn’t feel that way. The room felt like it was closing in, suffocating you. The relief that had swept through your brothers didn’t touch you yet. It didn’t touch the panic that was still eating at you.

Ryan was gone.

Gone.

And yet, your body didn’t stop shaking. You couldn’t find the relief you so desperately craved.

Dean stood in front of you, his hands still twitching as he tried to fight back the overwhelming emotions inside him. “You’re safe now, kiddo,” he said again, his voice a little softer now, but it still held the rawness of everything he’d just been through. “No one’s gonna touch you again. Not him. Not anyone.”

You nodded, but it felt mechanical, like your mind couldn’t catch up to the reality of what was happening. It didn’t feel real. It felt like a dream—or rather, a nightmare. The only thing you were certain of was that the terror was still with you. And when you looked up at Dean, his eyes softened, but the weight of it all was still there, between you.

“We’ve got you, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

You pressed your face into his chest, your sobs quieting, but still present—too raw, too real. “I was so scared,” you choked out, your voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t know if I was going to make it.”

Dean swallowed hard, unable to speak for a moment. His voice was low, barely audible, “I know, kiddo. I know. But you did. You did.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Ryan’s empty space anymore. He was gone, yes—but so was something else: your peace. You didn’t know when it would come back, or if it would ever come back. But for now, at least Ryan couldn’t hurt you anymore.

And you had your brothers. They were here, and they weren’t going anywhere.

It wasn’t over. But you were safe. And you had them. That was enough—for now.

Maybe, just maybe, you could start to heal. Slowly.

This was the first real step towards your peace.

———

It had been a few weeks since everything had happened with Ryan, and things in the bunker were starting to feel normal again—or at least, the new normal. While the shadows of what you had gone through still lingered in small corners of your mind, there was a new, brighter energy in the air. The laughter was coming back, the goofiness, the spark that Dean and Sam had missed.

They could see it. They could feel it.

Dean watched you from across the room one night, a soft, proud smile creeping across his face as you and Sam joked about some ridiculous theory on a case you’d just picked up. Your laughter, unfiltered and full of life, echoed through the halls, and for a moment, he forgot about everything else. He could just hear the sound of you—the real you—being you again. It was a relief, the kind that settled deep into his bones.

You were teasing Sam about how much coffee he was drinking, and Dean could see the way your eyes sparkled as you exchanged insults, the kind of playful back-and-forth that was uniquely you.

He caught Sam's gaze from the corner of the room. Sam, too, was watching you, his face softening as you laughed. The tension in his shoulders had eased since the worst of the storm passed. He could see it, too. The light.

After a while, Dean leaned over to Sam, his voice low enough so you wouldn’t hear.

“You see that?” Dean asked, his voice filled with quiet admiration.

Sam glanced over at you, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Yeah. I do. She’s… coming back. Really coming back.”

Dean nodded, his eyes still fixed on you. “I haven’t seen her like this in a while. Not since before… you know.”

Sam's face softened as he nodded, the shadow of the past still lingering, but less overpowering. “Yeah. I’ve noticed. She’s more her now. It’s like the light inside her is just... brightening again. I mean, hell, just last week, she was practically making fun of my inability to eat my cereal without spilling half of it.”

Dean chuckled at that. “It’s good to see her like that again. I missed it. I missed her.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, eyes still following your movements as you began doing an impromptu dance around the kitchen, spinning a spatula like a baton while pretending to cook. “She’s not just laughing, though. She’s living again,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “I think she’s finally starting to feel safe again.”

Dean’s jaw tightened for a moment, his fists clenching at his sides, but his gaze softened again as he watched you. “She deserves that. She deserves to feel safe.”

Sam nodded, his voice heavy with unspoken thoughts. “We both know how much it’s taken for her to get back here. And it’s hard, man. It’s hard to see her like that. But… seeing her like this? It’s like a breath of fresh air.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair, his usual bravado fading for just a moment as he took it in. “I don’t know if we can ever really fix her, Sam. Not completely. But we can help her find herself again. And that's more than I thought we could do.”

Sam smiled, his eyes full of understanding. “You’re right. We’re not gonna fix everything. But we can make sure she knows she’s not alone. We’ll help her pick up the pieces. One step at a time.”

Dean exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah, one step at a time.”

Just then, you twirled around, catching their gaze, and flashed them a playful smile.

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence. “Am I distracting you guys from your super important brotherly talk?”

Dean couldn’t help but grin, his heart swelling with a strange combination of pride and relief. “Nah. Just admiring my sister’s insane dance moves.”

You raised an eyebrow, and Sam cracked a smile at your dramatic expression. “It’s not every day you get to witness a a crazy person, you know?”

“Oh, please,” you said, flipping your hair. “I’m basically a ballet prodigy in disguise. You should all be so lucky to witness this greatness.”

Sam, fighting back laughter, gestured toward your half-hearted dance. “A true masterpiece. You should really consider putting on a show, huh?”

Dean slapped his hand on the table and made a dramatic gasp. “I’m definitely booking tickets to that show. Front row, too.”

You giggled, the sound of it like music to their ears. “Alright, alright, don’t get too carried away. But you’re welcome for this once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

Dean and Sam both watched you with such quiet affection, their hearts full. It was moments like these that made everything they’d been through worth it. Every sleepless night, every fight, every broken moment.

You were coming back. You were finding your way back to yourself, and that made everything feel a little more right.

Later that night, after you’d gone to bed, Dean and Sam stayed up talking in the kitchen. They didn’t want to admit it, but they both knew something: You were healing.

“She’s not the same, Sam,” Dean murmured, his tone barely above a whisper. “She’s different. Lighter. Stronger.”

Sam nodded, eyes dark but filled with gratitude. “Yeah. She’s her again. And that means everything.”

Dean leaned back in his chair, staring out the kitchen window. “We’ve got a long road ahead, Sam. But I think she’s got it in her. She’s stronger than she thinks. And we’re here. Always.”

Sam smiled softly, clapping Dean on the shoulder. “Yeah. Always.”

And as they sat there in silence, they knew one thing for sure: The worst was behind them. The darkness had passed, and now, they just had to watch as the light you were rediscovering slowly grew brighter.

The road ahead wasn’t going to be easy. But together, with you back to yourself, they could handle anything. Together, they could face the world.

[wordbunch]

their love language [LOTR characters]

a/n: not requested, just a little idea that i've had and wanted to share 💛 do let me know how you liked it, what you think, and i always greatly appreciate reblogs and comments 🥰 i wish you a sparkling new year!

ARAGORN ♡ acts of service and words of affirmation

This man would do anything for the person he loves and he is the most comfortable when it comes to expressing his feelings in that way. Any type of physical labor and tasks is no issue for him if he can make it easier for you, and you have grown to notice it all the time and appreciate it. His heart doubles in size when you return your affections in that way too, especially since he isn’t exactly used to having things done for him. When the mood is just right, he has no trouble waxing poetic about you and elaborating his feelings, whether in Westron, Sindarin or any other language - you are worth all of them! When he does that, it’s usually in a hushed tone with a special air of intimacy, and it feels so sacred and special.

BOROMIR ♡ physical touch and quality time 

He is one tactile man and a human furnace, like, constantly, and having an arm around you simultaneously means keeping you safe as well. It’s a way for him to show his love, but also to be his protective self. However it’s not just you he’s trying to reassure through gentle touches, he also feels better and happier knowing you’re there and so close. Due to his position, he has many obligations and not always the desired amount of free time, so he’s keen on spending all on it on you. Boromir feels immensely guilty if he must cancel something last minute, or be late for a meeting with you because he was held up somewhere else, but you can count on the fact that he’ll make it up to you tenfold.

FARAMIR ♡ words of affirmation and quality time

As a person who is well-read and a romantic soul, yet someone who hadn’t particularly received many verbal validations, his absolute go-to are words of affirmation! He will shower you with sincere compliments, praise your achievements, reassure you when you’re down… he will even write poetry for you, or just recite something on the spot, it’s honestly the sweetest. Much like his brother, Faramir can be quite busy, but he tries to make sure that none of his duties interfere with the time that he sets aside to spend with his beloved. 

LEGOLAS ♡ gift giving and words of affirmation

This peculiar young prince doesn’t necessarily have a favorite way of showing you love and he can be all over the place with it - he hadn’t exactly had a bunch of experience with romantic relationships - but something that seems to be a constant is him giving you small tokens of his affections. Not even something fancy all the time, sometimes it will be a pretty flower or a hair pin, but everything pretty reminds him of your beauty and he wants you to know that. If he’s unsure about how to verbally explain all the ways you make him feel, he can always revert to one of many elven songs and poems to describe it!

FRODO ♡ words of affirmation and acts of service

He is a book boy and absolutely the type of person to write long, heartfelt letters! Initially he would hide behind them because it’s easier to write feelings down and slip that under your front door, but just give him time and soon enough he’ll be raving about how in love he is with you and how you’re the best of the best in his eyes - but face to face. Frodo is very selfless as we all know, and he’s able to anticipate your needs and help you with all sorts of things before you even ask for it. Also he really appreciates your gratefulness for it.

SAM ♡ acts of service and quality time

Acts of service is the ultimate love language of this sweet gardener!! He would do absolutely anything for you, strenuous or not, and not even expect anything in return. You’re aware of that and thus you make sure to properly thank him for everything he does in more ways than one. You always joke that he’s going to spoil you. Sam loves just existing with you, not even doing anything particularly significant, but just spending time together no matter what you do. Everything with you feels like home and he never wants to leave your side.

MERRY ♡ gift giving and physical touch

He definitely has a mix of all love languages, but surprising you with small tokens of affection and seeing your eyes sparkle in surprise is just his favorite thing! He notices and memorizes when you like something, and he will use the first opportunity to acquire it for you and make you happy. Besides that, having you physically close to him is a must - Merry is almost constantly fiddling with your fingers, has an arm around your shoulders, or just mindlessly scratching up and down your arm. It’s a simple reminder that you’re there, safe and loved.

PIPPIN ♡ physical touch and words of affirmation

Those are his favorite ways of both receiving and giving love: they’re so straightforward and genuine (and he is least likely to mess up). Everything seems better and brighter when your hand is securely clasped in his, or he receives a forehead kiss, or ruffles your hair and playfully nudges you. Pippin isn’t quite used to compliments and his cheeks will heat up every single time you offer him a genuine compliment or encouragement, and he wants to make you feel the same way - he can talk a lot anyway so, might as well talk about how wonderful you are!

ÉOMER ♡ acts of service and physical touch

Maybe he isn’t the best at romantic proclamations of love, or picking out the perfect anniversary present, but whatever you need him for, he will be there in a heartbeat. Secretly he likes to feel your eyes on him as he does something for you, it makes him feel very proud. Another thing that never fails him is physical affection, because sometimes hands and lips say more than words ever could. And he makes sure that you can feel exactly how passionate and loving he is in every single kiss and caress.

ÉOWYN ♡ quality time and physical touch

She loves her independence and her peace, but letting you in made her realize it’s not too bad having someone occupying her space and thoughts. Éowyn loves to include you in her daily activities and she really grew fond of doing all sorts of mundane things together - you just make them so much more vibrant and interesting. Something that became her weakness as soon as you two met was your gentle touch and affection like no other, especially after long days and during cold nights, and it’s a simple but effective way of showing how much she cares for you.

ARWEN ♡ words of affirmation and gift giving

She is a romantic soul through and through, and she never gets bored of praising you, whether it be for your kindness, beauty, wit, or anything else. She also loves discussing all sorts of topics with you and that’s one of the things that made her fall for you in the first place. Also, this beautiful elf-maiden likes beautiful, dainty things, and she loves making you happy through little surprises and meaningful gifts, especially subtle matching jewelry!

taglist my beloved (probs not even valid anymore but oh well) @starlady66 @queenmeriadoc @entishramblings @thesolarangel @silversword7000 @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @averys-place @valkyriepirate @emmaarenstarr @noldorin-painter @asianbutnotjapanese @adamgetawaydriver @fenharel-enaste @ironmandeficiency @starryeyedrogue @dinofromspac3 @wisheduponastar @lady-of-imladris @frodo-cinnamonroll @unethicallypleistocene @deadlymistletoe @suncran @high-sea-husbands @asianbutnoteastasian @aidansloth @moth-makay

@bubbleyukismile @kitexvi @herstudios @babe-bombadil

[immodestly-marina]

HEY WELCOME!!!

I always find one of the easiest things to start with is Alphabet hcs (NSFW or SFW)

Could you write one for Sam Winchester? ❤️

Yesss these are literally so much fun to write

Sam Winchester Alphabet Hcs (SFW)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Sam's a very affectionate guy, especially in private. His love language is 100% acts of service and physical touch.

He'll make you meals and little snacks throughout the day, and would totally take you out at least once a week. Though he's not huge on PDA, he'd definitely be somewhat "dominant" in the sense that he'd walk around with his hand on the small of your back, or holding your hand to assure you that he's always there (Also, forehead kisses bc he's like a foot taller than you).

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Very protective and caring, as your best friend he'd definitely be a bit of a big brother figure to you. Always looking out for you and ensuring that you're safe with him around.

The friendship started when you went to Stanford with Jess and him. You were always around, he didn't like you much at first but eventually, you started to grow on him.

After the incident, you stayed by him to make sure he was doing okay, though he feared that the demon might come after you next. Naturally, he stuck with you, and eventually started bringing you along with him and Dean on hunts to keep an eye on you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

BIG cuddle over here! I'm not kidding when I say his love language is also physical touch.

Sam usually sleeps on his back or his side, which can allow for you to sleep against his chest with one or both of his arms around you. He'll also spoon you, his head either rests against yours/cheek to cheek, or tucked into the nape of your neck. His hands always either hold yours, or are wrapped around you holding your tummy.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He's always weary of longterm relationships... obviously. It's tough for him to talk about settling down, because he absolutely wants to, but that fear is just always in the back of his mind.

Nonetheless, he's our fav housewife. He's always been very tidy, and you can't tell me this boys not a good cook.

He absolutely makes you two dinner most nights, and all meals are made with love teehee

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He'd sit them down and have a heart to heart about it, no bullshit like over text or a letter.

Sure they have limited time with all the chaos that comes with each hunt, but he'd want to be as mature about it as possible and ensure that there's no hard feelings. I also think he's the type of person to keep in contact with his past relationships, rather than just never speak to them again.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Babe, he was ready to propose to Jess after a year of being with her.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

The biggest teddy bear ever. So, so, so gentle with you. When his hands are on you they're always soft touches, he'll guide you around by lightly placing his hand on your hip or your back.

As for emotionally, he is so considerate and understanding. Depending on the situation, he can easily get you out of a distressed mood by being patient and talking you down calmly from it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves hugs, and is a great hugger. Usually only does it when necessary or whenever feels right, he's not keen on too much clinginess but won't hesitate to pull you towards him for a little comfort.

He's 6'4 so he towers over you, he can't really avoid placing his chin on top of your head while hugging. His arms are so friggin big that his hands hold his elbows when they're wrapped around you. He'll also do a Little Rock side to side sometimes, cutie.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Most likely after the first two-three months of being together, but he's felt love for you since you came into his life.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

It honestly depends. He's not super possessive, so it takes quite a bit for him to feel jealous. But when he does, he's more protective than possessive.

It goes back to the need for physical touch, he'll take your hand or pull you away. Again, depending on the circumstance, he would also step in front of you, keeping you right behind him. (No matter what, he doesn't strike me as someone to take his jealousy out on you either)

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

FOREHEAD KISSES TOP OF HEAD KISSES HAND KISSES

Very soft and loving (unless he's feeling needy but that's a whole other thing y'know), his lips taste like a minty chapstick bc I refuse to believe he doesn't carry any around. Look how shiny his lips are in the gif bitch.

He loves when you give him jaw kisses, you have to stand on your toes to reach his lips, and even then he has to lean down a little.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

S1 Sam is great with them! He'll do a baby voice to talk to the really tiny ones, and for bigger kids he'll just sit there and listen to them go on and on about god knows what.

S6+ Sam is so awkward with them he literally cannot fucking deal.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Realistically, he'd lay with you for as long as he can before he/you both have to get up for a hunt. You'd pull each other back down onto the bed as much as you can, kissing and whispering "Just five more minutes, please..." until it was really time to go.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He's able to stay up late with you most nights, he'll either watch a movie with you or literally just have deep conversations with you, either way you're both engaged with each other as much as you can be!

He's a light sleeper, so anytime you move or make a sound, his eyes will flicker open to check that you're alright.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He trusts you, he knows you'd never judge or be scared away from him, so after about a month of being together he starts opening up. He definitely doesn't dump everything on you at once, when it's relevant he'll talk to you about things like his nightmares, visions, and bad memories of growing up and Jess.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He's a bit of a hothead (as we've all seen), but he can usually calm himself down before he gets too carried away, especially with you. He wouldn't want to scare you, or make you feel like he's angered because of you/something you've done, so he's careful not to flip out completely.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers absolutely EVERYTHING. From your birthday, to your favourite colour, to some random thing you told him while he was drunk.

He even keeps a little notebook of things about you he wants to remember.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The time you totally fucked up his hair.

"Just... easy, easy, not too much." Sam sat on a chair in front of you with a towel over his neck and shoulders, watching your every move in the mirror he was faced. You carefully trimmed the hair that sat in front of his ears, brushing the strands around to see if it looked even.

"Sammy, relax. I'm just fixing it, I swea-" Shnk.

You watched Sam's eyes widen in the mirror as the huge chunk of hair fell from his bangs to his lap.

"OH-kay, yep. We're done, I think that's good!" Sam said with a singular nod. He stood up and frantically dropped the towel from his arms, you jumped up to fix it with your fingers as best as you could, moving the gap of hair around to see if there was any hope.

"It's okay! Look, we can fix this, I can just cut-"

"No-no, no ma'am. You're finished." Sam chuckled taking the scissors from your hands, placing them on the sink counter.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Very. Sam is and always has been very protective of you.

As mentioned, he tries to always keep a hand on you somewhere, ready to pull/push you away from something. He'd do whatever he can to keep you safe, even if it meant sacrificing himself for you.

Him on the other hand, feels like he doesn't need to be protected (brat). I love making size jokes because seriously, what is standing in front of him going to do? "Sorry, Sam, I couldn't see you behind that grain of rice!"

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts in lots of effort, this is where the acts of service comes into play. He loves getting you little gifts on each hunt, whether its a dumb little souvenir or something more romantic, like a flower.

He also likes taking the lead on things, telling you not to worry and that he can do it for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He's a teeth gritting nail biter. And, he wears socks to bed sometimes.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Only a little, he makes sure his hair is done before leaving but aside from that he's not too concerned. You aren't, so he isn't either!

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He's not necessarily dependant on you. But at the same time, if he'd lost you, even just temporarily, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He keeps a scrapbook full of things to do with you. He secretly takes pictures of you when you're not looking, and saves them to add to said scrapbook.

He put petals from your favourite flowers in there, along with pages of your favourite colours, and a page with a sample of your favourite perfume/cologne. He loves you.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who's super self-loathing or conceited, it's one thing if you struggle with insecurity or self image issues, of course. But constantly being around someone with too much negativity is too much for him to take, so that's an absolute no for him

As well as someone who's super, super clingy. He gets uncomfy with too much energy and affection towards him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He sighs and hums a little in his sleep, its cute fr.

He also has little face twitches, especially when he's cold/not in the best sleeping environment :(

Anyone wanna see NSFW next?😋

[thevoidstaredback]

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Damian Wayne,   Jan 15, 2014

Thank the gods you’re okay! I was so worried! When you didn’t answer, I assumed the worst, and then I saw the news and I freaked out! Seeing as you didn’t mention anything about accepting my help, I’m going to assume you don’t need it right now. The offer will remain open, however.

A lot has happened since my last letter, though you’ll forgive me for not going into detail. It’s gonna be a pain to get this to you at all, let alone if it had been filled with everything I want to say. What I can and will tell you is that my town has been put under a soft lock-in and a Media Blackout. Things and people and news can come in, but almost nothing and no one can go out. Everything is screened before it’s even considered for being able to leave the city lines. Something is here that the government doesn't want to get out to the general public. It took a lot to be able to even get this out, hence the huge amount of time between me writing it and you getting it.

I’ll keep the line open, but it might take a while for my responses to get to you.

Ancients, I hope you can come visit soon. If you need an excuse, we’ve got the only female purple-back gorilla in town! Her name’s Delilah. I can teach you how to communicate with her if you’d like!

Anyway, I gotta go.

م�� الجيد أن أسمع منك يا أخي.

Danyal

***

Danny was tired. He was ready to sleep for a week. He doesn’t care that he’s not gonna be allowed to because he’s gonna do it anyway. After beating Pariah Dark, Danny had laid on the floor for a solid hour before moving. When he finally got up, he moved the crown and ring to sit on the cushion of the throne. The orb he kept with him. He was gentle with it, careful to not hole it too tightly or too lightly. Then, he flew back to where Amity Park was floating.

“Where were you!” Sam demanded the second he landed in her room.

“Finding a way out of the Zone,” he said.

“And?” Tucker prompted, “Do we have a way home?”

Danny paused and then groaned. “Noooo.”

Sam inhaled deeply, frustration dripping from her voice like honey. “Then what took you so long to come back?”

Tucker finally looked up from his PDA and then startled. “Dude! You’re hurt! What the hell?”

“What?!” Sam screamed.

Danny looked down at himself. “Oh, yeah, did I forget to mention that?”

“Dude!”

“Okay, okay! So, you know that really scary Ghost King guy that Vlad decided to wake up because he’s a piss-baby who wants power?”

“Yeah?”

“Well,” he looked away from them and then held up his right hand, showing them the fire orb in his hand. “This is maybe kinda all that’s left of him.”

“Danny!” They both jumped away from him. “Did you bring the fucking Ghost King into my house?!”

“I wasn’t just- I couldn’t- Leaving it where it was seemed like a bad idea!”

“So you brought it with you!”

“Yes! It seemed like a better idea than leaving him where anyone could pick him up!”

Tucker calmed himself in the corner, taking large breaths. Sam closed her eyes where she stood, doing the same thing. After a few seconds she said, “Get that thing out of my house. Then, find out a way to get us back home-”

“Technically we are home…”

“-to Earth. When you’ve done that and the sky is blue and I can see fields on the horizon, then you may come back into my house. Okay?”

He backed towards the window. “I guess this is a horrible time to mention that I don’t know a single ghost that can help me?”

“Out!”

“Okay, bye!” He was quick to leave, flying away as Phantom, the fire orb still in his hand, though now he cradled it to his chest. He was stopped a few times by his classmates, trusting Phantom more than the ghost hunters. Anytime they’d ask him what was happening, he’d tell them that he had everything under control and that he was going to get them all back to their home dimension soon.

He didn’t tell them that he was freaking out. He didn’t tell them that they’d been there for six days now because he and Vlad are the only two in Amity Park who can keep track of time in the Realms. He didn’t tell them that he was working alone because the government decided to cut off all access to help. He didn’t tell them that no one even knew they were missing because of the same government. He didn’t tell them a lot of things. 

He’d learned, from watching other heroes in the world, that smiles and reassurances were the only things to keep people calm sometimes. So, that’s what he did. He kept the freakouts internal, and smiled at his classmates as they asked him to tell them it would be okay.

He flew over the edge of the island that was now taking the space of the Amity Portal. He didn’t know where he was going, but he was hoping that he’d be able to find someone that would help him as long as he picked a direction and flew.

It took an entire day, but he found someone who could help. Probably. The island was purple, just like all of them, and the only building on it was a dark clocktower. It looked like a grandfather clock, a balcony wrapped around the building just under the clock face. There were cogs floating in the space above and around it, as well as implemented into the building itself.

He dropped his flight, landing on the ground a ways from the door. “Ḵ̴͓̈́͌̔ạ̶̍s̵̥̤͠ ̴̤̽̓͛m̵̹̠̈́̂̍å̸̢͎̜̎ ̸̫́v̶͖͙̍̀̚õ̸̠͔̀i̴̍̕͜n̸͉̪͊̾̓ ̷̝̻͊̚̚t̷̬̩͝͝ú̷͔̟͖l̵̗̖͗͛̎l̸̻̫̂̀̕á̸̜͔̥?” he asked. The door under the glass pendulum window opened. He took that as an invitation and walked forward.

Inside the body of the clocktower was plain, a stone staircase winding up behind the ticking pendulum. He walked up every step, the fiery orb cradled in both hands against his chest. It was really warm.

There was no trap door or hatch at the top of the stairs. Instead, it opened up into the room behind the clock face. The wall opposite the clock face was covered in screens with orbs floating around, each one showing different faces and events and times. There was a small seating area right next to the giant window; that’s where he found his host.

“T̴̡̫́͊͝͠ē̸̞̱͑͊̃͝r̷̩͛͒͠e̶͉̠̪̎̔͂́̅ ̴͚̤͓̬̲͊͒̔̽t̵̢͉̗̺̲̑̌̅̚u̸̬̔͌͆ḻ̷̛̫͍̜́e̵̖̰͕̰̪͝m̷̳͎̘̮̞͝͠a̶͖̬͉̤͉̒̀̋s̸͖̱͓̪̪̈́́t̷̖̿̓͊,̸̢͙̮͊̾ ̷̡̲̱͖̲͑͆̔̕ń̴̠̪̈́̊̒̃ó̸̡̺̞͕͍́̽̀͆ō̵̦̅̔r̶̠̉͆̕ ̵̞̟̣̇̈̆ḱ̴̢͕͔͈̇͛͂͋u̵̫̲̎̀̀̽ͅǹ̵̢͖͚̜ͅį̴̠͖̠̪͗̒̓̅ǹ̸̝͒͊͠g̸͎̖̗͎̈́̃ả̸̮͉̱̀́̌̉s̷̡̞̼̃̿̏͂͊.” the ghost said. They were covered by a dark purple hooded cloak, a lighter purple tunic and pants underneath. Their skin was a light teal and their eyes were bright red. A black metal cog held the cloak on their shoulder, a glass door showed black clock and a pendulum in their chest. Floating upright beside them was a black metal staff, a mint green eye-like orb resting between the three prongs on the top. “My name is A̸̠̺̹̐̉̈̅j̶͈̐ą̷͈̩̱̣̑͐̎̔̉͝ ̸̛̹̮̹̦͆̊̇͘͜͝ͅm̷̢̲̳͚̞̄́̈ê̵̡̙̞̥i̷̡̹̺̺̼̟̽͜s̶̹͈͖̲̫̫̍̅t̶͖͈̓̽̍̒̋͝ę̵͔̠͐̍͛̒̈ͅŗ̶̡̲̺̩̯͌̓, but you may call me Clockwork.”

Danny bowed a little in greeting, the ghost’s very gaze pouring an intense pressure on him. “Greetings, Clockwork. My name is D̷̨̨̤̥̤́̈́͘è̷̲̟͗͒̾ë̶̩̥̪́́͠m̷͎̿̀̎ͅö̸͍̤̫̥͕́͂̓n̷̤̰̆͑͂̊ḯ̵̮̰͝ ̷̦̜̪̬̿͂̓͒̚l̶͓̬̣͚͈̉ȃ̵̰̭̮͈͐̿p̸͔̝̓̈͗̋ş̶̥̦̥͍̽͑͒̊, but you may call me Danyal.”

Clockwork nodded in return, motioning to the seats around him. “Please, join me.”

“Thank you,” Honestly, Danny had no idea where these manners were coming from, but they were here now and they seemed to be the right things to be doing and saying because he had yet to be attacked. And even when he’d gone to Pariah with the intent of a fight, they had a cordial conversation beforehand.

“There is a town from a Living Realm trapped in the In-Between Realm.” Clockwork said after Danny had sat down. “You seek a way to return them.”

Danny nodded. “Yes.”

“You walk a fine line, K̴͔̑͘u̸̙͌̋͠m̴̬̯̤̄͗̊̚m̷̹̜̟̣̈ḯ̴͚͕̙̗̥̀t̸͚̠̭̣͎̒̄u̷̺̹̫̅͑ṡ̷̞͆l̶̝̈́̌̅a̶̹̪̎̇̈̈̓p̸͎̬͖̺͊̾̽͜š̶̞̤͐͗͝.” Clockwork said. “The line between the Living and Dead is a thin one, and yet you walk with perfect balance.”

A million questions were going through Danny’s head too fast for him to fully register them. He asked, “Do you know what I am?”

The older ghost nodded. “You are P̷̺̞͆̓̇ö̵̯́̄̃̃õ̶̮͕̭l̷͕̪͉̮͚͆̽͆e̶̡̢͔̝̽̈͗̑l̸̢̖̗͇̐̿̕d̶̠̻̬̂̉̓̑̕ĭ̵̝̻͋̈ ̶̳̩̯̠͋̂̈́e̵̢̳̬̖̍͠l̴͓̼͒̄u̷̢̲͖̞̦̒̎̂s̷͙̪̘͊͒͆,̶̲͕͓͌̚̚ ̵̙̩͍͊p̶̫̼̪̝͑͘o̷̭̼̰̚o̸̖̭͓͚̲̽̓̅̏̕l̸͍͙̀̑̉ȩ̴̡̣͔̃̄͋l̶̟̫̭͗̌̊d̵̛̻i̴̺͈͉̔̂͘ ̷̜̯̣̙̍̅̇ș̷̌̂͝͠ư̴̰̿r̸̡̹͚̣͑ͅn̵̙͖̅̐̅ú̴͈͛̃͑́ͅḍ̶̖̱̍; T̸̬͒̆̎̈́͠õ̷̡̰̝͖̂̐e̴͙̊ͅl̸̥̥̹͚̩̥͊̄̀̔̈́͠i̴̟̜͖͔͓̦̔n̵̢͖͓͌͂ḛ̵̡̼͍̏̒͊̂͜͝ ̸͍̱͋̑͗ẗ̴̺â̵̧̞̰̣̰̬̝̊͌͊̆́s̷̤͍̱̜͙̑͒å̸͚͔̩̇̎͆͝k̴̲̅ä̶͕́̈́͂̎̂̏a̷̠͋́̌͊͊̓͝ļ̶̯̤̍.”

“What does that mean?” he wondered.

They shook their head. “You will understand in time.”

Danny was quick to concede the point. “Can you help me return Ḿ̷̢̳̫̮̾͗i̶̧̩̣̐̓̓n̷̬̼̘̟̞͝û̸͔̰̠̞̒͘̚ ̶̦͋k̸̤͔͊̄́ŏ̶̮̦̬̫̙̐̂͝͠d̶̝̯̆̎̉̊͜u̵̲̬͒͜ to where we belong?”

“I cannot,” was the answer, “But I can tell you how to do it.”

Danny hesitated for no more than a moment before nodding. “Your help would be greatly appreciated, sir.”

Clockwork smiled. “No need to be so formal anymore, T̶̨͇͋͌͆͌́ä̸͇̰͓̿h̷̥̓͌͋̈̔̓t̴̗̻͚͈͚̺̓́̔e̴̢̯̱̓̄̎̾̆ḑ̷̬̔ḛ̷̱̭̙̪͑̃͌̓͐ ̵̭̯͔̈̈̇̓̕̕l̶̜̞̺̜̦̋̿̄͒͊a̶̢̼͈͆p̶͓̟̱̣̉š̶̹͋̄̕͝. You are welcome in Ḿ̷̢̳̫̮̾͗i̶̧̩̣̐̓̓n̷̬̼̘̟̞͝û̸͔̰̠̞̒͘̚ ̶̦͋k̸̤͔͊̄́ŏ̶̮̦̬̫̙̐̂͝͠d̶̝̯̆̎̉̊͜u̵̲̬͒͜ whenever you seek it.” The whole building was filled with the chime of a clock striking midnight. “To take s̸̡̮̤̽̓͝͝į̴̡̯͙͌n̴̤̅̈̌͊̃u̷͔̗̮͐ ̷̜̈̆̇̕͝k̵̢̰̙̗̱͂̄͋̈̈́ô̸̦͛̾̿͑d̸̢̡̪͇͋͗͝u̵̲̠͊̃̈͜ back to the Realm in which it belongs, you must use Ŗ̸̢̱̻͊̍́̐̒ä̴̯̫̗̪̑̕͠e̸̯̞͎͇̍v̴̲̥̲̊͜͝ṳ̵̀ ̷͓̞͇̙̑̍̏̏s̴̡̫͇̅̑̏õ̸͔͋̏̀r̴̛͚̰̔͆m̷̲̞̈́u̸̠͆̀̂͜ş̴͔̩̰̎̇̆̎̿ to open a portal. However, once you put it on, you will be announcing your claim to T̴͖̳̪̭̫͆͜r̴̤̻̳͔̭̪̭̅́̋o̴̲̍͌̂͒o̶̢̩̳͂̒͠n̵̩͕͖̟̈̆͐́̃͋̾.”

“Wait,” Danny said, worry seeping into his tone and expression, “T̴͖̳̪̭̫͆͜r̴̤̻̳͔̭̪̭̅́̋o̴̲̍͌̂͒o̶̢̩̳͂̒͠n̵̩͕͖̟̈̆͐́̃͋̾? I don’t want to be King! I just- I wanna be me.”

“And you will be, but you must first make your decision. You told T̵̳̪̂̌̎y̵̛̭̻̖̽r̴̹̰̗͝ḁ̸͚̟̈̆n̴͔̞͊̈͑ṅ̷̝̂-̷̼͙̼̏̃k̴̛̙̣̠͑û̶̘͍̞ň̷͈͇̲ỉ̶̛̗̺͜͝n̸͐̈́͜͠g̴̼̀ä̸̞͙̲́s̶͎̬͙̀͒ that you fight to protect, so now you must choose to protect. Claim T̴͖̳̪̭̫͆͜r̴̤̻̳͔̭̪̭̅́̋o̴̲̍͌̂͒o̶̢̩̳͂̒͠n̵̩͕͖̟̈̆͐́̃͋̾ and get s̸̡̮̤̽̓͝͝į̴̡̯͙͌n̴̤̅̈̌͊̃u̷͔̗̮͐ ̷̜̈̆̇̕͝k̵̢̰̙̗̱͂̄͋̈̈́ô̸̦͛̾̿͑d̸̢̡̪͇͋͗͝u̵̲̠͊̃̈͜ back to where it belongs, or refuse and keep s̸̡̮̤̽̓͝͝į̴̡̯͙͌n̴̤̅̈̌͊̃u̷͔̗̮͐ ̷̜̈̆̇̕͝k̵̢̰̙̗̱͂̄͋̈̈́ô̸̦͛̾̿͑d̸̢̡̪͇͋͗͝u̵̲̠͊̃̈͜ here between the L̷͔͕͔̂̿̆̾͠õ̸̭̙̮̭̽ͅp̸͚̲͍̐̚ͅư̶̐̍ͅt̷̡̰̙̚u̷͚̖͖̐̀̿́͝ḑ̷̟̲͔̭͗́̀ ̷̘̟̦́̾̒̑̕k̸͚̃ứ̵͕̘̥̩̾̓͑n̸̘̹̗̗͙̂͂̓͗͝i̷̳͕̝͂̓n̴̪̈́̇̌g̶̩͈̺̟͖̀̐̽͒̈ŕ̶̛̜͔͠ì̸̯̈i̸̠͎̳̳̓͠g̷̪̲̈́̽̐̌̄ì̸̮͌͒̌d̶͉̻̭̀̓͑.”

“That’s hardly a choice,” Danny said. Clockwork shrugged. “How do I use the  Ŗ̸̢̱̻͊̍́̐̒ä̴̯̫̗̪̑̕͠e̸̯̞͎͇̍v̴̲̥̲̊͜͝ṳ̵̀ ̷͓̞͇̙̑̍̏̏s̴̡̫͇̅̑̏õ̸͔͋̏̀r̴̛͚̰̔͆m̷̲̞̈́u̸̠͆̀̂͜ş̴͔̩̰̎̇̆̎̿?”

Clockwork’s smile hadn’t dropped at all during the conversation, but it did seem like they had only just started smiling. “You will know when you put it on.”

“Oh.” He remembered the little ball of fire in his hands. “When I beat T̵̳̪̂̌̎y̵̛̭̻̖̽r̴̹̰̗͝ḁ̸͚̟̈̆n̴͔̞͊̈͑ṅ̷̝̂-̷̼͙̼̏̃k̴̛̙̣̠͑û̶̘͍̞ň̷͈͇̲ỉ̶̛̗̺͜͝n̸͐̈́͜͠g̴̼̀ä̸̞͙̲́s̶͎̬͙̀͒,” he held the small orb in from of him, “he disappeared and left this behind. What is it?”

There was a twinkle in Clockwork’s pupiless eyes. “That is the very essence of his being; his T̸̼̈̏u̶͉̭̘̓̀ȗ̵͔͘͜ͅm̷̡̫͗͋̽. To T̵̨̉̈́̉͝a̴̗͉̪̐̾́̃ͅp̷̫̔̆̉a̴̗͉͛̈́̒͘͠ a ghost, you must End them by crushing or eating their T̸̼̈̏u̶͉̭̘̓̀ȗ̵͔͘͜ͅm̷̡̫͗͋̽.

“What?” Danny freaked out, “I don’t want to End him!”

“Then keep that with you at all times.”

“What’ll- What’ll happen if I don’t?”

“It would be within your best interest to keep T̷̢̥̟̈̎̀͆͝ÿ̴̪̍́͌r̷̯͍̹̔̎͠͠ȃ̶̮n̸̦̪̜̓́̽͑d̶͔͚̿͗́͘ȋ̸̢̪͉̕ ̵̩̎͐̒k̵̥̬͐̌u̷̢̎n̵̻̾̊i̶̧͖̳̅̽ņ̷̞̫̹̀̿̔̈͘ͅg̶͖̻̈̋̎͌͜͜͝a̵͔̱͍̺̓͝ ̵̰̲̤̈́̏̏t̸̺̫͙͐̽̔͐̎ú̵͖̗̪̠͊ụ̸̥̖̈̀̆̚̕m̷͇͕̮͖͑̀͝ with you at all times.”

Danny gulped and nodded, standing from his place. “Thank you for helping me, A̸̠̺̹̐̉̈̅j̶͈̐ą̷͈̩̱̣̑͐̎̔̉͝ ̸̛̹̮̹̦͆̊̇͘͜͝ͅm̷̢̲̳͚̞̄́̈ê̵̡̙̞̥i̷̡̹̺̺̼̟̽͜s̶̹͈͖̲̫̫̍̅t̶͖͈̓̽̍̒̋͝ę̵͔̠͐̍͛̒̈ͅŗ̶̡̲̺̩̯͌̓”

“It was my pleasure, K̸̡̧͕̇̑́̐̚͝o̸̧̰͕̯̿̐͠s̶͔͇͇̱̲͔̩̓̽͗̀͊̈m̶͉͇̟͆̄͆͆̈̉͘͝o̶̹̬̤̟̥̣̅͒́̇̇̆s̴̗͇̰̫͆͑e̴̪͕̲̪͎͓̾̚m̶̢͈̰̳̙̻̜̩̱̀̒ẹ̵̖̟͔́̃̒͑i̸̭̩̙͉̮͚̻̰̰̇̎̈́͊͘͠s̸̛̛͚̤̳̭͋̊́͒̔́̚̕t̴͍̮̱͈̹̞͊̋͂ḛ̸̢͙̺̼͍̬̙͍̣̽̎̊͘̚r̵̤̜̲̱̦̕.”

Danny left through the clock face, flying back towards Pariah’s Keep. It had been just under a day since he’d been there. Amity Park had been in the Infinite Realms for seven days now. Any attention drawn by them disappearing for a week could either be really good or really bad. Regardless, they’d all find out about their lost time as soon as they got back to their Living Realm and Danny was not looking forward to that.

He arrived at the Keep much as he had earlier. Though, instead of walking up the steps, he flew straight into the throne room. It was just as he’d left it. Before he went to the dais, he tried to calm his nerves by picking up the weapons from his battle. The daggers were re-hidden, the rapier re-sheathed. He picked up Pariah’s long sword and strapped it to his back, just under his tanto using the two halves of the former King’s cape.

With a deep breath, Danny finally approached the Throne, Crown, and Ring. He touched only the Ring, fearing what might happen if he even breathed on the other two, and slipped it onto the middle finger on his left hand. He felt a pulse of fury rush through him before it settled deep in his gut. The Ring itself changed from a simple black band to an obsidian ring encrusted with ice. It wasn’t cold on his finger, and was hardly noticeable.

Once again, he flew back to where Amity Park had been dropped. Once he was floating over the town, he reached for the power inside the Ring. It came easily to him, as though he knew exactly what he needed to do. He lifted his left hand, ripping it down in a quick motion. The green and black sky ripped open, blue calling the attention of everyone in Amity Park. He ignored them, pulling the rip bigger and bigger before pushing it down onto the town. He ignored the screams as the rip engulfed them. Then, once the last of the purple island was through, he zipped the rip up. In its place was the reactivated Fenton Portal. He used it to go home.

No one was in the lab when he got there, but he turned invisible anyway, making his way to his room to put Pariah Dark’s Core somewhere safe until he could get something to turn it into a necklace or something. He texted Sam and Tucker, telling them he was fine and that he was going to sleep before he texted Jazz the same thing. He told all three of them to wake him next week.

*

Danny woke up the next day because his parents had invited the G.I.W. over to study the Portal. He groaned and flipped over, shoving the pillow over his face. When that didn’t work, he sighed and got up. May as well be productive if he couldn’t sleep, right?

He was still so tired.

Sluggishly, he dragged himself around his room to get ready for the day. Then, with the fire orb that was the former Ghost King in his hand, he left his room and knocked on Jazz’s door. She answered immediately.

“I thought you were gonna sleep for a week?” Her answer was an explosion in the lab. She winced. “Right. What did you need?”

“Do you have-” He yawned. “Do you have, like, a chain or something? I gotta turn this into a necklace.”

She looked at the orb in his hand, slightly larger than a marble and seemingly made of fire. “Do I even want to know?”

“Not until I’m awake enough to explain.”

“Riight.” She turned and nodded for him to come in. “Let me check real quick, but I can’t promise I have something.”

“That’s-” He yawned again. “That’s okay.” He sat down on the armchair in the corner of her room, pulling the light pink throw blanket on the back on himself. It was really soft. His eyes drooped.

There was some shuffling for a few minutes, the quiet noise lulling Danny further to sleep. He startled when she shouted, “Here it is!” She turned to him, holding up two chains, one thrice as long as the other. “This should work- Danny? Are you asleep?”

He rubbed his eyes. “No.”

She smiled softly. “Why are you so tired?”

“No reason.”

“I’m sure,” she hummed. “Let me see that, okay? I’ll make a necklace for you real fast.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“No problem.”

Again, the quiet noise of Jazz working started to lull Danny back to sleep. He shifted to get comfortable, closing his eyes for a minute. A minute that turned into a day and a half.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Jazz snarked when he left her room to eat breakfast.

He yawned, much more awake than before. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry about crashing in your room.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she waved off, “I crashed in yours, so we’re even.”

He reached up and touched the fire orb amulet that was now resting against his chest, fiddling with it as he watched Jazz make pancakes. “So, what’s the plan for the day?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have anything, do you?”

“Nope,” he said, “Just a let-” He froze. “The letter!” Quickly, he flew up the stairs and into his room. On the desk was the sealed envelope he’d meant to send when he got home the day Amity Park was pulled into the Infinite Realms. He found his way back down stairs, not stopping by the kitchen before going outside to have it delivered. He stopped short, however, when he registered where he was.

This was definitely Amity Park, and they were definitely back in their Realm, but everything had a strange tint to it. He didn’t think anyone noticed, though. The sky was slightly more green than blue, same with the sun and clouds, and it was slightly dimmer and colors were more vibrant, like during a solar eclipse. The ground and buildings all had a slight purple tint that made the shadows darker. Every plant, animal, insect, and person he saw had a barely-there glow to them.

He stumbled. What the hell? Was this a consequence of being in the In-Between Realm for so long? What did this mean for the people and animals living here? What did this mean for him?

“Are you alright, D?” Jazz asked from the door behind him. She must not see it, then.

“Um, yeah, just, um…Forgot my glasses.”

“Tsk. You need to get better at remembering them, Danny.”

“I know, I’m just…still not used to them!”

“It’s been a year.”

“It’s actually only been three months since I got them.”

“Just go mail your letter. Breakfast will be done soon.”

He waved behind him, going to stand in front of the mailbox. He was quick to put the letter in and close the door, flipping the little red flag up. He hesitated before going back into the house, though. He shook his head and moved before he could chicken out. Damian had reached out after two years and Danny wasn’t about to make him wait that long for a response. It would be childish.

The anticipation of waiting for a response was bubbling up in his stomach again. It was just like when he’d sent that first letter. This time, though, he knew he’d get a reply.

*

Damian was worried. He’d sent Danyal a response, but he’d yet to get anything back. He couldn’t blame his little brother, though. After all, he’d waited two years before finally answering. He wouldn’t fault him for not even opening the thing. However, he did worry if something had happened. When he’d looked up Amity Park again, he found that the whole town was on lockdown; Nothing was going in and nothing was coming out. That was lifted a day ago, though, and there was still no response.

His Father and his siblings all remained none the wiser to his communications. At least, he liked to believe that. Father was aware of Danyal, but he doesn’t know that he and Damian are - were? - in contact with one another. He would like to keep it that way.

He wanted to go visit Danyal soon, or maybe have him come to Gotham. There was so much to tell him, but only so much room on some paper. He wanted to know things, too! Ask questions and get more than a few words for an answer. He wanted to be able to see his brother’s face for the first time since they were six years old.

But he might’ve fucked it all up because he was a coward.

There was a Media Block on Amity Park, Illinois. It wasn’t obvious at first glance, but it was glaringly in the face of anyone looking into the town. He hadn’t managed to get much before he was found and kicked from the servers, but he did find news on two hero-like figures in the town; one of which was being debated as a hero or a villain. Damian thought it should be obvious if someone is a hero or a villain, but that’s just him and the rest of the world’s opinion versus this tiny little city in the middle of nowhere.

Father had caught onto his distracted state of mind and threatened to bench him if he couldn’t pull himself together. He tried, but he couldn’t keep his thoughts from wandering back to Danyal and how he was doing.

He refused to answer anyone when they inquired about why he kept spacing out. He knew it wasn’t like him, but there was a lot on his mind at the moment!

The very next day, a letter from Danyal arrived for him. Like the last one, this one had no return address, but he recognised the handwriting. His family - minus Alfred - were all suspicious of the letter because of the lack of information on the front, but Damian batted them all away and took the letter to his room, locking himself inside.

As soon as he finished reading it, he got a piece of paper and wrote out a reply. He was not going to make his brother wait any longer than he already had to.

Was Danyal this anxious about getting letters from him? He hoped so.

***

Danyal Fenton, Jan. 26, 2014

I am fine, as are all of the others. Thank you for your concern. Though, are you alright? I found the Media Block when I tried to access any information from inside Amity Park.

Your offer of assistance is greatly appreciated. Does it matter what I ask for? If not, then I have an idea that would require me to call upon you. If you are willing, that is. My family, though I am glad everyone is back together and tolerating each other, are stifling. Especially since I have taken up the Robin Mantle.

The Media Block is very concerning. What is the government hiding and why does it require them to soft-lock the town? Would you like me to contact the Justice League? This is something they will be able to help with.

I would be beyond delighted to come meet Delilah. If you are willing to teach me how to communicate with her, I am willing to learn. عسى أن تقود النجوم مسارك دائمًا. Damian Wayne

Translation 1 - Arabic: Good to hear from you, brother

Translation 2 - Estonian & Zalgo - May I come in?

Translation 3 - Estonian & Zalgo: Greetings, young King … Master of Time

Translation 4 - Estonian & Zalgo: Child of the Demon

Translation 5 - Estonian & Zalgo: Ghost Child

Translation 6 - Estonian & Zalgo: Half Living, Half Dead; A True Balance

Translation 7 - Estonian & Zalgo: My home

Translation 8 - Estonian & Zalgo: Child of the Stars … My home … your home … Ring of Rage … The Throne

Translation 9 - Estonian & Zalgo: The Throne

Translation 10 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King … The throne … your home … your home … Infinite Realms … Ring of Rage

Translation 11 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King

Translation 12 - Estonian & Zalgo: Core … Kill … Core

Translation 13 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King’s Core

Translation 14 - Estonian & Zalgo: Master of Time

Translation 15 - Estonian & Zalgo: Master of Space

Translation 16 - Arabic: May the stars always lead your course.

Part 9 Storyboard

[ew-selfish-art]

DP x DC AU: Letters and Paper goods are easy to store, and therefore, easy to hide. Danny has drama to monger though.

Tim Drake becomes a ward of Bruce Wayne at the same time the Drake Corporation is crumbling, and his father's health is declining. Dana, his father's physical therapist turned new wife, isn't optimistic these days, and Tim can read the writing on the wall.

Times have changed and Bruce and Dick are treating him with kid gloves. Jason Todd is alive again, been there suffered that. Young Just-Us has proven yet again to be his true family... But Bruce 'welcomes' him home the second the fake uncle is sniffed out.

So, Tim rationalizes, If Drake Corp is going down, then so shall the reason he spent his childhood abandoned. The many, many archeology digs his parents left him for over the years and their many, many stolen historical pieces. Tim is ready and able to get rid of them all.

He first returns the artifacts that have obvious origins to the people with whom they belong. Then it starts to get a little hazy as to where each item stolen is from. The paper goods are the hardest to place.

Years later, Tim has almost completely emptied his parent's old home of their stolen goods. By now, he runs a fortune 500 company and is working as Red Robin. Going through the last of the archives means going through the very last objects his parents ever preferred over his company, and he can't wait to be rid of them.

A glowing green envelope however... this one he feels compelled to keep. He hadn't known it back when he started this project- but somehow his Parents had found objects drenched in the essence of the Lazarus Pits. And it wasn't just one letter, it was dozens and dozens.

Tim Drake knew it would be risky to move them, but he needed to get these letters to an ex-league member to understand what the language of the dead was trying to proclaim.

_____

Danny hates a fetch quest but apparently Ghost Writer is having a bad day. It starts with Danny running by the guys library to have a chat when all of a sudden, the question of certain... ghost relations... came up. Danny is always more than thrilled to hear about how the various ancient-as-in-old ghosts interacted with the Ancients-as-in-yikes ghosts.

Ghost Writer finally admitted to the monarch in training that if he wanted to know so badly, that he could track down Clockworks old letters. They'd been scattered well before Ghost Writer could properly work on the ghost archives (read: was still alive), and it wasn't until he'd long worked on the library that such affairs were noted as missing.

The potential for gossip was just too good! A call home to Sam, Tuck and Jazz to let them know he was on an adventure, and then Danny flew off with little more than some hints by GW and an annoyed nod of cryptic agreement by CW.

Danny goes about wondering Gotham as himself, not yet seeing the need to be Phantom, when he runs into the very guy he was looking for.

"Hey- you don't happen to have a shit ton of letters written in the language of the dead do you?" Danny smiles as innocently as possible as he watches all seven stages of grief play out on the guy's face. Then something changes and Danny can tell that this guy is like, scary competent.

"I do, however, I was double crossed and a shit ton of assassins are on their way to try and take them."

"Uh... Bummer for them I guess? I'll just take them and go- I don't even really need to keep them if you want em back-"

"Assassins. They won't exactly leave empty handed."

"Huh. Well... Wanna come with? These are supposed to have some pretty juicy drama in them." Danny awkwardly places a hand on the back of his neck.

A knife being thrown in their direction was enough to get this guy to make a decision.

"Let's go spill some tea then."

Danny grins as he pulls the guy through a rapidly drawn portal, ignoring the wide eyes he makes. Turns out his name is Tim, and walking him through afterlife drama is the best- how does he know so many dead assassins??? One of these letters is about a guy who took Tim's spleen??