#i see clothes and say to myself “i could. i could do it.”

[divinecatchaos]

I know a knight when I see one. This one was hobbling along using their long sword like a cane. Half their helmet had been torn off, but you couldn’t see a face under all the blood dripping down. Their metal boots grated against the pavement.

I looked around, but no one else was on the street. It wasn’t a busy road in a very un-busy town, so this was unsurprising. Not a single nose pressed to a window all the way down the road. Dark windows, a half-overcast sky.

A horrendous clatter wrenched my eyes back to the impossibility.

They had fallen on their face. One hand still clutched the crossguard of the sword. The other scrabbled at the sharp and ragged edges of their helmet until it came off and spun away across the pavement, clanking and rasping as it went.

I stifled a nervous laugh, then skittered over. I was afraid, but also this was clearly a human person having a medical emergency. I crouched in front of them.

“Hey, hey, do you need me to call 911?”

They were scraping their way to all fours when the sound of my voice made them pause. They dragged gloved fingers through the blood over their eyes and squinted at me as from a great distance.

“Hullo there. Huzzah. Hey. Hey. Hey kid, you ever do anything brave?”

“What? I think I need to call an ambulance, let me just—”

I groped at my pocket for my phone and their bloodied hand lashed out and clamped like a manacle around my wrist.

I hunched up and froze, staring at them.

“I asked you. Did you ever. Do anything. Brave. Kid.”

I’m not a kid, I didn’t say, because thirty-year-olds didn’t usually need to point this out. Clearly they were concussed. Instead I said, as calmly as I could manage, “Not really. I’m not a particularly brave kind of person.”

“You never… stood up… for something you believed in?”

“I may have given a coworker some mild pushback when he said something racist once.”

They blinked through a fresh flow of blow from somewhere in their dark and matted hairline. “Good enough then,” they decided.

With a terrible scrape they surged to their feet. I reared back in startlement, flopping onto my butt as they lifted that long and dreadful sword and pointed it at me. I froze.

“Get on your knees.” They said. The empty street stretched silent and eerie ahead and behind.

Shaking I rolled over onto all fours, then wobbled around to face them, and sat back on my knees, bad knee screaming at the abuse. I mentally told my bad knee to shut up and I’d apologize with a hot towel later if we survived this.

They lifted the sword a little, hand and blade shaking with the effort, then as I hunched in on myself they thumped me with the flat on the left shoulder, then, straining, they lifted the blade over my head and thumped it down on the right shoulder. The edge dug in a bit this time, but I was too terrified to make a sound.

“I now pronounce you… a knight… of the order of the sparrow… may these blows… stand in symbol… of the blows… you will suffer… in your calling… Arise, Sir… what’s your name?”

I couldn’t speak.

“Arise Sir Silence then.” They grounded the tip of the sword and leaned heavily on it. “Well go on then, get up.

I struggled up, knee wavering.

Then they were in my face again, smelling of blood, wrapping my trembling hands around the hilt of the sword.

“May your service be more fruitful than mine… comrade.”

They slumped, forehead thumping briefly against my shoulder, but before I could drop the sword and try to catch the edifice of armor toppling toward me, they dissolved into smoke and ashes, staining my clothes and making me cough into the frosty autumn air, icy fingers clenched around the still-warm leather grip on the iron hilt.

knights can be created by other knights like vampires except instead of biting them they wack them on the shoulders with swords

[dcxdpdabbles]

Holy hell Author. Holy hell.

Like, after I reread the Adopted son 48+ times, I still haven't processed even though I've processed fully what happened....

Like looking you need to distract myself but I can't leave your page. So I ask of you to throw us a bone of anything happier.... please

Like, IDK Royal Consort or something I don't know

That was like the first thing I could see after I like processed the episode of adopted son I just watched with my eyes that was like happy and not about food cuz I don't think I could stomach it without wanting to like viciously Chomp on a salad imagining it being Richard Grayson destroyed.

And I'm feeling bold but I'm also a coward I'm also a coward so I will not make this anonymous out of pure Hope that you who will throw a bone of any anything at us

And not just drink our tears while cackling madly cuz I feel like you do that like an ancient duchess or something IDK

Danny is floating in incredible darkness, disrupted by small shining stardust, where nothing but peace can reach him. It's been a long time since he felt so at ease that he allowed himself to flout higher and higher as if flying away into an endless cosmos.

He is about to pass a point where he knows that if he goes beyond it, there will be no return. He will know nothing but the tremendous abyss.

Accepting the joy it brings him, Danny floats towards the gateway, chest first, arms spread, and a blissful smile stretching across his face. Then, a burning sensation begins on his back, like someone had thrown a hook onto it. He has a second to scream before he's yanked away from the stardust and the gleaming gateway, hand stretched out desperately towards it as he falls, falls, falls-!

Danny slams into his body like a flight train, going off the rails and making him bounce slightly on the bed he was lying on. While trying to catch his breath, a roar of whispers starts up around him, resonating inside his skull and banging his brain like a gong.

He blinks and opens his eyes, trying to get his ears to stop ringing, but he has to shut them down due to the bright light that burns his pupils. He tries lifting his hand to rub at his eyes to soothe them but finds his limbs uncooperating.

Mentally sending the command to move doesn't seem to be received, as all he can do is make his fingers twitch slightly. His legs also won't move, not even to flex his toes. Panicked, Danny rips open his eyes again, wanting desperately to move his head but finding his neck is only able to rock in place but not actually turn.

Then, he notices a breathing mask is attached to his face. He seems to be underneath four bright lights similar to the ones he's seen on TV for medical shows. His clothes had been switched out from the fancy tux that the Waynes got him to what feels like paper-thin cloth, and he swears that there is a cap or something similar on his head.

Danny's heart starts hammering in his chest as his panic increases. He doesn't know where he is, what happened, or why he seemed to have woken in what seemed like a hospital setting. Distantly, he hears a loud double beat, rising in volume and increasing in tempo.

He can't tell where they are coming from as he struggles with all his might to get his body to move. A face appears on his right, causing Danny to flinch from the sudden appearance and the closeness. It took a moment for his eyes to focus as the person had left only breath space between their noses.

Phantom.

A bright eye, grinning Phantom with glowing cracks alongside the left of his neck. The cracks- they don't appear like scars, but honest to Ancients, they remember broken marks on porcelain dolls- went up to his left ear, curling around his jaw, and disappeared into the cloth near his left shoulder.

"What happened to you?" he means to ask, but the mask and his weakened state have the words come out more like "Wa heped to yu?"

Phantom smiles anyway, clearly not understanding what he's saying but able to make a guest, "Good morning, sleeping beauty. I've been waiting a whole week for you."

"a wek?"

"That's right, it's been a week. Frostbite was able to save you through a hazardous surgery involving half of my core and the blood of a human virgin." Phantom brushes some loose bangs out of Danny's face, somehow making his face soften even if his eyes still have that hard, tired glint. It was one of the big differences he had noticed at the gala.

Phantom had the eyes of someone who had seen the end of the world and had hearted his heart to survive it. He blinked slowly, trying to understand the information his future ghost self was saying, but his vision wavered as a new wave of fatigue overcame him.

Phantom sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Rest, my love. When you wake the next time, things should be much clearer."

Danny fights against his slumber as much as he can but is only able to hear a voice whisper, "How is the Consort?"

"He's doing better, thank you, Ambassador Drake."

Ambassador?

The next time Danny wakes up, he's no longer in the healing chambers. Instead, he finds himself underneath the silk comforter of his King Chambers inside of his castle that he purchased from the WebSpinners in the Ghost Zone. He blinks his eyes slowly, trying to push away the fog clinging to his mind, as he carefully leaves himself into a sitting position.

He's wearing his royal pajamas, which feel like a soft, warm cloud is touching his skin. He sits in the sensation while taking one slow, deep breath. The King Chambers used to be Pariah Dark's old bedroom in his haunt, covered wall to wall with mounted body parts of his enemies.

It took Danny two whole years before he could make himself go in and clear everything out. He then had Poindexter hire a team of interior designers who brought to life Danny's human perspective of what he thought a castle should look like.

Granted, Danny's idea of a castle was a little clouded by all the movies he had seen with Kings and Queens, and it took some trial and error before the team figured out he considered French Chateaus as his ideal mental castle image. Now they informed that the Haunt would react to his will, and after spending hours and hours meditating to create a connection with his inherited haunt, Danny had shifted its shape from a gothic black stone medieval castle to a bright white break chateau.

He had even turned the environment from a ranging dark storm into an eternal winter wonderland. He glances at the two large windows of his room, taking in the gentle folds of white blankets across the ground as soft snow continues to fall.

His breath hitches at the beautiful sight, suddenly overcome with love for his gentle winter morning. Even though he had shifted the grounds into more welcoming walk gardens with undisrupted snow and pine trees, nothing was as beautiful as his Haunt's ice statues of his family and other beloved memories that decorated the pathways of his gardens.

Danny takes a few minutes to admire

A fire cracks within the room's fireplace, pulling him from his thoughts. He briefly considers it, memorizing the soft purple of its flames when the door is violently flung open. Standing in the doorway is a hurried-looking Poindexter whose arms are filled with various parchment, scrolls, and stacks of papers.

"Danno! You're awake!" He greets, rushing towards him with various items falling out of his arms. "Thank the Ancients. Can you please review these purchase orders?"

"What? No!" Danny groans, leaning away from the desperate-looking nerd who practically crawls across the bed while shoving scrolls at him. "I've been unconscious for a week! Why would your first instinct be to make me sign purchase orders? "

"I know, but ever since you acknowledged yourself as the Consort, that made your human side head of Hunt operation and management. You only gave me Manager rights as the King, but the spouse authority, which in this case is the Consort, goes over my clearance level, and I need to get these paid before the ghosts lose their patience and come ransack the castle!" Pointdexter snapped. "Why did you go around telling people you married yourself!? I thought wearing the Consort symbol was a weird metaphor for self-love and a declaration of staying unmarried, not that you actually married yourself! This is weird!"

Danny blinks, caught off guard by the usually calm ghost sneering in his face. "How....did you hear about all of this?"

Pointdexter sighs, falling back and, thankfully, out of Danny's personal bubble. "Everyone's heard about it since King Phantom popped up with you in his arms, which is a problem because only a select few from your early years knew you're a halfa - a secret we had spent years protecting, which is now much harder to do. Rumors are spreading that you even brought back a concubine! A concubine!"

"I'm sorry?"

"You should be! Do you know how many ghost territories have attempted to send a concubine as a gift and an effort to control the King's Court?! Nine hundred and fifty-three! I had to turn away each one with the flimsy excuse that the King wasn't present to turn them away himself."

"We have a Court?"

"We do now! Thanks to the existence of Consort Daniel Fenton!" Poindexter rubs the space between his eyes after taking off his glasses. "The worst part is that King Phantom returned to the human world to calm things down from his fit and left that human in the castle. The jerk has been snooping around and then had the audacity of acting like he's some idiot who isn't snooping. As if I haven't been the head of the Hunt security for four years!"

Danny raises a hand, feeling like that was too much information to process. Seeing the ghost go silent and wait as he tries to think is gratifying. Eventually, he hears himself ask, "What human?"

"Timothy Drake. He was the reason you and the King survived a core transfer."

"How?"

"He donated fractions of his soul in self-sacrifice to turn into pure ectoplasm that was used to piece together King Phantom from falling apart." Pointdexter sighs. "The only problem was the man did it in a pathetic attempt to keep the King from "raging war" against the humans, and now he can't leave the Hunt as a side effect of the ritual. The humans think we purposely stole him, and now everyone is scared that King Phantom has a taste for human flesh., and not in the cannibal way! And I have Purchase orders that are weeks overdue!"

There was a loud sound of horns from the outside before a man shouted, "Announcing the arrival of Sir John the Pure, a tribute to King Phantom to be used as a concubine. A gift from the Cosmos tribe."

Pointdexer throws his arms into the air, leaping off the bed and rushing out of the room. It's always hard to remember ghosts could not go through walls like the mortal world, but that at least means the large carriage, followed by marching men in knight suits, was forced to go slowly so as not to hit all his ice statues.

That did not mean the weird marching band was made entirely of fanfare; trumpets stopped blaring their song as they grew closer to the front door.

Danny could see them from his window, and he also saw the moment Drake faded through the second-floor wall, looking shocked- likely unaware he was the ghost in the ghost zone- before he face-planted on the ground below. A beautiful man leaps out of the carriage, rushing towards him, and were it not for his blue skin and stardust in his hair, Danny would have thought him human.

Pointdexer appears at the door, shouting something while the horns continue to play their stupid song.

Danny opens and closes his mouth before he grabs a pillow and screams into it.

This is the worst way to wake up.

[xoxoavenger]

Heat of the Moment

pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

summary: Sam's stuck in a time loop, watching not only Dean die but also Y/N's reaction to it. Every. Single. Day. (Mystery Spot Rewrite)

word count: 11227 (this took literally almost 6 hours just to write I thought it could be done for Groundhog Day but holy fuck)

warnings: major character death (lol), cannon typical gore, time loop, not proofread bc I finished this four hours before I have to wake up

main masterlist

//

Day 1

Sam shoots straight up, and from her space in the bathroom, Y/N smiles around her toothpaste. She spits it out as Dean turns up the music, making her way out of the bathroom to pack up and let the boys in to get ready.

"Got your gun?" Y/N asks when they're about to walk through the door. Dean makes a face and turns right back around, digging through his bag.

"He'd forget his head if you weren't here." Sam says under his breath, but Dean still hears it. He grabs one of Y/N's bras and holds it up, causing her eyes to widen.

"I think Sammy accidentally put his clothes in our bag, sweetheart." He smiles at the two of them, who are both giving him bitch faces for different reasons. "Ha!" He laughs, grabbing his gun and dropping the bra.

"Let's go, douchebag." Y/N rolls her eyes as she lets him go through the door first, smacking his ass and grinning as he flinches.

"I wasn't kidding earlier. I will kill myself." Sam threatens, but when Y/N looks up he has a small smile on his face.

"Go get breakfast, you mammoth-man." She tells him as she locks the door. He smiles, turning to follow his brother. Y/N isn't far behind, jogging to catch up to Dean and grab his hand.

They walk into the diner, sitting in a small booth that they barely fit in but Dean insists (they all know it's so he can sit as close as possible to Y/N).

"Why do you have to make up an excuse? You share a bed with her because she's your goddamn girlfriend. I think you can handle sitting two feet away at the breakfast bar." Sam argues.

"You're on the other side anyway, Sam. You don't have to complain." She tells him as she looks up at the menu. Sam rolls his eyes, and Y/N takes a deep breath. She loves the brothers, she really does, but they drive her crazy sometimes.

"Hey, Tuesday. Pig 'n a poke." Dean gestures up at the menu. Y/N furrows her brows, trying to get more information.

"Do you even know what that is?" Sam asks, and Dean doesn't have a good answer to this. Luckily, their waitress comes up to greet them, and Y/N smiles up at her.

"Are you three ready?" She asks with a smile. She's an older lady, with dark, short hair curled in an oldies style to match the bright yellow uniform.

"Yes! I'll have the special, a side of bacon, and a coffee." Dean orders, then turns to Y/N.

"Can I order lunch for breakfast?" Y/N asks, and the waitress sighs.

"I would let ya, but our kitchen isn't set up for it." She says it kindly, and Y/N nods.

"I'll just have coffee, then." The waitress jots it down, and they turn to Sam, who orders his coffee and pancakes. "You got it." The waitress says, and leaves them be. While the boys start to argue about Bela, Y/N looks around the diner. It seems like just a normal, old-fashioned diner, but something in her gut is telling her that this place isn't what it seems.

"Where the laws of physics have no meaning?" Dean asks, reading off the pamphlet Sam handed over. Y/N focuses back in, seeing 'Mystery Spot' on the front.

"This town has a mystery spot?" Y/N asks, grabbing the pamphlet from Dean. Sam shrugs, the boys looking up as the waitress comes back with their coffees. She spills the hot sauce, which ends up getting on Dean because of how far out in the booth he is. Sam can't help his small smile, and Y/N can already feel a headache coming on from this day.

After breakfast, the three walk through town, Y/N looking at the Mystery Spot pamphlet.

"Sweetheart, you're wasting your time. Places like this are just tourist traps." Dean says, gently grabbing the pamphlet from her hands. She frowns, snatching it back.

"There are plenty of places in the world that have strange occurrences that aren't tourist traps." She argues, looking over at Sam for some help.

"There's the Bermuda Triangle, The Oregon Vortex. This could be one of them." Sam defends, and Dean rolls his eyes.

"The Broward County Mystery Spot?" He asks as if it's the stupidest suggestion he's ever heard of.

"It could be? How would you know if you haven't even gone there?" Y/N asks, and Dean takes the pamphlet once more.

"Alright, let's say I believe this. What's the lore?" He's looking down at the pamphlet, and Y/N's looking over at Sam, so neither of them see the blonde who walks right into Dean.

"Excuse me." She says, but Y/N's already turning around. She's used to people hitting on Dean - she's not blind, of course she knows her boyfriend is attractive. But it doesn't make her happy, and usually Dean doesn't do much to stop it before it's too late.

"Hey!" She yells, but Dean's grabbing her arm before she can march over to the blonde chick and ask if she was born yesterday, because she clearly doesn't know how to walk.

"Come on," Dean says quietly, which enrages Y/N even more.

"Seriously?" She asks, talking her hand from Dean's arm. They all start walking again, Sam looking ahead to make sure no one is about to witness the nuclear fight that's about to occur.

"Sweetheart, she ran into me on accident. We don't need to start a fight over that." Dean tries to calm her down, but Y/N isn't having it.

"That's the thing, Dean. You never even stop it. I'm always the one that has to say something." Y/N isn't even sure why they're having this fight right here, right now, but she doesn't want to have to keep it in anymore.

"Does it really matter? You and I both know that I'm yours. I thought you trusted me enough to know I wouldn't just do that." Dean seems actually hurt, which makes Y/N even more mad.

"You clearly don't understand." She huffs, fighting the urge to walk ahead of the bothers. Instead, she looks over the Sam. "So, what's the lore?" She asks, as if they didn't just have a fight.

"Uh," Sam scrambles to recover. "They say these places can bend space and time, sending victims anywhere, or when, I guess."

"That sounds like X-Files." Dean grumbles, clearly still not over the fight. Y/N rolls her eyes.

"Our life is basically X-Files." She argues as they walk past two guys struggling to get a piano through a door. They all stare for a moment, then get back to the conversation.

"Alright, look. I'm not saying that's what's really happening. But if it is, we gotta check it out, see if we can do something." Sam tells them, and Y/N nods.

"Alright, alright. We'll go tonight, after they close, get ourselves a nice, long look." Dean agrees, and Y/N nods.

"Great, see you tonight then." She makes to turn left when the brothers turn right to go back to the hotel.

"Where are you goin'?" Dean asks, pausing just before he crosses the street.

"I need some space. I'll meet you there an hour after close, promise." She says, then walks away. Sam turns to Dean, who's frowning as he watches his girlfriend walk away.

"Dude, you've got to learn how to apologize." Sam says with a sigh, starting to cross the street.

"Shut up!"

~

Y/N's waiting at the Mystery Spot an hour after close, like she promised. The boys nod to her, and Dean hands her a flashlight before they walk in. There's tons of wacky rooms, but they don't find anything interesting.

"Wow. Uncanny." Dean says after they walk through a green and black spiral hallway and into a room with furniture on the ceiling. Sam's scanning for EMF, and Y/N's looking around for anything other than these random attractions that only give her the spooks because of the dark.

"Find anything?" She asks Sam.

"No." The younger brother answers. She keeps looking around, but she has no idea what the hell they're even trying to find in this place. She's crouched down, looking underneath things just to satisfy Sam at this point.

"Do you have any idea what you're looking for?" Dean asks, seemingly giving up even pretending to check the attractions.

"Uh, yeah." Sam says unconvincingly.

"Don't lie, Sammy." Y/N sighs as she stands, looking over at the boys.

"No, I don't." Sam amends, and Dean shakes his head. The two haven't talked since that morning, when they fought, but Y/N knows that by tonight it'll all be find. They just needed some time.

"What the hell are you doing here?" A man rasps quickly from behind them. Y/N gasps as her heart tries to escape her throat, the two boys pulling their guns quickly. She reaches into her waistband before she remembers that she left her's at the hotel that mooring, thinking she was going to go back. Shit.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. We can explain." Dean says, seeing the man has a gun. He looks over at Y/N, who pulls her lips in when he realizes she doesn't have a gun.

"You robbing me?" The man asks, swinging his gun to Sam.

"Nobody's robbing you," Y/N tries, the gun swinging to her.

"Calm down!" Dean shouts, trying to get the gun back on him. He has his hands up, and Y/N can tell he's a little more worried because she doesn't have her gun. God, she's so stupid.

"Don't move. Don't move!" The man yells, but Dean continues to move, keeping the gun on him.

"I'm just putting the gun down." Dean explains, but the man is firing the gun, and Y/N screams as she watches the bullet hit Dean's chest. He falls backward, and she rushes to him and drops to her knees, forgetting all about the gun.

"Dean!" She shrieks, picking his torso off the ground and putting it in her lap. He's struggling to breathe, his eyes not even seeing her.

"Call 9-1-1!" Sam tells the man, rushing to Dean's other side.

"I-I didn't mean to-"

"Do it!" Y/N screams at the same time Sam yells "Now!"

"Hey," Sam says to Dean as he starts to choke on his own blood. Y/N knows that there's nothing they can do, that the bullet clearly went through his lungs and now Dean's last moments on this earth are going to be full of pain. He doesn't deserve this.

"Dean, hey," She whispers, watching his eyes finally meet hers. "No, you can't do this, come on, we never had makeup sex." She's trying to joke, trying to make his last minutes bareable, but even though he smiles slightly she can see the panic flooding his eyes. As the light leaves them, and Y/N's tears start to fall, she realizes that she's going to go to Hell to get him back, because their story can't end that way.

"Y/N," Sam whispers, causing her eyes to flick to his.

"This can't be happening." She says, so soft and yet so full of pain that Sam's heart breaks into a million little pieces.

Day 2

Sam shoots straight up, and from her space in the bathroom, Y/N smiles around her toothpaste. She spits it out as Dean turns up the music, making her way out of the bathroom to pack up and let the boys in to get ready.

Sam looks a little lost as he walks in, staring between Dean and Y/N like he thinks they may be monsters.

"Are you okay, Sam?" Y/N asks as she leans on the doorframe, watching her boyfriend gargle water like a toddler.

"I don't know." Sam says as Dean spits out his water. The couple makes eye contact, confused by this answer. "Man, I had a weird dream." Sam finally settles on, and Y/N nods as she goes back to their bag to finish packing.

"Don't forget your gun!" Y/N calls before Dean can walk out the door.

"Dean doesn't usually forget his gun." Sam mutters, and Y/N turns to the younger brother.

"Are you sure you're alright, Sammy?" Y/N asks as Dean digs through their bag.

"Are you bringing your gun?" Sam dodges the question, and Y/N furrows her brows.

"I never bring my gun to breakfast." She says, watching Sam's face for a few seconds until Dean walks through the door.

"Come on, sweetheart. Sammy, you lock up." Dean says as he grabs Y/N's hand. She tosses the keys to Sam, who turns toward the door.

They walk into the diner, choosing a booth. Y/N looks up at the menu, wondering if they'll let her order lunch for breakfast.

"Hey, Tuesday. Pig 'n a poke." Dean gestures up at the menu. Y/N furrows her brows, trying to get more information.

"It's Tuesday?" Sam asks, and Y/N turns to look at him.

"Yeah." Dean nods, his forehead slightly crinkled as Sam looks a little worried.

"Are you three ready?" The waitress comes up and asks with a smile. Y/N smiles back at her.

"Yes! I'll have the special, a side of bacon, and a coffee." Dean orders, then turns to Y/N.

"Can I order lunch for breakfast?" Y/N asks, and the waitress sighs.

"I would let ya, but our kitchen isn't set up for it." She says it kindly, and Y/N nods.

"I'll just have coffee, then." Y/N smiles, and they all turn to Sam.

"Uh, nothing for me. Thanks." Sam says, causing Y/N to furrow her brows.

"Let me know if you change your mind." The waitress says, and leaves them be. While the boys start to argue about Bela, Y/N looks around the diner. It seems like just a normal, old-fashioned diner, but something in her gut is telling her that this place isn't what it seems.

"Hey!" Dean snaps his fingers, and Y/N turns to see that he's snapping them at his brother, who seems to still be out of it. "You with me?"

"What?" Sam asks, and Y/N feels like something is off. Clearly, Sam isn't fine.

"Are you sure you feel okay?" Dean asks, leaning forward.

"You don't... You guys don't remember any of this?" He asks the two of them. Y/N and Dean look at each other, then back at Sam.

"Remember what?" Dean questions, and Y/N can't help but let her mouth hang slightly open, because she thinks Sam may have lost a couple marbles.

"This. Today. Like - like it's - like it's happened before?" He clarifies, which really only serves to make things muddier.

"Are you talking about déjà vu?" Y/N asks, hoping Sam just didn't get a good night of sleep.

"No. I mean like it's - like it's really happened before." Sam seems very intent on this, and Y/N just stares.

"Yeah, like déjà vu." Dean says with a nod.

"No, forget about déjà vu! I'm asking you if it feels like-like we're living yesterday all over again." Sam looks very agitated now, and Y/N looks at Dean, who she knows is about to talk about déjà vu again.

"Maybe you just need some sleep, Sam." Y/N suggests. Sam looks at her, as if remembering something, but before she can ask the waitress come back over with their coffees. The hot sauce teeters off the edge of the platter, but Sam catches it. Y/N blinks as this happens, but Dean smiles.

"Nice reflexes." He compliments, but Sam is staring at Y/N.

"What?" She asks, but he shakes his head. They eat the rest of their meal in peace, as if Sam hadn't fully admitted to being crazy, before they take a walk outside.

"Are you guys sure that today is Tuesday?" Sam asks, and Y/N takes a deep breath as they pass a barking dog.

"Sam, what the hell are you on about?" She asks, watching him look around as if everything was out to get him.

"Okay, look. Yesterday was Tuesday, right?" He asks, and Y/N and Dean both look at each other once more (Y/N's lost count of how many 'your brother is crazy' looks she's given him). "But today is Tuesday, too." He sounds out of his mind, and Y/N is genuinely starting to get worried.

"Yeah, no. Good. You're totally balanced." Dean says.

"So you don't don't believe me?" Sam practically yells. They both turn to him, missing a blonde lady come out of nowhere and run into Dean.

"Excuse me." She says, but Y/N's already turning around.

"He-" She barely makes a sound before Sam's hand covers her mouth, turning her around and getting them to start walking again. "What the hell?" She asks, pushing Sam off.

"Look, I'm just saying that it's crazy, you know?" Dean gets back on track, briefly distracting Y/N from the fight she was about to start. "Even-for-us crazy. Dingo-ate-my-baby crazy." Dean says.

"Dingo at my baby?" Y/N repeats, looking over to Dean. "Maybe it was a premonition?" She offers before getting too off track.

"No. No way. Way too vivid." Sam shakes his head. "We were at the Mystery Spot, and then," But he trails off.

"And then what?" Dean asks, but Sam looks down at Y/N.

"Then I woke up." He says as they walk by two men arguing about a piano, but Y/N knows he's not telling the full truth. "Wait a minute! The mastery spot. You think maybe it," He trails off again, and Y/N wants to shake him.

"Maybe what?" Dean asks.

"We gotta check that place out." Sam says, but Dean does't seem convinced. "Just go with me on this." Sam begs.

"Alright, alright. We'll go tonight, after they close, get ourselves a nice, long look." Dean agrees, and Y/N nods.

"Wait, what?" Sam stops them, and Y/N turns on the sidewalk to face them. "No." He says, as if it's a terrible idea.

"Why not? You suggested it." Y/N argues.

"Uh," Sam looks at Y/N, as if for help, but she has no idea what he needs. "Let's just go now. Right now. Business hours. Nice and crowded." He says instead, and Y/N blinks.

"My God, you're a freak." Dean says, and Y/N drops her jaw to try to stop from laughing, hitting Dean's arm.

"Dean!" She says, looking at Sam's bitch face.

"Okay! Whatever. We'll go now." He agrees, walking past Y/N and Sam.

"Y/N," Sam keeps her from following Dean so close, the two of them walking a bit behind him as he steps into the road.

"What? Are you sure you're okay?" Y/N asks once more, but Sam doesn't answer but a car speeds through the stop sign and hits Dean, who was only a few feet in front of them. Y/N watches his body go flying before landing face down.

"Dean!" Sam yells, and the two of them race over to his body. "No, no, no." He begs as Y/N flips his body over, holding his bloody face in her hands. He's struggling to breathe, but only for a couple moments before he's not breathing anymore.

"Dean?" Y/N whispers, shaking him slightly. "Dean!" She screams, tears starting to fall down her face.

"Y/N," Sam looks over at her with an unreadable expression, but she doesn't care because Dean is dead.

"This can't be happening." She says, and Sam's eyes widen.

Day 3

Sam shoots straight up, and from her space in the bathroom, Y/N smiles around her toothpaste. She spits it out as Dean turns up the music, making her way out of the bathroom to pack up and let the boys in to get ready.

"I'm in a time loop." Sam says quietly, not getting out of bed. Y/N pauses, looking over to him.

"What?" She asks, but Sam glares at her.

"This has happened before. This all has happened before." He gets up, and Y/N nods slowly.

"Alright. Why don't we go get some breakfast, and you can tell us about it then." She suggests, which seems to calm him down a little bit.

Y/N reminds Dean to grab his gun, not grabbing hers, and then they're off the breakfast.

"Hey, Tuesday. Pig 'n a poke." Dean gestures up at the menu. Y/N furrows her brows, trying to get more information.

"Would you listen to me, Dean? Cause I am flipping out." Sam says lowly, and Y/N and Dean look at each other before looking back at Sam.

"Are you three ready?" The waitress comes up and asks with a smile. Y/N smiles back at her.

"He'll take the special, side of bacon, and they both want coffee. Nothing for me, thanks." Sam says quickly. Y/N's eyes widen.

"You got it." The waitress turns and leaves, and Y/N looks over at Sam.

"I wanted lunch." She complains with a small pout, but Sam doesn't seem to care.

"They don't do lunch this early, the kitchen isn't set up yet." He's still speaking fast, and it's starting to upset Y/N.

"You don't know that." She argues, and Sam finally looks her dead in the eye.

"Yes, I do. That's what I've been trying to tell you guys. I'm stuck in a time loop." Sam insists, and Y/N nods.

"Like Groundhog Day." Dean suggests, as if this is crazy.

"Yes. Exactly like Groundhog Day." Sam seems happy with this, and Y/N knows that her boyfriend does not believe him at all.

"Uh-huh." Dean's almost smiling, and she sighs.

"So you don't believe me." Sam says, as if it's the most believable thing in the world. Dean laughs at this.

"It's - It's a little crazy. Even-for-us crazy. Ya know like, uh,"

"Dingo-ate-my-baby crazy?" Sam finishes the sentence, and Y/N's eyes widen.

"How'd you know I was gonna say that?" Dean asks, as if Sam hasn't been explaining it the whole time.

"Because you've said it before, Dean. That's my whole point." Sam says, and Y/N's starting think that maybe Sam's not crazy. The waitress come back over with their coffees. The hot sauce teeters off the edge of the platter, but Sam catches it. Y/N blinks as this happens, but Dean smiles.

"Nice reflexes." He says, but Sam looks like a kicked puppy because Dean doesn't believe him.

"No. I know it was gonna happen." Sam argues. Y/N sighs as she takes a sip of her coffee before putting it down.

"I'm not saying we don't believe you, Sam, but I'm sure there's some sort of explanation for this." Y/N says, and Sam's eyes snap to her.

"I'm sure there is." He says cooly, and Y/N flinches back.

"I haven't done anything yet. This is the first Tuesday I've lived through this week, sorry." She says, rolling her eyes at Sam's attitude.

"Alright, everyone calm down." Dean suggests and this fires both Y/N and Sam up.

"Don't tell me to calm down! I can't calm down because," Sam stops, and he looks between Y/N and Dean.

"Because what?" Dean asks, waiting for the answer.

"Because you die today, Dean." Sam says, and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

"I'm not gonna die. Not today." Dean says, as if this is an idiotic thing to say and Sam is just trying to get a rise out of him.

"Twice now, we've watched you die." Sam says, looping Y/N in on this even though she hasn't been going through the time loop with him. "And I can't. I won't do it again, okay?" Sam's voice is low, and Dean sits back at this. He can tell his brother is serious. Sam looks over at Y/N, who's staring back at him. "You're just gonna have to believe me. Please."

"Alright. I think still think you're nuts, but," He nods a couple times. "Okay. Whatever this is, we'll figure it out." Dean promises, just as his food comes to the table.

After breakfast, they take a walk outside, back to the hotel. Sam pushes his way to be on Y/N's left, even though Dean's always on the left, but she lets him. A girl bumps into him, and Y/N turns to eye her before continuing walking. They're talking about the Mystery Spot, about why Sam thinks it's the root of the entire problem. The brothers are fighting, and Y/N is tired of it.

"Alright! Let's just go tonight after they close." She says, but clearly this was not the right thing to say.

"No, no, no, no!" Sam says, looking at her like she's crazy. "We can't." They're standing on the sidewalk now, Y/N turned to face the other two.

"Why not?" Dean asks, and Sam takes a deep breath.

"Because you," He starts, and Y/N realizes immediately what Sam is trying to say.

"I what?" Dean asks, and Y/N rolls her eyes.

"You die there." She says, causing Sam to scowl at her. She squints instead of asking what his problem is, because clearly he has a lot.

"Okay then, let's go now." Dean says, walking off the sidewalk and onto the street. Sam knocks Y/N over as he grabs Dean, stopping him from being hit by a car that's blowing through a stop sign. Y/N's elbow is bleeding, but otherwise she thinks she's fine, and Dean is fine too.

"What the hell?" She grumbles as she stands, going over to Dean and Sam.

"Did it look cool, like in the movies?" Dean asks, and Y/N rolls her eyes and she holds her elbow.

"You peed yourself." Sam says, and she starts laughing.

"Of course I peed myself. A man gets hit by a car, you think he has full control over his bladder? Come on!" Dean asks, before looking at Y/N. "You alright, sweetheart?" He asks, and Y/N nods even though she can feel the blood staining the long sleeve she has on.

"What the hell was that, Sam?" She asks, turning to him.

"I was saving Dean." Sam argues, mood soured even more.

"You didn't have to push me to the ground!" She argues, and Dean snaps his head to her.

"Why are you pushing her, man?" He asks, stepping closer to Sam.

"Let's just go." Sam mutters, knowing he won't win this. "Don't forget your gun this time, Y/N." Sam calls as he crosses the street. Y/N turns to Dean, who grabs her hand and crosses the street with her.

"I don't know what he's on about, I never forget my gun."

~

"I hate to say it, but that place is exactly what I thought - it's full of crap." Dean says as they walk the same walk they had been in the morning. It's dark now, and they had spent the day at the Mystery Spot trying to figure something out. They had gotten absolutely nowhere, which doesn't bode well for Sam.

"So what is it, then, Dean?" Sam is clearly freaking out, and Y/N is exhausted of all this. "What the hell is happening to us?"

"I don't know." Dean says lowly, and Y/N knows he's exhausted of this too. "Alright, let me just - so, every day I die." Dean states. Y/N has half a mind of just continuing on to the hotel.

"Yeah," Sam confirms.

"That's when you wake up again, right?" Dean asks, and Sam looks over at Y/N. She has no clue why he keeps doing this, but it's driving her crazy.

"Yeah," He says finally.

"So, let's just make sure I don't die." Dean says, as if it's obvious. "If I make it to tomorrow, then maybe the loop stops and we can figure all this out."

"Great, I love this plan. Can we go to bed now?" Y/N asks, grabbing Dean's hand and pulling him along.

"Let's get some take out. Who want's Chinese?" The words are barely out of his mouth with a rope snaps, and Y/N turns to see Dean's body flattened underneath a piano. Blood is everywhere, and his head has been decapitated. She's so shocked, she can't do anything but stare.

"Y/N, wait!" Sam calls, and she looks up at him.

"This can't be happening." She whispers, and Sam lets out a yell as everything goes black.

Day 4

Sam shoots straight up, and from her space in the bathroom, Y/N smiles around her toothpaste. She spits it out as Dean turns up the music, making her way out of the bathroom to pack up and let the boys in to get ready.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam yells, and Y/N's eyes widen as Sam crowds her.

"Sam!" Dean shouts, but Sam doesn't care about whatever threats his brother his about to make.

"I know it's you. I know you're doing this. And I get it, okay. I don't like it either. But if I have to listen to that song one more goddamn time!" Sam is in Y/N's face, and she looks terrified.

"What are you talking about?" She asks, and Sam rolls his eyes.

"Don't play dumb! I know you're behind the time loop! Look, we can stop Dean from dying, but you have to work with me and stop doing this!" Sam begs, and Dean finally pulls Sam back.

"What the hell are you on about, man?" Dean asks, getting between Sam and Y/N.

"I am stuck in a time loop where you die every day and Y/N is causing it!" Sam accuses, and the two of them stare at him as if he's crazy.

"How!" Y/N shrieks, coming out from behind Dean's back. "How would I even be doing that?"

"I," Sam pauses, because he actually hadn't thought that far. "I don't know. But every time Dean dies, you say the same thing." He says, and Y/N takes a deep breath.

"Great. Good deduction work, Sam." She says, and now he's starting to doubt himself. But if it isn't Y/N, and it isn't the Mystery Spot, then what is it? "I'm going to get some food." She tells the two of them, walking out the door.

"Don't forget your gun." Sam says weakly, and she turns sharply to him.

"I never bring my gun to breakfast." She grumbles, making a point not to grab it before walking out the door.

"What the hell is your problem?" Dean asks, more angry than Sam's seen him in awhile.

"I have watched you die over and over, Dean." Sam says, but Dean is still pissed off.

"That doesn't mean you go after my girlfriend, bitch." Dean says, leaving the room without grabbing his gun.

Sam wishes he was surprised when Y/N comes running into the room, tears streaming down her face as she tells Sam that Dean choked on his breakfast.

"This can't be happening." Y/N whispers through her tears, and Sam just lays back in his bed, thinking you have no idea.

Day 5

Sam shoots straight up, and from her space in the bathroom, Y/N smiles around her toothpaste. She spits it out as Dean turns up the music, making her way out of the bathroom to pack up and let the boys in to get ready.

"No going out today!" Sam says, making everyone pause. Dean turns the music off, then looks at his brother.

"Alright, I know you've been pretty upset lately, but,"

"I'm trapped in a time loop." He says quickly. "No, it's not déjà vu. No, I'm not going crazy. You die every day. We can't go get breakfast because you'll choke on your food. We can't check out the Mystery Spot after hours, because you get shot. We can't go during the day, because you get hit by a car. And even if we narrowly avoid those two fates, a piano crushes and decorates you. So you are gonna sit in this hotel room, and we are going to get to tomorrow." Sam tells Dean, then finally looks at Y/N. They're both looking at him like he's crazy.

"I'm taking a shower." Dean says simply, getting up and looking at Y/N. "Can you please un-crazy him?" He asks, before shutting the door to the bathroom and turning the water on.

"Are you on drugs?" Y/N asks, because it's the only thing she can think of. Sam sighs, shaking his head.

"I know how it sounds, okay. But I swear, it doesn't matter what we do, Dean ends up dying and the day restarts. It's an endless stream of Tuesdays." He puts his head in his hands, and Y/N frowns.

"Well, something had to of caused it. Do you know what it is?" Y/N asks, sitting on the bed next to him. She's not sure she fully believes him, but they also hunt demons and monsters for a living and her boyfriend has a death sentence that ends in hell which saved Sam's life, so she can't say he's completely crazy.

"At first, I thought it was you, somehow. But yesterday I called you out and realized that it wasn't." Sam admits, and Y/N narrows her eyes.

"Why would you think I had something to do with this?" She asks, a little hurt.

"Because Dean kept dying and you always say the same thing after he dies. I thought you somehow made a deal or something to try and get him back, but for some reason this is the day he dies." Sam says the words with pain lacing his voice, because he doesn't want to give up trying to save Dean's life. As much as he hates watching Dean die over and over again, he'll go through it if the end means he'd save Dean's life.

"Ahh!" They hear Dean's yell from the bathroom, along with a loud thud. Y/N's eyes widen, and she looks over to Sam. He thinks they're going to go look at the body, that she'll want to confirm that Dean's really dead, but instead she grabs his arm, hand shaking in terror.

"This can't be happening." She says, and Sam's mouth drops open just as the world goes black.

Day 6

Sam shoots straight up, and from her space in the bathroom, Y/N smiles around her toothpaste. She spits it out as Dean turns up the music, making her way out of the bathroom to pack up and let the boys in to get ready.

"Let's order in breakfast." Sam suggests on a whim, hoping to keep Dean inside without setting him off. He has no idea what causes the deaths, or why they happen at different times, but he can't figure it out if Dean keeps dying at the beginning of each day.

"There's a good diner down the road, why don't we just go there?" Y/N asks as she zips her bag, turning to the boys.

"I just really want tacos." Sam lies, and it's a stupid lie but he needs them to stay in.

"I could go for tacos." Dean shrugs, and Y/N sighs, knowing she's lost this battle. They drive to the drive-thru (because Sam insists he cannot go inside and doesn't want to sit on those chairs, they aren't made for men of his size) and take the tacos back to the hotel. Once they're all spread out, Sam can breathe a little easier.

"So, are you ever going to explain why we had to get tacos instead of going to the diner?" Y/N asks as she bites into her taco. She stares at Sam as she chews, but her face turns as something wrong hits her taste buds.

"Do these tacos taste funny to you?" Dean asks, mouth full.

The only good thing, Sam thinks as he watches Y/N slump against the table only seconds before Dean does, is that he doesn't have to hear Y/N's heart shattering whisper again.

Day 7

Sam shoots straight up, and from her space in the bathroom, Y/N smiles around her toothpaste. She spits it out as Dean turns up the music, making her way out of the bathroom to pack up and let the boys in to get ready.

"Dean!" Y/N screams as Dean falls to the ground after trying to plug in his razor, ending up electrocuted with hair sticking up and skin burning. "He's not breathing! Sam!" She calls, but Sam stays in bed. He takes a deep breath as he prepares himself for the next line, which although he's heard it five times already never fails to make the hair on his arms stick up.

"This can't be happening."

Day 8

Sam shoots straight up, and from her space in the bathroom, Y/N smiles around her toothpaste. She spits it out as Dean turns up the music, making her way out of the bathroom to pack up and let the boys in to get ready.

Sam doesn't have time today. He's going to figure out what the hell is going on at the Mystery Spot.

He lets the day go on as normal, Dean getting his bacon and Y/N asking about lunch. He forgets to stand in Dean's spot, and Y/N gets in a fight with the Dean, which means they end up meeting her after hours at the Mystery Spot.

"I think Sam's gone crazy." Dean says when they spot her.

"Why's that?" She asks, taking a flashlight from him. She forgot her gun at the hotel, having thought she would be going back after breakfast. They enter the building, weaving through some rooms and hotel to get to the main attracts

"Dean, you said you would trust me." Sam complains, and Dean sighs.

"I will, I will." He promises. "Sam says he's been through today before. Like Groundhog Day. He said the first time, I died here."

"Listen," Sam stops them both in a green and black spiral hallway. "The first time we were here, Dean died because the owner caught us sneaking around. This time, we're gonna catch the owner so I can figure out what the hell is up with this place. Because if I wake up tomorrow and it isn't Wednesday, I'm gonna lose my mind." Sam tells them, then marches out. Y/N nods, looking to Dean.

"He's lost his marbles." She's agrees, following Sam.

It's not hard to tie up the owner with the duct tape Sam had brought, but Y/N and Dean both just watch as Sam starts to tear into the walls with a sledge hammer.

"Everybody's fine. Nobody's gonna get hurt, okay?" Dean says enthusiastically to the owner. Y/N is sitting on the floor next to Sam, watching with wide eyes as he goes crazy.

"Sam, maybe we should drop it and let the poor man leave." She suggests, watching Sam stagger back. He looks like a wild man, and Y/N fights the urge to slide away.

"Something's gotta be goin' on here. I intend to find out what." He heaves, and Y/N just nods. They've been here for the better part of the night, and Sam has gone through most of the walls.

"Place is tore up pretty good, dude. Time to give it a rest." Dean says, but he doesn't move toward his brother.

"No!" Sam yells, startling Y/N. Now she does slide back to Dean's side, not wanting to be near the axe. "I'm gonna take it down to studs." Sam goes back to chopping, and Y/N runs a hand over her face as Dean lets out a breathy chuckle.

"Sammy, that's enough. Give me the axe." Dean pushes himself up, and Y/N stays sitting as she watches the two boys fight.

"No!" Sam yells, pulling it away from his brother.

"Give me the axe! This is crazy!" Dean argues, and the two start yelling over each other. Y/N stands as Dean grabs the handle, the axe balancing between them.

"Guys, I think we should drop the axe and quit fighting." She's trying to sound calm, but her heart is racing. She doesn't like the look of this. She begins to walk forward as Sam loses his grip on the axe and it slices right across Dean's neck, not quite decapitating him but killing him quickly.

"Oh, no. Dean?" Sam doesn't sound too concerned, but Y/N feels like she's going to throw up. There's blood covering her face and clothing, Dean's blood, and he's dead. He's dead, and Sam killed him. She looks up at him, and he just tilts his head and sighs.

"This can't be happening." She says, confusion laced in her voice.

Day 100

Sam shoots straight up, and from her space in the bathroom, Y/N smiles around her toothpaste. She spits it out as Dean turns up the music, making her way out of the bathroom to pack up and let the boys in to get ready.

Y/N reminds Dean to grab his gun, he grabs her hand and tells Sam to lock up, and then they're on their way to breakfast. On the way, Sam tries to tell them about the time loop, but it goes about the same as it did the last time. They sit in the too small booth again, and Sam almost rips his hair out when Dean starts to speak.

"Hey, Tuesday. Pig 'n a poke." Dean gestures up at the menu. Y/N furrows her brows, trying to get more information. Before she can, Sam sets a set of keys on the table. "What are those?" Dean asks, looking up.

"The old man's." When he says it, Y/N realizes that Sam seems tired, like he didn't sleep at all last night. "Trust me, you don't want him behind the wheel." He says tiredly, like he's had this conversation before. Y/N furrows her brows, but before she can ask the waitress shows up.

"Are you three ready?" She asks with a smile. Y/N smiles back at her.

"Yes, we are. I'll have the special, a side of bacon, and a coffee." Dean orders, then turns to Y/N.

"Can I order lunch for breakfast?" Y/N asks, and the waitress sighs.

"I would let ya, but our kitchen isn't set up for it." She says it kindly, and Y/N nods.

"I'll just have coffee, then." The waitress jots it down, and they turn to Sam.

"Hey, Doris. What I'd like is for you to log in some more hours at the archery range." Sam says, and Y/N opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She has no idea how to excuse what Sam has just said. "You're a terrible shot." He says it like it's funny, which makes him seem even more crazy.

"How do you know," She starts, but Sam doesn't let her finish.

"Lucky guess." He nods. Y/N can feel Dean looking to her, probably to see if this is real or not, but Y/N cannot take her eyes off the younger Winchester. They all smile at Doris, who leaves, then turn to Sam.

"Okay, so, you think you're caught in some kind of what again?" Dean asks, because clearly the display he just put on caught his older brother's attention.

"Time loop." Sam is looking at the table, slouched in his seat with a sad expression.

"Like Groundhog Day." Dean suggests, and Y/N watches Sam shrug.

"It doesn't matter. There's no way to stop it." He grumbles quickly, and Y/N sighs.

"Jeez, aren't you grumpy?" Dean says, and Y/N closes her eyes at her boyfriend's dense nature.

"Yeah, I am. You wanna know why?" Sam asks, and Y/N puts her head on the table. Sam may have actually lived through this Tuesday a hundred times, but Y/N has lived through this fight a thousand.

"Why?" Dean can't resist poking.

"Because this is the hundredth Tuesday in a row I've been through, and it never stops. Ever. So, yeah, I'm a little grumpy." Sam tells them, and Y/N picks her head up to try and comfort him.

"We'll figure this out, Sam." She tells him, because even if she's not sure if Sam is truly crazy or if he's actually living through a year of Tuesdays, she knows they will help him.

"Hot sauce." Sam says, and Y/N can only blink at this.

"What?" Dean asks, but then the waitress come back over with their coffees. The hot sauce teeters off the edge of the platter, but Sam catches it.

"Nice reflexes."

"I knew it was gonna happen, Dean." Sam barely lets his brother get the words out. "I know everything that's gonna happen."

"You don't know everything." Dean snarks, and Y/N wonders if in one of these hundred timelines, her boyfriend ever just leaves things be instead of challenging them.

"Yeah, I do." Sam counters, and Y/N is about to split up the fighting before it's even started when the two begin to talk at the same time.

"Yeah, right. Nice guess." Dean looks up at that, and Sam just smirks.

"It wasn't a guess." Sam says, but of course Dean can't leave it at that.

"Right, you're a mind reader. Cut it out, Sam. Sam! Sam!" They both lean into the table, getting close to each other. "You think you're being funny, but you're being really really childish. Sam Winchester wears makeup. Sam Winchester cries his way through sex. Sam Winchester keeps a ruler by the bed and evermore when he wakes up-"

"Okay, stop it!" She says, but Sam says it in time with her, causing her to stare at him. He cowers back, knowing he crossed a line.

"Sorry." He mutters, and everyone takes a deep breath. "But that's not all. Randy, the cashier? He's skimming from the register." They all turn to look at the guy at the front, who seems none the wiser to Sam knowing this information.

"Sam," Y/N starts, but Sam doesn't stop to listen to her. Whatever he thinks she's said before, it clearly wasn't important.

"Judge Meyers? At night, he puts on a furry bunny outfit." Sam says it loud enough that Judge Myers hears them and drops his drink, spilling it everywhere. "Over there, that's Cal. He's gonna rob Tony the Mechanic on the way home."

"What's your point?" Dean asks, eyes wide with this information.

"My point is I've lived through every possible Tuesday. I've watched you die every possible way. I even watched you die once." He turns to Y/N, who is still staring at him. "I have ripped apart the mystery spot, burnt it down, tried everything I know to save your life, and I can't. No matter what I do, you die. And then I wake up. And then it's Tuesday again." Y/N and Dean look at each other, and Y/N wonders how many times Sam has watched them do this. She wonders how many times Sam has gone through this exact speech, how many times it took for him to get to where he is now.

~

They're walking back to the hotel, and Sam's still dejected.

"Dog." He says, and on cue, the dog starts barking.

"There's gotta be some way out of this." Y/N says, even though she's sure Sam's tried almost everything.

"Where's my dang keys?" Sam asks, and a moment later they walk around the old man from the diner asking the same thing. "Excuse me." He says, and then a girl brushes past Dean.

"Excuse me." She tells him, and Y/N turns around, about to yell at her.

"Don't yell at her, you'll only start a fight." Sam says as he grabs her arm. She's starting to get annoyed with his futuristic bullshit, so she rips her arm away from his.

"I wasn't going to." She says, and before Sam can tell her that he knows she was, Y/N feels the need to do something different, just to prove him wrong. "Excuse me!" She calls, causing the blonde girl to turn around. Y/N jogs to catch up, leaving the brothers behind her.

"Has she ever done that?" Dean asks, starting to walk back.

"No," Sam says, sounding shocked. Y/N's grabbing a paper by the time they get there, and the girl is walking away. She looks down at the paper, then back up at Sam.

"You've done this a hundred times, and you never thought to check and see what she was carrying?" Y/N asks, and Sam shakes his head.

"Most of the time, I was keeping you from a fight." Sam says, and Y/N rolls her eyes.

"It's a missing poster." She says, holding it up. "For her father." When Y/N drops the last part, Sam's eyes widen and grabs the paper, jogging toward the girl. The dog next to them is barking, and Dean smiles down at them.

"Hey, buddy. Someone need a friend?" He asks as he crouches to pet them. Y/N smiles and leans in closer, and then the dog goes for Dean's jugular as if it's a rabid animal.

"Dean!" Y/N screams, pulling him away from the dog. But he's already gone, blood all over his front and eyes wide still. "Sam!" She calls, and Sam turns to see the scene.

"Shit," He mutters, but at least he figured something out before he had to restart. Something useful.

"This can't be happening."

Day 103

Sam shoots straight up, and from her space in the bathroom, Y/N smiles around her toothpaste. She spits it out as Dean turns up the music, making her way out of the bathroom to pack up and let the boys in to get ready.

Sam is ready to get to breakfast, and after Y/N reminds Dean to grab his gun they're off, Sam bringing his laptop to do some digging into the case. They order from the waitress, sitting in the small booth, and Sam starts to report on his findings from the day before, when he had talked to the missing guy's daughter.

"He writes about local Mystery Spots, debunking them. He's already put four of them out of business. Here." She turns the laptop around so they can see what Sam's found, and the couple start to read up.

"The 'Truth Warrior'?" Y/N asks, with a roll of her eyes.

"More like a Pompous Schmuck, if you ask me." Dean says, leaning over her shoulder.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I mean, I've read everything the guy's ever written. He must've weighed a ton, he was so full of himself." Sam says, and Y/N pauses on that. How has Sam read everything he's ever written if they just started researching this morning?

"When did you read all that?" Y/N asks, and Sam just stares for a moment as the couple looks at him like he's crazy.

"Come on." He avoids the question, grabbing his laptop.

"It's funny, ya know? This guy spends his whole life crapping on mystery spots and then he vanishes in one." Dean says with a chuckle as they stand, and Y/N nods with a smile.

"Kinda poetic." She says, following Dean out the door. They pass when Sam isn't right behind them, turning back to see him staring at an empty plate.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Guy has maple syrup for the past hundred Tuesdays - all the sudden, he's having strawberry?" Sam watches the man that was just in the diner as he walks outside.

"That's not a very funny punchline." Y/N comments, looking at the plate.

"It's a free country, Sam. A man can't choose his own syrup, huh? What have we become?" Dean jokes, causing Y/N to let out a small giggle. Sam doesn't find either of their jokes even worthy of a smile.

"Not in this diner. Not today." He says, completely serious. Y/N's smile begins to fade, because she thinks Sam may actually be crazy. "Nothing in this place ever changes - ever. Except me." Sam says dramatically. Y/N opens her mouth with a small smile.

"This cannot be happening." She says, Sam's eyes widening as he turns to her. "Sam, it's too early for you to lose your marbles."

"No, wait!" He yells, but it's too late.

Day 104

Sam shoots straight up, and from her space in the bathroom, Y/N smiles around her toothpaste. She spits it out as Dean turns up the music, making her way out of the bathroom to pack up and let the boys in to get ready.

"I'm caught in a time loop, and I think I just figured out how to fix it but we have to go to breakfast now." Sam says quickly, rising and going to his bag, changing his clothes without even caring that Y/N is standing right there. She covers her eyes dramatically, even though she's seen it all through the years when she's had to fix him up after hard fights.

"Breakfast sounds good to me." Dean agrees, completely skipping the time loop part as if Sam had told them the weather.

"Don't forget your gun, Dean. I'll lock up. We can talk about it later." Sam says, pulling on his shoes and grabbing Y/N's arm to lead her out the door.

"What the hell are you doing?" She asks, snatching her arm out of his grasp.

"I promise, it will all make sense soon. I just have to get to the diner." He lets Dean and Y/N go ahead before goes back into the room to grab what he needs. He doesn't even complain about the small booth, doesn't snap when Y/N asks for the hundredth time about lunch, and grabs the hot sauce when it falls. When Dean's food finally comes, he seems to be in a better mood.

"So, you think you're caught in some kind of what now?" Dean asks through a mouth of bacon. Y/N scrunches her face in disgust, but she doesn't say anything.

"Eat your breakfast." Sam snaps, and Y/N gives Sam a look, if only because she doesn't dare to say anything to him when he's acting like this. As soon as the man sitting at the bar across from them gets up, Sam follows with the bag he packed.

"What's in the bag?" Dean asks, and Y/N sighs as she stands.

"Nothing good, I'm sure." She says as Dean follows, putting money on the table. Sam follows the man far enough that there aren't a lot of people around before he pushes him against a chainlink fence, a stake pressed to his neck.

"I know who you are. Or should I say 'what'?" Sam says, and Y/N looks at Dean, unsure what to do.

"Oh my God. Please, don't kill me." The man begs, and Y/N steps toward Sam, hand on his bicep.

"Uh, Sam," She starts softly, but he shrugs her off.

"It took me a hell of a long time, but I got it." Sam is acting like nothing else exists, and it's kind of scaring Y/N.

"What?" The man asks, as if Sam really needed prompting to continue.

"It's your M.O. that gave you away. Going after pompous jerks, giving them their just desserts. Your kind loves that, don't they?" Y/N looks at Dean once more, because she is completely lost.

"Yeah, sure. Okay. Just put the stake down." The man begs, and Y/N grabs Dean's arm to try and get him to help.

"Sam, maybe you should-"

"No!" Sam yells, voice deep. It startles Y/N, but Dean is still staring intently. "There's only one creature powerful enough to do what you're doing. Making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops. In fact, you'd pretty much have to be a god. You'd have to be a trickster." Sam says, and Y/N suddenly realizes what Sam is saying.

"Mister, my name is Ed Coleman. My wife's name is Amelia. I've got two kids. For crying out loud, I sell ad space!" Y/N's not sure if the trickster is just putting up a great show, or of if Sam has gone off his rocker and this is his breaking point. She briefly realizes she'd be losing both Winchesters if this is true, so she needs this man to be a trickster. She needs Sam to be right.

"Don't lie to me! I know what you are!" Sam screams. Y/N flinches again, and Dean grabs her hand and squeezes. "We've killed one of your kind before!" The words are barely out of Sam's mouth before Loki is there, in the flesh. The trickster they thought they killed, not actually dead.

"Actually, bucko, you didn't." He says, and Y/N feels Dean push her behind him slightly.

"Why are you doing this." Sam says, keeping the stake pointing to his neck.

"You're joking, right? You chuckleheads tried to kill me last time. Why wouldn't I do this?" The answer makes Y/N angry, but Dean opens his mouth first.

"And Hasselback, what about him?" Dean asks, as if that's the most important thing right now. It's nice he's thinking about the victim, but a trickster they thought they killed is actually alive, and apparently has been putting Sam through time loops.

"That putz? He said he didn't believe in wormholes, so I dropped him in one." The trickster says, and Y/N groans, because of course nothing can be easy. "Huh? Then you guys showed up. I made you the second you hit town." He's saying it all with a smile, and Y/N can't stop herself.

"So this is fun for you?" She asks, and Sam pushes the stake in more.

"You killed Dean over and over again." Sam says, and Y/N can't help but squeeze Dean's arm tighter; Sam hadn't told them about that part of the time loop.

"One - yes, it is fun. And two - this is so not about killing Dean. This joke, is on you, Sam." The trickster says, before he looks over to Y/N. "It could've been on you, too, but I knew you'd figure it out way faster. But Sam, having to watch his brother die every day. Forever. Having to listen to you say the same words again and again." He's smiling, and Y/N feels sick even though she doesn't even know what words he's talking about.

"You son of a bitch." Sam says, but he has nothing else, no other comeback.

"How long will it take you to realize you can't save your brother, no matter what? Hell, sometimes, you can't even save her." Loki taunts, and Y/N wishes Sam would just kill the motherfucker and end this.

"Oh yeah?" Sam asks, pushing him into the fence even more. "I kill you, this all ends now."

"Oh, hey! Whoa, okay, okay. Look, I was just playing around. You can't take a joke, fine. You're out of it. Tomorrow, you wake up, it'll be Wednesday. I swear." Loki says, and Y/N shakes her head.

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" She asks, and he turns to Sam.

"If I'm not, you know where to find me. Having pancakes at the diner." He says simply. Sam looks over to Dean and Y/N, who look at him with the same expression. He knows what he has to do.

"No. Easier to just kill you." He says.

"Sorry, kiddo, can't have that." Loki snaps his fingers, and suddenly he's gone. Y/N groans, rolling her eyes and flopping her body dramatically.

"Don't," Sam says, but it's too late.

"This can't be happening." She complains, and Sam thanks the trickster that at least this time, it wasn't soft and sad.

Day 105

Sam shoots straight up, and from her space in the bathroom, Y/N turns to see him looking wide eyed.

"What, are you gonna sleep all day?" Dean asks around his toothbrush, one hand on Y/N's hip and the other brushing his teeth behind her.

"No Asia." Sam says, and Y/N furrows her brows as Dean leans over her to spit his toothpaste out.

"Yeah, I know. This station sucks." He complains, going over to his bag. Y/N spits out her toothpaste and rinses her mouth, freeing up the bathroom for Sam.

"It's Wednesday!" He says, and Y/N pursues her lips in confusion.

"Yup, it usually comes after Tuesday." She says, going to her shared bag.

"Hey, turn the music off, would ya?" Dean asks, getting in Y/N's way of packing the bag.

"What, are you kidding?" Sam asks, as if Dean was crazy. "This isn't the most beautiful song you've ever heard?" He dramatically jumps out of bed, causing Y/N and Dean to just stare.

"No." Dean says flatly, and Y/N tilts her head slightly.

"Are you alright, Sam?" She asks, walking over to the bed. "You were pretty out of it yesterday." She feels his forehead, and he only lets her because he knows Dean would kill him if he smacked her hand away.

"What happened?" Sam asks, too scared to hope.

"I mean, you were acting all strange, and we ran into the trickster." Dean explains, and Sam smiles as he finishes putting on his shirt.

"Alright, pack your stuff. Let's get the hell out of town, now." Sam says, and Y/N turns to Dean.

"What's up with him?" She asks, and he frowns.

"I don't know, but I want breakfast." Dean says as he walks out of the room, Y/N following.

"No breakfast!" Sam shouts, and she rolls her eyes.

"We can stop somewhere." She whispers as they make their way to the car. Dean puts their bag in, then Y/N's small personal bag, not closing the trunk because Sam's supposed to be right behind them.

"I feel like we made a mistake, letting the trickster go." He says, and she sighs. Before she can respond, however, they turn to see a man pointing a gun at them.

"Give me your wallet." He's shaking, and Y/N can tell this is his first time.

"Hey, woah, we can talk about this, alright?" Dean tries, hands up. Y/N reaches for her gun, but she forgot it in their bag, thinking they were just going out to the car. A stupid, stupid mistake. "Why don't you just put the gun down, we can talk about this." He says, but the man doesn't like the answer. He gets closer, and the second Dean shifts to grab a gun the man shoots. He must've realized his mistake quickly, because he's running before Y/N even screams. She hits the ground, grabbing his body and staring at the bloody mess and the bullet hole on the front.

"Dean?" She whispers, but she knows it's futile. The man may not have had much experience with a gun, but he hit Dean perfectly to kill.

"Dean!" Sam shouts as he runs over. "No, no, no, this wasn't supposed to happen, not today!" He says, and Y/N has no idea what that means but she lets it go as she watches her tears fall onto Dean's freckled face. The love of her life, gone.

"I'm sorry," She says, because she doesn't know what else to say. She should have had her gun on her, should have been able to stop that guy.

"I'm supposed to wake up." Sam says, and Y/N looks up finally.

"What?" She says, cradling Dean's body close to hers.

"Say the thing." He demands, and she flinches back. It's silent for a couple moments as they stare at each other.

"What thing?" She asks, looking back down at Dean. She pushes some stray hairs out of his face, brushing her fingers down his stubble.

"You always say it!" Sam snaps, and Y/N startles. "You say it every time, right before it resets. You have to say it." He begs, and she thinks he must be going crazy.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She whispers as more tears fall down her face.

"'This can't be happening.' Say 'this can't be happening.'" Sam tells her, and she just shakes her head.

"Why?" She doesn't understand, everything feels wrong. Holding Dean's lifeless body is wrong, not feeling his breath is wrong.

"Just do it!" He yells, and she can't help the sob that escapes.

"This can't be happening." She repeats, but nothing happens.

Six Months Later

"Hey, Sam, it's me. I just wanted to let you know that I'm back from Cabo, where I spread some of Dean's ashes. I wish you could've come, Bobby said he hasn't heard from you in awhile, so I figured I should reach out. He said you've been hunting still. Taking care of business. I want to help, Sam. Don't push me away." She takes a deep breath, and Sam can hear the hesitation over the recording. "I know this is hard, Sam. But you've turned into a machine, and I know Dean doesn't want that." She hesitates again, and Sam almost wishes she'd end the call. "Call me, Sam. Please." Finally, the end tone plays, and Sam presses on the gas harder. He knows that Y/N wouldn't approve him summoning the trickster, but he has to do it, he has to get his revenge or get Dean back.

Sam has been on the fringe, he knows, but killing Bobby was a wake up call. He would promise that trickster anything, to just have Dean back. Bobby's voicemails are bad enough, but Y/N's break his already fragile heart. He can barely listen when she does call. He would have sold his soul. But thankfully, he doesn't have to do that. Loki snaps his fingers, and for once - no, this makes twice - Sam doesn't have to hear the God forsaken words come out of Y/N's mouth before everything goes black.

Wednesday

Sam shoots straight up, and from her space in the bathroom, Y/N turns to see him looking wide eyed.

"What, are you gonna sleep all day?" Dean asks around his toothbrush, one hand on Y/N's hip and the other brushing his teeth behind her. Sam continues to stare, and Dean spits out the toothpaste over Y/N. "I know, no Asia. This station sucks." Dean complains, and Y/N rolls her eyes as she spits out her own toothpaste.

"It's Wednesday." He says softly, and Y/N briefly wonders if he had a nightmare. She didn't hear any tossing or turning, but that didn't mean much.

"Yup, it usually comes after Tuesday." She says, going to her shared bag.

"Hey, turn the music off, would ya?" Dean asks, getting in Y/N's way of packing the bag. She smiles up at him, but then Sam comes over, grabbing Dean around the shoulders and pulling him in for a hug. She steps back to let them have their moment, but Dean is looking at her confused over Sam's shoulder.

"Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?" He asks, and Sam breathes deeply.

"Enough." He answers, then pulls back. "Wait, what do you remember." He looks at the both of them, so Y/N answers.

"You were pretty out of it yesterday." She says, recalling how erratic he had acted at the diner.

"Yeah, you were acting all strange, and we ran into the trickster." Dean says, and Sam nods. "That's about it."

"Let's go." Sam finally says with a small smile.

"No breakfast?" Dean asks, and Sam chuckles.

"We can get breakfast on the way." She tells him, and both of them nod. "Are you sure you're okay, Sam?" She knows something's up, but Sam is trying to play it off.

"I just had a really weird dream." Sam says, and Y/N nods. "And Y/N, don't ever leave the hotel without your gun again. Ever." He says, and Y/N furrows her brow.

"We're literally going to parking lot." She says, but Sam shakes his head.

"Trust me, don't do." He picks up his bag, and Y/N shrugs, grabbing her gun out of her personal bag before following Dean out, Sam bringing up the rear.

"I really hope this is happening." Sam says as he looks at the bed that he woke up in over a hundred times, then closes the door. 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @king-of-milf-lovers @lyarr24

[princessmaeee]

All for Us Part VI _ Final Part Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Hello Sweeties ! So as I saw in the votes, you asked for this L A S T par of this story, so there it is ! It's not that long cause I didn't had much to say. I just wanted to do a beautiful and simple end cause I think both deserve it. It wasn't a long Story, but it was long compare to everything I wrote in the last years and I'm proud of myself ! I realised later than the title is kinda bad cause I just made a bad translation from the french but the good title should be '' Everything for Us '' but I will let it like it is cause, Why not. My first Fanfiction in years, my first fanfiction I finishied since my highschool years ( 11 years at least ) and my first published Smut in Years too. Overall I'm proud of myself and I wish I will do more other stories and I hope to be able to finish them all. Thanks to everyone who followed and Love this story. I hope to see you again for other ones !

Tags : @private-vampire - @rafesbunniebby - @ultracoolnobody @chxrrybomb22

You didn't remember what happened after you voted to go home. It was the majority of you. You remembered Thanos voting X too, but after the light off, everything was fuggy. When you opened your eyes, you were on the dirty ground where you were picked when you joined the game. You had a blindfold, well you guessed it was it, who had felt it on your neck. Your feets and wrists were tied up and you could feel the cold breeze of the night. Those bastards let you in underwear in the middle of a street. Luckily for you, You noticed your clothes close to you and after a moment, trying to untie your wrist, you quickly do the same for your legs before putting on your clothes. 

Your phone was in the pocket of your sweater and of course, it ran out of energy. Your apartment keys were still in your jean’s pocket. 

You felt tired and durty. A good bath and 24h hours of sleep is going to be well deserved, but first, you need to check on something.

You go to the nearest convenient store and put your card in the ATM to take a look at your account. Your heart was racing in your chest. What if it was just a dream ? What if they lied ? 

Even if you didn't felt right to be happy, you couldn't stop smiling when you noticed the big amount of money you had in your account. Tears of joy appeared in your eyes, slowly cascading on your cheeks. Finally, The suffering and anxiety will be over. A hand on your stomach, you smiled at it.

«-I promise, You gonna have a beautiful Life…»

Once you got home, as you expected, the door locks were smashed. The guys who were chasing you for money probably entered the apartment while you weren't there.

Stressed, you opened the door and you felt sad to notice how everything was destroyed. This didn't look nice anymore, but you still have to stay there, at least until you could join Thanos or even that guy who messed up your apartment to give him the money. 

Plugging your phone to the charger, you start to clean around as much as you can. 

After a moment, when your house was clean enough for the energy you had, you go back to your phone and noticed a lot of unread messages from the guy who landed you money. Unsure, you text him back a simple ; I have your money. Let meet up Tomorrow.

You also get a Message, well, many, from Thanos. He seemed anxious about you and the baby.

“-Had you made it home yet ? “ -23h07 “-You can come to my place if you want “ 23h12 “-Or I can come over “ -23h13 “-Princess Are you all right ?” -23h20 “-I Got the money from the game. I can send you some if you want. “ -23h22 “-I know your debts are all my fault anyway…”-23h22 “-Seniorita Please answer me. Are you alright ? Is the baby’s fine ??!! ”-23h25 “-If I don't get an answer I'm going to show up at your place ! “-23h33 “-Okey I'm coming !! ” -23h45

You looked at the time : 23h55.  You smiled and answered him 

“-I'm fine, my phone Ran out of power. No need to come over. Go at your place and rest “ - 23h56 “-I want to rest with You. Gonna bring snack. What do you want ? Ice Cream and Pinault butter ?”-23h58 “-Im Fine!! And of course Not, I don't have  any weird pregnancy cravings. “-00h00 “-Not Yet ;) Anyway, still on my way…with snacks”-00h08

Your smile never left your face. Thanos was always really caring with you but somehow you feel like it was different this time, like he really made an effort and it made you happy.

When he arrived, he opened the door as you were still cleaning up the apartment. He looked around, visibly confused by all the mess around.

«-What happened here ? »

You explained to him the problems you got cause of your debts who’s also his or cause of him. Thanos felt bad you had to go traught all this cause of his addiction and helped you to clean as much as possible. Once everything was less messy, you both enjoyed some Snacks he bring and that’s when you realised how hungry you were. He bought you some of your favorite Ramen, chips and little cake. 

He also gave you an envelope with money. It was the exact amount you need to give to the guy you will meet tomorrow. He apologized and insisted you keep it. You felt touched by this and accepted his money.

«-I really want you to keep the money you get from the game for our child. And for Yourself, of course.  -What about your own debts ? -I will figure it out. And I still have some left so don’t worry about me. I want to go back to music and earn money of my own. I want to make you and our child proud. And for something else… -Something else ? Like what ? A home ? It's pretty expensive. -Well, not for a home, but it could be a plan for later. The other thing dépend more on your decision. -which is ? »

You both were sitting on your bed and Thanos got up  to kneel in front of you, gently taking your hand in his. You looked at him, breathtaking. Your heart stops beating for a second before it starts to beat faster. You could feel your eyes feeling with water.

«- Y/N would you accept to be my wife ? »

You were too shocked to answer. Tears flowing from your eyes as you just quickly nod  your head. It wasn't the romantic scene you always dream of, but coming from Su Bong it was the most romantic thing he ever did. Even if you were both exhausted, still in debts and even if you didn’t have a Ring for you, yet, this moment felt the happiest of your life. You throw yourself in his arms, still crying as you repeat ‘’ Yes ! ‘’ Again and again. Su Bong smiled and held you close, gently caressing your hair.

«-My dear and Beautifull Wife, He said before kissing you. »

This relationship with him was a total rollercoaster of emotion, but your love for each other was just too strong to let you away from each other. Faith does good things, sometimes.

The next day goes well, you got rid of your debts, Thanos started to go to therapy to avoid touching drugs again, so did you.

You moved In together, he worked on new music, new songs, starting to slowly go back on stage while you went back to school. You dropped one year ago but you chose an option you really like. It wasn’t easy with the pregnancy and Had to do a lot of school classes and take more time.

Life with your Now, fiancé wasn’t alway easy. When he felt the side effect of always being sober you fighted a lot, but at the end He apologies and you were understanding considering all the efforts he did for you, the baby and your relationship. Sometime, you fucked to avoid fighting or when Su bon needed a big high. He said you were his new addiction and even dedicated you to a song where He talks about how much He loves you and how you changed his life.

Eventually, you gave birth to a beautiful Daughter. Su bon said once he really would like to have a boy, but when He hold his little baby daughter in his arms for the first time, he almost cried and didn't let go of her. He quickly became over protective with her. He also wrote a song about her and it became a great hit. That’s how He were able to afford your engagement ring.

Your life goes back on track and you feel happy despite what you had been taught with the game. You and Su Bong got a matching tattoo with the number you were during the game as a sort of memorial for the ones who died in there but also as a reminder to yourself to be careful with your money and every decision you will take, cause you never want to live an experience like that ever again.

[writereleaserepeat]

Hear No Evil - Chapter 3

Masterlist

Chapter 2 // Next (tbd)

CW: bbu, bbu-typical institutional slavery, nonsexual and sexual nudity, implied prior noncon, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize

Rowan stared down, transfixed on the boy kneeling at his feet. The starkness of it all washed through his blood like ice. His eyes swept over the pale, naked skin, a canvas covered in scars that spanned hues from pale white to deep red. Fresh bruises overlaid the scars, a similar patchwork of purples and blues that belied the shape of handprints and bludgeoning tools. As he drank in the carnage, it dawned on Rowan that the boy was even scrawnier than he’d suspected when peering through the bars of the cage on the sales floor. Now, in the bright lights of his condo, he could see frail that ribs showed through the taut skin of the boy's back.  

Then, Rowan’s eyes locked on the thick, standard-issue leather collar, the only item resembling clothes this boy had been afforded for transit. It was tight around his neck, a small padlock affixed in the back. Rowan knew that the key had been secured somewhere in the box, likely in a packet along with the rest of the paperwork. The paperwork, of course, that was affixed to the lid of the empty box just a few feet away.

“Hey there,” Rowan said, using the same voice he would if he were speaking to an injured child. What else could he do? He was in a position of undeniable power and influence, and the least he could do was try to reduce the threat of his very presence. “My name is Rowan Bailey, but uh, you can just call me Rowan. Welcome home. Well, it doesn’t have to be your home forever, but uh, for now, yeah? Oh, man, I’m getting ahead of myself here. I’m already talking too much, I know, I’m sorry. I just want you to know that you’re safe now. That’s the most important part. You’re safe now, and you’re going to live here for a little while, and I’m going to help you. You’re safe, I promise”

The boy didn’t react, didn’t flinch, didn’t lift his head. Rowan bit down on his lower lip, still tender from where he’d worried it raw overnight. Part of him wondered if even a single word of what he’d just said had gotten through, stirred any understanding, instilled any comfort. How could it, when Rowan didn’t even believe in himself?   

---

The pet strained to make out what Master was saying. There was a warm buzz of words above its head, but it couldn’t discern a single one. Master had certainly said a lot, and the pet could only hope that there hadn’t been any important instructions. Its first impression with its new master was important, it knew that. Its old master had discarded it for this same insolence, this same tendency to ignore his words and to exist only between the ringing of its own ears.

So the pet strained further, titled its chin up just a little bit, hoping that it could steal a glance upwards and to Master’s lips. Then, only then, it might be able to discern the commands from the other rambling words. And if it failed to do so now, it would certainly feel the sting of its disobedience in short order.

---

The boy didn’t move, much to Rowan’s disappointment. He felt almost certain that he’d said something wrong, or otherwise not said something that he should have to get his attention. It’s not like he could ask the boy’s name – he knew that the so-called pets were expected to respond to their ID numbers, but there were no proper names given – and it’s not like they could speak as equals until some serious deprogramming had taken place. As far as the boy was concerned, Rowan owned him body, mind, and soul. There was no conversation to be had.

Rowan took another breath to muse over his current situation. He wrung his hands together to hide the fact that his fingers were shaking, body buzzing with adrenaline. All he’d done so far was talk, rambling and tripping over his words, a directionless prattling of platitudes. Since he hadn’t issued an explicit command, perhaps, it was possible the boy wasn’t going to move or respond until Rowan gave him something more to work with.

For all his time and effort invested into the PLF and its mission to liberate people from oppression, Rowan had never spent much time with victims in active rehabilitation, and certainly none in the early stages of rescue like this. He was trained to blend into the crowds of buyers, of skeptics, of men poisoned by lechery, lust, and power. His mission was to capture the horrors, the abuses, to steel his stomach against the cogs of the system and the bodies it crushed as they turned. And with the coolness of an undercover operative, he’d sit at this desk into the early hours of the morning, stitching together the footage and audio that he’d spent his weekends capturing. It was the niche in which he’d thrived, and it was one that he’d never had an interest in moving beyond.

Facing the victims that had been pulled out of hell was a different skillset altogether. Rowan believed it wasn’t just a different skillset, but an entirely different personality type, that was required to do such important work. To try and heal the victims, to see them clawing their way to personhood from brokenness, had always put a deep discomfort in his bones.

But now, his own discomfort would have to be secondary. He’d made the decision to bring this boy into his home, and now it was his solemn duty and obligation to bring the boy from where he knelt now and into a future of freedom. Rowan knew that it would take the heart of a man much stronger and braver than himself in the moment, but for now, he was all the boy had.  

“Alright,” he said out loud, hoping his voice sounded steady despite his nerves. “I’m going to head over to the box you got here in, yeah? I’m going to grab the papers there and find the key to undo your collar. Once I get that off, I’ll show you your room and some of the clothes I got for you. I think- well, I know that the papers lied about your weight, so I’m sorry if the clothes are a bit big. You can get dressed and then I’ll make us lunch. I’m sure you’re hungry – have they fed you? Oh, that’s a stupid question, of course they haven’t, they never give food or water before transport. Right. That’ll be our second order of business, then. Collar off, bedroom and clothes, then food and water. That sounds like a plan, yeah?”

Rowan thought he could see the boy’s head perk up just slightly, almost imperceptibly, eyes peeking up between thick black eyelashes and unkempt hair. But as soon as Rowan peered down at the boy’s face, that same gaze darted back down.

“Oh, it’s okay, you can look at me,” Rowan continued to ramble as he fished the key to the collar’s padlock out of the black bag that included another standard-issue collar, an ID tag with Rowan’s contact information and the boy’s WRU number, and a referral card to WRU-sponsored electric collars. Once the collar was off the boy’s neck, this whole bag would be disposed of, Rowan was sure of that. He’d never have to wear such a cruel device again, not so long as Rowan was breathing.

Despite his attempt at reassurance, the boy kept his eyes glued to the floor. If they were going to make any progress, Rowan knew he couldn’t let it bother him, and he certainly couldn’t take that behavior personally. They had to take this at the boy’s pace, not his own. However slow that would be, Rowan had to be okay with it.

“I’m going to touch your neck now,” he said as he leaned down towards the collar. “You can let me know if I need to stop. I’m just going to unlock this collar, and then I’m going take it off.” Just as the rehabilitation materials had encouraged, Rowan walked through every step of what he was going to do, using plain words and reassurances.

He also knew that he’d receive no protest. Resistance and the concept of refusal were trained out of victims of the system, so he just had to hope that he was doing right by the boy in removing the collar right from the start. Part of him wondered if this action was for his own comfort rather than his new guest’s comfort, but he couldn’t stomach such a blatant sign of the system binding this victim. There was no way he could hope to begin rehabilitation with a mark of ownership sitting heavy on the victim’s neck.

The padlock came undone with just a slight twist of the key, and the collar came unbuckled just as easily. Rowan eased the collar off and stuffed it in the bag, tossed the key in after it, and cinched it shut. It would go in the bin just as soon as the boy was settled in.

“There, how’s that feel? It must feel nice to let that skin breathe a bit. I’ll take care of that – I promise you’ll never have to see that collar again.”

---

The pet felt more naked without its collar than it actually felt from its true nakedness. The collar from its old master had been exchanged for a standard-issue collar once it had been processed through the facility, but it seemed that Master had no intention of fitting it for a new one at the moment. That was okay with the pet, of course it was, because its job was to abide by its new master’s preferences. If that meant that it would go without a collar, so be it. Perhaps Master had a different mark of ownership that he preferred.

Master was talking still, going on and on, a soft hum of sound that wrapped through the hall. He’d stepped to the side, so the pet couldn’t try to read his lips even if it dared to look up. Given that there was no shouting, or no blows against its body, it figured that there hadn’t been a command yet. It strained its senses for the sharp bark of a command, a change in tone that would indicate the pet’s attention was needed, but none came.

Instead, Master began to walk down the hall, spilling words into empty air. After a moment Master’s footsteps stopped, and turned back towards the pet.

Oh, the pet realized with a jolt of fear up its spine, Master wanted it to follow.

So, follow it did. It did so on its hands and knees, as was expected unless given the command to stand and walk, and it followed Master down the hallways of its new quarters. Something inside its chest tightened, a sensation of both fear and excitement. What awaited it down this hall? What would its first few hours here with Master bring? Its skin puckered with the lingering chill of transport, and its body ached with the final bruises and scars of the latest refurbishment cycle, but it could bear whatever lessons Master was going to imbue. After all, it wanted nothing more than to serve Master with all of its being. It wanted to be good.

---

“You, ah, can walk if you’d prefer. Upright, that is, on your feet. Or, uhm, if that’s more comfortable for you right now, that’s fine too.” Rowan felt like he was tripping over his words as he looked back at the boy crawling behind him. It was enough to make him feel like he was going to be sick.

This isn’t about you, he reminded himself again. This isn’t about you and your comfort level. Get comfortable with being uncomfortable.

The second bedroom was the first door past the kitchen, a door which Rowan had left ajar. He’d purchased a two-bedroom condo with the intention to use the second bedroom as his office, which it had been for the last three years. That was, of course, until the early hours of the morning as he’d prepared for the boy’s arrival.

In many ways it was still more of an office than a bedroom. A few hours had only given Rowan so much time to redo the space in preparation for his guest’s arrival. There were some things – including way too many boxes of old AV equipment piled in the far corner – that wouldn’t have a place in the condo otherwise. But Rowan had still managed to take out the desk and his main workstation so the futon would fit comfortably. He’d also filled the filing cabinet drawers with the clothes he’d purchased for the boy, a temporary fix that would have to be sufficient until he got a proper dresser set up. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was certainly more than the boy would have been afforded in the training facility.  

“Here we are,” Rowan said as he swung the door fully open and turned on the light, “this is your room. I know it’s really messy right now, and that there’s a lot of junk in here, but I’ll have that moved out in no time. But, yeah, the futon is yours, your bed I mean. All of those blankets are yours too, but you don’t have to use them all, just however many you want. I didn’t have more than one extra pillow, but I have another one on order. I’ll get around to ordering you a proper bed this week, you know, a mattress and all, plus some new sheets. Those sheets there are clean, I promise, but I didn’t have time to patch the holes or deal with the fraying. I mean, okay, I didn’t have time to do even half of what I wanted before you got here. But this was kind of a last minute thing. I know that doesn’t make it right. But, I mean, those clothes are yours, feel free to put them on. If you don’t like those, there are some more in the filing cabinet over there, some different options for pants and shirts and stuff, maybe you’ll want to layer up. I bet it’s a little cold in here for you, yeah? I can turn up the heat. Or if you’re fine, I won’t. It’s your call, yeah.”

Rowan wished he had the ability to shut up. He was usually more composed, more succinct in his words, concise and direct. Silence and attentiveness was his trade. Now, with the world shifting beneath his feet - the feet at which a young man knelt - he felt like he was coming undone. Words came freely from an otherwise tightly-sealed mouth. But the boy crawled into the room with fluid determination, clearly indicative he’d retained something from Rowan’s rambling.

Instead of going to the bed, and instead of proceeding towards the filing cabinet with the clothes, the boy crawled to the center of the floorspace that Rowan had cleared and resumed his kneeling position there. Motionless.

---

The pet tried to glimpse what it could of the room as it moved forward, head bowed, eyes supposed to be on the floor. There was something resembling a bed to its left, and piles of boxes to its right. There was some furniture further into the room it couldn’t quite get a good look at, not from this angle. Still, it could sense the room was small, furnished as though it were an afterthought.

Master was much chattier than its old master, a continuous hum of noise that should be words, but words that the pet couldn’t quite hear. It was still all too distant through the ringing in its ears. Fear replaced frustration, it always did now, ever since the last of its hearing had started to fade. Its attempt to obey any commands, even at the training facility, were usually its best guesses. Only when its old master or its trainers would raise their voices, bringing their yells to a fever pitch, could it reliably decipher what they wanted.

Of course, it couldn’t raise the issue with them. For as much as hearing had been taken from it, speaking had been taken from it as well. A pet was seen, and not heard. Its old master had commanded complete and utter silence, and since the pet had failed to obey that simple principle, it had paid in its hearing.

Silence. And so now, as it knelt and prostrated before Master, it ensured its breath was level. No errant wheezing, no sobs choked up in the back of its throat, no whining or whimpering. Silence, beautiful silence, and listening as best it could for whatever command might follow.

---

“You go ahead and get dressed, yeah? I’m going to head to the kitchen get us both something to eat. I’m not really sure I have the stomach for it – hell, I’m not sure you do either – but it’ll be easier to tackle the day with some food in our systems. I’ll make sure to get you some water too, you’re probably parched. I’ll shut the door so you have some privacy, and I should be back in just a little.”

Rowan still wasn’t sure whether any of his words were getting through, but he knew he had to try. A few steps back and he shut the door, giving the boy enough time to cover himself in private. In the meantime, Rowan turned his attention to making something resembling a meal. He had picked up a smattering of ingredients from the supermarket last night, as much as he could grab in the fifteen minutes before it had closed. That haphazard grocery haul had included a few varieties of jams and breads. Rowan had no idea if the boy had any personal preferences for his sandwiches, and he had a feeling that he wasn’t going to learn any time soon.

“Can’t go wrong with a PB&J, right?” He muttered to himself as he opened the fridge to grab the bright purple grape jelly. “That’s a solid meal, shouldn’t upset the stomach, palatable by most people’s standards. Yeah, some peanut butter and grape jelly for me and him, that’s the plan.”

The sandwiches came together quickly, although Rowan paused to put an extra spoonful of peanut butter on the boy’s sandwich, and then another. It looked like he was at least thirty pounds lighter than had been marked in his WRU papers, and likely at least twenty pounds lighter than he should be for his size. Although Rowan wouldn’t be able to tell for certain until he convinced the boy to stand, it seemed that there would be a lot of dense and calorie-rich meals in the boy’s future. But as with everything else, healing from starvation would require time and the intervention of professionals much better equipped than Rowan. A sandwich would have to be a good enough start.

Rowan fished his phone out of his back pocket and glanced at it. The screen was blank – no missed calls, no missed texts. It seemed that the rehabilitator hadn’t called him yet. After double-checking to make sure that his ringer was on so he wouldn’t miss the call when it came, he grabbed the plate with the boy’s sandwich, as well as a fresh glass of water, and took it back to the bedroom.

A knock on the bedroom door elicited no reaction, not even a creak of the floorboards. Rowan hadn’t exactly expected an answer, but he still paused an extra moment before pushing the door open.

To his disappointment, but certainly not his surprise, the boy was kneeling in the exact same position he’d been left in almost ten minutes prior. The blankets hadn’t moved, the drawers hadn’t been opened, and the boy was still naked. He clearly hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Alright, you don’t have to get dressed, I guess,” Rowan tried. Again, he would certainly feel better if the boy got dressed, but he wasn’t going to push his luck. Not yet. Clothes would come in due time, and as long as he was meeting the boy’s needs, discomfort was survivable.

Instead of pressing the matter further he knelt and placed the plate and glass of water within his new guest’s reach. Even this didn’t elicit any movement. Maybe, just maybe, Rowan thought he saw the boy draw in a slightly deeper breath, skin shifting over his stark and visible ribs. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light.

Before Rowan could speak again, his phone rang.

Ah, shit. A quick glance at the screen confirmed that it was the call he’d been waiting for.

“I’m real sorry, I have to take this call,” Rowan said while scrambling to his feet. “I’ll be back soon – you can go ahead and eat and drink, yeah? That’s all yours.”

A few seconds later and he was out the door, phone up against his ear.

“Hello, this is Rowan Bailey.”

“Mr. Bailey, this is Angela Herrera, the PLF Rehabilitation Specialist assigned to your case. Mr. Greyson Valentine reached out to me personally to make sure you had immediate support for this unexpected intake.”

Again, just as with Grey’s call, Rowan felt an immediate sense of relief. He wasn’t in this alone. Not now, not ever. There were people that were going to fight for this victim with the same zeal and enthusiasm as they had for so many others. It didn’t matter that Rowan fucked up by taking this on so brazenly, not in the grand scheme of things. Help was on the way.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear your voice. And, please, Rowan is just fine. Did Grey – I mean Greyson – tell you the details of our situation here?”

“Rowan, got it. As for the details, well, I got the Clifnotes version via email. It seems that you brought a ward home from a liquidation event with no prior notice or planning. You’re currently lacking any advanced rehabilitation training, and no rehabilitation training with high support cases like this one. You’ve held a primarily investigative job with little to no interaction with victims in rehabilitation at all. And, if I can make a guess from your voice, I’d presume your new guest has already arrived?”

“Yeah,” Rowan said with a wry chuckle, “you’ve got the gist of it. And now I’ve got a naked man in my spare bedroom, and I’m trying to get him to eat a sandwich or get dressed without either of us crying. I’m in over my head here, if I’m being honest. I just wanted to do a good thing, but now all I can think about is how much I’ve fucked up.”  

“You did a good thing. I promise, no matter how ill-equipped you might feel right now, you still did a very, very good thing. Rescues aren’t always as clean and well-prepared as they seem in the rehabilitation materials and training modules. For every perfect rescue, the ones where the ward is painstakingly selected based on their best chances at successful rehabilitation and reintegration, there are scrappy, impulsive, and unexpected rescues from well-meaning individuals like yourself. And let me tell you upfront, most of those rescues get happy endings too. That’s where I come in. My job is to support you and make sure that this goes as smoothly as possible, and we can work together to get our new friend healthy and confident in their personhood.”

Her voice was level and soothing, as though she’d practiced these words dozens of times. Maybe she had. It was her job, after all, wasn’t it?

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” she said, and Rowan heard the faint shuffle of papers. “And I’m already getting materials prepared so I can come over and do an assessment and get you guys started on the path to recovery. What does your availability look like for a visit today or tomorrow?”

“I’m completely free until next Monday, which is when I have to go back to work. I took a few days of PTO to handle this whole… situation.”

“I can work with that. It looks like you’re not too far from me, so how about I head over in a few hours? I want to make sure I have all of my materials here in order for you first, but after that, I’m ready to get this case opened and some progress started for both of you.”

“Please,” he said, and he hoped after the words left his mouth that he hadn’t sounded as desperate as he felt. “Today is great. Any time, as soon as you’re ready, we’ll be here.”

“Sounds like a plan, then. I’ll finish getting my things together and then I’ll be on my way. Focus your energy on surviving the next few hours, get him as settled as you can, and then we can take it from there together. I’ll see you soon.”

Can’t be soon enough, Rowan thought, casting his gaze back to the closed bedroom door.

---

The pet stared at the food lingering just within its reach. Its stomach growled with a painful gnawing sensation, a hunger that it felt in its very soul. It couldn’t remember the last time it had eaten a full meal, even a proper serving of the standard issue nutrient shakes at the facility. The last time it had real food, proper food like this, had been with its old master. And even then, it had been many, many months. Maybe it had been years. Only good pets got proper meals, and its old master had been certain about one thing: the pet was not a good pet.

Even after Master had left the room, the pet knew better than to touch either the water or the food. It hadn’t been given permission to eat, not yet. No matter how thirsty, and no matter how hungry, it knew that if it were to survive under Master’s rule, it would have to be obedient. That meant that until it was explicitly allowed to touch this food, until it was given the order to eat and to drink, it would continue to wait patiently.

Hunger was a familiar companion by now. Food was denied as part of its training, often one of its first punishments, and its continued disobedience now showed in how frail the pet had become. It had watched as its ribs began to appear, first barely perceptible across its abdomen, and then so sharp that they caught shadows in the low light. Then came the dizziness, the shakes, the difficulty with its memory. The skin over its collarbones had been pulled tight, and it felt like coldness sat in the hollows between its shoulders and its neck. Its fingers had always been thin, but now they were skeletal, the tendons of its hands dancing like the strings of a marionette whenever it moved.

Those same hands rested patiently on its thighs now. The aesthetics of its body had never bothered the pet, and it knew that its hair and body were to be kept according to its masters preferences. Maybe Master would expect it to keep this particularly lithe form, which the pet wouldn’t mind. It only hoped, a hope that was brief and fleeting, that it would be permitted to eat enough that the incessant shaking and dizziness would finally cease.

The sight of feet reappearing pulled the pet from its wandering thoughts and ever-present hunger.

---

Much to Rowan’s disappointment, both the sandwich and the water remained untouched. Again, just as the first time he left the room, it appeared that the boy hadn’t moved at all.

This second instance of inaction gave Rowan immediate pause. This behavior was exactly what the paperwork had said about the boy, hadn’t it? He’d been sent to the liquidation floor because of apparent selective disobedience to commands.  

But Rowan hadn’t given a command, not in the sense that most people did when they spoke to their pets. His suggestions had been conversational at best, his best attempt to emphasize the importance of the boy’s autonomy from the very beginning. The rehabilitation handbook had said this method worked for some individuals who were eager to grasp that first bit of freedom.

Others, however, would sometimes require the familiarity of commands and hierarchical structures before they were comfortable enough to come out of their shells. It seemed that maybe this boy would be a part of the latter group.

Rowan had hoped that he would go his entire life without feeding into the depravity of the system, that he would never issue a command to another human being, that he would treat all persons as equals to himself. But his own choices, his own rash decisions that brought the boy here in the first place, meant that this philosophy would have to change.

It wouldn’t hurt to try gentle persuasion one more time, though, would it? For his own sake, Rowan knew would have to try.

“Hey,” he said, trying to keep his voice soft despite the lump in his throat, “I need to make sure you’re eating and drinking, okay? I don’t know when they fed you last, or if you’re even feeling okay right now, but can you at least drink that glass of water and eat that food? Please?”

Nothing. Not so much as a blink or a twitch that showed any recognition of what Rowan was asking. The boy hadn’t even acknowledged Rowan’s presence besides following him to the bedroom.

Fuck, he groaned internally. There was no use in putting it off any longer. He’d gotten himself into this mess, and now he was going to have to get them both out. It was time to grow a spine.

“You need to eat and drink,” Rowan said, raising his voice ever so slightly. He winced in spite of himself. “You’re going to drink that full glass of water, and eat all of the food on that plate. Now.”

To his horror and surprise, it worked.

---

Master’s voice split from its warm murmuring to a tone that was sharp and commanding. It was the cue the pet had been waiting for.

Cautiously, ever-so-carefully, the pet raised its eyes to meet Master’s lips. It peered through the web of its greasy-thick hair and tried to make out exactly what Master wanted it to do. Lips moved, sharp words cut, and the pet thought it understood.

Drink the water, eat the food.

There would be no second chance to get this right. The pet was incredulous that those were truly the words that Master had uttered. But that increase in vocal pitch, paired with the movement of Master’s lips, was all that the pet could abide.

Even if it was wrong, and even if it had mistaken the precise command Master had issued, it was hopeful that it would at least get a mouthful of water to soothe its parched tongue before the punishment came.

The pet slowly moved its hand from its lap and towards the glass of water. It braced itself for a kick to the ribs, or perhaps another blow to the head, but none came. Hand trembling, both from the fear it couldn’t mask and exhaustion of the last few days, it grabbed the glass. Just as methodically, still waiting for a correction, it raised the glass to its lips. A final pause. No correction came.

It drank. It drank with a ravenous thirst, one that one single glass wouldn’t quench. It could have easily drunk another glass, no, three or four more glasses. The taste of the cool water over its tongue was heavenly bliss. The relief and release of the drink was enough, just for a moment, to dissolve the fear of being in a new place with its new master.

Fear returned as it reached out to grab the sandwich. Eating this would be more challenging, requiring just enough grace so that not even a single crumb spilled from the corners of its lips, but still demonstrating the swiftness and efficiency that was expected of a good pet. Wasting food was a sign of disrespect, and the pet was absolutely grateful for a meal like this. It had no intention to disrespect Master and his generous offerings.

As carefully and daintily as it could, the pet tore its teeth through the bread and the thick spread of peanut butter and grape. It was so hungry that it didn’t pause to appreciate the flavors or textures. Instead, it focused on devouring as neatly as was possible in a near animal state. Without its training it might not have accomplished such a feat, but somehow, it managed to eat the entire offering without a crumb dropping to the floor.

A rumble came from Master’s lips, that same warmness that he’d been using since the pet first emerged from its box. Although some part of it expected some punishment for eating, it didn’t come. Instead, all the pet could feel was some queasiness: it had been so long since it had eaten a meal of that size, and its stomach was soured by the heaviness and a lingering hunger from the recesses of its mind. The signals in its body were conflicting between hunger and nourishment, and the pet could only hope it would keep the meal down long enough for it to make a difference in its foggy mind.

Maybe the meal had been the punishment in and of itself? Maybe, just maybe, keeping itself together after the meal was its first test?

Then another command, a sharp voice, and Master’s feet turned towards the door. The pet hadn’t had the opportunity to look up at his lips, but the options were to either stay or to follow. It paused to think, a moment in time to decide its fate. Master had left the room before, but hadn’t issued a command, and the pet had done right by staying. Now, Master was leaving, but had clearly spoken a command. It paused a moment, but could intuit that the command had been to follow, rather than to stay.

And so it followed.

---

“Follow me to the bathroom, let’s get you cleaned up,” Rowan barked out. He still tried to speak gently, but it seemed that a sharper, more commanding tone was the only thing that was going to work for now. It felt too much like shouting for comfort, and the act of issuing commands itself was disconcerting, but the boy didn’t seem bothered. Still on his hands and knees, the scarred houseguest followed Rowan’s every step.

It was a short walk across the hall to the bathroom. The smell of bleach still lingered in the air, but at least Rowan had been able to mask the stench of mildew and weeks of neglect. For now, though the white tiles didn’t gleam, it was serviceable for a shower.

Rowan patted the new towels he had folded and placed on the toilet tank. Although he wasn’t issuing a command, because the boy hadn’t looked up, Rowan raised his voice slightly nonetheless. It was the only thing that seemed to get through to him.

“These towels and washcloths are yours, so use as many as you need. Soap, shampoo, conditioner, it’s all in the shower. Go ahead and clean yourself up, yeah? Take as long as you want, use hot water, use whatever is in there. It’s not much, but I’m going to pick up some more things that are just for you later this week.”

He stepped towards the door, lingering for just a moment to see if they boy would respond. Instead of verbal recognition, the boy’s frail frame clambered over the lip of the bathtub and into the newly-cleaned porcelain. Hands started to reach for the knobs to turn on the water, head still bowed, so Rowan took his leave.

---

The pet tried not to wrinkle its nose at the heavy stench of powdered bleach lingering in the air. It could already feel the burns that would form on the skin of its palms as it scrubbed the bathroom clean with the caustic chemicals. It knew it shouldn’t have preferences, but it did anyway. They couldn’t beat the preference out of it, no matter how hard they tried. There were so many cleaning products that were easier to work with, that didn’t burn its lungs and throat, that didn’t make its hands raw and red with pain the way that powdered bleach did.

But the bathroom wasn’t the thing that Master had asked it to clean, at least not yet. There was no use dreading an uncertain future. Instead, Master had asked it to clean itself, make itself presentable.

There was no surprise there. The fear and discomfort had served it well, and would continue to serve it well as it learned what Master expected of it. It had shown restraint in waiting to eat until a command was issued, and it had showed obedience in following Master’s commands to follow and to shower. But now, the pet was being asked to read between the lines. A good pet was not only responsive, but could anticipate its master’s needs with effortless grace.

There were few things that a new master would want to explore with their pet on their first day, and the pet was well-acquainted with what likely came next. It certainly wasn’t as clean as its old master would have required before such activities, having only received a quick hose-down before it was loaded into its box. There was still some dried blood stuck to its skin, and its scalp was thick with grease and dandruff that it hadn’t been able to wash out since it began its refurbishment those many weeks ago. Its nose was blind to it by now, but the pet was certain that it smelled faintly like the fear and sweat that clung to the training facility walls.

If it had any hope of pleasing its new master, it would have to spend the time and effort to clean itself up a bit more. First impressions, particularly first impressions of its primary skillsets, were of the utmost importance.

After a few moments of scrutinizing the silver knobs on the wall, it eased the showerhead on. It flinched as the cold water hit its skin, it always did, but then it relaxed into the gentle stream. This was better than any of the rough hose-downs it had received while at the facility, and better than the showers provided for its old master’s pets. The privacy felt like an unearned privilege, and the pet was determined to enjoy the luxury while it still could.

Nerves made it hard to hold steady as it climbed to its feet. Without Master present, it didn’t have to kneel, and standing would make it easier to clean itself. Its head swam with a familiar blackness and ringing in its ears, and it leaned on the tiled wall until the dizziness passed. The food that it had just eaten would help, even if it would take some time to feel the effects of the nourishment. And maybe, just maybe, it would steal some water from the tap now, drink a few mouthfuls as the cold water ran down its face…

No, it reminded itself with a sharp correction, balling its fists up as though Handler Green had shoved the cattle prod into its ribs. This was its first day with Master, its first chance to prove its worth, and it was already thinking of disobedience. Master had already given it something to drink, and it should be grateful. There was no need to steal even a single mouthful now, not even from the freely flowing showerhead, not even in the privacy of solitude.

It banished the thought from its mind and got busy with scrubbing itself clean. First came its hair, so much longer now than when it had entered the refurbishment program, the curls heavy with water and shampoo. The shampoo was light, faintly floral, and the pet relished in the sensation of soap pulling the grime and blood away from its scalp. When it glanced down at the floor of the bathtub it saw that the water was rust-colored as it flowed down the drain.

Once its hair was clean, shampooed twice and rinsed thrice, it took to scrubbing its body down with determined and practiced vigor. Every inch of skin was worked over, even the skin that was heavily bruised and covered in scabs. It allowed itself the grace to wince as it pressed down on the bruises and still-healing wounds, but it still scrubbed away at them with the same determination.

Mostly, it tried not to think about how much its ribs had begun to stick through its skin, and how easily they would break under the slightest application of force. It was fragile now, filthy and covered in the marks of its disobedience. Its insolence was captured by the permanent paint of scars from head to toe.

It scrubbed, and rinsed, and then scrubbed again, until the water turned from copper, to pale pink, to clear. Its arms had begun to pucker with goosebumps under the steady flow of cold water. But finally, with a final rotation and a check that the water was indeed flowing clearly now, it shut the water off.

The towels waiting for it were warmer and fluffier than anything it could remember being given at either the training facility or by its old master. As it wrapped itself in the terrycloth it sighed a small sigh of relief, an exhalation it was sure made no sound. Even if it couldn’t hear such quiet breaths itself, it had learned when others could from its old master’s many corrections. A sigh, by itself and behind a closed door, would likely go unnoticed.

After it had dried itself it carefully folded the towel and placed it on the floor. It would have to figure out where Master kept his dirty clothes and towels sooner or later, especially since it would be responsible for the laundry. There would be time for that soon. But now, since it was clean, it was time to get to work.

The pet settled back down onto its knees, carefully selecting the tiles of the floor to kneel on rather than the rug in front of the sink. It wasn’t going to seek out small pleasures and privileges that it had not yet earned, not on this first day. Everything it did would show that it was good, that it was obedient.

The tiles were better than cold cement it was accustomed to, anyway.

A few moments later the door pushed open. Master was back, here to fetch it, take it back to the room it had just come from. That soft murmuring of Master’s voice came again, the conversational tone like water lapping on a white-sand shore, not the hot knife of a command. The pet still tried its best to listen attentively through the ringing of its ears.

Then, the command came, cutting sharp through the susurrus. Follow. And so the pet did.

As it expected, it was led back to the same room it had just come from. Its heart fluttered in its chest. It remembered where the low-lying bed had been pushed against the wall, and how far it was off the ground. Climbing up on the bed from the ground would pose little difficulty, a single fluid motion enough to situate it comfortably atop the flat surface.

Master walked towards the bed with broad strides, and with a rush of adrenaline, the pet climbed up onto the bed beside the towering pile of blankets. Fabric and plush bedding were soft beneath its knees, and it gave a small sigh of relief that the bed was so comfortable.

There was no time to relish in the comfort, however. The instinct of its training and prior service took over. There were multiple options for it to begin, to entice Master’s senses, but one came to the forefront of its mind. That one, it decided, would show off both grace and the care it put into its servitude.

It placed its hands evenly apart, symmetrical and in line with its knees, forming carefully orchestrated lines throughout its body. Once it found its balance it arched its back, pushed its hips firmly into the air, and lowered its chest towards the bed. Weight shifted forward, onto its forearms now, and it felt confident it would be steady despite its latest wave dizziness and nausea. Although it couldn’t quite see itself from this angle – there was no mirror here like there was in the training facility – it was confident that its posture was perfect.

There were many things the pet had failed at during its training, and during its time with its old master, but this had never been one of them. Of its many tasks and duties, the pet was certain that it was able to pleasure its masters. And despite its fear, it was certain it could do the same for Master now. This was its chance to prove itself, make a good first impression, show Master that it was more than its inability to hear his commands.

All that remained was to slowly, carefully, turn its head to the side, look up at Master and push its lower lip out ever so slightly- And as soon as its eyes met Master’s, Master shouted with a roar of what the pet knew was fury.

A/N: And in this chapter, we spend 8,000 words to eat a sandwich, make a phone call, and take a shower. I wonder what happens next!

Taglist

@honey-is-messi @octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @squishablesunbeam @tragedyinblue

@clairelsonao3 @den-of-evil @cepheusgalaxy @aswallowimprisoned @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@honeycollectswhump @rekiroyalstraightprincemaru @whumpzone @peachy-panic @whumplr-reader

@dislexiher @cc1010foxy @onlybadendings @panstardalia @tempoghast

@dokidokisadness @anonfromcanada @starfields08000 @bloodredfountainpen @pumpkin-spice-whump

@maenr @whump-enthousiast

[live-laugh-lenney]

could you do one where r has really bad endometriosis (I struggle myself so bad omg) and Arthur helps her? just fluffy supportive bf and then maybe a feature from the other boys? xx

just want to clarify, i don't suffer with endometriosis so i have no idea if i've done this any justice but i hope you guys enjoy! <33

"lovie, are you okay?"

she hated the concern that dripped heavily from the words rolling off his tongue.

not because she hated how sweet he was being by checking in on her as she sat under the hot water in the bath, letting the shower run over her head and patter loud yet soothingly against the surface level of the bath she'd run to soothe her aches and pains, giving her space and supporting her from afar.

not because he was being the caring boyfriend, making sure she was alright and that he was there if she needed anything, waiting outside the bathroom door with a warm hoodie of his and some comfortable trousers that she could lounge around his house in,

but because she hated how she thought she'd ruined a perfect and beautiful sweet moment between the both of them.

laid upon the sheets of his bed as they gained their breaths back after spending minutes in a mood filled with deepest intimacy, their skin covered in the slightest sheen of sweat, their clothes strewn across the floor, with the room filled with the softest glow emitting from the flickering candle on the shelf in the corner of his bedroom.

"i'm fine," she croaks back over the sound of the water, tears having subsided and all she could feel was the remnants of pain still holding on to her as she felt the worst of it had passed by, arms cradling her knees to her chest, "i just need to sit here for a bit but i'll be out soon."

"can i-"

he cuts himself off because, as much as he wanted to offer to sit in the bathroom alongside her and hold her hand through the aching of her belly, would she want him there?

"yeah," she mumbles softly, "please."

arthur's hand curled around the door handle and he poked his head into the brightly-lit room, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the lights above his head, and she couldn't help but to just stare at him as he made himself known in the room. his hair still a mess upon his head, from both the pillow and from her roaming hands, but he'd dressed himself in a baggy hoodie and a pair of boxers that she could just see beneath the bottom of his jumper.

"i'm sorry."

it's the first thing she wanted to say, to clear the air, to make him feel like he understood how she was feeling.

"what for? it's not something you can control so you don't need to feel this way, ever," he leans up to turn off the shower head, stopping the water falling from it, before he crouches down by the edge and rests his elbows on the ceramic tub, letting his hands hang down and dip into the water, "you don't need to apologise for this, okay?"

"but we were having such a perfect night together," she frowns and she can feel the lump forming in her throat, aching and burning and she could sense herself wanting to cry again, "i hate how it ruins the most beautiful moments. because i don't want to stop doing what i enjoy, what makes me feel good, what brings us closer together."

"it didn't," he smiles softly, reaching up a wet hand and cupping her cheek softly, letting his damp thumb run across the skin from her nose to her ear, "i promise you, it's not ruined anything. it won't ever ruin anything between us. i understand you. and i understand your condition."

she tilts her head into his touch and closes her eyes and he watches as her eyelashes flutter against the curve of her cheeks, silence swallowing them up as they sat amongst the presence of each other, no need for words to fall from their lips to soothe the other. his touch was all she longed for in that moment; soft, caring and gentle and a complete contrast to the pains that had engulfed her just moments prior.

"i feel like i've won the lottery," she whispers softly, eyes looking over to him and she feels butterflies flitting around her belly when he looks her dead in the eyes, "i hit the jackpot with you."

"likewise," he grins widely, standing to his feet and offering out his stretched hands, wiggling his fingers in her direction in an attempt to get her to stand up, "c'mon, i've got some fresh clothes waiting for you in the bedroom and a blanket on the sofa that's been warmed in the dryer. ready for us to finish off our night."

"sounds perfect," she hums, taking his hands and reluctantly coming to her feet, the water sloshing around her legs as she stepped over the side of the tub and into the cool air of the bathroom. her body was tired and her limbs ached from exhaustion yet her mind felt so satisfied with the feeling of love that washed over her. "i love you."

"i love you, too."

-

"oi, cheer up, darling."

she's torn from her daze by george's elbow prodding into her side, not quite a harsh jut into her hip but one that was enough to tear her away from her own world and back into the loud and rowdy crowd around them, her attention snapping back as she turned her face and looked at him.

"hmm?"

"you zoned out for a bit there," george claims, setting down his pint glass and leaning a little closer to her, "everything alright?"

she nods softly.

around her, the atmosphere was loud and rowdy and exactly what you would expect on a friday night when sat in a pub in the middle of london, and from where she was sat in the booth, squeezed between george and isaac as arthur sat himself down at the other end of the table, she couldn't do much but sit there and watch her surroundings as people walked in and out of the door.

it wasn't that she was exhausted, because she was... but she just felt drained of all excitement.

her social battery had become empty, like a car running out of petrol on a long drive, and she didn't want to tell arthur that she was ready to go home but she craved the quiet and the comfort of her flat. as much as she loved the boys, catching up on their busy weeks and filling them in on the exciting brand deals and trips that they'd been invited on, that night just felt different to her.

"i think i need to go home," she laughs it off as a joke but george can tell and she knew that he knew it wasn't a joke because of the way his eyes softened at her and by the way his eyes flickered to arthur as he stayed deep in conversation with chris and cal as they laughed about something, "do you think he'll mind?"

george shrugs, "i couldn't tell you, honestly. i don't think he'll be sad."

she finishes off her gin and lemonade and stands to her feet, picking her bag up from the floor and reaching for her coat that was draped behind isaac, catching his attention.

"and where are you going?"

"i need to talk to arthur," she explains softly and he cocks an eyebrow at her in confusion, looking between her face and the coat that was draped over her arm, "and then i need some air."

"are you bailing, missus television?"

she frowns and shakes her head.

"i'm just not feeling it right now," yn says and she really didn't want to dwell on how she was feeling in that moment, "just a bit tired."

george swivelled in his seat, moving his legs so she could shuffle passed him, making sure she collected her things before making her way towards arthur at the end of the table. and, despite his drunken state and the beers that were coursing through him, the look of pure concern pinched his features together once he saw her bag over her shoulder and her coat draped over her arm.

"where are you going?"

"i'm gon'a head off," she admits to him, "i'm not feeling so perky so i think i'll just head back to yours and wait for you to get home."

"are you having a flare up?"

"not so much, i'm just feeling really tired."

arthur stands to his feet, reaching for the jacket that he had hanging on the back of his chair, in an attempt to leave at the same time as her. yet she stopped him, shaking her head with a smile on her lips, pushing him back to his seat so he could continue his night with his friends.

"lovie-"

"i'm not gon'a ruin your night with your friends," she leans down and presses a kiss to his lips, "but i'll see you later, okay?"

"let me walk you back to mine then," he insists, "please?"

"it's a short walk from here, i'll be fine," she smiles down at him and runs her fingers through his hair, "we all know if you come back with me then you'll want to stay home and you deserve this night out with the boys."

"i'll walk her home? i've left my wallet at phone, there's only so much paying with my card i can do before i asks for my pin and i'm too far gone to remember what it is," george suggests, emitting a round of laughter from around the table, "honestly, i don't mind."

once it was agreed and she'd said her goodbyes to everyone, george shrugged on his jacket and followed her out of the pub's front door, into the cold air of london as they set off towards the flat complex. a comfortable silence following the both of them as they passed by drunken groups of friends and people leaving work for the weekend.

"he loves you," george breaks the silence between them and it catches yn off guard, "a lot."

"it goes back the same way," yn grins sweetly, "he's been such a godsend these last few months, too. especially with the doctors appointments and all of the treatments and consultations and home remedies i make him do with me."

"he'd do anything for you," he says, moving behind her on the path so he could allow a couple to walk passed them, "i reckon he'd even take on the uterus just so you could be free of pain."

she rolls her eyes but can't help the smile that tickles at the corners of her mouth.

"you guys are so good together," george admits, "i'm glad he's found someone who understands him and someone he can be his true self around. it's nice to see him so happy now."

"again," yn looks at george, "it goes back the same way."

-

his hands were warm.

as his fingers pushed gently into the skin of her stomach, rubbing soft circles as to relieve to her pain but not cause her injury, she laid in complete contempt upon the bed. the smell of lavender coming from the massage oil coating his fingertips, as he lathered her belly in the liquid, soothed her and made her feel drowsy and like she could fall asleep under his touch.

"i hate that it makes you feel like this," he mumbles softly, "but i love that it gives us moments like this."

and she really did feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

[teddykaczynski]

theres a pheonemon ive noticed and ive also said things/had thoughts like this myself in the past but. thinking about female nonbinary people ive known and talked to who say theyre confused why they sometimes get maamed/called a woman while looking the way they do. one was like, i dont get it, people really see me in these clothes with some sparse facial hair and think woman? and i had to be like. yeah. they do. i would argue a lot of people dont judge pronouns based on someones clothes and secondary sex characteristics. they see the way your head is shaped and your height and all these small differences people are able to decipher from childhood. the other specific example i can call up is like i was on reddit and i saw a post from someone who got work done by an artist i like and i went to their profile and most of their activity is comments in the nonbinary sub and one was a comment on a thread all about being called woman/girl and they said that they get gendered all sorts of ways because of their rapidly changing appearance, but they dont get it at all when its woman/maam, cause in their opinion nothing they do gives "woman" but its like .... im sorry but from the 2 pictures of the side of your head you posted for that tattoo, i knew you were female instantly. it was about the way your head is shaped and ears and hair and all that. which made me realize, in their perspective when people say maam theyre saying i think you are trying to be a woman, trying to look like a woman, i think you are of the feminine womanly class which means pink and subservience, when this person is actually saying.... im not stupid and i could tell by the way your eyes are spaced apart which of the two gametes you produce

[megwritesriddles]

I. Would. LOVE. NSFW head cannons for Elliot (SDV) if you have the time!! 💕💕💕 I just romanced him for the first time and adore him.

MDNI 18+

thank you sm for the request!! I hope you like it!! loooove Elliott but only romanced him for the first time recently too so hopefully I got a good enough grasp on him!!! (´ ω `♡)

word count: 0.7k

all fandom masterlist | sdv masterlist

Definitely a super ‘old-fashioned’ romantic type

He likes to light candles and scatter rose petals whenever he wants to make love to you

He never calls it sex or fucking, it’s ‘making love’ or ‘carnal pleasure’ or a myriad of other flowery euphemisms he comes up with

I imagine he often pours you a drink beforehand, wine or champagne (some nice homemade juice if you don’t drink alcohol), enough to make you feel nice and loose but never enough to impair your consent

Will always take time to admire your appearance, even while inside you, waxing lyrical about your beauty

Such a rambler! He is constantly talking to you during sex, praising you, admiring your beauty, telling how good you feel around him, how good you taste

(I feel like he would sometimes say something so poetic that he’d want to stop and quickly go write it down, but after you got annoyed with him the first time he did it, he decides pleasing you is more important than his writing)

Loves to tuck your hair behind your ear or push it from your face.

“Eyes on me, darling, show me all the pleasure you’re feeling,”

He’d totally be a missionary guy, but then I feel he’d also be up to try out some very out there positions if he comes across them in his reading

Finds you irresistible, always admiring and touching

So! Many! Erotic poems and letters! Like so many… seriously…

He would definitely send you a normal love letter and include an obscene line right at the end to mess with you

“All in all, I am looking forward to the upcoming Egg Festival! I cannot wait to bury myself between your immaculate thighs once more and feast until the sun rises in the east, your pleasure is my sole reason for being, the ultimate balm to my weary soul. Write back as soon as you can, my dear, I am dying to know how you have been!”

You are the muse for all of his works, he has mostly been writing erotic romance since the two of you began dating

If he’s trying to figure out how to write a scene, he will just get you to re-enact it with him… and then once again because he forgot that he was meant to be making mental notes the first time

He’s very passionate, often sweeping you off your feet with romantic gestures, suddenly overtaken with a ravenous need for you which may lead you to secluded corners or behind trees in the forest

Although he prefers to set up a romantic atmosphere, these 'rendezvous' are something he craves from time to time

Some nights he has you sit between his legs, his fingers buried inside you as he reads an erotic novel aloud over your shoulder, matching the movement of his fingers to the action in the novel

Definitely has such a sexy deep voice he puts on when he reads to you

Lots and lots of kissing! on your lips and butterfly kisses all over your body

Definitely loves it when you run your hands through his hair

Whispers sweet nothings to you in public

“I can’t help but remember how divine you looked beneath me last night,”

“I do so love it when you bite your lip, my darling,”

Would definitely love to see you in luxurious clothing or lingerie

A big fan of perfumes, always notices the moment you try a new one

A lovely scent on your skin could easily be enough to arouse him

He is all about beauty and sensuality and the experience of it all

The smells, the tastes, the sounds, the sights!

Definitely would love to listen to soft music while you make love 

Or the sounds of the rain or the ocean while you are safely indoors and warm in each other’s embrace

Would enjoy tracing your body with a feather, caressing the curves and plains reverently

So much hyperbole and melodrama! You are a goddess, he would move the earth for you, no one has ever been so alluring as you! But he completely means every word

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

hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 2

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

By the time Lizzie heard the knock on her door, she was almost regretting inviting Lando over.

Not because she didn’t want to see him—she did. But because she was still exhausted, her limbs felt like lead, and she hadn’t had the energy to change into anything more presentable than this.

Which was how she found herself standing in front of her door, dressed in sweatpants and a vintage Ferrari hoodie that was older than both of them, trying to summon the will to care.

She pulled the door open, and there he was—Lando Norris, grinning at her like she hadn’t texted him less than 6 hours ago to say, Hey, I had a seizure, so can we not do the fancy restaurant thing?

“Hey,” he said, then his eyes dropped to her hoodie. His expression morphed into pure betrayal. “You—Lizzie.” He pointed. “Is that—is that a Ferrari hoodie?”

She crossed her arms, ignoring the amusement bubbling in her chest. “It was my dad’s.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Lando said, still staring at it like it personally offended him. “It makes it worse. It’s, like, vintage blasphemy.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes and stepped aside to let him in. “You’re in my apartment. You don’t get to insult my clothes.”

“I absolutely do.”

“You really don’t.”

"You literally live in Woking," Lando said darkly as he stepped into her apartment. "A stone throw away from the MTC!"

Lizzie rolled her eyes once more, closing the door behind him. "And I'm still a Ferrari girl at heart."

Lando groaned, shaking his head. "You're breaking my heart here, you know that?"

"Is now the time to mention that Mara is also named after Ferrari?" she asked with a grin, as he followed her into the kitchen and sat down a grocery bag on the counter.

Lando blinked. "How is Mara named after Ferrari?" he asked her.

"Well, Mara is short for Maranello," Lizzie said brightly.

Lando's mouth fell open. "You have got to be kidding me," he said, staring at her. "Your dog is named after Ferrari headquarters?"

Lizzie just smiled, not even trying to hold back her amusement. "Yep," she said, popping the p on the word.

"First the hoodie, then the dog... what's next, a Vettel tattoo?" Lando asked her with a sigh.

"I mean, I was considering it," Lizzie said, completely deadpan.

For a moment, Lando actually looked worried. "You're joking, right? Please tell me you're joking."

Lizzie cackled, a deep, full-belly laugh. "Relax, Lando. I'm kidding."

His shoulders sagged. "You're an evil woman. An actual evil woman."

"What is even in there?" she asked with a nod to the grocery bags.

Lando smirked. “Backup nuggets.”

Lizzie frowned. “Backup nuggets?”

“In case yours suck.”

Lizzie snorted. “Wow. True trust issues.”

Lando grinned, but there was something softer behind it. She felt it when he looked at her for just a second too long.

She shoved the nuggets into the oven before he could say anything annoying about it.

"I also brought ice cream. I didn't know what you like..."

"Vanilla," she said immediately.

"Vanilla it is," he agreed. "Where's Mara by the way?"

Lizzie's eyes darted down the hallway. "She's probably passed out in the living room, honestly," she said. "Dad said she barely left my side last night, poor thing. Probably wore herself out."

Lando winced. "I can imagine. Must've been pretty freaked out, huh?"

Lizzie nodded. "She kept licking my face. Apparently they do that to wake you up when you have a seizure."

For a moment, his gaze softened, and he looked at her thoughtfully. "You don't get hurt, right? When you have a seizure, I mean."

"Generally, no," Lizzie said, "I might accidentally bite my tongue, and I'm usually sore and tired after, but I don't get hurt."

Lando nodded, but she could see the concern still lingering on his face. "But you're okay now?" he asked quietly.

Lizzie managed to bite back her smile. "I'm fine, Lando. I promise. This really is normal for me."

His head dipped. "You're sure?"

She softened, touched by the worry in his voice. "I'm sure," she said gently. "No need to look so serious, pretty boy."

“Excuse me, I’m not pretty.” He objected with a disgusted expression.

Lizzie snorted. “Yeah, you aren’t if you pull a face like that.” She shot back immediately.

“Excuse me, that’s not very nice!”

“Mate, make up your mind,” Lizzie said with a snort. “I say you are pretty, you disagree. I say you aren’t, you also disagree. What are you then?”

“I am ruggedly handsome,” he told her seriously.

She could only stare at him.

“If you somehow manage to grow a beard, then, maybe. But with that clean-shaven look you have going on right now? Not in a million years. You’re pretty, and that’s that.”

Lando's eyes widened, taken aback. "Did you just—" he spluttered. "Did you just insult my ability to grow facial hair and then go and call me pretty in the same breath?"

"I absolutely did," Lizzie said, barely able to hold back her grin. "What are you gonna do about it, pretty boy?"

What she hadn't expected was for him to advance and corner her against her kitchen counter.

She froze, eyes wide, her heart suddenly thumping in her chest. Lando planted one hand on either side of the counter, caging her in.

He leaned in, his face inches from hers, expression still tinged with faux offense.

And his eyes...she could spent a whole book describing their colour and Lizzie was quite sure that it was going to fall short. Even in the dim light of her kitchen, they shifted from blue to green and back.

The intensity of his gaze was almost unbearable. Lizzie's mind went completely blank, and she found herself staring at him, a flutter of nervous energy coursing through her like electricity.

Lando was so close now that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. She was suddenly hyper-aware of every nerve in her body, like this new, intimate proximity had set her senses on fire.

Lizzie wasn't even sure who moved first.

All she knew was that suddenly, his lips were on hers. The kiss started gently, almost tentatively. But something shifted in an instant.

It became hungrier, more desperate, like a dam had burst. Lizzie couldn't help herself; her arms wrapped around Lando's shoulders and pulled him closer, every part of her body pressed against his.

One of his hands threaded into her hair, angling her head to get better access, and she made a small, needy sound in the back of her throat. Her fingers curled into the soft cotton of his shirt, clutching at it as she kissed him back, dizzy with the feel of him.

Oh. 

Oh. 

Lando groaned, the sound reverberating through her. His free hand slid beneath her hoodie, seeking out the bare skin of her waist.

Her own hands moved over his back, desperate and urgent. The kiss turned hotter, less controlled as her world narrowed to this, to him, to the intoxicating feeling of his body against hers.

And then the sound of the oven timer beeped. Loudly. She jerked in his grasp, managing to make one of her cookbooks clatter down onto the floor.

A second later, Mara was barelling into the room, clearly thinking that she had had a seizure and destroyed her house.

Lizzie and Lando sprung apart, both of them flushed and more than a little breathless.

Lizzie couldn’t help it; she burst into a fit of giggles, watching Mara skid across the linoleum.

"I'm fine, Mara," she said through her laughter. Her dog whined, clearly not convinced.

Lando was looking like a deer in headlights, his cheeks flushed and his hair messed up from her fingers. He stared at her as if he'd never seen her before, and she bit her lip to keep herself from grinning like an idiot.

"We should rescue the dino nuggets," Lizzie suggested.

Lando still looked stunned. "Right - yeah - nuggets-" he said, blinking.

Lizzie chuckled and knelt down to pat Mara to reassure her. The dog was practically whining with worry, licking her face and nudging her. Lizzie gently pushed her back in an attempt to give herself some space.

"I think you traumatized my dog," she said, looking up at him with a smirk.

He scratched the back of his head, still endearingly awkward. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I wasn't exactly...thinking when..."

She just shook her head, grinning. "Maybe we should focus on rescuing those dino nuggets, don't you think, pretty boy?"

He swallowed, glancing at her briefly before nodding. "Yeah. Nuggets."

Lizzie pushed herself off the floor, giving Mara's head a final pat before she headed over to the oven. Lando joined her in the kitchen, his gaze flickering to her every other second. Lizzie took the plate from the oven, setting it down on the stove top.

"They look fine," she said, inspecting the slightly-singed edges of the nuggets. "All things considered."

Lando leaned against the counter beside her. "Great," he said, but his voice was still a little unsteady.

She shot him a sideways glance, amused by the way his gaze kept dropping to her mouth.

"Was that..." he trailed off and she watched to see a slight blush cover his cheeks.

"What?" she asked, hiding a smile. He was even more adorable when he was embarrassed.

He cleared his throat, looking vaguely flustered. "That was okay, right?"

And just like that, her own cheeks grew warm. They'd just made out in her kitchen, and now he was asking her if... if it was okay?

She studied him, taking in the pink hue on his face. There was something so vulnerable about the way he was looking at her. It was like he couldn't believe it had happened, and now he was scared he had overstepped.

"It was..." she began, only stopping to consider her words."...pretty incredible."

Relief flickered across Lando's face. "Yeah?" he said, a hint of the cocky demeanor returning. "You liked it, then?"

In response, Lizzie just rolled her eyes, pushing the plate of dino nuggets towards him to end the conversation before he could say anything else.

"Try a damn nugget."

Lando raised an eyebrow, but his smile grew even wider as he picked up a nugget from the plate. "Bossy."

She just rolled her eyes again, biting back a laugh. "Eat your nugget before I regret telling you that I liked it."

He chuckled and popped the nugget into his mouth. "Not bad," he said, still grinning.

Lizzie found herself returning the smile. He was impossible.

But then again, she thought as she looked at him, she supposed she wouldn't want him any other way.

"Let's take this to the living room," she suggested.

"So is there even more Ferrari merch there?" Lando asked her. She just rolled her eyes.

"Not Ferrari merch, no," she said drily. “I keep that in the bedroom.” Lando gave a squawk in response. She just laughed. 

Did her living room kinda look like the set of a fantasy movie had thrown up all over it? Yes. 

She had a near life size portrait of Astrid and Ciaran, the main characters of her book series hung over her fireplace, which an amazingly talented fan artist had painted and she had purchased.

Lando was staring at the portrait with something close to amusement. He turned to her, eyebrow raised. "Okay, so who is that guy, and why does he have bat wings?"

Lizzie sighed, taking a seat on the large couch that dominated the room. "That would be Ciaran. Bat wings and all."

Lando took a seat beside her, still eyeing the portrait suspiciously. "And who exactly is Ciaran supposed to be?"

"He is the Dark Prince...The Heir to the throne of the land of Kasharia," she said with a wave of her hand. "He's the love interest in the Seasons of Fate Series."

Lando's eyebrows shot up, turning back to the portrait, studying it with more interest this time. "And the Wings are his thing, I'm guessing? Makes him the 'Dark Prince'?"

Lizzie bit her lip to keep a laugh from escaping. "Basically."

"Right, right." He was nodding now. "What about the woman, then? Blondie with the dagger?"

Lizzie found herself smiling, remembering the story behind that particular piece of art. "That would be Astrid," she said.

Lando looked like he was starting to put pieces together. He leaned back on the couch, eyes on the portrait once more. "And Astrid is, what? The princess or something?"

"She's a handmaiden of the Princess of another kingdom he's supposed to marry," she explained with a wave of her hand. "She ends up married to Ciaran instead."

Lando was nodding along as Lizzie described it, a look of fascination on his face. "Oh, so it's like one of those forbidden romance deals, huh?" he asked, sounding surprisingly invested.

"In a sense, yeah," she agreed, finding herself amused by his interest. "You seem surprisingly interested in this, considering you thought the wings were over the top a minute ago."

Lando shot her a look, his eyes twinkling. "Hey, I can appreciate a good love story, can't I? Besides, million of people adore your books. There must be something pretty special about them."

Lizzie felt a surge of warmth in her chest at his words. It still surprised her, at times, how much her books meant to people.

Lizzie felt a surge of warmth in her chest at his words. It still surprised her, at times, how much her books meant to people.

"I don't know about that, but people seem to enjoy them," she said lightly. "Still thinking you are going to pick one up?" she teased him with a grin.

"It’s probably gonna take me two months to get through the first book, between my schedule and my dyslexia, but the bat wings have totally sold it," Lando told her seriously.

She couldn't help but laugh at that, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. The idea of Lando, who was about as far from a fantasy fan as you could get, actually trying to read one of her books was too absurd. "You are absolutely not going to read one of my books," she said, grinning.

"Hey, I could!" he objected with mock offense. "Don't underestimate me."

Lizzie shook her head, still laughing. "I'm not underestimating you. But let's be honest, you've got better things to do with your time than read about bat winged princes and handmaiden."

"Don't you have better things to do than too watch 20 men in their cars drive around in wobbly circles?" he shot right back. "You created these books. You poured your time and energy into them. I don't think there are many things that are more important than that." 

Lizzie fell silent, taken off guard by his words. He had a point, she thought.

"I suppose you have a point there," she admitted quietly.

Lando seemed pleased with himself, his cocky demeanor falling back into place. "See? I do have some smarts in there."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't keep the smile off her face. "You are insufferable, you know that? Besides, what's with your job," she teased him. "Isn't Miami coming up?"

Lando just snorted. "Yeah, we are all looking forward to hear the Dutch national anthem. Again."

Lizzie chuckled, picturing the familiar sight of the podium at a Grand Prix - the winning driver and the Dutch and Austrian anthems playing. "You are so dramatic. Maybe you'll win in Miami."

He gave her a look, his expression clearly communicating that he thought her words were ridiculous. "Uh-huh. You obviously don't know my luck. Second place is basically my second name."

Lizzie laughed, finding his complaining endearing despite herself. "You sound like Mara when I have a treat, but don't give it to her. Stop whining. Second place is still impressive as all hell, you know that right?"

Mara perked up at the mention of her name and took that moment to jump up on the couch, and once again, not caring at all about personal space, just drape herself all over Lando.

Lando looked startled, his gaze flying down to where Mara was settling onto his lap. "Uh..." he said, his voice full of confusion.

Lizzie tried not to crack a smile at the way he looked like he'd never encountered a dog before. Mara, meanwhile, looked incredibly pleased with herself.

Lando looked up at Lizzie, his expression a comical mix of disbelief and alarm. "What...what is she doing?" he asked, clearly bewildered.

Lizzie couldn't help herself; she burst out laughing. "She likes you," she managed to say through her mirth. "Clearly a woman of excellent taste."

Lando gave her a dubious look, clearly not sure if he was being insulted or not. Then Mara shifted in his lap and let out a happy sigh, and he looked back down at her. Lizzie could see the exact moment he melted. No man was immune to dogs.

"I'll go against my core beliefs and root for the ugly orange car with your number on it if you promise me that you'll believe that you have a chance of winning."

Lando shot her a look, a little surprised at her request. Then his familiar cocky smirk spread across his face.

"You'll root for papaya? Over Ferrari?"

Lizzie just nodded. "As long as that big ego of yours lets you believe you can win," she said dryly.

[rypnami]

Theiara Drabble

self- indulgent theiara drabble about a time they see a dragon, feat. some stuff i made up on the fly (hehe get it) about the hebridean black. not beta read or edited so keep that in mind heeh. literally no plot i just wanted to write them.

word count: 1081 no warnings, just fluff and the classic theiara bickering lol. established semi-new relationship <3 idk if any of this makes sense byeee

tagging @amethystandemma since chatting w/ you about the dragon pics inspired me lol

The Scottish highlands are, in Chiara's opinion, the most beautiful place in the world. Granted, she hasn't been to many places in the world, and perhaps being a Scot herself, she's biased, but simply nothing can compare to the rolling green of the mountains or the glistening water on the scattered lochs. Now that winter is, for the most part, over, and spring is finally showing its face, it’s the perfect time to take a long walk and enjoy seeing the sun for the first time in ages.

The only thing that could make the day better would be if she had someone to share it with- as luck would have it, she does. After quite a lot of convincing, she has brought Theseus Scamander in tow for this mini-adventure. They’ve been coworkers for a few years now, but recently it’s developed into something more. They haven’t technically labelled it yet, but it is certainly more than just friends, or coworkers that drive each other mental at any given opportunity. 

Where she has opted for more casual clothes for once- a simple white blouse and knee-length grey skirt, he is in his full blue overcoat, the grey blazer she’s rarely seen him out of, and his incredibly fancy shoes; perhaps not ideal for a trek in the highlands. It’s hardly different from what he would typically wear to work, as if they are about to be called on a very important case, and not out trying to enjoy themselves on one of their few days off. He does look good, however, so she can’t complain too much. 

They’ve stopped in an open meadow-like area, surrounded by hills and dotted with purple flowers. She flops down in the grass, just off the well-worn dirt path, and breathes in the freshness of the air. Her pale blonde hair spreads out amongst the green.

Theseus leans over her, eyebrows raised. “You’re going to get insects in your hair doing that, you know.”

“Spoilsport.” 

“I’m only sayingggg, I don’t imagine you, of all people, want crawly things all over you.”

Hm, true. Chiara hates just about anything with more than 4 legs. Honestly, who needs that many? What are they even used for? “You’ll pick them out for me.”

He sits down beside her, smiling slightly. “Of course I will. But… is this really what we came all the way out here to do? Have you lay on the floor?”

“It’s called appreciating nature. Try it sometime.” She sticks her tongue out at him. “And ‘all the way out here’ is an exaggeration. You can still see the hamlet.” Chiara points left, back down the dirt path, where just peeking over the rise of the hillside, the thatched roofs of Bainburgh are visible.

 

“Yes, but we could appreciate nature from there.” 

“If you’re going to whinge the whole time, you can just go on back and I can enjoy myself.”

“Hey, now, I didn’t say I want to go back.” Almost absentmindedly, he reaches over and starts playing with her hair. “Just pointing out that someone truly in awe of the natural world could do it anywhere.”

“Have a sense of adventure, Scamander,” Chiara huffs, sitting up and crossing her arms. “There’s more to see out here than at a mouldy old hamlet!” She gestures as a couple shaggy, long-horned cattle that meander by. "See?!"

“Ah, yes, we can see all the cows. I love cows. Very interesting.” A grin spreads across his face, and accompanied with the twinkle in his eyes, it would be obvious to anyone that he’s only trying to rile her. Unfortunately, Chiara has never been one for attentiveness to such things- or emotional regulation, honestly. 

“Cows are brilliant!” 

“Have you seen their expressions? It looks as though they operate on about 2 brain cells.”

Chiara narrows her eyes. “Two more than you have.”

Theseus chuckles. “Alright, alright. You know I’m teasing. I love spending time with you, wherever. Even amongst the livestock.” He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her in so she’s sitting in his lap. He rests his chin on her shoulder as Chiara leans back against his chest. “I’ll admit, it is nice to be just us.”

“Mm.” Chiara sighs. Yes, he might drive her up the wall sometimes, but she truly can’t imagine her life without him. “There’s not just farm animals around, anyhow. Could see… I dunno. Hippogriffs, maybe some Puffskeins, or- a dragon?!”

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up about a dragon-”

“No, look! A dragon!” Chiara gapes.

Overhead, a handful of kilometers away, is, in fact, a dragon. It is positively massive- so big, in fact, that she can still make out what it looks like rather clearly. It has a massive wingspan with orange membranes spreading between long, finger-like segments. It seems to have dark brown or grey scales, but a lighter underbelly. As it flies even closer, close enough that they can almost feel the wind from its wings, she can see what looks like a large, vibrant purple eye. 

Although there is something incredibly unnerving about such a powerful, dangerous predator so close to them… it’s also oddly mesmerising.

“It’s beautiful,” Chiara murmurs.

“It is.”

“What species do you think it is?”

Without missing a beat, Theseus answers. “Hebridean Black. Looks like a female, too. See, she’s got two sets of horns, one curling forward. Males have three, and they all curve back behind the ears.” He squints at the dragon as she flies away. “Her tail is also pointed- a male would have more of a club shape, for defence.”

Chiara stares at him, her jaw hanging open. “How in the hell do you know that? Just off the top of your head?”

“Oh. Er, I dunno.” He runs his fingers through his hair, smiling a bit sheepishly. “I- suppose it’s my brother’s fault. He’s quite passionate about magical creatures. My whole family is, really, but him especially. When we were younger, he used to always talk my ear off about beasts and creature identification…only ever listened to humour him, but I reckon I was paying more attention than I thought.” 

“That’s… unexpectedly sweet.”

“I beg your pardon? I am plenty sweet. All the time!” 

“Of course you are.” 

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Yes, well. Perhaps we ought to go back inside, on the off chance she comes back around and spots us… I don’t fancy being dragon food today.”

“...Fine.”

[highlandhour]

Content warnings: dad!Charles, tooth rotting fluff, Charles Smith x fem!reader.

A warm breeze swept over your features, weaving through your hair to cool down your hot scalp. That morning had been a busy one, filled with jamming and pickling fruits and vegetables as well as canning any others you wanted to save without flavoured vinegars or sugar to preserve them.

You had just finished up doing the laundry, which had dried your hands out unbelievably so. The hot summer air wasn’t helping either as you peg sheets and various clothing items to the line. You lean to the side, groaning lightly as you do so, grabbing another damp piece of clothing from your basket and lifting it into view of the sun. The tiniest little off white dress lay pinched in your fingers. You flick the fabric lightly before grabbing wooden pegs from the front pocket of your striped apron, the one you made from one of Charles’ old shirts that got ripped beyond repair a few months ago.

You place one of the pegs into your mouth as you stretch the dress to drape it over the line, one peg, two pegs, you pluck the third from your mouth and slide it on the puffed shoulder of the dresses sleeve.

A teeny tiny cry catches your attention, making you lift your head towards where it was coming from. The little window by the line was open and the light pink floral wallpaper of your daughters room could be seen, as well as the lace of her curtains which are now flowing out the window thanks to the breeze.

“Charles!” You call out into the air. “Can you go get her! I’m just finishing up here!”

A heavy thump can be heard from the surrounding woodlands your little cabin resides in. Charles makes himself visible as he walks out of the covert, his shirt long discarded and tucked into his back pocket with his suspenders laying on either side of his hips.

“Was just finishing up myself.” He smiles as he walks by you, letting his hand trail across your stomach to waist before letting it run across your bum. You shoo him away innocuously, tapping your hand at his fingers to be rid of his flirtatious gesture.

“Go!” You laugh at him as he opens the bottom of your Dutch back door to walk inside with a proud smile on his face.

“Fool.” You shake your head smiling to yourself as you pick up another piece of laundry to put on the line.

You listen carefully for Charles as you hear him walk into your daughter’s bedroom. His soft coos just dampened to the point of incomprehension but your girls sweet little squeaks makes your heart swell. You squeeze one of Charles’ shirts in your hands looking down with so much joy. It’s the blue shirt. That old blue shirt he refuses to get rid of.

You quickly flick it out to undo all the wrinkles you gave it. Shoving your hand into your pocket again to grab a fistful of pegs and popping a few into your mouth this time.

“You wanna see your mama?” You turn slightly to look behind you, popping a peg from your mouth to slide it onto the collar of that blue dotted shirt.

Charles had her lay across his big arm, her head resting comfortably on his bicep. He takes her tiny little hand into his and makes her wave to you. As quick as you could, you put the rest of the pegs on the shirt before fully turning around. Outstretching your arms.

“C’mere sweetheart!” You ring as Charles waltzes his way towards you.

“Comin.” He replies with a half grin.

“Not you.” You scrunch your nose up at him playfully. Taking your daughter from his hold to let her lay her small head on your shoulder.

“Aw that ain’t fair.” Charles bends over, picking up a large sheet from the basket and spreading it out in his hands. “I was sweetheart first yknow.” He says to your daughter before kissing her on the top of her dark haired head.

“You’re also baby and honey and-”

Charles lets out a loud bellow of a laugh, reaching his hand into your pocket to take out a peg and slide on the corner of the sheet.

“Don’t I know it darlin.”

You step back to make room as he takes another peg from your apron and place it in the middle of the sheet.

“Darlin’s another one.” You say matter of fact, rubbing your hand up and down your babies back.

You both stay like that for the rest of the amount of time it takes to hang out the laundry. You stepping backwards a little with a pocket full of pegs whilst Charles hangs everything you washed. All the while your daughter made little noises in your arms and held the cotton of your dress in her teeny tiny vice like grip.

Such a difference from where you both came from. You could get used to this.

@hihomeghere @tortureddpoett @whoyacallinyellow

if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist just let me know.

[valerianonyx]

I respect your take, but I am talking about contracts in general as a musician myself, I was not talking about the lawsuit at all, and more so that the musicians would want to spend time with their families and friends and other ventures after being on tour for years straight

it's up to them whether they want to stay or not (if they did have an expired contract, then signing a new one, and if they didn't, being free of it), I just know a lot of them are working on new albums and/or working on clothing lines which is taking up a lot of their lives so they're probably not going to, a lot of them saying they've been exhausted and tired

and me personally if I had already been doing tour for that many years straight I'd want to live my life outside of it

taking that into account way more so than "because of contract work"

I also do not see them as Tobias' toys at all and in fact was trying to say the exact opposite!! hope this helps, because I was saying to treat them as people with rights who can make their own decisions and saying they are toys is disgusting

all I intended was that if they do leave, if you really supported them you would go support them elsewhere, and if they stayed, also just be kind to them, and either way just don't be creepy to them

I'm not saying for certain, and how could I anyway, that a new era would consist of an entirely new lineup, I'm just saying I know that they are busy and tired, and tour is exhausting

hope this explains my take better because that was not what I was saying at all

I think it's important to say with the new era approaching that it's okay to miss old members but we should be happy to meet new ones!!

it's also important to remember to separate the character from the musicians/actors who play them

I've seen a lot of people saying things about how they better not swap out [character, character, character], and it's okay to miss them, but the people behind them have their own lives too, and many have already been through 2-3 eras

I personally think that there will most likely be a whole new lineup because of how contract work is, but if any stay the same that's also cool!! but reminder to keep the character and real people separate, the characters are thriving in fanfics, headcanons, and in heart

and if you are just a fan of the real people go support them!! but make sure you aren't bringing up things about ghost or the character to them because they are not tied to it and it can become inappropriate and uncomfortable very fast

most of them have their own albums and also clothing brands if you wanna show support to the amazing artists themselves

it just bothers me when people bother the musicians with questions they can't and don't want to answer, or when they try to make them feel bad for not being a part of the group anymore

they are all awesome and I think you should try to watch some of their other content, go see their or their friends and loved one's concerts, or buy even just a pin or sticker from them if you feel inclined to support them :)

TL; DR: just because they were part of Ghost doesn't mean they are the character in your head, be careful with that, but it's okay to miss your favorite, instead of being upset about it, go support their ventures!!

with love, not trying to be mean at all 💚

[raviolicrabs]

Sorry guys gooned too hard and doodled a grown man in a silly cat sweater

[tealfruit]

it's really a shame I have to sell 40+ of my life hours every week for poverty wages instead of spending all my time and energy on dozens of creative and technical pursuits with unlimited resources

[shittygothbitch]

Omg I haven't bitched about the shitty first date here yet. I only ever bitch in the tags so check em

[carpisuns]

theOrEticalLy . if I opened commissions at some point. would there be. a smackerel of interest . ??