#i've always wanted to catch a fish in my own hand

[lichen-soup-scribe]

caught a cutthroat trout with my bare hands at an alpine lake yesterday; resisted the urge to go full Gollum and just perch on a rock and chomp it

(i released the fish back into the lake after these quick photos)

[the-modern-typewriter]

A villain who doesn't want to harm the hero, is trying to take them down as gently as possible and thinks the hero is the one being crazy about this, while the hero is desperately fighting to protect the world.

Bonus points if the villain is the hero's big sibling or similar figure.

"Father wanted to put you in an institution," their sibling said. "There was no way I was going to allow that." They carded their fingers through the hero's hair, soothing, like they were still five years old and waking up from a bad dream. "Those places are awful. They'd hurt you."

"I can't move."

"It's okay. You're okay."

"The - the tea. You." The realisation of it choked off in the hero's throat. Sharp. Catching. Betrayal.

"I told father I'd handle it," their sibling said, almost absently.

"Handle me."

"Yes." Their sibling ducked to gather up the jagged shards of the fallen mug, depositing them on the coffee table. They met the hero's eyes. "Handle you."

The hero glared. They willed their noodled limbs to move, but all they got for their efforts was nearly crumpling to the floor again. Their sibling caught them, steadied them, pushed them back into the chair. The hero's heart thudded wildly beneath their palms.

"He wasn't having it though," their sibling continued. "He told me that you needed to be corrected, by any means necessary. He told me that it was just the place for a crazy person like you. That you'd bring shame on the family." They grimaced. "You know father."

The hero did, unfortunately, know their father.

They also knew their sibling though. They knew they were drugged up in their own living room, not being wrestled into a straight-jacket somewhere for some non-consensual therapy sessions.

"What did you do to him?" it came out raspy.

Their sibling smiled, small and grim. "He should have known better. Just like you should have known better, but you always were a little idiot, so no shockers there."

"...what are you going to do to me?" That was, perhaps, the better question. Their mind still felt sharp, after all, even if nothing in their body wanted to cooperate with them.

"Do you think I'd hurt you?"

"You hurt father."

"Father was a jackass. You're just stupid."

"I'm trying to make the world better!"

"Yeah," their sibling said. "Stupid."

"It's not stupid!"

"I'm not going to debate this with you."

"Just drug my tea!?"

"Eh, that was for your own good. For all his many sins, father wasn't totally wrong. You do need help. A friendly intervention."

"They'll come for me. My friends will come for me."

Their sibling shrugged. "I have no such reservations hurting them."

The hero swallowed. Their mouth still felt dry, sticky and cloyingly sweet. They searched their sibling's face for any sign of a lie. They found none.

"You know what father and his friends are doing is wrong," the hero said after a beat; maybe just frantic to see some glimmer of recognition of that fact.

Their sibling shrugged again, easy. "Sure."

"You could help us fight them. You could come with me. You could...keep me safe. That's what you want, right? To keep me safe."

"Your friends aren't going to kill you. You're perfectly safe like this."

"But what father's friends are doing - don't you - you have to care."

Their sibling raised an eyebrow.

The hero wanted to snarl. As ever, it seemed, their sibling did not have to care about anyone or anything. Who cared about the world if going along with monstrosity was easier?!

"Don't you care that I care?"

"You care about everything," their sibling rolled their eyes. "You held a funeral for the fish."

"He was my pet!"

"He was a fish."

"This is nothing like the fish!"

Their sibling straightened up with a sigh, looking down on them, hands on hips. "I've made my decision."

"Fuck you."

"I don't expect you to be happy about it, but you're gonna deal with it. You're underage. That makes you my responsibility. I'll let you go when this all blows over."

"You mean when father's friends finish wrecking the world?"

"Don't be so overdramatic."

"You drugged me and I'm overdramatic?"

"Overdramatic looks better on me. I have the cheekbones for it."

"This isn't funny!"

"No." Their sibling's voice shifted, abruptly. "It isn't. Do you want me to get serious?"

The hero...paused. The air suddenly felt oppressive.

"I am being very gentle," their sibling said. "And you are infinitely squishy and breakable. Father's institution would have crushed you into teeny tiny pieces, so shattered that you didn't even care anymore. You would kill your friends if they asked, by the time they were done."

The hero swallowed, stricken, horrified.

"Tell me again how unfunny this is," their sibling said. "Like you think I'm stupid."

The hero shook their head.

As swiftly as the storm had come, their sibling offered them a sunny smile. The tension vanished as they booped the hero's nose.

"We're going to get through so many film nights. It's going to be great. Now." They reached for the coffee table. "Have some more tea."

[theminecraftbee]

The thing in her cargo hold is looking at her again.

Really, Gem should have sold it by now. If the fishmonger had refused to take it--and really, it seems unlikely, Gem thinks, that the fishmonger would refuse to take it; he has taken and carved up and made meals of far stranger fish than one with a human face and hands and torso--she could have easily sold it to the man on the train, who takes exotic catches for his zoo. She could have even taken it to Grian; it's not a mending book, but it's the sort of thing he'd like to make fun of her for catching, instead of anything she's after.

Really, she should have. The longer she keeps the thing in her cargo hold, the more it starts to look properly human to her. She should know better. She has caught far stranger fish, and none of them have been human. It's another trick these seas have been playing on her, she thinks.

Long nights alone do that to a woman.

She ignores it. Instead, she opens the lid of the tank and starts depositing salmon. "It's a really weird request, that I keep them alive the whole time. You won't eat them, right?" Gem says, knowing the thing in her cargo hold can't answer. "Because if you eat them, this time, I really am going to sell you to the fishmonger. Or maybe I can figure out how to get fillets from you on my own? I've certainly eaten weirder fish..."

The thing in the cargo hold continues to stare. It has eyes that look like little moons, and brown hair, and it is smiling for some reason. Gem huffs.

"Don't give me that look! You are a fish. I am a fisherman. If mere human faces stopped me from doing my job, I would have gone mad a long time ago."

The thing in the cargo hold smiles wider. The lights flicker. Gem rolls her eyes and finishes putting salmon in the tank. As though to spite her, the thing in the cargo hold immediately lashes out, grabbing one in the claws on her otherwise-human hands and then tearing it apart with razor-sharp teeth. Blood rises on the water. Gem sighs.

"I have a harpoon in here somewhere, or at least a very sharp knife," she says to herself. She doesn't really want to use her nice knife, the one she always keeps on her belt, but she ought to have another knife around with which she can finish the job, right?

The lights flicker and go out. When she looks across at the tank, there are two silvery-moon eyes looking at her.

Gem pulls a wire. Gem turns the lights back on. She takes a deep breath.

"I really should have sold you by now, really. If the fishmonger won't take you, then the zookeeper would love you," Gem says.

The radio crackles. Gem startles. Very, very few people ever contact her on the shipboard radio, but if she's getting a signal, that's more important than a grudge match with a fish. She heads over to answer the call.

An amalgamation of voices responds:

YOU ARE FUNNY. I HAVE A MESSAGE. A DELIVERY. YOU'VE TRAPPED ME THOUGH.

Slowly, Gem turns around to the thing in the cargo hold.

"This won't stop me from treating you like a fish," she says. "If messages from the ocean stopped me--"

A terrible, crackling laugh sounds from the radio.

I AM THE MOON'S PEARL. YOU WILL NOT HOLD ME FOREVER. WE WILL SEE WHO EATS WHO.

Gem wags her finger. "We'll see, for sure, as long as you don't eat my salmon. That man in the fish-scaled suit was VERY insistent, you know."

TELL ME MORE.

"You're tying up my radio. What if there's another ship? What if there's something important?"

OH GEM. YOU KNOW THERE WON'T BE.

Gem swallows.

The thing in the cargo hold is staring at her.

"I need to sleep. I need to go to shore," she says.

YOU WON'T, the radio says.

She won't.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The Memory Keeper

Chapter 1 : List.

Pairing : Noa x human reader

Warning : A bit of mourning. Otherwise, all clear for this one!

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words : 3.2k

A/N : It has been a long time since I've written something and it feels pretty good to get back at it with this story! I hope you'll like it and do not hesitate to share your thoughts or like/reblog, it's always appreciated! As English isn't my native language, I'm sorry if you find mistakes or weird wording in there, let me know if you find some and I'll be glad to correct them!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

It wasn't going to be a difficult day. The list was ready, the tasks the same as the day before and the day after. You had to go to the river: catch a fish, fill the flasks with fresh water, bathe… You had to get on your horse and on the way back, stop at the 16th tree on the right, get off, walk 30 steps and fill the bag with blackberries. You had to avoid the brambles and avoid tripping over the prominent root. Get back on the horse and ride home.

Prepare the fish: remove the head and tail, the skin, gut it and remove the bones, light a fire to cook it. Yes, evolution had done many things, but it must have missed the episode where it was necessary to improve the human digestive system. So the fish still had to be cooked.

The garden had to be tended. Over the years, it had evolved too. It had been a long time in the making. A vegetable garden, tomatoes, green beans and, you couldn't quite remember how, artichokes had found their place too. An apple tree was easy to grow. It took time, but it was easy. And then there was this little gem you'd stumbled upon one day: a rosebush. It was an important one. You had to take care of it too.

You always had to do something.

Your hands knew what to do and how to do it. Your legs took you where you needed to go, and at that particular moment, they had led you to your horse. You had to remove his saddle and bridle, check his hooves and remove any stones that might have got stuck on them. Run your hand over his belly to loosen the skin compressed by the girth. And don't forget to give him a drink. When it came to eating, he found everything on his own, except perhaps an apple, which you gave him from time to time to thank him for his help. He knew how to ask, too. In fact, he huffed and gave you a nudge.

Okay, an apple.

He followed you to the apple tree and you climbed onto his back. You could reach the branches, but it was always difficult to keep your balance. Especially when your right hip wasn't working properly. And you sighed. It really wasn't convenient.

You had to go on with the list, what was next?

“ Hearing my voice at least once and speaking so I don't forget.”

This was important. You had to remember how to speak. The world had forgotten, but you must not. You had no right to forget.

“Say something new.”

And you looked around.

“It's cloudy today.”

Which meant rain wasn't far off. Your horse was now grazing beside you.

“You should take shelter.”

You smile, you'd said one more sentence today. Your horse's ears twitched as if to say “I do what I want” and you shrugged. After all, he was the one to decide. But you didn't want to get wet in the rain. You patted his neck and went off to find shelter in your wooden hut.

You've lived here for a long time. A very long time. So long that you no longer needed a torch to light up the big room when night fell or when the clouds darkened the place. You knew exactly where the shaky table was, the armchair with its deformed, hollowed-out seat and even the little plastic pot you kept forgetting to put back on the table to avoid getting your feet caught in it. And despite the years, you never tripped over it.

You were right to come home. You'd just had time to put the water flasks and the cooked fish on the table when a torrent of water hit the floor. The end of the list would have to wait. The timing was perfect, as your stomach signaled that it was time to fill up, and the smell of the wood-fired fish made your mouth water.

Settling back in your armchair, you ate the fish, watching the rain fall against the hut's only window. Eating with your hands was no longer as disturbing as it had been at first. There were a lot of memories that had slipped away over time, but you almost smiled when you thought back to the embarrassment you'd felt the first time you'd had to eat like that. If you'd known back then where you'd end up…

A sigh.

Drops tumbled against the window and some seemed to challenge themselves to get to the bottom first. They were following the path traced by others before them, but obviously not all roads were good ones to take. Some raindrops went straight down, others tried to cut off their opponents' path, and still others weaved in and out to create their own path. Then a raindrop caught your eye. It seemed the most likely to win the mad race. It glided and slalomed proudly until it landed delicately on your windowsill, blending in with its sisters who had landed there before it.

You turned your eyes to the last piece of fish, which you brought to your mouth.

You took one last look out the window, and that's when you caught sight of it.

A shadow.

A shadow had just moved past your window. The rain kept on pounding against it and you could see the trees in the distance stirring in the wind, and you were sure you saw the shadow moving, quickly to the right, but the shadow was gone. There were only raindrops, only the wind, and you could even hear the dull roar of an incipient thunderstorm.

A deep breath. You had to.

Then a sigh.

The rain and wind must have played a trick on you. If the storm picked up, you definitely wouldn't be able to finish your outdoor to-do list. But that didn't matter, there was still plenty to do inside.

First you had to tidy up. Keeping the interior clean and tidy was important, so you couldn't leave the water bottles on the table. You grabbed them and stepped over the little plastic pot that stood between the table and what you could call a kitchen. At least, that's what you would have called this part of the hut back in the day, because there was only a broken sink and a cupboard without a door. You passed the front door and it rattled against the latch in the wind. You had managed to install a branch across the door, allowing you to keep it closed in bad weather. However, as it didn't close very well, the wind always managed to rattle it between the branch and the latch. But you got used to the noise. So you walked past the shaky door to put the water bottles in the cupboard, and when you heard a suspicious rustling sound, you jumped, staring at the door.

You frowned at the unusual sound. You had been holding your breath, but the wind suddenly whistled through the doorframe, which was sorely lacking in hermetic seals. So you breathed out, taking a calmer breath. The wind. Mother Nature was definitely testing your nerves tonight.

Well, you still had to change your clothes. Night was coming on and you couldn't possibly sleep in your day clothes. You stepped over the little plastic pot again and made your way to the wooden chest beside the fireplace to find a t-shirt and a pair of jogging shorts with a hole in the left knee. Maybe one day you'd find a stray piece of fabric while walking through the forest, so you could mend it. But you hadn't yet got to the list asking you to explore the surrounding area.

There were 7 lists divided into 4 sections, themselves arranged in 12 categories. It was your way of keeping track of time. You no longer counted the days, let alone the years; you'd long since lost the very notion of time. But to grow crops, harvest the fruits of the forest and simply follow nature's millimetric events and be able to anticipate them, you needed a reference point. The lists, though mostly identical, were that reference point. Hanging on the wall with pieces of wood you'd carved yourself, they determined your days and the things you had to do.

You didn't really know when or how you'd started making these lists. But judging by the ink, half washed away by the years - some of the lists had even gone back to being blank - it must have been a long time ago.

You put the current day's list back in its place. Tomorrow, you'd have to complete it while carrying out the next one. But there was one more thing you needed to do indoors before settling into your armchair for the night. One last important thing.

From the chest, you took out a picture frame. The corners were worn, the wood had crumbled and you had to handle it carefully to avoid getting splinters in your hands. You set the frame down on the floor by the fireplace, knelt in front of it and reached into the jar on your right to pick a rose petal, which you placed carefully in the right-hand corner of the frame.

You struggled to swallow.

That's where it always got complicated.

Once again, you reached into the jar and pulled out 7 petals. You always needed 7 petals. You placed 6 of them in a circle on the dry twigs in the fireplace and began humming a song whose words you'd long since forgotten. But you remembered the feeling. You felt a lump in your throat, and you often wondered how you managed to keep the song going.

You hummed, and on the last petal, with the help of a needle, you delicately traced his initials. You had to be careful not to press too hard, you shouldn't pierce the petal, just brush against it enough to see, if you concentrated hard enough, the outline of the letter you were drawing. You also had to blink a few times to see clearly what you were doing. It was important to get it right. Once you'd written the letter on the petal, you laid it at the center of the circle.

It was always at this moment that your hands shook. You needed a moment. Just a bit of time.

You had to wipe your hands over your eyes, the most important thing was to handle the two flints on the floor with care. Your hands had to be steady, not shaking. You interrupted the song to get your breathing under control.

Inhale.

Breathe out.

Grab the flints.

Inhale.

Exhale.

A sharp stroke.

The clatter of the stone threw sparks onto the pile of twigs and a flame sprang up. You started humming again as the fire slowly consumed the wood until it reached the petals of the circle.

A tear.

The fire continued to progress and you stared desperately at the petal in the center, quickly ridding yourself of the tears that were blurring your vision. The flame touched the edge of the petal and you watched the letter “C” burn away and disappear into the ashes.

The flame faded as the twigs gradually disappeared and, once gone, you slipped the petal on the frame back into its jar.

Now you had to put the frame away. Your fingers brushed the edge of the picture inside of it. Despite the years, you had managed, by some miracle, to keep the photograph almost undamaged. At least, sufficiently intact that you could still distinguish the shape of an ape in the center of the picture, despite the cracks.

He was a force of nature. You had taken this photo on a December day, you still knew because you could still discern the white flakes clinging to his dark fur. Back then, you loved taking pictures.

What did they call you again?

The memory keeper.

Even after all this time, it still made you smile. You gently squeezed the frame between your fingers, keeping it balanced on the knees you'd just tucked in towards you. This way, he was a little closer to you.

You made an extra effort to remember the day. He was standing high enough to see everyone around him. He must have been talking about something important; he always had that powerful, soul-piercing stare when he was saying something important. But he always looked…

“Grumpy.”

You concluded your thought in a whisper that knotted your throat. Grumpy. You almost expected to hear him growl, his ego bruised, every time you reminded him that he was sometimes a little too grumpy. “Grumpy because a lot on my shoulders,” he'd snap back at you. “No, grumpy because you're old” you'd always reply, your eyes always playful. And you were the only one who could say such a thing, with the only result being an amused snore coming from him.

And you felt yourself take a deep breath. Of all the pictures you'd taken, this was the last one you had left. You had to put the frame back in the chest, so your fingers tightened even more around the wood. Your head tilted slightly forward, closing your eyes as the wood touched your forehead.

Tonight was difficult.

You took another deep breath, and before the knot in your throat hurt too much, you straightened up and went to put the frame in the chest.

“Caesar, tonight is really difficult,” you whispered, watching the shadow of the lid close over the frame.

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

It had been a restless night. When your eyes opened the next morning, they felt heavy and swollen, and you found yourself rubbing your eyes to try and make the heaviness go away.

Today, there was much to do. After changing from your night clothes to your day ones, you removed the branch blocking the door and let the sun shine in, warming your skin. The fresh early-morning air caressed your skin and you took a few seconds to smell the distinctive light scent that follows a thunderstorm.

No sooner had you taken a few steps forward than your feet bumped into something hard, causing you to lose your balance. In a fraction of a second, you found yourself on your butt on the ground, a stabbing pain in your right hip that had failed to move to stop you from falling.

“Ouch!” was the only thing that slipped out of your mouth.

You straightened up slightly, remaining seated in the grass, to see what had caused your fall and a pile of apples laid exactly under the wobbly small porch that covered your front door.

God, what a dummy not to have put that away last night. You thought to yourself, looking down at your hands full of dirt. You'd have to go to the river to clean it up, and now you'd just have to take your night clothes with you because you'd also have to wash the ones you were wearing-the mud from the storm must have dirtied your current clothes.

A pile of apples. You thought as you rubbed your hands together.

A pile of apples. You glanced at your right hip. Pfft, if you'd made Caesar break it to put it back in its place, you'd never have fallen today. In fact, you'd have avoided more than one fall.

All because of a misplaced pile of apples.

A pile of misplaced apples.

And like a light bulb switching on, your gaze suddenly fell on those apples that actually had nothing to do there. You hadn't gathered them the day before.

Then you heard it. A muffled purr came gently from behind you. Surely you should have turned around, stood up and dealt with it, but you'd found yourself rooted to the spot, eyes glued to those apples, waiting as an orangutan appeared in your field of vision.

And you refused to look at him, your hands balled into fists to keep them from shaking. You weren't afraid. No. But for some obscure reason, your brain had simply decided to freeze.

The orangutan once again let out a rumble, softer this time, and held out his hand to you.

“I'll help.”

His voice made you blink several times. You did your best to snap out of your stupor, but this time your eyes agreed to look at him, and the orangutan seemed delighted.

Just one more moment. It took another second, just one, to see your hand slip into his and before you knew it, you were back on your feet.

“Raka, we must go.”

The second voice surprised you a little. It sounded familiar and your eyes fell on a chimpanzee, a little further away, who had just finished saddling a horse. You frowned, your horse? You were trying to determine whether it was really yours, but the distance didn't allow you to be sure. There was only one way to find out.

So you whistled.

The horse shook its head and the chimpanzee didn't have time to grab the reins before your horse galloped off to meet you. They were going to take your horse… in exchange for a stack of apples?

You grabbed the reins and stroked the horse's neck as he snorted. He chewed the bit and blew heavily through his nostrils.

For a fraction of a second, you forgot about the two large apes who, from the sounds they were making, weren't particularly happy to have lost a chance of obtaining a second means of locomotion: in your peripheral vision, you could see another horse quietly grazing.

Your hands still knew what to do, and it didn't take you long to remove the bridle and bit from your horse's mouth.

“He doesn't like it.” you said simply.

And only silence answered you, so you showed the bridle to the two apes.

“The bit, he doesn't like it, he's not used to it.”

Your answer didn't seem to convince them. They stared at you, dumbstruck, and if you paid close enough attention, you could almost see their mouths hanging wide open. And that left you bewildered. What didn't they understand? You'd heard them talking, so that certainly wasn't the problem.

“You can't take my horse.” You went on, starting to remove the saddle.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that they were staring at you as if you'd just landed from the sky.

“If you want a horse, there's a wild herd to the south, past the river.” And you pointed in the right direction.

They remained silent as tombs, but the chimpanzee followed the direction you pointed with his eyes.

“Just be careful, the group's stallion isn't very friendly.” You thought it important to tell him.

Your gaze fell back on them and the orangutan, Raka, if you'd heard correctly, hadn't moved a muscle. The chimpanzee, on the other hand, was staring at you thoughtfully, as if he was trying to put together a puzzle with a missing piece. He then moved towards you inquisitively, perhaps, confused?

“Echo, speak?”

It was certainly the most surprising sentence you'd ever heard in your life.

[twignotstick]

Broken Brothers (and How to Fix Them)

Part 2 💙 | <- Part 1 🧡

Note: This story is based on @cupcakeslushie 's Empyrean Weeping au. These characters are not my own, and this story is in no way canon to the main story. I wrote this as my love letter to the story and the characters. Especially April :)

Tags: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, ROTTMNT, Leo & April, NOT MY CHARACTERS, Empyrean Weeping AU, recovery (i have a sneaking suspicion that will apply to the whole fic,,), talking it out because we're adults, movies, comics, they're becoming friends

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): Mention of violence (its one sentence, but figure I should still put it here :P)

Words: 1,588 (there's less setup this time)

Summary: April was able to figure out her first brother easily. Now, she gets three more, with a couple more issues to worry about.

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

As soon as she even saw Leo for the first time, she knew he wouldn't be as easy to get along with as Mikey was. Mikey was always so open, so bright, so bouncy. Leo, in comparison, was still, dull, and closed off. He had just come from a terrible ninja clan, beaten by his own master. It was kind of warranted.

Any time April would enter the medbay where they were keeping Leo, he would silently stare a hole in her soul. His face had hardly loosened from the scowl he had adopted, and any time April would get near, it would just harden more. Even so, April kept trying to get close. Despite Raph's concerns for her physical health. (And with Mikey's encouragement, because he was happy to enable the potentially dangerous behavior.)

One afternoon, she decided to bring a ton of her Jupiter Jim comics to read. The boys needed a break from watching their somewhat-volatile-yet-severely-wounded brother, and April knew he wouldn't talk to her. So, once she settled down in her chair a few feet away from the bed where Leo was scowling, she pulled out the comic she'd left off on: Jupiter Jim Breaks Newton's Fourth Law, Volume 8.

After a few minutes of reading, April couldn't help but notice a change in Leo out of her peripheral vision. He wasn't staring at her anymore, but at her comic. This glare wasn't full of discontent and uncertainty. Instead, it was filled with emotions he was trying (and failing) to hide- curiosity and excitement.

“You read Jupiter Jim?”

Leo was surprised by the sudden question and whipped his gaze away, a slight flush coming to his cheeks. “No.”

April's journalism senses were kicking in. There was a story here. “Why not?”

“Things like that are…” Leo's posture tightened, almost as if the thing he was about to say wasn't what he believed, “useless distractions.”

“I don't think so,” April said, shifting her chair a little closer to the bed. “I think it's important to have distractions sometimes. Y'know, during finals, when you're sick, when you've got a broken arm…” Subtly, April started slipping the comic in her hands to the bed. “You can read it, if you want.”

“No. I can't.”

Leo looked surprisingly aggressive when he responded. He seemed to catch his unwarranted anger and mumbled, “I still haven't read 6 or 7.”

“Oh!” April sat up straight and grabbed her bag from the floor. “I've got the whole arc up to 9 in here, I thiiink-” Once she had fished out the comics she was looking for, she placed them on the corner of the bed by Leo's feet.

The slider stared at the comics like they'd offended him.

“...well?”

“I-I can't. I can't hold them with my arm-”

“I can hold it for you!” April said. “I can turn the pages whenever you need.”

Leo finally looked back at April with that trademark scowl he always had. “What's your game, woman?”

April smiled. “No games, just trying to make you feel comfortable in your new home.”

Leo huffed. “This isn't my home.”

“It's where your family is, isn't it? Isn't that what matters?” April asked genuinely.

Leo looked back down at the comics. His eyes softened while the rest of his expression remained, and he picked Volume 6 up with his good arm. He opened it and silently began to read.

They both sat and read for a while. April noticed Leo struggling to turn pages sometimes, but she didn't dare try to help him. She thought he might bite her hand if she did. He was still scowling at the comic as he read, but it looked less like a scowl of anger and more one of concentration.

When he got done with Volume 6, April spoke. “So, who's your favorite character?”

“...JJ, obviously.” Leo slowly reached out and grabbed the next volume.

“Seriously? That's so basic.”

Leo scoffed. “Really? Then who's your favorite character?”

“Atomic Lass, obvi,” April said, flipping her hair for emphasis.

“Atomic Lass?! Her personality is literally just ‘woman’.”

“Uh, yeah, and that's the point?! Atomic Lad is just ‘man’. Haven't you watched Jupiter Jim on the Atomic Sub-Moon?”

Leo's shoulders lowered. “...watched?”

April sprung up and put her arms on the bed, looking down at Leo in shock. “YOU'VE NEVER WATCHED A JUPITER JIM MOVIE?!”

“NO?! THEY MAKE THOSE?!”

“THAT'S IT!” April grabbed her bag from the floor and moved it over to the side of Leo's bed. “You, keep reading. I'll get one of the boys to watch you. I need to head home and get my box set. We are having a movie night. Understand?!”

“Y-yes ma'am!”

“We can start with Last Trip to the Moon 1, but then we are watching Atomic Sub-Moon, I DO NOT care if the context is lost, you'll figure it out.”

“O-okay?!”

“RAPH!”

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

“So… the real Atomic Lad and Atomic Lass are dead?!”

“Yes! And the Atomic Lad and Lass we know are-”

“People carrying on the legacy, who the Atomic people believe are still the originals?!”

“YES! That's why they never use their real names, that's why-”

“Why they act like Barbie and Ken for space…”

“Now you get it!” April leaned back into her bean bag and put her arms behind her head. The movie night had gone way better than expected. They had to set up the best pillow pile they could, since they didn't have a sofa big enough for everybody. In the end, April and Leo stayed in bean bags and watched the movies while the others went about their day. It took a minute for Leo to get into it, but once the moon buggy showed up, he was hooked. For the first time, April saw a child in Leo. 

“So, have I won you over with an emotional, heart breaking backstory?” April asked slyly.

“Uh, no.”

April's eyes snapped to the slider. “WHAT?! What do you meeean?! I don't get how you like JJ more than Atomic Lass!”

“Well, he's the main character for a reason, for one.” Leo took another bite of the pizza slice he had been eating. “And second, he's the one who always gets everyone out of the bad stuff. He's the hero, and he isn't scared to sacrifice for his crew.”

“But, consider this, Atomic Lass has a giant rocket powered hammer, Leo.”

“JJ doesn't need a weapon. He's got the nerve pinch technique.”

“They never use the nerve pinch technique, though!” April whined.

“That doesn't mean he doesn't have it!”

“I never thought someone could be as dorky as April,” Raph said from where he stood a few feet away from the bean bag setup. “And yet, here we are.”

“Wh- dorky?!” Leo scoffed, looking at Raph incredulously.

“Yeah, dorky!” Mikey popped out from behind Raph's shoulder. “Y'know, nerdy? Geeky? Criiinge?”

Leo's face flushed and he curled in on himself, stammering.

“Hey, y'all are just jealous that we're bonding,” April defended. “If you gave JJ a chance, you'd like it too.”

Raph and Mikey both shut up quick. April waved them off, and they hurried out to the kitchen again, saying they were “getting more snacks”.

Now that they were alone, April looked over at Leo again. “They're stupid. Can't appreciate good media.”

“Good media?” Leo asked. “You mean B-Movies and old comics?”

“Yeah, man.” April grabbed a blanket and tossed it over at Leo, making him fumble to keep it off his face with his good arm. “It makes you feel good, doesn't it?”

Leo looked down and contemplated. “I mean… yeah. But I-”

“Shouldn't?”

Leo took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“You don't have to worry about what you should or shouldn't do here, Leo,” April said, sitting more upright to look at Leo better. “You do what you want. What makes you feel good. That's all you should worry about when you're home. Doing what you want and feeling good.”

Leo turned away, looking at the TV, paused at the end of the credits.

“If it means anything, this really made me feel good,” April said. “It's cool to have somebody to talk about ‘nerd stuff’ with. And I'm glad you liked the movies. Atomic Sub-Moon is one of my favorites. Not as good as Pluto Vacation 4, but good.”

“There's more?” Leo asked timidly.

“Oh, there's loads more!” April grinned. “There's like a jillion Last Trip to the Moons, there's Jupiter Jim and the Overly Complicated Magic System, Jupiter Jim Squared Minus One, Jupiter Jim Breaks into Federal Prison, there's tons! We can have more movie nights, if you want.”

Leo looked at the blanket laying over him, grabbing it and rubbing it between his fingers. “I think… I think I want that.”

April pumped her fist. “Sweet! This means I've still got time to win you over to the Atomic Side.”

Leo let a single laugh escape his lips. “Yeah, not happening. Jim is the best, I don't care what you say. Even Red Fox is better than Atomic Lass.”

“AH! HOW DARE YOU?!” April stood up and looked down at Leo. “Just you wait, nonbeliever. Just wait until I show you the Atomic Lass spinoff comic. Or the Atomic Lass movies. You will change.”

“I wouldn't bet on it.”

“Oh YEAH?! I will bet on it. I'll bet on it so hard, you can call me Troy Bolton.”

Leo's eyes nervously shifted from side to side, centering back on April. “...who?”

“...YOU'VE NEVER SEEN HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL?!”

“NO?!?”

“RAPH!”

○●○●○●○

Yippee! Part 2! Part 3 is giving me more... issues... so it might take a minute to come out. But its coming! 🟪🐢

I really leaned into Leo's inner dorkiness here. I just thought him and April bonding over their obsession with an insane astronaut man was so cute. <3 (This is also why I'm so excited for the rest of Leo's arc in the actual comic! GAH!!!)

Congrats to everyone who won the first round of @tmntaucompetition voting! Very excited for the next round coming up :)

Part 3 -> 💜

[spoiled-fawn]

TF 141: Owl Hybrid HCS

Hi! I'm alive, just working on several things at once so my writing output is slow. This may be too niche but I've been thinking about this too much and wanted to share. Yes, I will be coming out with a Price x reader hybrid fic and this kinda sets the tone for it. I hope you enjoy!

A group of owls is called a parliament.

No warnings. There are some 141 x reader bits as well

PRICE: Blakiston’s Fish Owl

Price is a big bird, and is the largest in terms of body weight and wingspan comparisons. His wings take up a majority of his space when on the ground and in his human form. His feathers are monochromatic with brown and tan, his broad and ragged ear tufts start on his temple and hang slightly to the side- still perfectly seen and sticking out when he wears his boonie hat.

The scars on his neck mark a historic battle between him and a foe. His damage? His vocal chords.

This man has a deep hoot that now sounds like a scratchy croak most nights. He feels self-conscious about it after the damage that occurred but will use it to startle or scare enemies mostly. 

If you ask to hear his hoot he gets flustered.

Being the alpha predator, he is very territorial. Not so much over his nest or room, but rather his parliament. Over the others, he tends to take care of them as a stand-in father figure that none of them have. With his big form and feathers, you can find either of the sergeants nestled into his chest like the pillow Price is.

Playing with his ear tufts is a dangerous game, as your hand will either be pecked at or he’ll give you nesting eyes depending on his mood.

Loves fish, and will even eat it raw if his owl sense is craving it.

His species spends an unusual amount of time on the ground and prefers to travel as humans do when applicable. 

When fishing, he prefers to do so as his breed does. Dive in and catch the fish himself.

Likes to nest in tight spaces (that mimic hollow trees). Will make a fort between a plethora of cushions and blankets to hide within.

GHOST: Great Gray Owl

While Ghost is the largest member of 141, in his owl form, he almost doubles in size due to his plumage. The Great Gray has fluffy feathers and the longest tail, making him all the more threatening

He is not the type to build nests, but will often steal nests of others. He’s been found in Price’s nests when the Captain leaves for office work or has been known to crash into Soap's nest with no care to the men squawking

He’s vain to a fault. Will always preen himself in private, and the one time you pulled a cracked feather he immediately blushed snatched it from your hand, and left in a hurry to make sure there were no others

Once you got to really get close to him, he would let you do it for him.

Absolutely loses it when you call him pretty bird.

You also got him to parrot it back to you once and he almost cried with embarrassment.

Also has a deep hoot, but his come in shorter and quicker successions. 

These owls, much like Ghost, are hard to find. They tend to keep to themselves and blend into their surroundings by remaining still. There is minimal aggression in terms of territory, but when the 141 parliament is threatened, his talons are ready to maul.

SOAP: Barn Owl

Have you heard a Barn Owls call? It can get really annoying or is beyond terrifying.

Soap’s subspecies is the T. a. Guttata; He is large for his species while having grey and orange upperparts with an orange buff. He has speckling to his underpart feathers, and his face is white.

Will sometimes take naps in a roost of his choosing (supply closet, rafters of the gym) but does tend to make his own nest when needing a deep and comfortable sleep after a good meal or long mission. 

Makes a fuss when Ghost crashes his nest. He hisses and snaps his beak at the large hybrid but shuts up when he gets to nestle under his wings.

Soap bonded with Ghost over his species being known as the “Ghost Owl” to some, but also that they have a similar lay of face feathers.

Soap is a curious hybrid in nature, and not always defensive when a different species (or human) is interacting with 141. The first time he met you, his wings splayed out while he looked you over - too closely.

While looking at your dog tags (or any other jewelry) he accidentally beat his wing feathers on your face.

You lost your balance and spooked him, causing him to hiss at you. And beat you over the head with his wing, again.

He is very cuddly when on base, likes to be by your side, and at least has his wing draped on you if it's movie night.

GAZ: Great Horned Owl 

One of Gaz’s strong suits is his ability to camouflage. His feathers comprise a darker brown and even darker, complex markings across. He does have a patch of white feathers on his throat when fully shifted, and people make jokes that it's as if he wears a button-up shirt.

He has the classic owl hoot, and will often use it as comedic relief if a joke doesn't land. It is the most calming and subtle of the group, so he will often use it to find the other members while on base.

His eyes are big. Can give you the sweetest looks without saying anything, and is an absolute heartmelter when his tired eyes show in the daytime.

Like Price, he has tufts on the side of his head but are much smaller in comparison. They do as well peak out from under his cap.

He can adapt to the heat of the desert easily, and if in the Sonoran Desert again, he likes to sit in the sun to warm up.

Gaz does nest, but his is a bit wild and messy in terms of blankets and pillows strewn about when doing so. He doesn't need much, but when in his nesting season he can become aggressive and grumpy.

Price jokes that he can be like a parrot. Somewhat playful but has a tolerance when being preened at by the Captain himself.

Has nipped Price before.

Gaz keeps his talons well-maintained. He lost one in a fight before, and now takes excellent care of them. 

When he becomes fond of you, he will snag you by the arms and fly you in the air with him. Very cautious to not hurt you!

He one time made a nest high up in the rafters in the base but fell out of it and onto the ground when Ghost caught him sleeping.

~~~~~~

Cannot stop imagining Price's owl with a boonie hat on top. Like PLEASE. So cute and deadly.

[akelafang]

Camelot is hosting a feast! Food, music and dancing are in abundance. As are the amount of visiting nobles.

One of the noblewomen has taken a particular liking to dear Sir Leon and is heavily flirting with him. He's deeply uncomfortable but too polite to outright reject her and she's too persistent to notice his disinterest. Gwaine notices though. His eyes always tend to wander back to Leon at events like these. And during training. And the rare nights Leon joins them all at the tavern. And- anyway, the point is he's the most likely person to look over at Leon and notice his distress. Naturally, being the chivalrous knight Gwaine is, he decides to swoop in and rescue the knight in distress.

He makes his way across the hall to them, wraps his arm around Leon's waist and says "There you are darling, I've been looking everywhere! You promised me a dance before the night is over."

Leon jumps a bit having not expected the touch but relaxes when he recognizes Gwaine's voice. When his words register Leon looks at him confused for a second before he catches on. "Oh, ah, so I did. I'm sorry my Lady but a knight can't be seen breaking a promise."

The two leave the noblewomen stunned and sputtering. As soon as they're out of her sight Leon goes to move away but Gwaine tightens his hold on his waist for a second.

"And where do you think you're going? You promised me a dance."

"That was just a ruse to get me away from her, and thank you for that by the way."

"Ruse or not as soon as she stops doing her best impersonation of a floundering fish she'll be watching for you, as will anyone who overheard. A knight can't be seen breaking a promise now can he?" Gwaine sent him a playful smirk "And I certainly wouldn't mind dancing with the second most handsome knight in the kingdom."

Leon looked at him in disbelief with what Gwaine thought might be a small glimmer of hope. Though he worries he might be projecting his own feelings into the situation

Little does he know Leon is having the same worry. "You truly want to dance with me?"

Gwaine smiled at him. Not one of his goofy smiles like when he makes a joke or his flirty smirk he uses to try and get his way. A genuine smile full of fondness and it's own spark of hope. "I do. Look, I'll even let you lead."

Gwaine moves his hand from Leon's waist to his shoulder, giving Leon enough time to step away if he wanted to. But Leon doesn't want to. Instead of stepping away he steps closer and places his hand on Gwaine's waist, taking the lead position for a walts.

"Fair warning, I'm out of practice. It's difficult to do so without a partner you truly want to be dancing with."

A little of Gwaine's flirty smirk creeps into his expression but his eyes still hold nothing but adoration for the man before him. "Then I guess I'll have to make sure you get plenty of practice in the future."

[lil-elle]

Can u do a leehan imagine where he likes fish and he finally found someone that likes fish too

Waahhh he's so cute

Through the Glass

group: boynextdoor

pair: leehan x gn!reader

genre: chance encounter, fluff

word count: 579

content: just cute shy fluff

a/n: i love pretty shy boys, he's a sweetie

Leehan's eyes followed the small fish as they floated around the tank, a content smile on his face. This always happened, he'd come to the pet store to buy food and chemicals for his fish and get distracted by the ones in store. He'd be lucky to leave the store that day without a new one.

Admiring each tank as he walked through the aisles, his eye focused on the tank at the very end, the tank that he loved the most. He stopped in front of it, leaning over to peer in with a wide smile.

“Corydoras!” He exclaimed, his ears immediately perking up to another voice that overlapped his as he spoke. Looking straight through the glass of the tank, he made eye contact with you, leant over admiring the fish in the same way.

You smiled at him, just a smile a stranger would give to another stranger, but he felt his face flush. He wasn't used to interacting with strangers, let alone strangers that were so pretty.

If the smile wasn't enough, he watched in awe as you looped around the side of the tank, coming to stand right next to him.

“I've always wanted some of my own but…my apartment is too small for a good tank.” You chuckled shyly, placing a hand on the glass and letting your gaze follow the small brown fish in front of you.

Leehan's mind was in overdrive, like every ridge of his brain was working to find a response to this stranger suddenly talking to him. After a short moment of shuffling through seemingly programmed responses, he finally forced a few words out of his mouth.

“I-I have some…”

The way you lit up at him as soon as the words processed in your brain made his heart stutter in the same way his mouth did, a feeling he wasn't quite familiar with.

“Really?? Jealous! How many?” You exclaimed, maybe a little too loud for the small space you two were in.

This time, his mouth moved faster than his brain and he blurted something out before really considering it. “A-a few.”

You stared at him for a moment, doe eyed and thoughtless before breaking into a wide smile and cute giggle, a giggle that once again penetrated his heart for no good reason.

“Is that code for ‘too many’?” You giggled through your words, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth slightly. His eyes dilated and his heart throbbed for the 3rd time, no sign that it was going to stop.

Suddenly, it was as if any guard he'd put up had completely vanished, and he let out a chuckle in sync with your giggles. You felt a flutter in your stomach, realising how handsome he really was, especially now he was smiling. Your smile only grew watching him fight short and shy giggles, and you didn't even notice how strangely attracted to him you felt despite knowing absolutely nothing about him.

He looked down at you, finally breaking away from his giggles and allowing his eyes to meet yours properly. He'd never felt so comfortable with a stranger, so comfortable that he wanted to put in the effort to be more than just a stranger.

“I didn't catch your name…” He muttered, eyes already positively smitten with the sight of you in front of him.

What you two didn't know was that this chance encounter would become a lot more meaningful than it seemed.

-

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

TAGLIST:

@hyunromi @chocoeon @hyunukitty @minjaezed

[leupagus]

I firmly believe Stannis is the Westerosi equivalent of the dad who hates cats, doesn't want to get a cat, makes a big deal about not liking the cat, and ends up being the cat's absolute favorite (except instead of a cat it's a huge fuckoff direwolf with boundary issues)

x

The door to the workroom opened and Ghost bounded inside, snuffling at Stannis's hands. Lady Stark, following behind, narrowed her eyes at him as she closed the door.

"You fed him something recently, didn't you?" she said. Ghost, finding nothing, gave a disapproving huff and flopped down by the fireplace.

He had, but that was besides the point. "What are the Knights of the Vale doing here?"

"Just don't give him chicken, we had a terrible problem with the henhouses when they were puppies," she said absently, and circled round to sit at her chair on the far side of the work table. "I brought them here for you."

Stannis, still standing, paused. "For me?"

"Yes, for you. I can't bend the knee, Your Grace. Not yet. But I'm not entirely useless."

"Of all the adjectives I've thought to describe you with, 'useless' has never been one of them."

She smiled at that and looked down at the papers strewn across the table. "Littlefinger — Lord Baelish," she corrected, "had plans for the North. Marrying my Aunt Lysa and becoming Lord Protector of the Vale wasn't enough for him; he wanted more."

"How much more?" Stannis asked as he took his seat again. He was already well able to guess the answer.

"Everything," she answered, a distant look in her eye that Stannis did not like. "He wanted to marry me off to the Boltons. I think the plan was for you you to come sweeping down from the Wall and either take Winterfell or kill out enough of the Bolton forces to weaken them. At which point Littlefinger could come riding to my rescue with the Knights of the Vale. He'd have a ward at the Vale who looked to him for approval, and a new Lady of Winterfell who'd be grateful to him for saving her from monsters twice over." She nodded at his moue of distaste. "Yes, well, he always did consider me one of his cyvasse pieces, to be moved around the board as needed."

Stannis had avoided Baelish at King's Landing, insofar as he could while both of them served on Robert's Small Council. But he well remembered how Baelish spoke of women, how effortlessly he used them and used them up. What damage had he inflicted on a young, friendless girl while he'd had her in his custody? No wonder Lady Stark had fled from him at the first chance of escape.

If that's what had truly happened. The story from the Riverlands was that Baelish had been killed by his own men, and there was no reason to doubt it — such a treacherous man would have succumbed to treachery sooner or later. But Lady Stark had proven herself capable of surprising things, these past months.

It didn't bear thinking of too closely. He cleared his throat. "The Vale, the North — if Baelish wanted the Iron Throne, he'd have needed more than two kingdoms at his command."

"The Riverlands probably would have been next," said Lady Stark with a frown. She pawed through the papers and pulled out a book. "I've been going through the maester accounts, such as they are, from the time my father left Winterfell until now," she said, flipping through it. "There are gaps, obviously, but Maester Wolkan's been keeping remarkably faithful records. Including copies of every raven scroll." She passed the book over to him, tapping at a particular passage. "This was sent to Roose Bolton from the Twins, only a few days before we began the siege."

"'The Blackfish traitor has stolen Riverrun from us. In the name of fellowship among the new Lord Paramounts and the victors over House Stark, we ask for your aid in catching this damned fish and roasting him on a spit.'" Stannis set the book back on the table with the peculiar urge to wipe his hands clean. "Walder Frey was always a craven. Wanting everyone else to fight his battles for him."

"He didn't even have the courage to murder my brother himself," said Lady Stark, taking back the book and closing it with a snap. "Though I've been told it was his son who murdered my mother. A great warrior family, clearly. Plus he doesn't know it's 'Lords Paramount' and not 'Lord Paramounts.'"

Stannis had seen flares of temper from Lady Stark before (on any number of occasions), but the icy rage in her voice gave him pause. Not for the first time, he considered how very merciful she had been with him, in the end. A man responsible for his own brother's murder, when she herself had lost her brother to the very basest of treachery — what might she have done to him, if he'd been anyone other than the rightful king?

Even as he wondered, he knew that his titles had not been what had stayed her hand in judgement. The Starks had never been particularly pragmatic, mostly to disastrous ends, and for all her intelligence Sansa seemed to have inherited a fair helping of the Tully pig-headedness on top of the Stark romanticism. King Stannis would have had no better luck against her judgement than Lord Stannis or Ser Stannis or even Goodman Stannis; it had been for some other reason she had spared him. He wondered when the bill would come due, and if it would ever be in his capacity to pay it.

Lady Stark had continued on. "I haven't found any record of a message sent back to the Twins, but I doubt the Boltons sent one. Lord Bolton were never much for rousing himself for anyone else's interests, even before he betrayed my family. I sent a raven to House Mallister of Seaguard; he sided with Robb during the war, and the Mallisters have always been loyal to House Tully." This time she handed over a scroll, flattened out but still curling slightly at each end.

It was only a bit longer than Walder Frey's, and about as useful. Blackfish holds fast; they have supplies within to last two years or more, and the siege set by the Freys will not last half a season. Brynden has not called the banners of the Riverlands, for Lord Tully is still hostage to the Freys. But if Lady Stark should call, Mallister will answer.

"'If Lady Stark should call,'" he repeated wryly.

"Lord Mallister bounced my mother on his knee when she was a babe, Your Grace," she said, equally wry. "All the oaths of fealty in the world can't replace the bonds of family and friendship between the northern Houses, even those not in the North itself."

"So I am beginning to understand," he said, handing the scroll back. "So the Twins are undefended at present."

"Most likely — Lord Frey is still there, but the bulk of his army will be at Riverrun." She leaned forward. "I've spoken with Lord Royce; he swears to me that Lord Arryn will bend the knee if you lead the Knights of the Vale and your own army and take the Twins. From there, you'll be able to break the Frey's siege at Riverrun — you'll have both the Vale and the Riverlands in a matter of months."

It was a fine strategy, but Stannis couldn't help but feel vaguely offended by it. "Do you mean to tell me that because you refuse to bend the knee, or promise any of your own army to my cause, you've delivered the Knights of the Vale and a promise of House Arryn's fealty as a...consolation prize?"

Lady Stark shrugged. "I suppose so," she admitted. "But a prize, nonetheless. I've only known Lord Royce since I was a guest at the Eyrie, but he seems an honorable man."

"He's an able commander, which is more to the point," Stannis contradicted absently, frowning down at the desk as he mulled it over. Two thousand men was no very great sum — but the Knights of the Vale were one of the best cavalry forces in the kingdoms, for all that they rarely strayed outside their mountains. With the Knights, Stannis's army could divide and take each half of the Twins in a pincer. It would be over nearly before it began.

"Of course, how foolish of me to consider such petty things as honor," grumbled Lady Stark.

Stannis ignored that. "Which leaves the Iron Islands to deal with. Has Lord Greyjoy sent any word?" Even the honorific stuck in his craw. Balon Greyjoy, the only other "king" to survive the war. Stannis had regretted the man's existence ever since the Greyjoy Rebellion.

Lady Stark shook her head. "Nothing. We've beaten back the last of the Ironborn holdouts, but I doubt they'll begrudge us that. My father always said the iron price never spent well. And they rightly blame the Boltons for whatever might have happened to Theon."

Which was still a mystery, so far as Stannis could tell. Theon Greyjoy had not been found among the dead at Winterfell, nor at the Dreadfort. If he'd escaped, there'd been no sightings reported. "No doubt you'll wish to execute him yourself, if he's found, but it would be better—"

"Execute Theon?" she said, her brow furrowing. "I — no. I don't wish that."

He leaned back in his seat. "You surprise me, my lady. I wouldn't have thought you squeamish after all this time." Perhaps that was his answer: she'd spared himself and Lady Brienne not out of principle but cowardice. In a way, it might be a relief: or at least it would be easier to understand.

She looked away. "Father did always say that whoever passes the sentence should swing the sword."

"That's not an answer. Your kindness does you credit, my lady, but if you show too much your people won't fear you. Which means they won't follow you, when the time comes." He'd said the same thing to her brother, more than a year ago when they'd argued over the fate of the wildlings and the drawbacks of mercy. The Lord Commander hadn't heeded the advice; was it a Stark family failing?

It must be, for Lady Stark sighed in frustration and said, "I don't want to be feared, Your Grace. And though you've failed to notice, I'm in no need of anyone following me anywhere. I'm staying—" She broke off and shook her head. "This always happens," she muttered, an odd smile tugging at her mouth.

He frowned. "What always happens?"

"This," she said, gesturing vaguely at the distance between them. "We can't go five minutes without arguing about something."

"That's not true." She sighed again and he reconsidered. "Perhaps if you didn't contradict everything I said."

"Perhaps if you had sisters, growing up," she countered. "My mother always said Arya and I were more trouble than all five of the boys put together." Her expression darkened and Stannis followed her thoughts — Theon had been one of those five boys. Raised alongside the rest of them, within these very walls.

"I thought you would want him dead," he admitted. "More than anyone else in the North."

She got to her feet and went over to the window, resting her arms on the sill as she looked out onto the courtyard. Stannis rose and joined her: down below were a dozen carts piled high with hay. All around them men and women were busy unloading the bales and stacking them up in a corner, where more workers took them away in a brisk line deeper into the Keep. Each cart was in the courtyard only a few minutes; when it was empty, the driver mounted up again and drove slowly out through the great gates, replaced by another cart yet more heavily laden. Supplies from the Northern Houses, to lay in for the oncoming winter.

"I don't want Theon dead," said Lady Stark after a long while observing in silence. He glanced over to her, but she was still looking down at the carts. "I don't want anyone dead, Stannis — there's been so much death. And more coming, if what Jon told you about the White Walkers is true."

She'd never called him by his name before; indeed she didn't seem aware she'd done it. "I believed him," he replied. "I still do. Your brother didn't seem the sort to make up stories."

"He always was honest to a fault," she said, turning to look at him at last. Her blue eyes were bright — tears, unshed. "I wish he'd come with you."

So did he, he realized. Not for his skill in battle or his perception or bravery: but only so his sister would not look so devastated at his loss. "He took an oath to the Night's Watch," he said, cursing at himself for his clumsy words even as he did so.

"I know that," she huffed. "Five minutes without arguing, is that really so difficult?"

"Evidently," he conceded, and she laughed. A watery sound, and she pressed the heels of her hand to her eyes quickly as she turned back toward the table, but laughter nonetheless.

[dianawinchester03]

Season 1, Episode 9 - Home

Series Masterlist

(Slight TW: Reader has a minor panic attack on the first scene. As someone who suffered with panic attacks frequently, I wrote it to the best that I could explain from my experience. You can skip if you'd like but it partly adds to the plot.)

________________________________

Y/N's POV

Fire blasting and burning down a house.

A woman with her two young kids at the window, screaming for help.

A lamp cord wrapped around Sam's neck choking him to death.

Dean with an ax in his hand, knocking down a wall, then a knife flies at him, stabbing him in his heart.

People screaming for mercy.

My eyes fly open after being screwed shut. Realizing it was all just a dream I try to catch my breath. I can feel my head stinging with a horrible headache. I woke up drenched in my own sweat that's running down my neck and forehead. I look over frantically at the beds next to me to see Sam and Dean still asleep on their respective beds. I push my covers off and run into the bathroom. Splashing my face with cold water.

What was that? Was that a vision? It couldn't be. I'm not psychic like my mom, if I was it would've shown up long before. Holy fuck. Am I late bloomer or some shit? It felt way to real to be just a dream. No no no this can't be happening. I couldn't be psychic. I can't be. It should've shown up sooner.

God how I going to explain this to the boys. Are they gonna hate me? I'm overthinking. If I don't stop I'll start to hyperventilate. Calm down girl CALM DOWN. Relax. Just count like dad always thought you when this happens.

I could feel my heart racing, it's beating escalating by the second. Practically pumping out of my chest. I struggle to get air into my lungs, I could feel my breathing falter as my mind swirls, the images of that family burning alive, the agony they went through. My palms begin to clam up and I could feel my head growing lighter.

"One...breath...Two...breath...Three..." I whisper to myself counting until ten. My back presses against the door as I slide down it. I curl into a ball, pulling my knees to my chest. Crying, begging for that to not be a vision. Please just be a dream. Please just be a dream. I don't want to be psychic. I can't be. I can't be. I know it's supposed to be a gift but I don't want it!!

I hear light knocking on the bathroom door, "Y/N/N? Is everything okay?" I hear Deans soft voice outside, concern seeping through his tone. I sniffle and scoot to the side, opening the door. His face drops when he sees me on the floor, my tear stained face buried in my hands.

"Princess...what's wrong?" He instantly wraps his arms around me, sinking in the floor next to me and I bury my face in his chest sobbing. I could feel everything in that dream. Everything that those dying people were feeling. "I-I d-don't wan-" I struggle to get the words out, coughing through my tears.

"Hey shhh, it's okay sweetheart. I've got you" He coos in my ear, patting my head soothingly. "Was it a nightmare?" He asks me gently. "I don't know" My voice cracking. "It's okay, you don't need to talk about it. I'm here. Just let it out" He whisper into my ear, giving me a kiss on my forehead and the top of my head.

________________________________

"Alright, I've been cruising some websites. I think I found a few candidates for our next gig" Dean tells us but my mind is still stuck on the dream I had last night, currently I'm drawing the house I saw in my dream. Something about it seems so familiar but I can't pinpoint what or why.

I'm sitting across from him at the desk on their motel room while Sam is on his bed, drawing like me. "A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali, it's crew vanished" He says, taking a sip of his coffee. "And uh...we've got some cattle mutilations in West Texas" He continues to list. "Hey!" He calls out to me and Sam annoyed, we look up from our pads.

"Am I boring you two with this hunting evil stuff?" He asks us, glaring. "No. I'm listening. Keep going" Sam says quietly. "Yeah, me too. Continue" I say, looking back down at my pad with the drawing. "And here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times" Dean emphasized the last part.

"Any of these things blowing up your skirt, princess?" He asks me, waving his hand in my face. I scan over my drawing and something clicks in my head. "Wait, I've seen this." Sam says. "Holy shit." I whisper to myself. "What?" Sam asks going to his bag to get something.

I go into my bag and pull out an old picture my dad had with him, mom, John, Mary and a four year old Dean outside of their old house. "What're you guys doing?" Dean asks Sam. Sam pulls out an old picture of Mary and Dean. Comparing it to the picture he drew of a tree and it was identical to the tree in the picture behind them.

"Look at this" I show Sam the picture of the house that I drew and the picture of our parents and Dean as a kid, behind is John and Mary'a old house...identical to the one that I drew from my dream. Sam is stunned by this, "You saw it too..." He said lowly and I nod shakily.

"Dean. I know where we have to go next" I say shakily. "Where?" Dean asked confused. "Back home. Back to Kansas" Sam says and Dean seems shocked by this. "Okay, random. Where did that come from?" He asks us. "Alright, these pictures were taken infront of our old house, right?" Sam takes the picture from my hand and his picture, showing it to Dean.

"This is house where your mom died?" I asked. "Yeah." Dean confirms looking at the picture. "It didn't burn down completely like Y/N's parents house. They rebuilt it, right?" Sam asks. "I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you guys talking about?" Dean asks us confused. "Okay look. This is gonna sound crazy but the people who live in your old house...I think they might be in danger..." I trail off looking at Sam.

"We think they might be in danger" Sam says. "Why would you guys think that?" Dean asks. "Uh..just...um..Look just— You gotta trust us on this, okay?" Sam stutters trying to come up with an excuse, grabbing his bag and I go to grab mine. "Okay, whoa, whoa. Trust you?" Dean gets up from the table as we pack our stuff.

"Yeah" Sam says. "Come on guys. That's weak. You gotta give me a little more than that" Dean says. "I can't really explain it is all." Sam says. "Well, tough. I'm not going anywhere until you do" Dean says annoyed and Sam turn to him sighing. "I have these nightmares" Sam begins. "So do I" I add. "I've noticed" Dean says sympathetically, probably due to my episode last night.

"And sometimes...they come true" Sam says and Dean is stunned. "Come again?" Dean asks. "Look, Dean..I dreamt about Jessica's death for days before it happened." Sam tells him. "Sam, people have weird dreams man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence" Dean assured him, sitting on the bed.

"No. I dreamt about the blood dripping; her on the ceiling, the fire. Everything and I didn't do anything about it because I didn't believe it" Sam argues. "It's true Dean. Days before me and my dad argued. I dreamt about it, I dreamt about me leaving and before you try to feed me that psychology bullshit. I'm not gonna eat it. Just listen to us. Please." I plead with him and Dean sighs shaking his head.

"The day Jessica died...I had this erring feeling that something bad was gonna happen all day. Then we heard Sam scream...." I confess and Sam looks at me shocked. "Really?" He asks. "Yeah. I'm sorry Sam I didn't k-" I go to say but he cuts me off. "It's not your fault. It's okay. You don't need to apologize" He assures me with a small smile and I sigh.

"Look Dean. We're dreaming about that tree, about our house and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean. That's where it all started man. This has to mean something right?" Sam tries to reason frustrated. "I don't know" Dean says shaking his head.

"What do you mean you don't know?" I ask him frustrated. "Dean. You found me on the floor last night crying. It was because I dreamt that! Exactly what Sam saw, I did too!" I exclaim and he looks at me shocked. "I felt the pain, the misery, the anguish, everything. As if I was there" I tell him, tears forming in my eyes. Don't be a little bitch y/n, tough it out.

"This woman might be in danger. I mean this might even be the thing that killed our moms and Jessica!" Sam exclaims. "Alright. Just slow down would you?!" Dean yells, getting up from the bed and walking over to the desk. "I mean, first you tell me you two have got the Shining and then you tell me that I've gotta go back home. Especially when..." Deans voice is shaky as he trails off.

"When what?" Sam asks. "When I swore to myself that I would never go back there" Dean says sadly and my heart drops. I didn't even think about that. Dean saw everything that happened to his mom that night and then heard about everything that happened to mine. Of course he wouldn't want to go back. Gosh I feel so stupid and selfish now.

"Dean..." I say softly. "I'm sorry, I didn't think of it like that" I apologize, putting my hand on his shoulder comfortingly and he looks down sadly. "Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure" Sam pleads. And he looks back at Sam with anguish in his eyes, then back at me he sighs. "I know we do" He says understandably.

________________________________

The boys and I pull up to their old house, by just the look on Deans face you can tell it's already hard enough on him. "You gonna be alright, charming?" I ask him softly, concerned. "Let me get back to you on that, Princess" He says quickly, staring at the house.

We all exit the Impala and walk towards the house. I take the initiative to knock on the door and after a couple seconds a young blonde woman answers it...the same woman from my dream. My breath hitches in my throat when she comes into view and I notice Sam is taken back by it too. Holy fuck it was real.

"Yes?" She asks us sweetly after opening the door. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am. But uh we're with the Federal-" Dean goes to lie but Sam cuts him off. "I'm Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean and our best friend Y/N L/N. Umm...we used to live here. Y/N used to live down the block" Sam says, I notice the look of panic on Deans face when Sam spills the beans.

"You know, we were just driving by and the boys were wondering if we could come and see the old place" I say sweetly. "Winchester and L/N....Yeah that's so funny. You know I think I found some of your photos the other night" The woman says with a smile on her face. "You did?" Dean asks shocked.

She looks at us hesitantly for a second before inviting us in. "Okay, come on in" She opens the door wider and we all look at each other with a pleasant smile on our faces towards her and enter. She introduced herself as Jenny as we follow into the kitchen behind her to see a toddler boy, no older than 3, in his crib bouncing up and down chanting.

The second I entered, I felt a heavy sense in the house. I could feel a weight on my chest, like I couldn't breath when I entered. It felt dark, evil, brooding...I couldn't explain it but it wasn't good whatsoever. Maybe I'm just being paranoid.

"Juice, Juice, Juice" and a young girl probably around 10, seemingly doing homework at the kitchen dining table. "That's Richie. He's kind of a juice junkie." She introduces her son, going into the locked fridge and getting a sippy cup with juice.

"But hey. At least he won't get scurvy" He smiles at him, giving him his juice. "Sari, this is Sam, Dean and Y/N. Sam and Dean used to live here." Jenny tells her young daughter, Sari, at the dining table. "Hi" Sari says with a pleasant smile on her face. "Hey, Sari" I say sweetly while Sam and Dean wave at her.

"So you just moved in?" Dean asks. "Yeah. From Wichita" Jenny informs us. "You got family here, or..?" I ask curiously. "No, I just..uh..um..needed a fresh start, that's all" She stummers on her words as we nod. "So new town, new job— I mean, as soon as I find one. New house" She says with an awkward smile.

I look at the corner of my eye to see an unease but sad smile on Deans face. "So, how are you liking it so far?" Sam asks. She turns to us a bit unsure, "Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home...I mean, I'm sure you have lots of happy memories here...but this place has its issues" She puts it vaguely.

"What do you mean?" I ask concerned. "Well, it's just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We've got flickering lights almost hourly." She explains and that sets alarms off in my head. "Well, that's too bad. What else?" Dean asks. "Um...Sinks backed up. There's rats in the basement" Jenny further informs us and Deans frown deepens.

She realizes how it might sound and quickly apologizes, "Im sorry. I don't mean to complain" She says sincerely but he smiles reassuringly. "No. Have you see the rats or have you just heard scratching?" Dean asks. "It's just the scratching, actually" She says lowly. "Mom?" Sari calls Jenny over.

"Ask them if it was here when they lived here" Sari says and our faces drop. "What, Sari?" Sam asks her. "The thing in my closet" She says. "Oh, no, baby. There was nothing in their closets. Right?" Jenny tries to convince Sari and herself, turning to us for back up. "Right. No, no, of course not" I tell Sari nicely with a smile on my face.

"She had a nightmare the other night" Jenny tells us. "I wasn't dreaming. It came into my bedroom and it was on fire" Sari insists and the boys and I share bewildered looks.

We're now walking out of their old house and as soon as we left, the feeling I was getting when we entered the house was gone. I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding. I've never felt this was on other hunts before, I can't tell why I felt like that in Sam and Deans old house. It makes no sense.

"You hear that? A figure on fire" Sam says a bit panicked as we leave the house, walking down the porch. "And that woman, Jenny, that was the women from your dreams?" Dean asks us. "Yeah" I confirm, "And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights. Both signs of a malevolent spirit" I list off as we walk towards the car.

"Yeah, well. I'm just freaked out that the two of you guys weirdo visions are coming true" Dean says roughly and I roll my eyes. "Thanks" I grumble sarcastically and his face drops when he remembers that my mom was psychic. "Y/N I'm so-" He goes to apologize but I cut him off. "Forget about that for a second" I say bluntly.

"The thing in the house, you think its the thing that killed our moms and Jessica?" Sam asks. "I don't know" Dean says frustrated. "Well, I mean. Has it come back or has it been there the whole time?" I ask. "Or maybe it's something else entirely guys. We don't know yet" Dean argues. "Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get them out of that house" Sam defends.

"And we will." Dean says and goes to go into the car but I stop him, "No, we mean now" I argue. "And how you gonna do that huh? You got a story that she'll believe!?" Dean gets into my face and argues back. "Then what are we supposed to do?!" I yell frustrated, taking a deep breath.

________________________________

"We just need to chill out, that's all" Dean tells us as he filled up Baby with fuel. We're all at a gas station, Sam outside leaning against the car next to me while I'm smoking a cigarette. "If this was any other kind of job, what would we do?" I ask as I take one last drag from my cigarette before flicking it on the ground and crushing it with the heel of my boot.

Sam takes a deep breath, rubbing his hands together. "We'd try to figure out what we were dealing with. We'd dig into the history of the house." He answers, walking over to Dean who's by the trunk. "Exactly, except this time we already know what happened" Dean says. "Yeah but how much do we even know? How much do you actually remember?" I ask Dean gently, walking over to them and leaning against the trunk next to Sam.

"About that night you mean?" He asks. "Yeah" Sam says and Dean shakes his head. "Not much. I remember the fire. The heat...." Dean says taking a deep breath, reminiscing on the events of the unfaithful night. I could see the flash of emotions as he talks about it. "....then I carried you out the front door" Me and Sam head snap up when Dean says this.

"You did?" Sam asks surprised. "Yeah. Why. You never knew that?" Dean says casually. "No" Sam shakes his head. "And, uh, well you know Dad and Mr. L/N's stories as well as I do. Mom was...was on the ceiling. And so was Mrs. L/N. Whatever put them there was long gone by the time our dads found them" Dean says trying to suppress his emotions.

I just stare at the floor as he talks about it. A lump growing in my throat. I never knew my mom obviously. Granted neither did Sam. Hell, Dean knew my mom more than me. Dean used tell me about when he was little, my mom and dad used to babysit him every so often whenever John and Mary needed the assistance.

He always loved being around my mom because apparently she used to make him pie. Apple pie, his favorite. She used to sneak him slices to carry home because his mom didn't want him eating too much sweets. From what I can tell, they shared a really close bond.

He absolutely adored her and I can tell that when he found out the same thing happened killed my mom, it truly affected him. He lost two mother figures in a span of a couple months, I may have never known my mom but by the stories I've heard. I know she was an amazing woman that I'd wish to be like someday.

"And they never had any theories about what did it?" Sam asks Dean. "If they did, they kept it between themselves" Dean says, turning around to lean against baby with us, me in the middle of the boys. "God knows we asked them enough times" I scoff. "Okay, so if we're gonna figure out what's going on now...we have to figure out what happened back then...and see if it's the same thing" Sam says.

"Yeah. We'll talk to our dads friends, neighbors. People who were there at the time" Dean says nodding. "Does this feel like just another job to you fellas?" I ask ironically. Sam chuckles dryly but Dean doesn't answer. Taking it into thought before excusing himself, "I'll be right back, I gotta go to the bathroom" He says walking away.

"Yeah, me too" I say to Sam, walking towards the bathroom. I'm just a couple feet behind Dean, when I bend the corner I see him dialing a number into his phone and put it to his ear. "Dad....I know I've left you messages before. I've left F/N messages and so have Y/N. I don't even know if you get them" He clears his throat lightly.

"But I'm with Sam and Y/N. And we're in Lawrence...and there's something in our old house. I don't know if it's the thing that killed Mom or not...but.." He trails off before taking a deep breath. "I don't know what to do" His voice cracks when he says this and my heart sinks in my chest. I could just cry hearing the way he sounds so defeated. "So, whatever you and Mr. L/N are doing. If you two could just get here....Please" He pleads.

"I need your help, Dad" He finishes, sounding like he's in the verge of tears before hanging up the phone. He turns around to see me, his face dropping probably at the fact I just heard everything. "Dean..." My tone is sad, concerned and soft. As I say this, his head drops and it's like the dam broke and he couldn't hold back his tears.

I rush over to him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, his arms wrap around my waist. I pull him close as he buries his face into my hair on the side of my neck sobbing. "Hey shhhh, it's okay darling. I've got you" I coo soothingly into his ear while he sobs softly, his body trembling. "We'll find them, I promise. Okay?" I pull away and take his face in-between the palm of my hands.

"I promise" I say again, a little more firmly. He nods weakly as I wipe away some of his tears with my thumb before pressing a kiss to his cheek and holding him again tightly. "I'm here, just let it out" I say softly as I rub my fingers in his hair.

________________________________

"So you, John Winchester and F/N L/N. You guys used to own this garage a long time ago?" Dean asks Guenthur. After calming down and leaving the gas station. We all decided to go to our dads' old garage they owned together with an old friend of theirs and ask him a couple questions. "Yeah, we used to. A long time ago" Guenthur says chuckling a bit, he then turns to us wiping his hands with his rag.

"Matter of fact, it must be 20 years since John and F/N disappeared. So why are the cops interested all of a sudden?" He asks us suspiciously. "Oh, we're reopening unsolved cases. The Winchester and L/N disappearances are a couple of them, seeing as they're closely related" I say professionally and the boys nod along in agreement.

"Well, what do you wanna know about John and F/N" Guenthur asks us. "Whatever you remember, you know? Whatever sticks out in your mind" Dean says. "Well, he was a stubborn bastard, I remember that. And F/N was a bit of a dick but boy that man could put down in a drinking contest" He tells us chuckling and we all chuckle along with him.

"And whatever the game, John hated to lose, you know? It was that whole marine thing. And F/N, despite whatever he had a heart of gold. He had this tough way about him, you know he's seen some shit" Guenthur chuckles and I nod along listening. "They sure loved their wives. Mary and M/N. And they dotted on their kids" He says.

I see Dean's face drop again at the mention of our moms. "But that was before the fires?" I ask. "That's right" Guenthur confirms. "They ever talk about what happened those nights?" Sam asks. "No. Not at first. I think they were in shock." He tells us. "Right. But eventually. What did they say about it?" I ask.

"They weren't thinking straight. John kept saying something caused that fire and killed Mary." Guenthur says. "They ever say what did it?" Dean asks. "Nothing did it. It was an accident. An electrical short in the ceiling or walls or something" Guenthur assures us. "I begged F/N to get him some help instead he bought into it and uh...." Guenthur explains to us and trails off, looking down.

"And what?" I insist. "Well they just got worse and worse" He tells us. "How?" Dean asks. "Oh, they started reading these strange old books that F/N had. F/N took him to this palm reader in town that was friends with M/N" He told us and Dean looks over at me. "Palm reader? Do you have a name?" He asks him. "No" Guenthur scoffs.

________________________________

Later we're by a pay phone and Sam's going through the phone book while Dean and I lean against baby. "So there are a few psychics and palm readers in town." Sam tells us. "There's uh, someone named El Divino. There's the mysterious Mr. Fortensky." He says the last part chuckling.

"Uh, Missouri Mosley. Some dude named—" He goes to continue but Dean cuts him off. "Wait wait. Missouri Mosley?" Dean asks. "What?" Sam asks confused. "That's a psychic?" He further questions. "Yeah. Yeah I guess so." Sam says and Dean gets off of baby and opens the backdoor, grabbing John's journal.

"Dad journal. Come here look at this" He tells us as he opens it and we walk over to take a look. "First page. First sentence. Read that." He hands me the book and Sam stands next to me. "I went to Missouri and I learned the truth. What F/N was telling me was true" I read out loud off the page and look back up at the boys.

"I always thought he meant the state" Dean says.

________________________________

After we found Missouri's shop location in the phone book. It wasn't too far so we hopped into baby and headed on over. Now sitting in the waiting area, a dark skinned middle aged woman comes out talking to a middle aged man.

"Don't you worry about a thing. Your wife is crazy about you" She assures the man, smiling. "Well, thank you" The man thanks her and leaves. When he leaves she looks at us and takes a deep breath, "Poor bastard. His woman is cold banging the gardener" She tells us and I cock my eyebrow at this.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Dean asks and she turns to us. "People don't come here for the truth. They come here for good news" She tells us bluntly. "Well. Sam, Dean and Y/N, come on already. I ain't got all day" She says a bit annoyed and we sit there stunned. Guess she really is a psychic.

We follow behind her into what looks like her office. "Well, let me look at you" She smiles laughing. "You boys grew up handsome" She compliments them. "And you, Y/N. Oh you look just like your mother. As beautiful as ever" She says sincerely to me, a bit of tears in her eyes. "Thank you" I say softly.

She smiles at me and then turns to Dean. "And you were one goofy looking kid too" She turns to Dean laughing while me and Sam snicker. "You ain't wrong there" I mutter and Deans head snaps on my direction, giving me a slight glare. I scrunch my nose at him before flashing him a wink and he rolls his eyes scoffing, Missouri's eyes glances between us for a couple seconds with a sly smirk on her face.

She then takes Sam's hand with a smile, "Sam. Oh, honey" She gasps sadly, her smile dropping. Sam seems a bit weirded out by this. "I'm sorry about your girlfriend" She tells him sincerely. "And your fathers. They're missing?" She asks us and we're all surprised, taken back at her accuracy.

"How'd you know all that?" Sam asks. "Well...you were just thinking it just now" She tells us. "Where are they? Are they okay?" Dean asks concerned. "I don't know" She tells us. "Don't know? You're supposed to be a psychic, right?" Dean asks a bit annoyed. "Boy, you see me sawing some bony tramp in half? You think I'm a magician?!" She exclaims annoyed while Dean looks like a little boy being scolded by his parent.

Me and Sam stifle our laughter at Dean being told off. "I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room but I can't just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please" She orders us, gesturing to some chairs and the boys take a seat. I don't hold back my laughter anymore. "I like you Ms. Moseley" I smile at her and she flashes me a grin. "Please. Call me Missouri" She says and I sit inbetween the boys.

"Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I'm gonna whack you with a spoon!" She suddenly snaps at Dean and he freezes. "I didn't do anything" He says defensively. "Well, you were thinking about it" She shoots back and he looks at us before shrugging. Me and Sam smile at the sight and stifle our laughter.

"Okay. So our dads. When did you first meet them?" Sam asks her. "They came for a reading. A couple months after Mary died, it was also a few days after M/N died" She says sadly, tears welling up in her eyes. "F/N referred him to me because M/N was a good friend of mine. I just convinced John about what was really out there in the dark because he wouldn't believe F/N. I guess you could say, I helped draw back the curtains for him" She explains to us.

"What about the fires?" Dean asked. "Do you know about what killed our moms?" I ask. "A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hoping I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing" She tells us. "And could you?" Sam asks and she shakes her head. "I don't..." She hesitates.

"What was it?" I ask shakily. "I don't know." She says. "Ohhhhh....but it was evil" Her voice goes low and my breath hitches. Missouri looks at me and narrows her eyes. "You felt it didn't you?" She asks me and I look down. I notice the boys heads snap over at me shocked. "I don't know what I felt. But it wasn't good" I say.

"So what? Y/N's psychic too?" Dean pipes up. "No" "Possibly" Me and Missouri say at the same time. "It's not possible" I shake my head. "I would've known by now" I say firmly and Missouri frowns. "There are such a thing as late bloomers. It is possible Y/N. You could be unintentionally blocking your abilities on your own" She tells me.

"How?" Sam asks. "I can't say. Only Y/N would know" She says gently, looking at me. I shake my head and I notice the boys give me a sympathetic look. "So, you think somethings back in that house?" Missouri asks us changing the subject which I am grateful for. "Definitely" Sam says nodding.

"I don't understand" Missouri sighs. "What?" I ask. "I haven't been back inside but I've been keeping an eye on the place and it's been quiet. They never rebuilt F/N's old house. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it acting up now?" She questions.

"I don't know. But our dads going missing and Jessica dying and now this house....all happening at once, it just feels like something is starting" Sam replies and I nod in agreement. "That's a comforting thought" Dean says sarcastically.

________________________________

We convinced Missouri to come with us back to Sam and Dean's old house to take a look at the place. Now knocking at the front door, Jenny answers with her son Richie on her hip. "Sam, Dean, Y/N" She breathes out a bit relieved, looking like she was just frightened. "What're you doing here?" She asks us.

"Hey, Jenny." Sam says softly. "Um, this is our friend, Missouri" Sam introduces Missouri. "If it's not too much. We were hoping to show her the old house. You know? For old times sake" Dean says nicely as Missouri smiles at Jenny who looks at us a bit awkwardly.

"You know what? This isn't a good time" Jenny denies and goes to close the door. "Listen Jenny, it's important- OW!" Dean tries to budge but Missouri smacks him upside his head. "Give the poor girl a break. Can't you see she's upset?" Missouri snaps at him while Sam and I bit back our laughter.

"Forgive this boy. He means well. He's just not the sharpest tool on the shed. But hear me out" Missouri turns to Jenny, pleading with her nicely while Dean glares at her. Sam and I are shocked by this but try to stifle back our snickers. "About what?" Jenny asks, exasperated.

"About this house" Missouri states. "What're you talking about?" Jenny asks us but I get the sense she knows more than she's letting on. "I think you know what she's talking about" I chime in, giving her a knowing look and she looks down guiltily. Missouri flashes me a small smile before turning to Jenny.

"You think there's something in this house. Something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?" Missouri adds and Jenny takes a deep panicked breath. "Who are you?" She asks us. "We're people who can help. Who can stop this thing. But you're gonna have to trust us just a little" Missouri says calmly and Jenny hesitates a little bit before obliges, letting us in.

"If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it" Missouri says as we walk into Saris room. "Why?" Sam asks. "This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened" She informs us. Sam looks visibly nervous, his Adam's apple bobs as he takes a look around the room.

As I look around the room I could feel the darkness surrounding the room that I felt earlier, this time. It's a lot heavier, more potent. It didn't feel like just one thing. It felt like there's a ton of dark shit in here and it's not letting up easily.

Dean seems a bit nervous too as he pulls out his EMF meter, powering it up. Missouri turns to him and asks, "That an EMF?" He looks up, "Yeah" He responds. "Amateur" She scoffs and he glares at her a bit. She walks around the room, touching various items and Deans EMF goes off a bit, the red lights and noise blurring.

"I don't know if you kids should be disappointed or relieved but this ain't the thing that took your moms" She tells us and we're all stunned. "Are you sure? How do you know?" Sam asks shakily. "It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It's something different" She explains to us.

"What is it?" Dean asks and she walks over to the closet, opening it. It felt like a flash of energy just came out of it as she opened it. "Not it. Them. There's more than one spirit in this place" Missouri states and I gasp lowly. "You felt it too didn't you. Don't deny it" She turns to me.

"I-" I stutter on my words, not able to explain. I can't be psychic. I just shrug, not looking her in her eyes that are narrowed in my direction."What're they doing here?" Dean asks. "They're here because of what happened to your family" She says, walking back to us. "You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walks this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes wounds get infected." She explains.

"I don't understand" Sam says. "This place is a magnet for paranormal energy" She elaborates and turns looking around the room. "It's attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead" Missouri says morbidly and I feel a pain in my chest. "You said there was more than one spirit" I say.

She turns to me and nods in confirmation. "There is" She says and walks back into the closet. "I just can't quite make out the second one" Missouri says and asks me. "Can you?". I struggle to answer. "I don't know. But all I know is this don't feel good at all" I say shakily. "Well one things for damn sure. Nobody's dying in this house ever again" Dean states firmly.

"So whatever is here, how do we stop it?" He asks Missouri.

________________________________

We're all now sitting downstairs in Jenny's living room and Missouri set out a bunch of stuff on the table. "So what is all this stuff anyway?" Dean asks curiously as he sits by the table. I'm sitting next to him, my chair turned backwards with me straddling it and Sam standing next to me, leaning against the table with his hands.

"Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt. A few other odds and ends" She lists off, pointing at each item. "Yeah? What are we supposed to do with it?" I ask. "We're gonna put them inside the walls, in the north, south, east, west corners on each floor of the house" Missouri explains.

"We're gonna be punching holes in the drywall, Jenny's gonna love that" Dean replies with sarcasm, looking at me and Sam. "She'll live" Missouri retorts. "And this will destroy the spirits?" Sam asks. "It should. It should purify the house completely" Missouri responds with a nod.

"We'll each take a floor. But we work fast. Once the spirits realize what we're up to....things are gonna get bad" She warns us.

We got Jenny to leave the house for a couple hours so we can work on the house. Missouri is outside escorting her to her car. Sam's takes upstairs, while Missouri takes the basement and Dean and I took the kitchen. Dean pulls out an axe and starts breaking the wall with it, putting the bag inside....just like my dream....if it's true then that means...

"Holy shit" I gasp. "What?" Dean asks me concerned. "You breaking the wall. I dreamt that. And I dreamt Sam getting strangled with a cord" I tell him quickly. "Duck!" I yell and pull him to the ground. The knife was flying towards us, it stabs the cupboard above us.

We grab a table, knocking it down and using it as a shield, knives stabbing through it. "You dreamt me getting stabbed too, didn't you?" He asks me and I nod quickly. "Oh shit. Sam!" I gasp, realization takes over Deans face and we bolt upstairs.

We run into the room to see Sam on the ground with the cord wrapped around his neck, gasping for breath. "Sam!" Dean exclaims, he tries to pull the cord off, grunting but it wouldn't budge. I see the bag with the stuff Missouri gave us to put in the walls next to Sam.

I take it up and kick a hole in the wall which part Sam was supposed to put and and chuck it in the hole. Suddenly a blast of white light takes over the house, temporarily blinding us. I cover my head with my arms and Dean does the same.

I rush over to Sam to see the cord has loosen. He takes a deep breath, catching his breath and we pull it out from around his neck, holding him up. I sigh in relief as I hold my best friend in my arms. Dean lets out a sigh too, holding his little brother.

________________________________

Later we're all back downstairs in the kitchen, that's in quite the mess. "You sure this is over?" I ask Missouri. "I'm sure" she says, turning to me. "Why? Why do you ask?" She questions. "Never mind. It's nothing I guess" I say and we hear the front door open and close.

I'm still a bit unsure about this whole thing, the place still feels a bit heavy but maybe I'm just being paranoid. I notice Sam seems uneasy about it too but he chooses not to say anything. The light turns on, "Hello, we're home" Jenny announces her presence, walking in with Richie on her hip and holding Saris hand.

She looks around in shock at the mess the place is in. "What happened?" She asks us worried. "Hi. Sorry uh. We'll pay for all of this" Sam apologizes and I notice Dean look at him like 'We will?'. "Don't you worry. Deans gonna clean up this mess" Missouri tells her and his eyebrows cock up at this.

"Well, what are you waiting for boy? Get the mop" She orders him in a motherly tone and he goes to walk off. "And don't cuss at me" She snaps and he turns back surprised. I hold back a snicker at his reaction as he goes to get the mop, mumbling to himself angrily. I chuckle at the interaction, my heart swelling a bit at the cute look in Deans face when he's mumbling like a child.

He's so freaking adorable. Wait. What? I think to myself. Missouri head snaps to me when I have this thought, a sly look on her face and she flashes me a wink. I look at her confused and she comes closer to me and whispers, "You'd be surprised at what he thinks of you". I cock my eyebrow in confusion and she shakes her head in amusement.

We all leave the house after cleaning up in a orderly fashion, turning back to Jenny and waving at her as we leave.

________________________________

"Alright so tell me again. What are we still doing here?" Dean asks us a bit annoyed. We're all outside of their old house in the Impala. "I don't know. I-I just uh-" I stutter on my words. "We still have a bad feeling" Sam pipes up. "Why?" Dean asks up exasperated. "Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubinstein thing. The house should be clean. This should be over" He adds turning to us.

"Yeah. Well, probably. But we just wanna make sure. That's all." I tell him and he sighs, leaning back in his seat. "Yeah, well. Problem is. I could be sleeping in a bed right now" Dean groans. I look at the window to Jenny's room, she's banging on her window and it looks like she's screaming "Help!".

I nudge Sam roughly. "Sam. Dean!" I exclaim and we all rush out of the car. "You two grab the kids. I'll get Jenny!" He tells us as we run up the porch and knock the front door down. I run into Richies room and grab him, holding him to my chest. "Help! Please!" I hear screaming from Saris room.

When I run in I see Sam standing stunned at the door, what looks like a figure of a man in bursting flames while Sari is on her bed screaming for help. Sam rushes in and I hold Richie to my chest, clutching him closely. "Come here. Come here. Don't look. Don't look" He goes in and gets Sari, picking her up on his hip and we all run downstairs.

Sam rests down Sari and I rest down Richie when we get downstairs. "Alright. Sari. Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Don't look back okay, sweetie?" I tell her gently. Suddenly something grabs me and Sam by our feet, pulling up down the hall causing Sari to scream. Grabbing her brother she runs outside where Dean and Jenny should be.

The force pulls us, dragging us across the hall and into the kitchen, knocking us into the table. The force throws us all across the room, into the fridge, into the wall, across the floor, into the counter, like we're rag dolls. Me and Sam groan in pain getting to our feet.

We hear the door getting knocked doing, assuming it's Dean we go to bolt for the door but the force grabs us again, throwing us into the wall and we grunt in pain. "God dammit!" I scream, trying to pull out of the force as Sam does the same but fails while screaming.

The door finally breaks and we hear Dean yell, "SAM! Y/N!". But the flaming figure that we saw in Sari's room earlier appears again in front of us, making its way slowly to us. Our faces contort in pure fear. I look at the figure properly, my heart beating out of its chest when it comes into view clearly.

It was familiar...too familiar. A face I only saw in old pictures. "What the fuck?" Sam whispers stunned. "No fucking way" I breath out in shock. "Sam? Y/N?" We hear Deans footsteps and voice in the house. When he walks into room and aims his gun at the figure, ready to shoot.

"No! Don't! Don't!" Me and Sam yell for him to stop. "What? Why?!" Dean yells back in confusion. "Because we know who it is" Sam says. "We can see her now" I say and the figure diminishes the fire to reveal...Mary. Sam and Deans mom. Dean lowers his gun in shock, fear, confusion. "Mom?" Dean says softly. Mary takes a few steps closer to him with a small smile on her face.

"Dean" She says sweetly and tears well up in Deans eyes. She then walks over to Sam who has breathing is rugged but smiles tearfully looking at his mother. "Sam" She says softly and then turns to me, the smile growing wider on her face. "Y/N" She says nicely, tears welling up in her eyes when she turns back to Sam.

"I'm sorry" She says apologetically to him, tears streaming down both our faces. "For what?" Sam asks tearfully and she doesn't answer, she just has this look of guilt on her face. She then turns and looks up to where Sams nursery was. "You get out of my house. And let go on my son and his best friend" She demanding tone.

Right after she says this, flames engulf her own body and the burst of flames fly up to the ceiling. The boys and I try to turn our heads away but we're too stunned by what's happening. After that, the force that was pinning us to the wall falters and we're free.

The weight on my chest that I felt earlier was suddenly gone. The brooding darkness that was there, erased. We look around, gasping for breath. "Mom?" Dean whispers, looking around. Sam and I walk forwards from against the wall, "Now it's over" I say to the boys nodding.

________________________________

The next day after the events in their old house, the boys and I are outside by the Impala and Jenny hands Dean some of the old pictures she found of their family. There's one with a young John and Mary, one with my parents when they were young, another with all of our parents, one with a four year old Dean holding 6 month old Sam and another with Dean holding a 6 month old me.

Dean smiles at the photo and looks at Jenny, "Thanks for these" He says gratefully. "Don't thank me, they're yours" She responds with a smile. He hands me the picture and I put it in a box with their old stuff, I walk back up to the steps by the front door where Sam is sitting and I take a seat next to him, leaving Jenny and Dean to talk.

"Well, there are no spirits in there anymore" Missouri tells us as she exits the front door. "This time for sure" She assures us confidently, taking a seat next to me. "Not even my mom?" Sam asks. "No" Missouri says softly, shaking her head and Sam nods. "What happened?" I ask her.

"Mary's spirt and the poltergeist's energy, they cancelled each other out" She explains to us and then looks at Sam. "Your mom destroyed herself going after the thing" Missouri says sadly. "Why would she do something like that?" Sam asks tearfully. "Well to protect her boys and their best friend, of course" She assures us and we nod with tears in our eyes.

"Sam...Y/N, I'm sorry" She apologizes. "For what?" Sam asks a bit confused. "You two sensed it here, didn't you? Even when I couldn't" She tells us. "What's happening to us?" Sam asks. "I know I should have all the answers but....I don't know" Missouri says honestly. "Am I psychic like my mom?" I ask her shakily.

"It's possible. Very possible. Even if you don't want the gift, it's yours to bear. Only time will tell" She says softly, I drop my head nodding."Sam, Y/N. You guys ready?" We hear Dean call out to us. We get up and walk towards the Impala. "Thanks Sam and Y/N" Jenny thanks us and we give her a nod.

"Don't you kids be strangers" Missouri calls out to us. I turn to her with a small smile on my face. "We won't" Dean says smiling back at her. "See you around" She says and Jenny gives us a small wave. We hop into Baby, Sam in shotgun and me in the back, Dean starts the ignition and we're off.

________________________________

Third Person POV

Missouri enters her shop, closing the door behind her. She feels presences in her home, resting her bag down she sighs. "That boy and that girl. I mean, they have such powerful abilities. Why they couldn't sense their own fathers, I have no idea" She says, turning around in the seats where Sam, Dean and Y/N were earlier is John Winchester and F/N L/N in their place.

John takes his face out of his hands and looks at Missouri. "Mary's spirit? Do you really think she saved the kids?" John asks her, clasping his hands infront of him. "I do" Missouri confirms and John looks down at his wedding band tearfully.

"And M/N's spirit. Was she there at all?" F/N asks a bit hopefully but Missouri shakes her head. "I can assure you, she's resting peacefully. I've made note of that" She assures him, tears in her eyes thinking of her deceased friend. "John Winchester and F/N L/N I could just slap you two. Why don't you two go talk to your children?!" She angrily shouts at the grown men.

"We want to" F/N says shaking his head, John still looking down at his wedding band tearfully. "You have no idea how much we wanna see them. But we can't" John says, looking up. "I just want to see my little girl, and give her a hug. But not yet" F/N says, holding back tears. They both look over at Missouri.

"Not until we know the truth" John says, determined.

________________________________

Authors Note: This chapter is unedited so please excuse any mistake, I will be editing it when I get a chance. I hope whoever is reading enjoys!! I really do pray you guys love Y/N's character because bits and pieces of her personality come from me. I'm having so much fun writing this so don't be ghost readersss so please comment and tell me your thoughts and opinions.

Next chapter is out in a couple days so be sure to look out for that.

Xoxo.

[thebunnednun]

Hi there! Can I get a Sabo x strawhat pirate reader please? Thank you 😊

Gone Fishing! Sabo x Sea creature Straw-Hat! Reader (Part 1)

I found the art right here.

5/26/2024

I am so sorry this took so long but I wanted something sweet and Cute for our Steam punk King! I really hope you like it!

This was a request from my Follower Fridays! If you have a character or story in mind, go ahead and ask because my requests are open!

I freaking love this little cutie and I wanna write more beach themed OP stories, it's the perfect anime for this troupe for crying out loud!

Fun fact: According to Google, Sabos fav food is ramen, like Narutos.

Okay, ON WITH THE SHOW!~

______________________________________________________________

The sun shone brightly over the sparkling waves, casting a golden glow on the sandy shores of the island. The Straw Hat Pirates had anchored their ship nearby and were eagerly preparing for a day of fun and relaxation at the beach. Excitement buzzed in the air as they set up umbrellas, spread out towels, and unpacked their picnic baskets.

Luffy, as usual, was the most enthusiastic, racing towards the water with a delighted shout. "Beach day, beach day! Come on, everyone!"

Nami rolled her eyes but smiled, watching him with fondness. "Luffy, slow down! You're going to wear yourself out before the day even starts."

“Like that’s even possible,” Zoro muttered, already dozing under an umbrella, one eye half-open as he kept an eye on his surroundings. A half-drunk sake bottle was at his feet as Brook was trying to apply sunscreen to avoid cooking his bones.

Franky, Usopp, and Chopper were busy building an elaborate sandcastle, while Jinbe and Sanji were setting up a grill for a seaside barbecue. Robin sat nearby, reading a book with a serene smile on her face, and Nami joined her for some relaxation.

Among the crew was [Name], the newest addition to the Straw Hat crew. You had met Luffy when you saved him from drowning, and he insisted you come along on the adventure. You didn’t know where you came from, but you were something of a fishwoman or mermaid, equipped with a unique blend of human and fish traits. You had shimmering scales along your arms and legs, and your hair had a subtle, iridescent sheen that caught the sunlight beautifully.

You were used to life underwater and always felt at home by the water, and today was no different. You were gathering seashells just under the shore with Ace walking beside you when Luffy bounded up, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Hey, [Name], did you know my brother likes you?" Luffy said with a wide grin.

[Name] felt her cheeks warm at the mention of Sabo. You had always admired the Revolutionary and his kind heart. "Really? Are you sure, Luffy?"

Luffy nodded vigorously. "Yep! Nami, didn't I tell you Sabo likes [Name]?"

Nami, who was lounging under an umbrella with a cool drink in hand, nodded with a knowing smile. "You did, Luffy. But you should let them figure it out on their own."

Before [Name] could respond, a familiar voice called out from the edge of the beach.

"Luffy! [Name]! Over here!"

Sabo was waving from a small pier a short distance away. He looked every bit the dashing hero with his blond hair tousled by the sea breeze and his trademark pipe slung casually over his shoulder. He was wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt adorned with red flowers, all the buttons open, revealing his toned chest and abs. The sight made [Name]'s heart flutter. Luffy nudged [Name] forward.

"Go on! Go fishing with him!"

With a nervous yet excited smile, [Name] made her way to the pier. Sabo helped her to the edge, his touch sending a pleasant tingle through her. "I'm glad you came," he said, his voice warm. "I thought we could catch some fish for the barbecue."

"Sounds like a plan," [Name] replied, feeling her nerves settle. "It's been a while since I've gone fishing."

As they set up shop, the rest of the crew continued their antics on the beach. Usopp and Chopper were now engaged in a heated crab race, with Chopper cheering on his tiny racer. Zoro had fallen asleep and was snoring loudly, much to Nami's amusement. Ace and Luffy were now engaged in a serious wrestling match with Sanji yelling for them to watch out for the grill.

"Careful, Sanji, or you'll get a sunburn," Nami teased.

Back on the pier, [Name] and Sabo cast their lines and settled into a comfortable silence. The sun's warm rays and the sound of the waves created a peaceful atmosphere. [Name] couldn't help but steal glances at Sabo, admiring his calm demeanor and handsome features. His shirt flapped open in the breeze, giving glimpses of his muscled chest and making her heart skip a beat.

'I can't believe I'm here with Sabo. He's always been so kind and brave. And that shirt... why did he have to wear it like that? How am I supposed to focus on fishing when he looks like that?'

[Name] bit her lip, trying to keep her mind from wandering too far. 'Get it together, [Name]. You're here to fish, not to ogle Sabo.'

"You know," Sabo began, breaking the silence, "Luffy's always talking about his adventures with you guys. He really loves his crew."

"We love him too," [Name] replied, smiling. "He's more than just our captain; he's our family."

Sabo nodded thoughtfully. "It's the same with me and the Revolutionaries. We fight for a cause, but it's the bonds we share that keep us going."

[Name] looked at Sabo, feeling a connection forming between them. "It must be hard, though, being away from family for so long."

"It is," Sabo admitted. "But knowing that Luffy is out here, living his dream, makes it easier. And meeting people like you, who care about him so much... it means a lot."

[Name] blushed, looking down at her fishing line. "I care about him a lot. And... I've always admired you, Sabo. The way you fight for what's right, it's inspiring."

Sabo's eyes softened as he looked at her. "Thank you, [Name]. That means a lot coming from you. I've heard so many good things about you from Luffy and the crew. I can see why they speak so highly of you."

Before [Name] could respond, there was a sharp tug on her line. "I think I've got something!" she exclaimed, pulling with all her might. Sabo leaned over to help, but in the excitement, he lost his balance and tumbled overboard with a splash.

"Sabo!" [Name] cried, leaning over the side of the pier.

Luffy, always alert to his brother's safety, saw what happened and immediately ran onto the pier before he dove into the water. "Hang on, Sabo!"

“LUFFY, YOU CAN’T SWIM!” Next thing you knew, Ace had run past you to jump in after his little brothers.

This, of course, prompted Zoro to wake up and, without a second thought, leap into the water as well. "Luffy, you idiot! Wait!"

This, of course, prompted Zoro to wake up and, without a second thought, leap into the water as well. "Luffy, you idiot! Wait!"

Chopper and Usopp, seeing the commotion, rushed to the water's edge, trying to grab hold of Luffy and Zoro. Jinbe and Nami, meanwhile, started shouting at the chaos unfolding before them. Franky caught a wild elbow to the face and accidentally brought Usopp down with him. You held onto Chopper before he could jump in and get squished in all the chaos.

"Stop it, all of you!" Nami yelled, waving her arms. "You're going to drown each other!"

"Calm down, everyone!" Jinbe boomed, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. Brook was now chuckling, “I would lend you a hand but—”

“They’d knock your old bag of bones out.”

“Please, [Name], these jokes are all I have left!”

Robin, watching the scene with a chuckle, used her powers to create a giant hand that tossed inflatable lifeboats towards the struggling pirates. "Here, catch!" Handing off Chopper to Robin, you jumped in to make sure no one drowned in the three feet of water below.

You tossed Luffy and Ace into the same floaty while Franky helped pull them to shore, and Usopp managed to get Zoro to the beach before Moss-head caused you all to spend five years searching for his directionally challenged ass.

You quickly swam over to Sabo, your sea creature agility allowing you to reach him in no time. You helped him into the inflatable boat, securing him safely. "Are you okay?" you asked, concern evident in your eyes.

Sabo coughed but smiled gratefully.

"Thanks to you, [Name]."

Using your powerful fins, you zipped around the boat, creating a fun and exhilarating ride for Sabo. The two of you laughed, the earlier mishap forgotten as you enjoyed the thrill of the water.

Back on the beach, the rest of the crew managed to untangle themselves and climb back to shore, dripping wet and laughing. Jinbe and Nami were still scolding them, but there was a note of fondness in their voices.

"You all are impossible," Nami sighed, shaking her head with a smile. "Honestly, it's like looking after a bunch of kids."

"We're sorry."

As the sun began to set, the Straw Hat Pirates gathered around the grill, enjoying the fresh fish that you and Sabo had caught. You offered a seashell to Sanji in thanks, and he promised to cherish it forever. The air was filled with laughter and the smell of delicious food.

Taking your plate, you sat next to Sabo, your shoulders touching. You felt a warmth in your heart that had nothing to do with the sun. Today had been perfect, chaos and all.

'Why does my heart feel like it's going to burst every time he smiles at me?' [Name] thought, sneaking another glance at Sabo.

'I’ve admired her for so long, and now here we are, sharing smoked salmon with ramen.'

'He’s so close, and I can feel the warmth from his skin. '

'I wish this day would never end.'

"Thank you for today," Sabo said softly, his eyes meeting yours. "I had a great time."

"Me too," you replied, your smile bright. "Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

Sabo's grin widened. "I'd like that very much."

'Her eyes are so kind. I can't believe she actually wants to spend more time with me. Maybe... maybe she does like me. Could Luffy have been right?'

“Why don’t you dorks just shut up and kiss already?”

“SHUT UP, ACE!” you and Sabo shouted in unison, both of you blushing furiously.

Sabo chuckled, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "Ignore him," he said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "Let's just enjoy the evening."

As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, you and Sabo sat together, surrounded by your friends and the soothing sounds of the ocean. Your heart felt full, and you knew that this day would be one you'd cherish forever.

______________________________________________________________

Part 2 now posted.

Make sure you check out the a03 account by the same name. I also have a Sabo x Marine! Reader posted in the masterlist! Give it a read if you please!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don't be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

Don't be shy, send me your requests, I wanna write lots this weekend!

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[melbatron5000]

Fangirling for personal improvement

My Good Omens hyperfixation has made me a better writer.

I did not expect that when I got hooked on the Ineffable Mystery and started digging for Clues.

I've been writing fiction for decades. I have five books out, seven if you count the side adventure novellas I wrote to entice people to my email list. I'm currently editing the sixth (eighth?).

I have a few deeply devoted fans. I have a handful of good reviews on my books.

I also have a full-time day job, because selling books ain't making me rich.

My goal has never been to be rich, it's been to make a living doing something I love. And I'm still not there yet. It's largely my own fault, there are things I could be doing, but I'm too scared of rejection to do them. I've been working on that fear of rejection, but it's been a bit of a roller coaster of feeling better and then feeling worse and scared again.

As part of my attempt to feel better, I decided to re-edit my very first book and re-release it. I'm indie, so I can do that.

Everyone always asks for the first book, and I've learned a lot as a writer since I put it out, so it's not necessarily my best foot forward. Several people have told me to let that go and write another book, but when I'm selling, shoppers are never interested in the newest book (unless they already read the first one), they want the first book. And if the first book doesn't catch them, they won't care about the newest book. So I want the first book to make the best impression it can.

My day job and self-esteem issues have made the editing process slow going. It's been over a year. (I'm also editing the sixth book on top of that, so I may be biting off more than I want to chew. But anyway.)

I took hyperfixating on Good Omens as a little bit of a mental break from grinding on my own stories. After I did that for a while, I figured it was time to get back to grinding.

Holy shit was it easier!

I had a sentence that I had re-written like, five times, trying to capture exactly what I wanted to say. When I came back to my hand-written edits, I saw immediately how to word the sentence to say what I wanted with the most punch. I also saw that in my efforts to correct some author tics, I had re-written some of my sentences to be more "correct" but lose their impact. I could see at a glance which ones needed a little tidying to take care of tics, which ones needed total re-writing, and which ones were good as they were, tics or not.

As I began working on edits again, I also started to feel more confident. I have a better way with words than I had given myself credit for. My characters are interesting. My stories have a deeper meaning. I have a clear-cut idea of what kind of author I want to be.

I had a moment of feeling like I want to make Neil Gaiman proud of me, and of course that's a wildly unrealistic thing to want, and I was feeling sort of defeated at how no matter if I ever have success or not I will always be too small a fish for him to ever notice me, and so will never make him proud. But watching him be so encouraging and lovely on Tumblr has been deeply vicariously uplifting to me. In the distant, good-will-towards-all-baby-writers way he has, Neil may never hear of me personally, but he is, in fact, proud of me nonetheless. This has meant more to me than I know how put into words.

This is all literally because of Good Omens.

I've always loved both Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. They are master-class writers, for sure. I've read everything by both of them, multiple times.

Reading and re-reading are not the same as hyperfixating, it turns out. It's not the same as reading meta-analyses of a master work and going, "Oh, I never saw that before, but it absolutely tracks!" It's not the same as seeing the same words or phrases repeated over and over by people who love them, and seeing why those phrases in particular have caught people's imaginations, the layers of meaning available in them. Reading and re-reading are not the same as dipping a toe into writing my own metas, using my own skills to break down an amazing story I love and examine its working parts and see how it ticks.

I'm not developing new skills that I didn't have before, I'm using the same skills I've gained over the years of trying to write good books. But I am using them in new ways, and maybe more importantly, I'm using them on a book that I love by two authors I really care about, rather than a book I don't like assigned by an instructor or chosen by someone writing a book on how to analyze writing. Being able to ask myself, "Why do I love this bit so much?" as opposed to "What's so brilliant about this book I've never read and never will?"

My confidence is so much higher than it has been in years, and it's holding steady. Every time I look at my own writing, I'm jazzed and pleased, rather than intimidated and concerned. I'm excited to start working on more stories. I'm excited to really give it a go to get them selling enough to make a living at it.

All because of Good Omens.

[astolfofo]

it's that shittly written in 45 minutes for me. Anyways enjoy this short childe thing I made holy shit my writing skills degraded into the negatives. (i've realized i can't write for this ginger shit)

yandere tartaglia (or childe or ajax idk what he's called man) x reader

i got too lazy to make this longer or more detailed lmao.

also @yandere-romanticaa hi.

-

Your hand hovers over the solid black line. An empty space indicating the need for a signature, your own signature, to resign. You had read the paper several times. You had almost memorized the terms and conditions, word by word, but you couldn’t bring yourself to scrawl your own signature on the sheet. 

You just couldn’t do it. You were too scared to do it. Resigning would be betrayal to Childe, and even though he could not stop you from leaving, he would still find his way back to you, anyways. You’d have no say in the matter and he had made that clear a long time ago. He would undoubtedly search every nook and cranny of Tevyat just to get you back. He would kill countless men, women, and possibily children, just to get you back. He said that he’d fill the oceans up with blood if he had to. If that meant you’d never leave his side. 

And you could tell he meant it. Down to every last word. 

But the taste of freedom from your job had always been tempting. Despite the job security and high pay, you simply could not stand working for the Fatui. It was a dead-end job; unfulfilling on a good day, and traumatizing on a bad day. Countless times had you needed to raise your blade without hesitation, and countless times have people pointed their blades on you. To the people, you were an enemy, and to the Fatui, you were nothing but a discardable tool. Replaceable and worthless. 

Your hand inches closer to the line. One simple scrawl would be enough to get you out. But it also wasn’t worth it. The entire process wasn’t hard, in fact. Childe was currently on a trip, and he wouldn’t be getting back for another week or so. All you needed to do was sign your name, present the papers to the second in command, pack your things, and leave. Then you could go back home, you could do anything you want, no strings attached. You could return back to your life in solidarity before any of this happened; before you met Ajax, before he challenged you, and before you had lost. You could live your life as a nobody again. A dream you had dearly longed for. 

You considered that idea. It was tempting. In fact a week was enough for you to not only get back home, but also conceal your traces. You were good at hiding enough, that it would take years for Ajax to hunt you down. You were good at fighting enough, to fend off his accquantainces. Possibly not himself, but you could last in a long enough fight to escape from his grasp. 

It’s worth it. You think to yourself. You put your pen on the paper, and sign your name in a single motion. You stare at it for a second. Your signature almost looks like a scar within the paper but you decided that didn’t matter. It must be done so you could get away. 

Without any more hesitation, you walk up to the door, towards the secretary, and hand them the paper. They take it in mindlessly, read it, and nod. Easier than you expected, you would have expected some resistance within that, but you supposed not. An employer, after all, cannot stop you from resigning. 

Quickly you walk back to your office, not thinking much. The sooner you’d get out, the better. You grabbed your bag from underneath the desk, and took the few essential belongings you had. The less you took, the quicker you could travel. After stuffing them in your bag, you then put on your jacket and opened the door again.

The singular window in your office told you it was about sunset. If you were able to move at night, you’d be able to get out of Shezenaya in about two to three days. You’d have to keep moving no matter what. Ajax could catch up to you in no time. You couldn’t waste a single second. You fished out the key for the office door, and locked it. 

/

You had forgotten how difficult it was to travel through the knee-deep snow. It was almost impossible to run through, and it was took so much effort to walk through, that it might as well have been a year until you were able to get through it. Most people would have used other methods of transportation, but considering resigning the Fatui often made you a social outcast, you decided against taking a nearby boat or the train. 

It had been a full day of walking before you had been able to find a place to rest for a little bit. It was a small inn in the middle of nowhere. Almost too good to be true. 

But you needed to keep going. 

Yet every single inch of your body was so exhausted that you weren’t sure you could go on for much longer. 

You debated this in your head for some time, before deciding that it would be the best course of action to take a rest for the night, before going on. You trudged on for a few moments, before opening the door.

The lobby was empty. There was no one there. You look around for a second or two, observing the surroundings of the fireplace, and the comfortable wood structures, before a creeping feeling comes up. 

This doesn’t feel right.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, instead subconsciously gripping on to your blade, as if it could protect you.

“Who’s there?”

No response. You sigh, and lower your blade a bit. You walk towards the check-in counter, and peer over. Immediately, you cover your mouth and lean back. It’s a dead body. Throat slit, with the blood dried, and covered over the floor. By the looks of it, it had been dead for serveral days. 

You back a bit. Immediately you run back towards the door, reaching for the handle on your last step. But before you make it, you hear footsteps. 

Shit. Now this person’s gonna think I murdered him. What do I do? What do I do? What do I…

“I told you what was going to happen if you tried to leave.”

It’s a voice you know all too well. As you reach for the handle, a hand covers your mouth. You try to pry it off, but you can’t. Your hands are too shaky, and your strength had been greatly reduced by walking through the snowy terrain. You pull and pull, while the other arm snakes around your neck.

Out of desperation, you step on his foot, hoping he would loosen enough for you to break away, but instead he slams you against the wall, causing your vision to become blurry. “You know what happens when you try to fight, right? You won’t win, you never have.”

Your turn around to see Ajax’s face. He’s almost smiling, but his voice was so flat and monotone. A giveaway sign that you had really fucked up this time. 

“I got out of my trip early, you know? Just so I could come back and see you. Never did I expect you to try and resign from your job. You want to know why the secretary didn’t question you at all when you left?”

You don’t respond.

“I said do you want to know why?”

You know he wants you to say yes. Without thought, you nod. 

“I told them that if you resigned, do not process the paper. I had a feeling you might have tried to escape, but never did I think it would have happened so soon.” He chuckles, “Never did I think you were lying to me this entire time. I must say, I am impressed with your ability to hide yourself from me. After all, before I had left, you had physically locked yourself inside a closet, just to avoid being taken to Shezenaya.”

“But. (Y/N),” you feel a blade just touching your neck, “I can’t let you go. You belong to me. And I don’t care if you don’t want to be with me. I don’t care how much you’re going to fight me. I don’t care how many people I’ll kill. You’re going to stay by my side.”

“And you don’t have a say in it.”

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets Thursday: Meddling Mar (part 1 of 2)

A two-part piece to avoid a super long post, jumping ahead to how Damas and Phobos got their suspicions about the boys confirmed (part two is Damas confronting Jak over it)

The net thumped against the supports of the dock as Phobos hauled it upward. The catch was small for the evening; normally she wouldn't have even considered bringing it in so early. But the scanners had picked up a storm blowing in, and the last thing she wanted was for her net to get dragged out over the reef -- or for the Scylla to get any ideas about free snacks if she decided to shelter in the lagoon. Small though the catch may have been, it would just have to suffice until the weather was more favorable. Phobos supposed she could always take another overnight trip for larger fish later in the week. Maybe Jak would agree to let Mar tag along.

Phobos's hands stilled over the net of wriggling greenbellies. She stared out at the water without really seeing it as her thoughts drifted to the two boys who had drifted into their lives. Or, drifted back into their lives.

She knew her son when she saw him. He could have been five or eight or twenty-five and she would have known him. Denial at this point was foolish. But what she couldn't understand was Jak.

Phobos knew the child she'd borne. Knew every curl on his head, every dimple and birthmark. But to her knowledge, she'd only given birth once. And Jak...

Jak looked at her with Mar's eyes. He smiled with Mar's left-cheek dimple. And according to Damas, beneath the scarf he never took off, Jak had Mar's portwine stain on the back of his neck.

Phobos didn't need the blood results from the monks to know who Jak was. What she didn't understand was why.

Why had the Precursors given their lost son back, in two different bodies? Why did the older Mar call himself Jak? How had he come to be? And did he even know the impossibility of his own existence?

The wind began to pick up, sending a spray of salt into Phobos's face. She sputtered and spat. Served her right for getting distracted. Grumbling to herself, the angler slung the net over a pole and balanced it across her shoulders. It was getting to be time to take shelter, and her dawdling meant she might not make it to the tower before the sands picked up.

As she trudged through the West Market, shops closed their shutters and people nailed down tarps over stands. The walls and cliffs would protect most of Spargus from the winds, but the West Quarter was open to the sea. Things sometimes got a little dicey on the coast.

"Captain!" Someone called across the street, and Phobos spotted one of the summer semester teachers for the little ones.

"Oye, Captain Phobos!"

"Wind's picking up, Korah," Phobos warned her, "Is everyone home?"

The younger Spargan shook her head with a worried frown. "Not yet! I've got Seek with me -- the new boy? Seek? -- he refuses to go home! Says he needs you."

Phobos dropped the net immediately.

"Clean the net and those are yours," she said hastily to the startled shopkeeper beside her. Then she raced across the street.

Sand was beginning to carry along the wind, stinging her face as she caught up to Korah.

"Where is-" She caught herself quickly before saying Mar. "Where is he?"

The teacher gestured with the stump of her right arm. "I convinced him to wait in the Chime Sisters' place so I could look for you. I'm sorry, Captain. I know you're busy. The little guy's really taken a shine to you, though."

She ducked into a half alley between shops, looking for some relief from the wind.

"Don't know if he's showed you any of his classwork or not, but he picked you for his presentation on important roles in the community."

Despite her worry, a warmth filled Phobos's chest. "I uh. I know," she answered, just a little bashful. "It's taped up in my boat cabin."

So much had changed. Mar didn't suck his thumb anymore. He didn't respond to old nicknames. He didn't snuggle anymore, or want to be carried. He didn't call her Mommy -- that one hurt most -- but something, something was still there. Perhaps it was instinct. Or perhaps she'd rebuilt it with her own two hands by simply being present.

Phobos followed Korah to the two story building that held the Chime sisters' shop and apartment. Just as the teacher had said, Mar sat just inside, huddled next to the door with his knees drawn to his chest. He looked sullen. Like he couldn't decide between anger and sadness. Immediately, Phobos knelt in front of him with a worried frown.

"It's about to storm, minnow," she said, "Why aren't you home? Where's Jak, he usually picks you up by now, doesn't he?"

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say. Mar's brows fell into a fierce scowl.

"Jak left me!" he answered in short, terse signs.

That didn't make any sense. Jak was devoted to his little brother! Phobos glanced at the women sheltering around her and then back at Mar.

"I'll take him up to Damas’s," she said. "We'll get this straightened out after the storm blows over."

Nadia Chime clucked her tongue and nodded. "You get that little sprout out of this weather, cap'n!'

Phobos held her hands out to Mar. "Come on, you. Let's go see Damas, eh? Bet you he kept Jak late for training again."

Mar shook his head angrily. This time, tears beaded up in his eyes. But he reached out and grabbed Phobos's hands anyway, using them as leverage to propel himself into her arms.

Something was very wrong.

"Hey, hey," Phobos murmured, returning the embrace, "It's okay, baby, I've got you."

She shoved down the beginnings of anxiety fluttering in her stomach. The sooner she got to the tower, the sooner she could regroup with Damas.

"We need to move fast if we don't want to get sandburn. Can I carry you, minnow?"

Silently, Mar nodded into her chest. Phobos took a breath, scooped up her little boy, and made a dash for the residential sector.

Something's wrong with Jak. He's hurt, or he's sick, he must be. He wouldn't leave Mar. He wouldn't!

By the time she'd made it to the bridge tunnel that led to the tower door, the storm was beginning to sweep across the eastern part of the city. Wind howled down streets an alleys like a dune-wolf looking for prey, and kangarats scurried for cover while Leapers bedded down and covered their heads with their vestigial wings, as they did in the wild. Phobos hefted Mar higher in her arms and made for the door marked with the great spiral wyrm.

"Almost inside, Mar," she said, trying to comfort him.

Just as he had every time she'd slipped his name into conversation before, the child failed to correct her.

The walls of the tower were thick, almost erasing the wind entirely. Phobos stepped into the elevator and sat down as it rose. She set Mar down on her lap and took advantage of the silence to ask, "What did you mean "Jak left"? Is he on a mission?"

Mar still looked angry, but tears stained his dusty cheeks. "He left!" Stupid Haven's stupid governor whined about all the trouble happening -- but it's only happening because they tried to kill us, so stupid Jak left to keep them away from Spargus because they're all so STUPID!"

Phobos felt a knot forming in her stomach.

"Haven?! Why the- why in the world would Jak listen to them? And why would he try to keep them away from the city by himself?"

And with that, the dam burst. The silent trickles of tears turned into sobs that shook Mar's little body as he signed, "Because of me. I'm a bad brother."

"What?! No, nonono you are not a bad brother!" Phobos wiped tears from round cheeks and rocked her son back and forth. "Why would you think that?!"

"Cause it's my fault he left!" Mar hiccuped, and his signs shook. "The Council guys in Haven are looking for me, cos I go where Jak goes. And he- he- he-"

"He left so the council would look for you somewhere else," Phobos guessed grimly.

A fresh flood of tears soaked the front of her tunic as Mar cried. He clung to her the way he used to as a toddler, wailing into her chest. The elevator locked into place and Damas was already running towards them, having heard the cries, before Phobos even had a chance to stand up.

"Pho! What's wrong? What's happening?"

Phobos's face was pale as she looked up at him.

"Daym," she asked, "When did you last see Jak?"

Damas’s blood ran cold.

Part Two

[lechemoon]

title: stain

spencer reid x reader

wc: ~1.1k

a/n: hello :) hope you enjoy a short little thing. i've spilled many a coffee on things in my time

---

“i-“

you’re clumsy, embarrassed, ditzy?

“i am so, so, so-“

sleep-deprived? yes and no. but that isn’t what you’re going for either.

“-sooo, so very-“

no, those aren’t the words you’re looking for. at least, you don’t think there’s a word that can possibly describe how you feel at this very moment in the bullpen.

one word finally comes to mind: mortified. you’re absolutely and utterly mortified. and you know he sees it in your eyes and the way your brows wrinkle together in worry.

“-sorry, dr. reid!” you finally let our your strung out apology, groaning that last ‘sorry’ at the very end. “i didn’t mean to- oh my god, the coffee’s going to stain- i didn’t mean to spill coffee on your tie.”

spencer looks at you like he’s trying to figure out the two different train of thoughts that are currently chugging in your brain: the train apologizing, and the train worried about the stain that (with enough care to clean) will eventually come out of his, what he calls during this time of year, seasonal tie. 

his self-dubbed valen-tie. a tie so pink and so plump-looking that anyone would probably mistake it for a bratz dolls lips.

jade’s lips, you think almost automatically. she was your nieces favorite bratz doll when she was younger. the thought makes you want to smile, but you’re too busy setting your now-sticky cup down on the nearest desk and grabbing for napkins you so hastily fished out of your work slacks pockets. 

“it’s fine,” he starts, “really. i don’t think this will stain too bad, if at all even!” he says as light-heartedly as he can. you can see from your peripheral vision that his hands are moving animatedly, palms open wide to deem himself not bothered by the mess you just made.

he gestures towards your hand for one of the napkins you clutch, but you move your hand further from him. you’re determined to clean up your own mess. 

“no, please,” you push, “it’s such a nice color. let me at least try to dry it,” you say, dabbing quickly and as gently as possible. the tie feels so silky in your hand and you bite your lips in guilt. 

how much did he spend on it? does he need it dry cleaned? “dr. reid-“

“just reid,” he cuts in. then, he clears his throat before quickly adding, “or spencer- whichever you’re comfortable with. you don’t need to keep calling me doctor.”

if you were looking at him, you would notice a tentative smile on his lips. but you weren’t looking at him.

instead, you feel yourself getting frustrated and your face heating up. the tie! so silky, so expensive, so pink, so cute. how could you do this to your colleague? who chose this color? does he have a girlfriend? you mentally shake your head.

no inappropriate thoughts about coworkers at work. those thoughts are reserved for after the 6 p.m. business day.

“Dr.re-, sorry, spencer.” you catch yourself. you may not have been looking at him before, but you did hear him. the least you can do is address him how he prefers. 

you finally crane your neck up to look up at him, and you feel like you may word-vomit. have you ever been this close to him? have his eyes always been so brown and so wide? does he always look this sweet? does the girlfriend you’ve decided he has gets to admire him like this on a regular schedule?

“you’re so-“

pretty. handsome. beautiful. 

“you’re so sticky… you’re tie.” you settle, eyes darting to clarify you weren’t talking about him but his article of dirtied clothing. “you need to take it off and give it to me. i should clean it for you!”

instinctively, you loop the end of the tie around your knuckles and pull down. 

you quickly remember this isn’t how you are supposed to remove a tie when you’re suddenly eye-level with spencer.

letting out a small oof, he steadies himself by putting his hands on top of his thighs. “not like that,” he squeaks, and you think it may be out of fear of you choking him. you let the tie go.

“you don’t need to do that,” he says softly, the smile coming back to his face as his eyes settle on you- his eyes telling you that it’s no big deal and that you don’t have to worry about something so small. 

after straightening his poster and running a hand quickly through his hair to fix the disheveledness of it to a slightly altered disheveled style, his hands reach to the knot of his tie, one hand gently gripping the base of the knot while his fingers on the opposite hand work to straighten the tie. 

there’s something about the string of movements that makes your mouth go dry. you lick your lips, a growing ball of nerves making its home in your belly. but you blink rapidly. an attempt to regain your own attention at the issue at hand and not at the hands on the tie. 

“i insist.” you crumple the paper towels in your hand into tight balls. “or at least let me buy you a new tie. i really don’t think that will come off completely.”

spencer thinks about it for a beat. eyes moving up to the ceiling in what seems like deep thought and his hands making their way from his tie into his pockets. he’s teetering back and forth between the balls of his feet and his toes.

the act itself would normally be viewed as endearing by you, but you really want to make things right. 

“buying a new tie is too troublesome. i don’t need two in the same color,” he finally says. 

his eyes settle down to you, and they twinkle like he’s finally thought of something. “i have a meeting in a half hour, but maybe we can hunt for a bottle of white vinegar together in the meantime?”

“vinegar?” you can’t help the confusion that reached your face. it makes you grab your coffee cup to hide your mouth. “why vinegar?” you ask over the cup before taking a long swig.

he gives you a side smile this time, the left corner of his lip reaching upward. “vinegar and water will help with the stain on silk. but we have to get it quickly before the stain decides to stay forever.”

a grin attempts to make its way to your lips; it makes you think his smile is contagious. you crush the crumpled napkin-balls in your hand some more and nod, “i think i saw some in one of the kitchen’s cabinet’s. let’s go find it quick, then.” 

[silusvesuius]

Your Depiction of Ulfric is literal perfection. I’ve never seen anyone who sees him in a similar way to me, until I found your account last year. I fucking love miserable old man Ulfric who could never catch a break since the day he was born. Every major event in his life (he can’t even decide which one’s the worst) shaped him in the worst yet most interesting way possible. I can’t speak enough about him, his messed up self esteem clashing with his ego, his repressed emotions and sexuality, his shattered image of his own body and mind, the constant loud arguments between the voices in his head (mostly just him arguing with hallucinations) *I’m definitely not projecting here* his unstable mood, his flashbacks and his odd obsessions with random harmful patterns he associates with familiarity. Because to him familiar=safe even if he’s basically only familiar to a constant state of worry and feeling like he’s being targeted or hunted down.

None of this seems to be getting better, at least not in a notable speed. Yet they’re all existing within a strong and powerful man. It’s quite the combination, he’s being weighted down by all of that baggage but his back is too strong to bend. He appears as if he has nerves of steel from the outside, but really if anything is made of steel in his mind, it’s the vessel that he uses to bottle all of that trauma up.

I already had a vague idea of his complicated relationship (obviously) with Elenwen but your version literally felt like it opened my third eye. It is scrumptious and your art is so beautiful it depicts every essence of it all perfectly without even needing to include words. I fell in love with it at first sight.

dis answer is kinda long so i'm (crumpling it up and tossing it under the cut)

Omg wtf Thank you's 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕💕 this is so well put together into words; i will do 9543 backflips for demented ulfric always. i've grown to like him in canon too cause he really has that, wouldn't even call it deceitful, weirdly-content personality.. but i don't think anyone in the writing room in sk*rim HQ knows how to write a character that has been through Anything, event of any kind, so he seems too 'perfect' for a person that has been through literal physical torture, to me, and his reactions to things that should be greatly upsetting are too mild. even though him being elenwen's victim is a piece of information that's easy to miss it seems like it also completely slipped out of the writing IOFDHDJFUIO LOL.. it all obviously adds up to him seeming more appealing as a fashie character to the audience, cus a visibly mentally unwell man wouldn't do it for most people, especially when you want to sway someone to be on his side of things.

i think it's quite smart for the st*rmcloaks to be presented as the more warm and welcoming types of people but ulfric should be the coldest of them all. Bro shouldn't even have the mental and physical capacity to seem Content with his life especially in that moment. he should be the type to use his civil war motivations as an excuse to stay alive if that makes sense, cause i don't think he really wants to live, but he has things to do to keep his mind and hands busy xchkvcjcvkl//

i also really love how ulfric only has galmar as someone he's really close to, it always seemed beyond genius to me, to write them like that, it's cute... he rly is the only person to suffer thru 4 hours of ulfric Peak psychosis monologue followed by 2 hours of trying to prove to him that th*lmor and imperial soldiers aren't hiding in the chests and under the beds of the palace LMFAOO galmar is the one guy who he can sob in front of and act like a little baby fishing for compliments and reassurance, and, not all that related to ulfric as a whole, but i strongly believe that having him be so vulnerable with galmar would make galmar really excited, it would make him feel good, like no other damsel in distress could deliver that feeling EVER. having such a seemingly-strong political figure rely on you Badly and madly would feel like something else entirely 💗 it's very off-putting and perhaps inappropriate of him to feel that way when ulfric is just searching for stability, but i think that even if ulfric knew galmar felt that way he wouldn't really gaf LOL. he'd turn to elenwen if there was no one else to go to cause he 'knows' her, and he'd torment elisif cause he 'knows' her as well.. but he would be completely closed off from making connections with other people 🏆

+ bonus; elenwen's feelings for him would border on everything at once, like, every type of relationship and connection that ever exists.. she really views him as the food she left over in the fridge and will get to eat when she's back from work as a reward

tl;dr him being scarier and more .. unkempt? from the outside would make him even cooler tbhs. he should become christian and develop religious OCD