#i've made a similar post to this one before i think but

[zepskies]

Omg really? Wow, thank you so much. That's honestly amazing to me, considering this was one of the hardest for me to write in Smoke Eater. 💞

(But after reading your wonderful review, thank you for making me cry. 🥹💗💗)

First of all, please don't apologize for the heartfelt thoughts you want to share with me. No matter how long or short, I love hearing what you think about my writing, and this is genuinely one of the best reviews I've ever received, because I can tell it came from the heart.

What's crazy is my mom and I also used to watch Chicago Fire together when she was trying to recover from surgery (where she had terrible complications and wasn't well for a long time). It became her comfort show, and I was happy to introduce it to her/have that bonding time where it kept her from thinking about her pain. But I'm so glad you thought to come here to perk yourself up after a rewatch.

honestly I have so many thoughts for each wonderful chapter but I would feel super guilty for spamming :’) this chapter in particular though, hits me harder than anything i’ve ever read before — not in a bad way!🤍

lol girl that's the best kind of spamming. I'd never be upset with that! 😂 Oh good, I'm glad it doesn't hit in a bad way. I was concerned about that for readers when I was first posting this part of the story. 💙

my mom had epilepsy, and I was her caretaker pretty much my entire life. I connect so much with this story because it, feels like i’m reading a mirror, if that makes any sense at all. with all the doctors and the worrying, it’s written so authentically, which is understandable after reading your author’s note. i’m so sorry you’ve experienced such difficult hardships and losses yourself honey, I offer my sincere condolences. and i’m sending you the biggest hugs 🫂🤍🤍

I'm sending you the biggest hugs right back, friend. I'm so sorry about what your mom went through, and what you went through too. Being a caretaker is not easy. I've seen it enough in my family that that's what I drew from in order to write this, so I'm glad it felt authentic to your experience. 🫂💞

now these lines/parts specifically had me crying like a baby lol. december of 2021, my mom had to have surgery at the start of the month. her recovery was going a little slow, but well. however she passed away overnight, 2 days after christmas, completely unexpected. the day before she had been doing so well too— she had more energy and was more mobile without needing as much assistance. came to find out later that’s something nurses call a surge? :/ either way, those moments in particular really tugged at my heartstrings ❤️‍🩹

I'm so sorry for your loss, my friend. It is blind sighting when it comes so unexpected like that. I haven't shared this publicly, but something similar happened with my grandfather this past December. His health declined suddenly, to the point we had to take him to the hospital. After seeming to get better after a few days, he went downhill even harder, and he passed away in mid-December. It's not the same thing as your situation, but I understand the feeling of "why did this happen like this?" But now he's at peace with my grandma. And your mom is free from her pain and discomfort too. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

this line too. I felt this way for so long after my mom died. I didn’t get the final cause for a while since she passed at home and not at a hospital, and to this day I wish I could go back. wish I could’ve done something different. but SUDEP (or, sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) is completely unpreventable so far. I just find it so cruel that this illness I spent my whole life helping her with, ended up taking her anyway and nothing I did mattered in the end. so reading that line, how she broke down, and everything she had been holding in, it really made my heart ache but I also felt less alone in a way.

And I'm sure you did everything you possibly could, just like the reader in this story. 💞 I didn't know about SUDEP, but I have a family member who takes medication for his epilepsy, so I'm going to be reading up on that. I'm so glad that this simple line made you feel less alone in any small way -- I also thought when I was writing that it not only fit what the character was going through, but that other people who've been caretakers for a family member like this would be able to identify with this feeling as well.

everything that followed, it’s like reading a reflection. I shutdown and just went through the motions afterwards too, but ohhh how nice it would’ve been to have a dean ❤️ his support, how he takes care of her, it’s so heartwarming. and it’s really comforting to read. <3

It's that awful "autopilot" thing that somehow allows us to get through the aftermath, in a way, right? If only we could all have a Dean to support us in those moments. Somehow, reading hurt/comfort fics help me feel better too though. 💓💓

a lot of my family distanced themselves afterwards which, it is what it is. that being said, the sentiment in this story of family isn’t always blood resonates with me a lot. my support system is really small, but they chose to be there for me unlike my blood relatives so, that theme in this story means so much — the way dean’s chosen family shows up for her as well, it’s so sweet. 💖

Ugh really? I'm sorry to hear that. 💙💙 But thank you for pointing that out -- that is the overarching theme of this story, a la SPN style. 🥹 Your chosen family can be just as powerful, if not more, than your blood family. And in this story, Dean's family is basically "adopting" the reader/you into it. 💕

I guess the gist of what i’m trying to say, is I wholeheartedly adore this series and it truly means so much to me 🤍 I appreciate your work so much, and I love the unique feeling each piece of your writing brings 💗💗 I know I may sound like a broken record but truly I don’t think I can ever put into words how much I love your blog. you are an absolute sweetheart, truly a light peeking out between cloudy skies 💞

Wow, I really did tear up of happiness. Thank you. 🥹🥹 I appreciate you right back for reading this story and connecting with it like you did. And I'm so glad that you enjoy my blog!! I've only been here on Tumblr for about 2 years actively, but connecting with people like you is what's keeping me here, and honestly gives me energy to write and express myself when I'm going through hard times.

This chapter specifically was very difficult for me to write for multiple reasons, as you saw in my AN, but again it makes me all the more grateful that this is the chapter you connect with the most. I'm very sorry for your loss though. I'm really touched that this story can give you some small comfort. 💞

(And no it's not too much. Thank YOU for taking the time to share this with me.)

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still. 

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.” 

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George���s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast. 

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made. 

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry. 

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part. 

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes. 

He’s not leaving you. 

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart. 

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you. 

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand. 

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.” 

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[knight-a3]

Hazbin Hotel Sketchbook 2: Part 2

Masterpost

Morningstars

I will have some design notes under the cut, so stay tuned.

Charlie and Lilith's snakes are all named.

Notes under the cut to minimize clutter. I'll try to keep it brief since I've talked about a lot of this before, and plan to go into more detail in dedicated character posts later.

Between dolls, snakes, apples, circuses, ducks, etc, there were just too many motifs/thematic elements to shove onto just Lucifer. So, I streamlined and distributed. Lucifer is goat themed, Lilith is snake themed. Charlie is a mix of the two. I also use this to partly to imply that "the Devil" is not solely Lucifer. But humans mistake various different demons as one character.

Charlie:

Her goat traits were inherited from Lucifer. Hooves, ears, etc. Also the tail. Her hair is designed to look like a goat tail.

Snake traits were inherited from Lilith. Vertically slitted eyes, hair snake, etc. Also doll cheeks and pale skin.

I had considered having her hair be totally made of snakes like Medusa, but that seemed annoying to draw, so I just did one. His name is Hugh, short for Hubris, which is a synonym for pride.

Lucifer:

He has far too many motifs in general. He needed streamlining.

Apples- I reduced this because I think it would be more fitting for Adam and Eve. Eve as the first to eat the fruit, and Adam because... Adam's apple, I guess.

Doll- I know Charlie is meant to resemble a porcelain doll. And in-universe gets it from her dad. But I don't really understand why, so I took it away from him and gave it to Lilith.

King- He does not have any real authority. It's a prison, and even Lucifer is caged. Nobody bothers to respect him. So the "crown" on his hat resembles a gate or cell bars

Ducks- I never understood the choice to associate Lucifer with ducks. And thematically, I can't really justify it. So...um... sorry, but no rubber duckies.

Goat- From what I understand, goats as a demonic symbol comes more from pagan influences rather than the Bible. Overall, Lucifer is a goat because he's been assigned the blame for all the evil in the world. He's the scapegoat. Placing sin on Scapegoats was a Jewish practice during Yom Kipper.

Lightbringer- the word lucifer is used once in some translations of the Bible to describe the arrogance of the King of Babylon in the book of Isaiah, but not as a name. Instead of directly translating the Hebrew word that meant "light bringer," "morning star," "dawn bringer," or "shining one," the Latin term was used. Lucifer often referred to the "star" that is the planet we now call Venus. It would be used to represent pride because it rose and fell before the sun. So the instance of lucifer in the Bible isn't even used as a name, and didn't even refer to the Devil. I say all this because I think it fits the scapegoat theme, and it's why I put a star on his tail.

Wings- Seraphim are described as having 3 sets of wings. Rather than deal with all that or even try to figure out the anatomy of that, I just gave them three sets of primary feathers, which sort of imitates the 6-winged look but is easier for me to draw.

Speaking of his wings. He lost them when he fell. So he does not have wings at all anymore. If he did, they'd be more like dragon wings.

Lilith:

Lilith is not a biblical figure. The word lilith was used once in just some English translations of the Bible. And it's referring to a type of demon, and not used as a name. Other translations change the term to shriek-hawk or similar terms, and is listed with various other night creatures. Lilith as a character appeared in Jewish lore, and was likely satirical. But away from theology and onto hazbin lore...

Because Lilith was originally created as a wife for Adam, she felt treated like an object or plaything rather than a person. So when she fell, she picked up a little bit of a doll motif that isn't prominent in these drawings. I essentially traded the doll features instead of horns. I'm still workshopping specifics.

She was just as involved(if not more so) with offering the fruit to Eve. Thus, she gets the motif of the snake. I didn't want to make her hair entirely snakes, because the long flowing hair seemed like a prominent design feature for her. So I opted to give her 7 hair snakes, one to represent each deadly sin/ring of hell. They're all named.

Pride= Vani (Vanity), she's the one on the top of her head.

Greed= Ava (Avarice)

Lust= Libby (Libido)

Envy= Desi (Desire)

Gluttony= Tony

Wrath= Irene (Ire/Irate)

Sloth= Sloth (too lazy for an actual name). He's the one coiled around her neck, usually sleeping. He also comes from the left side of her head.

Vaggie:

I leaned into the moth elements in her design. I think it was the Columbian Silk moth that I used as as my main reference.

When she fell, she was transformed into a demon like everyone else. So she isn't really an angel anymore and bleeds the same as the other sinners. Not even Lucifer really counts as an angel anymore, due to the corrupting nature of hell.

When Vaggie regains her wings, they are no longer angel wings but are instead moth wings to match the rest of her. They actually double as her hair via magic logic because I like it that way, and it lets me reference some of her older designs.

[thewistlingbadger]

idk if this is a 'hot take' but i see way too much of people lusting after Sevika only after erasing her less palatable elements. in headcanons she's admittedly tough and violent but wouldn't hurt anyone unless she had to (i've even seen one where she "only raises her hands in self-defence"). bitch one of the first things we see her do is attempt to square up to a bunch of teenagers for the crime of trying to free their dad! she's willing to kill children with her bare hands. she personally enacts the edicts of a drug kingpin. she taunts vi and jinx during their altercations with the most provocative, soul-destroying shit she can think of. she's the type of fighter who grins manically as she scalds her opponent's cheek. she is not simply someone who nobly sacrifices her own moral purity for 'the greater good' but is otherwise a soft loving Mama Bear™, she gets *nasty* with it! and don't get me wrong, i give enormous moral lenience to most Zaunite characters because the violence of the oppressed is by definition incomparable to the violence of their oppressors. there are myriad explanations and justifications for every single thing they've done. but beyond that, i NEED it to be ok to say that she's a fucking dick sometimes - both interpersonalliy, and on a greater ideological scale - because regardless of how justifiable we find her actions, we should collectively be in a place where we can thirst for Sevika without defanging her as a character. she's compelling and fascinating and attractive BECAUSE she's imbued with agency, which necessitates the capacity for genuinely immoral actions and unlikable behavior! i mean come on! if the white twitter lesbians can so eagerly embrace the moral greyness of their rich fascha femme, we can do it for our butch freedom fighter!! i believe in us!!!

anyway tldr i love Sevika warts and all and everyone do your thing but if you don't love her warts i think you're missing out

Valid valid and valid. Not a single thing you said was incorrect. Sevika is DEVIOUS point blank period. In season 1 she is a minor character so I can understand why she's overlooked a lot but when you actually do look at her she can be VILLAINOUS at times. "It's just a matter of time before you implode and Silco finally gets the hint that you're just about as good for our cause as you were for your family. Jinx." Like DAMN Sevika!! Okay it's like that!! This rudeness that she showed Jinx is a bit fascinating to me because the only other character in this show that is just about as rude as Sevika is in this scene is Mylo. I made a post talking about how she has some similarities to Mylo and someone responded to that by also highlighting that at least Mylo was a teenager beefing with a child, meanwhile Sevika is a whole ass adult beefing with Jinx. I just think that's interesting and funny.

You brought up something that truly is just a plague to all fandoms. Whenever someone says they like a character that has a negative reputation in the source material, everyone starts coming out the woodwork to say it's bad to like that character. People don't seem to understand that just because you like a villain and find their character to be enjoyable doesn't mean you actually condone their actions and would be ok with someone acting like them irl. There are many reasons to like a villainous character and sometimes one of those reasons is BECAUSE they're a villain. Sometimes you like that a character does bad things because it's interesting and entertaining, and liking that doesn't make you a bad person. You should be able to like antagonistic characters for their villainy. Do I understand what they did was bad? Yes. Do I still like them? Yes, and not in spite of it but BECAUSE of it. And you don't have to erase those parts of a character just go openly admit that. You should be able to openly like a character in their full extent. You shouldn't have to ignore certain aspects just for your adoration of a character to be accepted.

Sevika really always has been That Bitch she has no problem telling people how it is directly to their faces. She calls Vander weak in front of everyone. She tells Vi Vander "had his chance" knowing damn well what Vander meant to her. She calls Silco out on his bullshit SEVERAL TIMES in front of him. Sevika isn't restrained as a character at all she's always being her full self. I feel that season two has made Sevika more popular and because her screentime was limited and the writing was different in season two people have allowed her character to become warped. I definitely think that if someone is ok with justifying and excusing the actions of Caitlyn and/or Vi then they should keep that same energy when it comes to Sevika. Sevika is a tough, loyal lady that has a very fun personality and she's also a criminal who has done terrible things for the sake of the cause and most times? Most times she enjoyed doing those things. Most times she went out of her way to revel in instigating. Silco didn't even know Vi was back yet and did that stop Sevika from almost killing Vi? Did that stop her from whispering "who Jinx? She's like his daughter" and looking dead in Vi's eyes just to see her reaction? No. Sevika is a bit messy like that she likes to play with her food lol and honestly I don't blame her lol

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every Day Until Season 5

Day 6: Parallels with Rovickie

Other than the obvious one--being that Vickie has a boyfriend and Robin is jealous/ put between them--there are actually way more parallels to Rockie than I originally thought, which is why I decided to make a whole post about them!

Again, I'm gonna be stating how intentional I think each parallel is. Even if it's not intentional, it's still a proof because it's the fact they are using the same tropes for two pairings shows that they are both supposed to be seen as romantic.

1. Being Between Them

Very very intentional. The framing is the exact same except Robin is not blurred while Will is blurred. AND the fact that it's a queer character between a straight relationship as well what the actuallllll freak. The difference is the fact that Wills blurred but Robin isn't. Robin is shown to be miserable in this scene, while Will is actually happy in this scene because he is seeing El again.

2. Basically the same conversation

I also think this is kind of intentional, it's tooooo similar not to kind of be inspired by Mike's speech. Obviously, Mike is more of a main character than Vickie so I think that they decided to make her do the same thing as him because the writers see this situation as similar. It's also interesting that she, in this conversation, is talking about how much she should have broken up with her boyfriend earlier. Maybe that gives us a little insight into what Mike is feeling too :)))

ALSO ALSO the bit at the end where Vickie goes "sorry I am rambling while there are people suffering" is literally THE SAME as what Mike says when he goes "it's so stupid given everything that's going on", basically showing they both don't view their relationships as important.

3. The Gay Food Jokes

The 'try before you deny' joke is already kindofsus, but it can easily be argued against as just a little throw away line that is just meant to be a lil bit of banter. Then you see the way that Vickie says "I've made a peanut butter on peanut butter monstrosity" while both queer women are talking to each other. You see the way this kind of sounds similar to Mike going "That's blasphemous, putting fruit on pizza" before the people around him go "Try before you deny" like HAJHDGAJHSGD..... So they have the potential to make queer jokes do they??? Ones that are kind of subtle enough that only queer people pick up on them?? Yessir

4. The Same Look

I don't know if this is totally intentional but it's so perfect <3 Just two gays giving a little smile before looking away quickly teehee giggling kicking my feet.

(im not even adding analysis at this point lmao)

5. 'Cool'.

(also couldnt get a caption for this one but u know what they're saying)

Oh my god I literally yelled when I came across this while watching the scene, not expecting anything else to come up ADGAHJSDG

This is intentional to me. I think the way that the camera is right on Robin's face, the way she says the words, she just seems so IN LOVE and you can definitely see the same (if not more) in love look on Byler's faces when they say the same words. If you can see Robin saying this to Vickie as romantic and as evidence for reciprocated love, then you should definitely see the same for when Mike and Will both say it to each other.

Now that we have gotten confirmation that Robin, Vickie, Will and Mike will all be in the same scenes during season 5, I am even more excited for more parallels between two different flavours of queer couple living their best lives <3 thankyew

GUYS IVE DONE SO MUCH BYLER ANALYSIS TODAY HOLY FUCKING SHIT MY BRAIN IS FULLLL EVERYONE CLAP ME ON THE BACK AHDGAHSJGDHA

[readychilledwine]

Plus Size Elain Headcanons

Warnings - Half naked bodies. I've been asked to add this warning when it applies

A/n - Ah! Posted before I remembered to add this. I have received so many requests for this headcanon. I hope I did it justice.

✨️Body Headcanons Masterlist✨️

Throughout history, plus size women have been signs of wealth, fertility, beauty, and good health. Even in modern-day times, the plus-size figure is the norm and desirable in many cultures.

When we look into history at statues meant to bring blessings of fertility, you notice a female statue with large breasts, large stomachs, and typically a bit of a booty or fuller hips. Fertility statues are considered sacred, beautiful, and worshipped in religions all around the world. They are representations in many places of the ideal female body, not just pregnancy.

We see this similar theme in the Goddess of Love, Beauty, and fertility across religion. From the birth of Venus to the modern-day art of Oshun, to carvings of Lakshmi, it is still very popular to see these Goddesses depicted with a fuller figure, softer stomach, and hips.

During the dark ages, the plus-size figure was the standard of beauty for other reasons. It meant you were wealthy and could afford to eat. Daughters and wives of wealthy men were lusted after for the symbolism of money and power their fuller figures created. That brings me to Elain.

I firmly believe Elain at her happiest is plus size. Soft curves, a belly, and ass for days, Elain isn't ashamed or embarrassed by her full figure. Not when she knows what we all should: Curves, no matter how big or small, are sexy, and not when she knows it is a symbol of her papa's wealth and later Rhysand's, then Lucien or Azriel's, whichever you prefer.

I do firmly believe Elain would have a gentle hourglass figure as a plus-size woman. She would be a proportional plus-size woman, mainly because SJM would write her that way to match the image of perfection.

I also firmly believe Elain is rocking a booty. Big booties have always been sexy. Sir Mix a Lot made a whole song out of it and people will pay for BBLs to achieve the big booty look Elain naturally gets to have.

When addressing the booty situation, think of all the squatting she is doing in the garden. Mama has thick thighs and perfect ass. That's why she can't wear pants. She put too many fae in the hospital by breaking their necks to look back at it.

Cellulite and stretchmarks are also a thing on plus-size Elain's body. And if it's Lucien or Azriel, those dimples and scars are loved and cherished. They're signs of her happiness and security in herself. Signs that starvation didn't win. I imagine both of them as the types of males to trace them, whispering how beautiful she is and how sexy they find her.

I very much picture plus-size Elain as an Ashley Graham like figure. Ashley Graham, in my opinion, is one of the most beautiful women in the world. Her long hair, her face card, her curves. But most importantly, her confidence. Elain would be so confident in her plus-size body that you can not help but see her as this ethereal creature.

[blackaquokat]

First IF MCs Post!

So I've been playing IFs going on five years now, but I think I've only ever made one post about who they are, like, a year or two ago. They mostly only exist on the discord discussions or DMs with fellow IF fans because I also have no art skill (though I should post the Infamous fics I have in my drafts eventually--).

All that to say, getting a shoutout from @loveandleases herself (STILL RIDING THAT HIGH) has finally given me the kick I need to post about some of my MCs. This might open a floodgate for MANY of my OCs that I still yet have to talk about, so everyone beware!

(Picrews used will be credited at the bottom of the post)

First up, my Cam-mancer, Peridot "Dot" (last name tbd)! (Might change her eyes to hazel, but I'm keeping this picrew image for now.)

She started out very similar to my Infamous main, Genevieve, but now she's come into a life of her own. Has been hopelessly in love with Cam for most of her life, but resigned herself to just happily being his best friend (not knowing, of course, what the rest of us know about Cam--). Chris and Jade's betrayal stung, especially with what it solidified about the kind of people those two are, but I think a big part of her arc is realizing that she's not as heartbroken as she thinks she should have been about it. Then it's just her reconciling the years lost.

Anyway, she's a quiet, sweet woman, who normally doesn't mind not having attention on herself, but she's mostly become that way because of Jade demanding so much. She's also an artist, often preferring to spend evenings in the quiet, painting and sketching. I think she definitely has a stash of paintings she's made of Cam's pictures that she gives to him on bad days or his birthdays. She's a passable cook, but a far more enthused baker. It's mostly a calming activity for her when she's stressed, though her friends and loved ones certainly enjoy the results. The Clarke parents still talk about her pear custard recipe, even after the breakup.

She's still relatively new, along with the other MC I'm about to share, so I'll probably think of even more details as they grow and as the game progresses!

Anyway, now for Jumana, my G-mancer!

Jumana (last name also tbd) goes back to my usual trend with making MCs: she's of Lebanese heritage. She's a departure, however, because she's got grey eyes instead of brown like I usually give my Lebanese-coded MCs. She also met G during her goth phase in college (it slowly just turned to grunge), so this is the look that eventually grabbed G by the throat. She's not afraid to throw punches, but will try to talk people down first. Unless she's mad. Then all bets are off. Someone will be thrown across a desk. She is Very strong, and Very scrappy and she will not be fucked with.

Anyway, she's also a Literature Nerd and is almost always reading, especially in inconvenient spots. It drove G insane, because they never seemed to see her study in public, so HOW was she keeping up with their grades--

I do think, however, she's not a particularly ambitious person. I think she got high grades like G and that got under their skin and their reaction tickled her so much that she just. Kept trying to get high grades so she could keep getting a reaction out of them. Honestly, if G hadn't been there, she might not have tried so hard in college. But she definitely had a crush on them well before they probably realized their own feelings. Losing G gutted her, they were It for her. Chris was absolutely a rebound, and maybe a bit of self-punishment. Maybe a terrible part of her hoped being with Chris would one day get G angry enough to come back to her life, tell her to be with them, not Chris.

Now that Chris and Jade have royally betrayed her? Well. Jumana has ideas for making their lives miserable without her actually getting involved with them again, and that goes for her parents too, for their own betrayal--

I'm sure I'll think of more as time goes on, but in the meantime, these are my gals! Can't wait to see how they fit into the game!

Picrew used for the images:

[carlandrea]

i'm actually really into Elves Can't Get Divorced like ohhh you could get soooo fucked up with that

[claitea]

read through the shadow triad's quotes page again and i'm wondering why they (or at least, one of them bc they only say this once) still say "Lord N" in bw2. if they're all loyal to ghetsis they shouldn't really care about n since he was just ghetsis's pawn right? they could have been calling n lord in bw1 to keep up appearances that n is the true king of team plasma but they don't have to do that into the sequel. wondering exactly how loyal they are to n

on a related note they do Not say "Lord Ghetsis" until the second game, even after the reveal that ghetsis was using n. then, after ghetsis's defeat, they stop using the word lord again but call themselves "royal servants" which is interesting to me. i think its some kind of honor thing where ghetsis lost the privilege of being called lord in their eyes but they're still part of the kingdom he attempted to build and so they're royal. but then why Not call him lord ghetsis in bw1? the first time they refer to him by name is while they're still serving n, so that could again be keeping up appearances, and the rest of the times are after ghetsis is defeated so it could be the honor thing again?

[kandicon]

*writes the same exact headcannons in slightly different scenarios over and over again*

[a-s-levynn]

"Even if the sky cracks in mourning / And the heavens just won't open up for me" A Series of Small Offerings - II/12 - day20

[averlym]

"what could possibly go wrong?"

[dungeonrabbits]

i still think its really funny when people emphasis chilchick status as an 'old man' 'grandpa' ect, when hes really only three years older than laios

[userlaylivia]

you know s2 of the 100 will always be my favorite season, it was brilliant and the writing was absolutely incredible and I don't think any season will ever top it but saying that, S4 does come close!!! it was exciting and the writing was good and the storyline of trying to save everyone was so good and bellarke actually interacted most of the episodes maybe that's partly why I loved it lol also loved s6 though mostly for bellarke but also the storyline was decent! i understand why some didn't like s5 it wasn't my favorite but I never would've wanted the 100 to be cancelled before s6 because some of those bellarke moments in S5&6 were incredible and 6x10 is one of my favorite episodes and if we hadn't had that episode I would've been so sad!! jroth is a petty pos they wrote a scene where bellarke got together in 6x11 then he changed his mind because he sucks and they did a total 180 and rewrote it ugh anyone that watched the show and didn't think bellarke was leading to endgame was in denial truly!! all the foreshadowing, all the parallels and quotes about love and etc they were supposed to be endgame end of the story! whether you hate them or not it was supposed to be them together!! I got off topic I always do because I'm so upset and angry they weren't endgame but yeah!! I'm actually on the S4 finale in my rewatch and I genuinely did love that season for more than just bellarke but yeah!

also s7 doesn't exist bye lol

[lexicals]

List of my main ttrpg characters in order of creation:

The crushing weight of expectation (family values edition)

Gay yearning and repression and the mortifying ordeal of being known

The terrifying responsibility of being stronger than those you care about

The crushing weight of expectation (mutability of the self edition)

[anothermonikan]

Man high school was fucked up. You ever think about that. Thank fucking god I'm not in high school anymore

[harrysfolklore]

did you see that video of tom holland pushing the paparazzi off zendaya? Yeah I thinking about something similar but with Charles Leclerc x famous!reader

something short and sweet bc i'm not posting a new fic this week but i hope you enjoy it!

The flash of cameras was something you were used to, but tonight felt different. As you stepped out of the car at the prestigious event, Charles' hand firmly in yours, the crowd of paparazzi seemed more aggressive than usual. The combination of an A-list actress and a Formula 1 star had created a media frenzy.

"YN! Over here!" "Charles! This way!" "Are you two official?" "YN, how does it feel dating a racing driver?" "Charles, what's it like dating a Hollywood star?"

The shouting was overwhelming, and despite your years of experience handling red carpets, you felt yourself tense as the photographers pressed closer, their cameras mere inches from your face.

"Stay close to me," Charles murmured, his thumb stroking reassuringly over your knuckles.

"I'm used to this," you whispered back, trying to maintain your composed smile.

"I know, but this is crazy even for me."

You felt Charles' grip on your hand tighten protectively as one particularly aggressive photographer pushed forward, nearly causing you to stumble in your heels.

"Watch it!" Charles snapped, his accent thickening with anger as he steadied you. In an instant, his demeanor changed from polite to protective. He moved swiftly, positioning himself between you and the crowd.

"Back off," he said firmly. "I said back off! You're being too aggressive."

His arm wrapped securely around your waist, creating a barrier between you and the chaos. "That's enough. We'll pose for photos, but give us space."

"Charles, it's okay," you tried to soothe him, though you appreciated his protection.

"No, it's not okay," he responded, his jaw clenched. "They don't get to push you around just because you're a public figure."

The authority in his voice made several photographers take a step back. You could feel the tenseness in his body as he guided you through the crowd.

"Almost there," he assured you quietly. "Just a few more steps."

"YN! One more shot!" "Charles! Look this way!" "Are you living together?"

"Just ignore them," you whispered to Charles, sensing his growing irritation.

As you finally reached the relative safety of the venue's entrance, Charles's posture relaxed slightly, but his protective hold remained. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, completely ignoring the renewed frenzy of camera flashes the gesture triggered.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, his green eyes scanning your face with concern. "I've never seen them this aggressive."

"I'm fine," you assured him, straightening his tie affectionately. "I'm used to it, remember? Though I have to admit, having my own personal bodyguard is nice."

He smiled softly, but his eyes remained serious. "Nobody gets to treat you like that," he said, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "Not even if they have cameras. I don't care if it's part of the job."

"My hero," you teased, trying to lighten his mood.

"I'm serious, mon coeur. I know this comes with both our careers, but there's a line."

In that moment, despite the chaos around you, you couldn't help but smile. You'd dealt with aggressive paparazzi before, but having someone who instinctively moved to protect you, who prioritized your comfort over the perfect photo op - that was new.

"Thank you," you said softly, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "For having my back."

"Always," he promised, taking your hand again. "Ready to go face the slightly more civilized cameras inside?"

You laughed, squeezing his hand. "Lead the way, Leclerc."