#lethal weapon spoiler

[prokopetz]

I grant that fandom puts a lot more emphasis on certain tropes than mainstream media ever does, but some of the tropes people are claiming only ever turn up in fanfic are pretty wild. "Oh, you like it when the villain's loved one dies and the villain goes off the deep end? Name one movie where that happens" buddy, that's literally the climax of Lethal Weapon 4. The villain in question is played by fucking Jet Li.

[starkeymeow]

❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT best read in dark mode, rafe cameron x reader au, blood, violence, murder, manipulation, grief, intense survival situations. not a real chapter!! explained above the cut but fleshed out below <3

main masterlist | tag list

AUTHORS NOTE i wanted to address this request, and i got excited and started planning everything. warnings: it might get brutal, and i love it sm, but thats the capitol for you.

SORRY FOR THE NON-CHAPTER, just for those who would like to scream w me bc i loveeee thg sm. all spoilers for this series as far as rafe and y/n being the capitols darlings are below the cut !! nothing more, especially how their games will go or anyt else. read at your own risk !!

HOW SNOW REACTS AFTER THEY WIN

no clue on how i’ll get you guys to win, but i’m sure it INFURIATES snow. but he knows the capitol is eating you up. you’re the monsters who loved each other just enough to refuse one final kill.

instead of making martyrs, he rebrands you: “panem creates not just killers, but loyalty. love. two perfect victors from district 2. beautiful, deadly, loyal to the capitol, and to each other.”

he spins it into a capitol miracle, but punishes you in silence. families are watched 24/7, someone rafe loves probably dies “suspiciously” in an accident, one of your siblings is drafted into the peacekeepers without a say.

but none of it is ever public. on the outside obvi, you’re panems most celebrated couple.

POST-GAMES, REWRITTEN

you’re stuck playing parts forever.

rafe becomes the capitol’s “protector”. he’s strong, silent, the ideal male victor. they give him a uniform-like aesthetic, elevate him like a fucking peacekeeper demigod.

you’re turned into the capitol’s “sharpest rose”. so lethal beauty, elegance and precision. your daggers become a fashion symbol.

you’re offered to capitol citizens for sex, like finnick. but snow frames it like it’s “fan demand.”

you refuse. punishment? your body gets surgically “enhanced” in capitol-approved ways.

rafe gives in once, to protect you. he vomits after. you never speak about it again.

MORE ON THIS BC I GOT EXCITED SRY

they embed thorns into your back. they grow out like a rose stems thorns. the capitol calls you panems rose.

they match your games maybe. like maybe i’ll say you used rose thorns or poisonous flowers as weapons in the arena.

the mods are excruciating. you’re sedated without your consent. you wake up screaming. rafe even tries to rip them out when he sees them for the first time maybe.

LIKE THIS IS HOW I PICTURE IT OK SET THE SCENE RQ

the room is white, not warm white, not soft white. but . . . surgical white. sterilized. empty. watching.

you wake up to silence.

no machines beep. no nurses hover. just weight, like a strange, foreign pressure against your back. like someone laid cold iron across your spine and forgot to take it off.

but you’re on your stomach. the bed is soft, unnaturally so. your throat hurts, your chest burns, your skin feels too tight. and then you move.

barely, a twitch of your hand. that’s all it takes. pain slices down your spine like wire being pulled through muscle. and now you know, it’s not weight. it’s not metal laid on top of you.

it’s inside you.

you don’t cry out. not yet. you breathe through it, your fingers grip the edge of the pillow. you turn your head slightly, just enough to see the side of the bed, the small silver tray. on it sits a mirror. your eyes lock on it.

you don’t want to look.

you have to.

your fingers tremble as they reach for it, shaking harder the closer they get. it’s not bravery. it’s desperation. you need to know. you drag the mirror toward you. you tilt it, angle it, and then you see it.

thorns.

they’ve carved a line of thorns into your back—

no, not into. under. you realize it now.

the sharp, jagged points are breaking through your skin, one by one, in a perfect line down your spine. metal, bone, something else. you don’t know.

they shimmer under the sterile light, gleaming like jewelry, spiked like a crown. placed like a punishment. you stare. and for a moment, your mind goes blank. but then it crashes down. and everything unravels.

you sit up too fast. you scream. you try to grab at them. blood blooms instantly, but you don’t care. you claw at your back like you can rip it all out.

you feel the weight of them now, the thorns down your spine. they’ve turned you into something beautiful.

you scream again, louder this time, and it’s his name, “rafe!”

the door slams open, and there he is, standing, not breathing, not moving. just staring. his eyes go wide when he sees you, then the blood. the thorns too. the hospital gown is stained red.

he says your name, just once, but he doesn’t come closer. so you crawl off the bed, fall, and hit the floor.

your knees give out and your hands slip. he runs to you.

“don’t touch me,” you whisper.

he stops.

“don’t— look at me.”

“y/n—”

“what did they do to me?”

you’re sobbing now. ugly. shaking. the pain is everywhere and nowhere.

and that’s when he sees it. your hands are bleeding from the thorns too. you tried to tear yourself apart.

he kneels. he doesn’t touch you, but his voice cracks when he says, “i didn’t know.”

did that eat idk

but anyway, about the thorns: they run down your spine, top to bottom. theyre metallic, delicate-looking, wtv, but fused under the skin. they’re real. purely aesthetic.

the capitol just says: “you bloomed in blood. you’re our sharpest rose.”

but you never asked to be that.

how the capitol uses it:

open-back gowns at every interview, banquet, and appearance unfortunately. cute but its disgusting. stylists coo about how stunning it is. kids in the capitol even get fake thorn implants to mimic you.

you become fashion.

they sell your pain back to you as power, but you know what it really was. a test, a first-of-its-kind procedure, pushed by a new stylist team wanting to make history.

you knew that if you’d died under the knife, they’d have found another girl. another rose. they would’ve thrown you away a long time ago.

and sometimes, you wish they did.

and with rafe? you wouldn’t let him touch your back for weeks. when you finally do, it’s in the quiet. maybe in bed. maybe in the dark idk.

he probably kisses each thorn like a prayer. like an apology. like he’s saying, you’re still mine.

and your rage builds over time, surely!! maybe you smile in interviews and twirl in gowns, but you know what they did.

the pain is constant. you sleep on your side or your stomach because your back throbs.

stylists would numb it before events, but after? you’re left with bruises from corsets meant to “frame the roses.” it’s not a body anymore. it’s a billboard.

and maybe one day, years later, you’re asked by some capitol child on a talk show, like, “did it hurt?”

and you’ll say nothing for a second, then, smile sweetly and lean in close, “only when i realized it would never stop.”

rafe’s trauma / trafficking:

rafe’s image is like a knight, a protector. and one night after a victory event, a high-ranking capitol sponsor requests him. snow doesn’t ask. he just sends peacekeepers.

rafe goes. he comes back quiet. the next morning, the sponsor is found dead. oh no!! wonder who couldve killed him. the capitol covers it up, says it was a heart attack.

snow knows the truth, and instead of punishing him publicly, he threatens you. so rafe agrees to be used again. once. just once.

when he returns, you’re waiting in the hallway. you don’t say a word. like i said, he throws up, and then you two never talk about it again.

TIMELINE

actually ok i looked over what games are open, maybe ill have you win the 68th tbh at 17 and 18 yrs old. by the time the 75th comes around, youll be about 24 and 25 ish.

so you’re older than katniss and peeta by a few years, established capitol darlings obvi, and in the 75th, youre reaped again as former victors.

katniss and peeta threaten everything snow built with you and rafe. i imagine like this scene where you probably see them and glare. not out of hate, but fear. youre watching yourself all over again. you know what’s coming basically.

katniss sees it, probably thinks you hate her. maybe she thinks youre jealous because your situations are so similar, but later revealed in private to her that you dont hate her, youre just worried for her.

IN THE QUARTER QUELL

everyone wants to ally with you two. careers, nerds, even past enemies. youre terrifying, but it’s earned. your games were legendary.

you and rafe keep up appearances, but are quietly rebellious!! you show it in small ways. not anything noticeable for obvious reasons, but rafe probably does it more than you do, ironically.

like i feel like he’d refuse to speak at certain stops. people think he’s shy, but he’s not. he’s silent because he won’t lie. and he never lets them film him touching your back.

the capitol used to love when he would kiss your shoulders, brushing a hand down the thorns. but in public? his hand never goes there. when asked why, he says, “i’m not proud of what they did to her.”

but you guys help katniss and peeta when you can.

you two have just always and will always use the capitol’s own image of you as a shield for as long as you have to. whatever it takes.

@nicholaschavezslut69 @iissza @snowtargaryen @yootvi @ariiwritess @spideysimpossiblegirl @skyslowalking @adribarbie @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @0-tatiana-0 @beebeerockknot @rafestar @drewstarkeyzwhore @drewsephrry @annaconscience @writtenbyhollywood @yourtypicalteenagegirl @daisydark @v4mpscrms @issahruiz @ilovefictionallmenn @derpjungkook @vanessa-rafesgirl @sunny1616 @alphabetically-deranged @nrmlgirl @supercxnt @xoxosblogsblog @rafegetinmybed LOL

[moonchopsticks]

spoilers for the game look outside:

cannot stop thinking about our main guy sam. unemployed gamer that by all accounts shouldnt have made it through fifteen days of the apocalypse but, depending on how you play him, is the exact right amount of both deeply compassionate and batshit insane to pull it off. like off the top of my head, he feeds his arm to a mouth on a wall in order to save a hideous rat baby, and then feeds and cares for the rat baby until it's capable of wielding various lethal weapons against the abominations that roam the hallways. also gives it a stupid little hat. kisses his weird stalker twice, and by kisses i mean closes his eyes and puckers his lips while his stalker presses their "face" against his. gives head pats to the cockroaches he brings back to the apartment and feeds them until they coalesce into a man-shaped construct wearing a trench coat. in the best ending he becomes a planet sized benevolent godthing that does ribbon cutting ceremonies for all the cities he's helped rebuild with giant novelty scissors. who else is doing it like him

[positivexcellence]

Jensen Ackles Gets Us Fired Up for His New Prime Series Countdown

AMAZON'S PRIME VIDEO is in the Jensen Ackles business—and if you've seen his performances on the Prime Video hit The Boys and its spinoff Gen V, you know you'd want this man in your corner too. Not only is he starring in an upcoming The Boys prequel, Vought Rising, but today, Prime Video is announcing Countdown, a 13-episode crime thriller that will premiere worldwide with three episodes on Wednesday, June 25. As part of the exclusive announcement with Men's Health, the streamer also offered up a first look at the series.

Ackles stars as Mark Meachum, an LAPD detective recruited into a secret task force consisting of undercover agents from across various branches of United States law enforcement. They've been assembled to investigate the mysterious case of an officer with the Department of Homeland Security who was murdered in broad daylight without any suspects or leads at the scene. As they hunt for the killer, they begin to unravel a larger and larger plot that could end with not only one dead victim—but millions of them.

The show was created by showrunner and executive producer Derek Haas, who wrote the screenplays for movies like 2 Fast 2 Furious and 3:10 to Yuma, and who brought us the NBC mainstays Chicago Fire, Chicago P.D., and Chicago Med. So at its helm is a writer who knows high octane thrillers—with a healthy dose of levity to balance things out. "I grew up loving action movies like Die Hard, Lethal Weapon, Rush Hour, and Beverly Hills Cop, so those wild character-based, set piece-based action thrillers are always in the back of my mind," Haas says. "I like it when the heroes have a bounce in their step and love their jobs, versus the depressed, I’m-haunted-by-what-I’ve-seen type of characters."

But that doesn't mean Haas doesn't flirt with the dark side of his story either. Viewers, he says, can come for a "crime story with huge stakes, but stay for the drama and the romance and the humor and the twists and all the emotional turns with the characters." But, he adds, "I think they will be surprised by how involved they become with not only our protagonists’ lives, but also the villain’s. When they get to episode 10 of 13, they'll see something they haven’t seen in this genre before. No spoilers!"

Ackles has been acting in TV for almost 28 years, so stunt work, fight prep, and immersing himself in the highly technical aspects of the world his character inhabits is all old hat. But that doesn't mean he's not in the gym prepping as if it's the first time.

"I like to make sure I’m in shape for the long hours and stunt work," Ackles says. "I did do some brush-up on my firearms training; In fact, we went to a training facility in California where Keanu Reeves does his gun training for John Wick." To him, that didn't pose the biggest challenge. Instead, it was getting used the acronym-heavy lingo of law enforcement.

"The police jargon, talking in acronyms, was not something I'm overly used to. We had consultants to help with that," he says. "Most of my questions were about what the acronyms mean and familiarizing myself with the terminology–rather than how to bust down a door."

Ackles describes the series as one with a big, cinematic scope. "The camerawork is mostly handheld which gives the show a lot of energy," he says, "It’s high energy, high stakes, and there’s a lot of momentum that pushes each episode." But he and Haas both point to the chemistry between the characters as the biggest draw.

The show boasts an ensemble that Haas calls "an embarrassment of riches"—one that includes Eric Dane, who immediately became a steady hand and guiding force on set. "We formed a brotherly bond quickly and it was so great to have someone who’s a veteran in series television to connect with," Ackles says. "He was like a North Star for the entire cast." Haas adds: "Eric is a natural, dynamic, thoughtful team leader."

As for Ackles, he's exactly the kind of protagonist Haas has always been drawn to.

"Jensen has that innate natural joy and love for what he does that not only translates perfectly to the character he plays, but elevates everyone around him, myself included," Haas says. "He is genuinely, enormously funny and I would ruin takes by laughing out loud from the monitors 30 feet away. Our sound men Ron and Kevin would gesture at me like Cool it! and I’d just shrug. What am I gonna do?"

If Haas found himself charmed by Ackles, he is far and away not the only one. After his 15-year run on the cult show Supernatural, he's amassed a huge and loyal built-in viewership. What will they find when they tune in?

"There’s plenty of action and adventure but there’s also humor and a lot of heart in the show, especially in the way the characters relate to each other," Ackles says. "Which feels like it aligns with a lot of the things I’ve done before. For example, with Supernatural, yes we were dealing with demons and ghosts, but the heart of the show was the brother’s relationship, that they would die for each other, or for the greater good. I think there’s a similar theme here. These are outcast officers that don’t necessarily find comfort with their unit, they’re renegade mavericks in their departments, and they see themselves within each other. I think the fans will react to that."

[tobiasdrake]

Also spoilers but I wanted to talk about the ending to Snow White (2025) bluntly.

One of the biggest differences between the 2025 film and the original is that it culminates in an actual confrontation between Snow White and the Evil Queen. In the original, the dwarves go kill the Evil Queen in retribution after Snow goes into her coma, and then some guy shows up like "Wow, hot corpse! Mind if I make out with it?"

Like. No shade to original Snow White. This was literally the first cel animated movie ever made. The writing took a backseat to the sheer sorcery of being able to put hand-drawn moving pictures on a screen like this.

The Prince was supposed to have a larger role in the film but wound up being mostly cut because he was too hard to animate. This is actually something the live-action film rectified, by bringing the sequences he was supposed to have back into the movie.

Snow White walked so that the entire history of traditional 2-D animation could run.

But something I really like in the 2025 film is that final confrontation with the Evil Queen. It's so perfectly crafted as a contest of ideologies in a film that seems tailor-made for this moment in history.

Like. Okay. Lemme walk you through this, play by play.

Standing in front of a mob of people Snow's gathered to resist her, the Evil Queen conjures a rose and waxes poetic about the ephemeral beauty of flowers, then magically disintegrates it into dust to reiterate how fragile it is. This is a metaphor for Snow White and her appeal to the people currently supporting her.

The Evil Queen, by contrast, claims to offer security and prosperity. She conjures a flawless glass dagger to represent herself. Perfectly crafted and honed. A beautiful and lethal weapon.

And then she presses the dagger into Snow's hand and dares Snow White to kill her with it. This is the classic villainous "Embrace the Dark Side and strike me down" card, played here as an ideological contest. The Queen represents a philosophy of Might Makes Right and Fuck You Got Mine.

The metaphor of going "This rose is you, this knife is me, now take this knife and stab me if you dare," is pretty on-the-nose. She is challenging Snow White to take back her kingdom... by embracing the Queen's belief system and becoming the kind of ruler that she is. To cast away the rose and take up the glass knife.

When Snow won't do it, the Queen orders her executed and that's when Snow plays her hand. She brought the "Talking the monster into submission by sheer strength of personality" card to the table.

But what makes it stand out for me is that she doesn't talk the Evil Queen down. The Queen is too cruel and full of herself to care what Snow thinks or has to say.

Instead, she appeals to the Queen's radicalized followers. She reminds them of what their country was like before this regime took power, and what it can be again... but only if they put down their weapons, let go of the Queen's militant belief systems, and come home to the people they've been alienated from by following after her.

Because Snow White is not a person of power. She is no Chosen Hero. She has no sorcerous powers or deadly fighting skills. Her only power is that she's beloved by a community who are willing to prop her up with their collective power.

And when the Queen's followers turn and become Snow's followers, then all the sorcery and Strongwoman Leadership in the world doesn't matter anymore. The collective are stronger.

Symbolized ultimately by the Queen taking her dagger, taking the thing she crafted to represent her, and trying to plunge it into Snow herself... only for one of Snow's followers to shoot it from her hand with a crossbow. And then for that last artistic touch, the dagger, the thing whose beauty and power was supposed to be eternal, wilts and disintegrates into dust just like the rose.

The Queen's ideology crushed into sand by Snow's faith in people to want better lives than what the Queen's regime could provide for them.

This. I cannot reiterate it enough. This is the movie for this moment in history.

[bwat5-blog]

Collected Thoughts On Caitlyn From Last Few Days

**Spoilers From All Of Arcane**

So... as I have said many times in the past my thoughts come in bits and pieces over a day or two when I get locked onto a topic. That leads to the small blurbs all hovering around the same subject more or less. But this one seemed worth sort of putting all in one.

Amanda Overton confirmed the use of "The Grey" was strategic to a pinpoint but left the question to the asker if that made it forgivable or not. That is of course for each person to decide, but I will say this:

A- It isn't fatal. You can harp all you like about what may happen later. Vi may have CTE from getting punched in the head over and over. The shimmer in Jinx's blood may actually be breaking down her body little-by little over time, and same for Sevika. Timeline hopping may have irreparably damaged the cellular structure of Ekko's body and he only has days to live. We can only operate with what we know. There are many, MANY characters who have been openly exposed and appear to be just fine. And before you mention those images from Caitlyn's study when she is learning about the Grey, there is big difference between growing up surrounded by something every day of your life, and being exposed in a single targeted incident. B- The alternative was a full-scale Enforcer "invasion" armed with hex-tech, or. The strike team sans something that cleared innocents out of areas and left enemy soldiers standing and armed, instead of incapacitated and arrested.

2. Zaun is not an independent nation.

A- We know this since ya know.. they were voting on it before Jinx blew them up. B- This means that while Zaun it a separate city. It still falls completely under the jurisdiction of the council. C- When Caitlyn leads the strike team and uses a targeted, non-lethal crowd-dispersal chemical weapon, she is doing so not under any heading of war. But of peace keeping (using the term technically not emotionally. I understand they were not peaceful) and law-enforcement in a place that strictly legally speaking she has every ounce of authority to be in. (I am strictly speaking of legality and technical definition here. They were essentially a swat team sent to a really dangerous area. Not an invading army. Not a justification or excuse. But if we want to talk about this stuff we should do it properly). D- Zaun is under the council's jurisdiction. The council all agreed to martial law and let Caitlyn become the commander. Therefore this is the situation:

Caitlyn is the leader of a very small country with two cities, both under her control.

City A- Where she lives now.

City B- The other one. Where a dangerous terrorist is hiding who has almost killed her repeatedly, just assassinated three of their rulers and blew up a building, killed more than six enforcers and blew up another building, and as far as they know probably orchestrated the full scale attack at the memorial.

So what does Caitlyn actually approve? City B will be placed under lockdown until this woman who is quite clearly a massive threat to everyone's safety is caught.

Yep. there it is folks. "I am placing the city you all have given me complete authority over under control until we catch the person who tried to kill me,and has killed a bunch of us already. We will have patrols and set up checkpoints. People who violate the law will be arrested.

"Arrests require cause"

"Why is peace the justification for violence?"

She doesn't approve or give permission for any of the rest of that shit. the brutality, the experiments, none of it. And don't misunderstand me none of this is to say she didn't do anything wrong. But the dialogue around her is COMPLETELY. INSANE.

"War Crimes!"

"Fascist!"

"Dictator!"

Yall. She is literally getting up early to meet with a trade guild so they can bitch at her over supply issues. Dark Lord Kiramman she is not.

[cherry-holmes]

From Salt, Iron, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮: A Supernatural Series

(Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader)

Part 8: Heat of the Moment

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: If the Impala could talk…

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word count: +7.1K

Warnings: I prefer to not give details to prevent spoilers. You’re on your own, kids.😉

A/N:🫣

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For the next three months, your life with the Winchesters and Castiel had settled into something that felt truly belonging.

And the family just kept growing around, when you finally met Bobby. He welcomed you into his house and the family business. He gave advices, lectured you on everything he knew, and gave you the confidence to reach for him whenever you need something.

Sammy was patient, endlessly. He would sit with you at the library for hours, explaining how the world had changed since your time: technology, laws, gender roles and equality, and modern slang. He was the one who taught you how to use a laptop, though he sometimes had to hide his laughter when you got frustrated and poked the screen like it might obey you faster.

Castiel, though, became something else entirely. A best friend. Maybe because, in his own way, he was just as out of place as you were. He didn't judge when you marveled at microwaves or stared too long at the flashing lights of a city skyline. He answered every one of your endless questions without growing tired, or if he did, he never showed it.

Sometimes, you and Cas would just sit together in silence, sharing a kind of wordless understanding that didn't need to be explained. He was your anchor on the days when the world felt too loud, too fast, too unfamiliar.

And Dean... he was something different.

He took it upon himself to introduce you to 'the important stuff.' Rock music: Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Metallica, Bon Jovi. Movies: Star Wars, Die Hard, Back to the Future. You name it. He was there, more than excited and willing to show the new world to you.

Late nights would find you both sprawled on the worn motel beds or the bunker couch, Dean grinning like a kid as he watched your reactions.

"You've never seen this? Oh, sweetheart, we're fixing that right now," he'd say, popping in a VHS tape or queuing up something on an DVD player.

And you soon discovered that you also had your own stuff to share.

One day, Sam found you curled into the far corner of the bunker's library sofa, knees drawn up beneath you, entirely absorbed in the worn pages of Pride and Prejudice. The copy had a cracked spine and yellowing edges, but you cradled it like treasure.

Sam's voice interrupted the silence, warm with surprise. "Didn't know we had that one in here."

You looked up, startled, but smiled. "I used to read this by candlelight... I never thought I'd hold it again."

Sam's brow quirked. "You know it's a movie now, right?"

Your eyes widened. "A movie?"

He chuckled. "Several, actually. There's the BBC miniseries and the 2005 version."

You blinked. "People still know this story? They watch it?"

"Yeah," Sam said, amused. "It's kind of a big deal."

And it was the end of Dean Winchester's movies era.

That night, Dean was sprawled across the bunker couch, TV remote in one hand, a beer in the other, deciding if he wanted you to see Lethal Weapon or Terminator when you bounced into the room, clutching the DVD case Sam had handed you.

"Dean," you said brightly, "we're watching Pride and Prejudice tonight."

Dean froze. "We're what now?"

You held up the case with the same reverence he reserved for classic rock vinyl. "It's a book I love. Sam told me it's a film now. Will you watch it with me?"

He looked at you, hopeful, radiant, practically glowing with excitement.

Dean groaned dramatically. "Fine. But unless there's a car chase, I'm gonna need extra pie for this."

You sat beside him, barely breathing as the film unfolded. His initial jokes dissolved somewhere around the proposal scene, and he started commenting about the movie like he was getting really interested in the story.

You glanced at him with a triumphant grin.

Later, as the credits rolled, he leaned back with a long exhale. "So... when Darcy said, 'You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you'—that was smooth. I might use that."

You laughed, giving him a playful shove.

Dean nudged you with his shoulder. "Hey, don't look at me like that. If I'm gonna suffer through 19th-century foreplay, it might as well be with you."

Your laughter softened into something warmer as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you liked it."

He tilted his head, voice low. "Yeah... me too."

He was close. Always close: an arm thrown casually around the back of the couch, a shoulder brushing yours when you laughed too hard, a hand steadying you when the crowd of a new town felt overwhelming.

You didn't stay behind, either. After the incident with the creature by the motel pool, you had insisted on joining them on more hunts as an active member, and to your surprise, they had agreed.

Maybe it was your bravery. Maybe it was the fact that you refused to be treated like something fragile.

But little by little, you became part of the team.

You trained harder with Sam and Dean, practiced with Castiel, learned everything you could about the monsters that haunted the modern world.

At first they gave you easier tasks: research, backup, lookout. But it wasn't long before you were right there in the thick of it: salt rounds loaded, blade steady in your hand, heart pounding in rhythm with theirs.

The adrenaline, the fear, the victories—saving people and hunting things... it bonded you even tighter to them.

Especially to Dean.

You didn't sleep together at the bunker, it would have been too much, maybe, to cross that invisible line there. But during hunting trips, as the motels usually had only two beds, it became natural for you to share one of them.

At first, Sam felt like the most awkward third wheel, and insisted on take his own room. But neither you or Dean seemed to make it look like a serious thing. So you both will just justify it saying there was no need to waste money resources on a second room, and Sam wouldn't push anymore.

Dean would kick off his boots and fall onto the mattress with a groan, then look over at you with a smirk and say, "C'mon, deer, I don't bite."

The first few times you stayed stiff and awkward on the edge of the bed, afraid of getting too close. But Dean never pressed, never teased, he just offered his quiet presence, and somehow that was enough.

As time passed, you grew comfortable. You stopped worrying about the way your arm brushed his when you shifted at night. Stopped pulling away when you woke up with your legs tangled loosely under the covers. Stopped pretending you didn't notice the way your heart sped up when he was near.

There was tension, of course. But Dean never pushed. Never crossed a line. And somehow, that made it worse: made you ache for him even more.

You didn't know exactly when it happened, maybe it was one night when he stayed up until dawn patching up a cut on your forehead, hands trembling slightly; maybe it was the way he remembered you liked your coffee sweet and loaded with cream in the morning.

But somewhere between the laughter, the long looks, the soft silences... You realized you were falling for Dean Winchester.

Or maybe it was there from the beginning. Even before that very first kiss.

And even though the thought scared you, it also felt like the most natural thing in the world.

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"Oh my goodness," you laughed, your face lighting up with amusement as you clicked through your own laptop.

Of course, you had your own now. The Winchesters had bought it for you after you accidentally stumbled upon downloaded porn on Dean's. Sam was really pissed at him.

"Dean, you've got to see this!"

He looked up from where he was cleaning one of his knives, arching a brow. "What now? Another animal video you think might change my life?"

You turned the screen toward him with a grin. "Nope. Almost better. A pie convention two towns over this weekend. Apparently it's like, the 'pie event of the year'? There's a cherry pie competition, a blindfold taste test... It's like Disneyland made of pies."

Dean stood up so fast he nearly knocked over the salt canister on the table. "You're not messing with me?"

"Would I lie about pie?" you teased, and his grin stretched wide, boyish and awed.

"We're going. You and me. Sam can handle things here, he won't appreciate it."

Right on cue, Sam strolled into the room, coffee in hand, and Dean spun toward him. "Hey, Sammy. Claire and I are taking a little road trip. Couple days. Important business."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, pie?"

Dean didn't even bother denying it. He just smiled and shrugged in a funny way.

Sam rolled his eyes, but there was something fond in the way he glanced between the two of you. "Fine. I was planning on heading out with Charlie and Cas anyway. They roped me into some kind of lore convention... don't ask. Just don't die in a pie-eating accident."

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "No promises."

You caught Sam's gaze as he turned to leave, and he gave you the tiniest smirk and wink before disappearing down the hall.

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Next weekend, the pie convention turned out to be everything Dean dreamed of and more. Booths stretched for blocks, each one offering free samples, contests, and flavors that had Dean acting like a kid at Christmas. You trailed behind him, your fingers sticky with berry filling, laughing as he tried (and failed) to talk a judge into giving him an extra slice of bourbon pecan. So he stole it from him, anyway.

By the end of the day, you both collapsed into the Impala parked just off a quiet country road. The sun was setting behind the trees, golden light spilling through the windshield, painting the car in a soft, amber glow. Dean handed you a beer, and you took a sip, still not convinced of the taste.

"I'm not sayin' it was the best day of my life," he said, eyes closed. "But if I die tomorrow, I'll go with a smile."

You laughed, turning in your seat to face him. "You really love pie that much, didn't you?"

He cracked one eye open and smiled at you. "I love anything that makes me forget the crap for a while."

There was a long pause then, not awkward, just quiet. The kind of silence that let you feel things you didn't know how to name yet.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly more serious. "Y'know... back there. All those people. Families, couples, kids..." He glanced at you. "Sometimes I wonder what it would've been like them. Normal. If I hadn't grown up the way I did."

You tilted your head slightly, sensing the heaviness behind his words.

"My dad... he trained us to hunt before we even knew how to live. And I... I did things. Made choices that stick with me." He let out a shaky breath. "It's hard not to think I've screwed everything up."

You didn't say anything, just let your fingers gently brush the back of his hand resting between you. He didn't pull away.

You knew some things about their past: their family, the hell they'd been through. Dean was the one who told you, bit by bit. Glimpses of what they had done, what they had survived. The people that had lost. It was hard not to cry when you saw the hurt, the pain, and sometimes even fear in his eyes.

It made you want to free him from all of it... to lift the weight off his shoulders and make him feel safe. Cared for. Loved.

After a while, he looked down at your touch, then back up, his voice quieter. "Don't you ever want to know more about where you come from? About who you were before all this?"

You hesitated, eyes flicking to the windshield, watching the fading light turn to dusk.

"I used to," you said softly, that British accent sending shivers down his spine. "But it frightens me. What if I find out I was someone I wouldn't even like? What if I came from a world that wouldn't let me return here?"

Dean looked at you, listening intently, his breath caught in his throat.

"If I'm here now, it's for a reason," you continued. "And I don't want to waste time chasing shadows when I have a real life now. With Sam, with Castiel, and..." your voice faltered for a second, but you met his gaze steadily, "with you."

Dean didn't say anything at first, just stared, something unreadable in his eyes. Then he let out a quiet, breathless laugh; not mocking, just overwhelmed.

"You're something else, deer," he murmured.

And maybe it were the stars beginning to blink into the night sky above, or just the mere heat of the moment, but you felt the urgent desire to kiss him.

Dean's eyes were still on you, something soft and stunned flickering behind the green of them. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Just the low hum of cicadas around you, the distant rustle of trees in the night.

You swallowed hard.

"I mean it," you said, voice quiet but certain. "This... all of this. It matters to me."

Dean gave a small nod, but his expression was unreadable. Maybe he didn't know what to say. Maybe he didn't believe it, not really. That someone like you could want someone like him.

So you kissed him. To proof that for you he was worth of love as much as anyone else.

You weren't even sure what possessed you. Maybe it was the moonlight, or the pie, or just the way he looked at you like you were the one thing he didn't want to break. Your lips brushed his, tentative at first, barely more than a breath. But he didn't pull away.

He stilled.

And then he kissed you back.

Slow, warm, reverent... not like the rushed, careless kisses you'd seen in films. Not like the ones full of teeth and tongue that made you hide your face behind a pillow when they played on motel televisions. This was just different.

But still, your thoughts wandered to those scenes. The ones where the characters ended up tangled in bedsheets, breathless. You remembered the way Dean's jaw would tense slightly when those parts came on, how he'd glance over at you to see if you were watching. You always were.

So am I doing this right? Was it supposed to feel like this... like my whole body was trembling, but not out of fear, but something raw and primitive?

You didn't know, but you wanted to.

You pulled back slightly, breath hitching, your hand resting against his chest. "Dean..." you whispered, nerves tightening your throat. "I... I don't really know how this works. I've never..."

Dean's eyes widened a fraction, and you felt him tense beneath your hand. But not in a bad way, more like he was trying very hard to stay still. Just like you.

You cleared your throat. "But I... I want to."

He blinked at you, processing that. "You mean...?" His voice cracked just a little, and for the first time, Dean Winchester looked genuinely nervous.

You nodded, cheeks flushed. "I trust you."

Dean exhaled, slow and careful, and then gently squeezed your hand. "Okay. Then we're gonna take it slow. Real slow, alright?"

You nodded again, heart pounding.

He looked around, then jerked a thumb toward the back seat. "Gimme a sec."

You watched as Dean opened the back door, and started rearranging the Impala's interior with almost military precision. He took off his jacket, folded it into a pillow, pulled a blanket from the trunk, then ducked back inside to make sure the door locks were set.

When he was done, he opened the door for you like it was the most natural thing in the world. No pressure, just patience. Just Dean.

And before he could say more, you reached for him. Your hand curled into the collar of his flannel, tugging gently, and then your mouth found his.

It was clumsy at first, more instinct than anything, but it was yours. Hungry in a way that surprised even you.

Dean froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard, then responded with a low sound in his throat that sent a rush through your body. His hands came to your waist, steadying, anchoring.

You broke the kiss just enough to whisper, "I want this, Dean. I want it with you."

That was all it took.

He helped you into the backseat carefully, never taking his eyes off yours, and shut the door behind him. You settled back against the makeshift bedding, nerves fluttering wildly in your belly. He joined you, hovering above, and you welcomed him between your thighs.

It was overwhelming in the best of the ways: his breath against your face, his fingers brushing your temple like a question. And you answered by reaching up to guide him down to you.

Dean kissed you again, slower this time. His lips moved gently against yours, coaxing rather than taking, and the warmth of him poured over you like sunlight after a long storm. His hand cradled the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek in a touch so tender it made your chest ache.

You clung to him, not just from inexperience or nerves, but because it felt like the only place you wanted to be. His weight above you was grounding, protective, and arousing.

"Tell me if anything feels wrong," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper against your skin. "We stop the second you want to, I swear."

You nodded, your breath shaky, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "I trust you, Dean."

Dean lowered his head to kiss your neck, his pelvis already pressing yours into the seat. Your hand slipped inside his shirt, caressing the warm skin underneath.

He groaned softly against your skin, the sound rumbling through your chest as his lips traced a slow path along your throat. Your fingers explored the curve of his ribs, the rise and fall of his breath under your touch grounding you more than anything else ever had.

Then he straightened up, managing to pull off his shirt.

You sat up slightly, breath catching in your throat as your eyes traced the lines of his body: the muscles beneath his skin, the constellation of old scars scattered across his arms and torso. Each mark told a story, and though you didn't know them all, you wanted to.

Your gaze lingered on the tattoo over his chest, the black anti-possession symbol, bold against his skin. Your fingers brushed it gently, the warmth of his slightly tanned skin beneath your touch. A few freckles dusted his shoulders, unexpected and endearing.

Dean leaned in and started with your boots, crouching low in the cramped space of the Impala's backseat. He unlaced them slowly, then slid them off one by one, his touch warm and steady.

Next, his fingers moved to the hem of your shirt, peeling it up gently, lifting it over your head, careful not to startle or rush you. When your skin met the cool air, you shivered, and he immediately reached your arms, caressing. His hands paused, reverent, before moving to the button of your pants.

He undid the button, then the zipper, moving slowly, giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn't. The fabric slid down your hips, tugging carefully until the pants pooled at your ankles, then helped you shift to pull them free.

And there you were, semi-naked beneath Dean Winchester. Trapped in his car while he just looked at you with a quiet awe in his expression that made you feel more beautiful than you ever had before.

He guided you onto your back again with a soft kiss. His hands didn't waste time, caressing your exposed skin, tracing a delicate path along your shoulders, down your breasts, your ribcage, and over your hips.

"Tell me something, baby," his voice was a soft, warm whisper. "Have you ever touched yourself?"

"Touch myself?" you asked shyly, like you weren't sure what he meant—but deep down you had an idea. You flushed, like you'd just been caught in the act.

"Yeah," he purred. "You know, when you're in your room, alone, and you get that feeling right here." One of his hands caressed the soft flesh of your tummy, just above the hem of your panties. "Like you're feeling now. Have you ever tried to ease it, baby?"

"I might have," you confess in a whisper. You had, maybe. In your bed, when the thought of Dean was too loud, too overwhelming to ignore. You'd tried to soothe the instinct.

"Then show me."

Dean took your hand in his, guiding both into your cotton panties. You let out a gasp, a sound of surprise and pleasure, as he pressed your whole palm against your core.

"Move your fingers, sweetheart. Show me what feels good."

Your breath caught in your throat as you began to move, slow and uncertain at first. Dean stayed close, his palm pressed against the back of your hand, mirroring every motion, feeling every hesitant stroke.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice low and full of heat. "Nice and slow. Let me feel you, baby."

Your fingers explored with timid curiosity, guided by instinct and the memory of lonely nights. But this time, it felt different. This time, Dean was watching. Feeling you. Breathing with you. Encouraging you.

His hand never left yours, he followed each movement, memorizing the rhythm of your touch, the little shifts that made your breath catch.

"You like it right there," he said, more statement than question. He could feel it in the way your hand paused, circled, lingered. "Show me everything, sweetheart. I wanna learn what gets you off."

He tightened his fingers just slightly, applying the gentlest pressure behind yours, enough to remind you he was right there.

"Feels better when I'm here, doesn't it?" he whispered.

You nodded, barely able to form words. "Y-Yeah..."

Dean's smile was slow, wicked, and full of adoration. "Then take more. Go deeper. You know what your body wants, baby. Don't be shy."

You obeyed, breath hitching again as the sensation intensified. Dean kissed your shoulder, his touch reverent, worshipful.

"That's my girl," he murmured. "So damn beautiful when you're like this."

You moved with a little more confidence now, spurred by his praise and presence. The heat between your legs was pulsing, building, and the knowledge that Dean could feel every tremor, every stutter in your motion, only made it burn hotter.

"You gonna come for me, baby?" he whispered. "Wanna feel you fall apart in my hands."

You felt his fingers taking the lead, thicker and rougher, parting your wet folds with ease, quickly finding al the perfect spots that he just learned, making your whole body tremble under his touch, utterly at his mercy. Your sticky fingers clenched into the muscles of his arm, seeking for relief.

Soft circles, and up and down, teasing your entrance like a menace. But he didn't push farther yet. No, he wanted you dripping, begging, ready for him first.

After a few more movements, you finally came undone with a soft cry. You felt your honey dripping thick out of you, and your whole body trembling beneath his.

He kissed your neck and collarbone, his fingers still working you—softer now, but still making you squirm beneath him, your hips shifting, chasing his touch.

"...Dean... more..." you moaned right into his ear, and you felt his still-clothed pelvis brush against the bare skin of your thigh, seeking friction, seeking release.

So your hands moved downward, searching for the buckle of his belt. Your fingers worked quickly, and you felt his body shift, helping you along, letting you work him open.

Dean's breath catched the moment he felt your delicate, tentative hand find him inside his boxers. He never left his place there, though.

You were amused by the expression on his face: his eyes fluttering shut, jaw tensing, and body surrendering over you.

He hardened in your hand, thick and warm, and the reaction made you even wetter around his fingers.

"Holy shit... deer," he groaned, low and rough under his breath.

Your hand started moving on his length— clumsy, inexperienced — but he seemed to like it. A lot. He started moving his fingers again, sinking both of you into a mess of hands, moans, and whispered names.

After a few minutes, he looked up at you, breathless. "Wait..." he growled. "If you keep going, I'm..." He couldn't even finish the sentence, the mere thought made him shudder.

"You what?" you asked, the almost innocent tone in your voice making him twitch in your palm.

"Oh, sweetheart," he groaned, "you're gonna be the death of me."

A shaky breath escaped your lips at the unexpected sight of Dean bringing his slick-coated fingers to his mouth, savoring your taste.

"You taste so sweet, baby," he whispered. "If I had more space, I swear I'd eat your pussy out right here."

You didn't quite understand what he meant, but God, you wanted to find out right now.

He made room to work on his own jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. And once he was completely naked in front of you, the sight made your face flush an impossible shade of red.

You couldn't help but look away. You thought about his size... which definitely left your mouth dry.

For the first time that night, real nervousness settled in. Reality hit you, mixing with anticipation and desire. You wanted to feel him, but the thought of what it might be like to have him inside you made your stomach twist with nerves.

He noticed your wide eyes and gave you a soft, crooked grin. One hand reached up to gently brush your hair behind your ear. "You okay?" he asked, voice low and tender.

You nodded, even though your heart was pounding. "I just... I've never done this before."

His expression softened even more. "Don't worry. I'll take good care of you," he promised.

Then he leaned down and kissed you gently, while his hands slid under your back to work the clasp of your bra.

His green eyes darkened the moment he saw your breasts for the first time. One of his broad hands cupped one, squeezing gently, his thumb tracing slow circles over your delicate nipple. You moaned, feeling heat pool between your legs, your thighs instinctively pressing together.

"You're so damn beautiful, deer," he whispered, warm and sincere. "Fuck, you're more perfect than I imagined..."

Then his hands moved to the last piece of clothing still on you. You lifted your hips, letting him slip your panties down and off, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

Dean sat back for a moment, just looking at you, jaw slightly clenched like he was trying to hold himself together. Then he reached over to the glove box, flipped it open, and pulled out a small foil packet.

You blinked. "What's that?"

He paused, smirking a little. "A condom."

"...A what?"

Dean's brows shot up, amused. "You've never seen one of these?"

You shook your head slowly, eyes fixed on the tiny package like it might bite.

His grin widened as he tore it open. "Damn, sweetheart, you really are from another time."

You flushed, but the way he looked at you, warm and patient, made it hard to feel embarrassed. He held it up like he was giving a lesson. "This goes on me. It, uh... keeps things safe. And clean. You know, in case of babies, diseases, apocalypse-related mishaps..."

Your eyes widened even more. "Oh. That's... practical."

Dean laughed softly, low in his throat. "Very."

You watched, curious and fascinated, as he rolled the condom on. Once he was done, he looked at you again, his smile softer now.

"I didn't know there were tools involved," you breathed, heart pounding.

He kissed your temple, chuckling. "There's a lot I want to teach you. But tonight? Just this. Just us."

Your nod was soft but sure. Dean leaned over you, supporting his weight on one forearm as his other hand slid carefully down your side.

His lips found yours, slow and deep, and he whispered against them, "Listen, this might hurt just a little. I can't help it, but I promise it'll feel good soon after. Just tell me if you want me to stop, okay?"

You whispered a shaky "Okay," and wrapped your arms around him, grounding yourself in the steady beat of his heart against your chest.

Then, with a patience you hadn't expected, and a tenderness that nearly broke you, he began to guide himself against you.

You felt his tip brushing against your core, drawing soft whimpers from your lips, especially when he took his time to caress your most sensitive spot.

Your body responded instinctively, already stretching around him, a reaction born purely from need.

"Dean..." you breathed, almost desperately. You didn't even know exactly what you were asking for, just that you needed something, anything, to ease the ache burning inside you.

"I know, babygirl," he murmured gently. "I'm just making sure you're ready for me."

And then, after a few more heartbeats, you felt him shift, lining himself up at your entrance, and slowly begin to push into you. You gasped, fingers clutching at his shoulders as a deep stretch filled you, unfamiliar and overwhelming. It didn't exactly hurt, but it wasn't easy, either. Your body trembled beneath his, adjusting to him inch by inch.

Dean kissed your jaw, your cheek, your lips, whispering praises in between: "You're doing so good... I've got you... just a little more..."

Finally, he was fully inside, still and patient, his forehead resting gently against yours.

"You okay?" he asked again, his voice strained now, clearly holding back for your sake.

You nodded, breath shaky. "Yeah. Just... don't move yet."

He smiled faintly, brushing your hair back. "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."

It didn't take long for him to start feeling you moving your hips. Timidly at first, just a small shift, testing how your body responded to the fullness.

Dean froze, groaning softly into the crook of your neck. "Fuck, sweetheart..."

The sound of his voice sent a spark straight through your spine. Encouraged, you shifted again, a little more this time, and his hands immediately found your waist, steadying you with a reverence that made your chest tighten.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled back just slightly and eased forward again, watching your face the entire time.

"God, you feel incredible," he whispered, kissing your temple. "So damn perfect around me..."

His hands gripped your hips, guiding your rhythm, matching your pace with slow, deliberate thrusts. It was overwhelming: his body, his heat, the way his mouth found yours between soft curses and whispered praises. The way he held you, like you were something precious.

"Dean... Dean..." You couldn't do anything else but say his name like a prayer, especially as he teased your limits, pushing harder, deeper into you.

The sound of skin against skin, moans, and whimpers from both of you soon hushed even the rain tapping on the roof of the Impala. Every improper, filthy sound you made only encouraged him to take you rougher... yet he still held back, still careful, still trying not to hurt or scare you.

Dean was also trying to keep himself from finishing too soon. You didn't know it, but he hadn't been with anyone in months. Sure, the need had been there, but his mind always betrayed him, because if it wasn't you, he didn't want it. It wouldn't make sense to be with someone else while thinking of you.

And now that he had you, it only confirmed that he didn't need anyone else.

"It feels so good," you breathed out, voice trembling. "Dean... please! Don't stop..."

Dean buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. His movements grew more intense, more desperate, until you could feel every tremble in his body.

His mouth traveled to your breasts, taking one of your nipples, his tongue tracing soft circles around it, his mouth leaving sucking marks on your soft flesh. Marking you as his. Your own breath hitched, the pleasure building to a crescendo that made your fingers dig into his back.

"C'mon, deer, cum for me," he groaned, feeling your pussy clench harder around his cock. "Feels so good, baby..."

You clung to him as the waves crested, your body tensed, then unraveled all at once, a soft cry escaping your lips as your world seemed to splinter in the most beautiful way.

Dean wasn't far behind. You felt him still, groaning your name like it was the only word he knew, holding you so close it was hard to tell where he ended and you began. His whole body shuddered against yours before he finally collapsed, breathing hard, his forehead pressing gently to yours.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breaths and the distant patter of rain against the Impala's roof.

Then, softly, he smiled. "You okay?"

You nodded, still dazed, your voice a whisper. "I've never felt anything like that."

"Me neither, baby." Dean kissed you slowly, tenderly, like a promise. "You did amazing."

For a long, long time, he had wanted you. You were the one who lived in his deepest dreams, the one he whispered about in the solitude of his bedroom. Having you beneath him felt like the most natural, meant-to-be, thing in the universe.

And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he realized he might actually be feeling something.

Not a whim, not just a fleeting attraction, or a desperate lifeboat he clung to just to keep from drowning in his own misery.

No, this was real, and raw, and pure.

For the first time in his life, he knew that if you asked him to, he'd leave everything behind just to be with you.

He kissed you again, slow and sweet. "I'm not letting you go, deer."

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean," you promised back.

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The sun was already high when you stirred, warm light pouring in through the fogged-up windows of the Impala. The air around you was heavy with the scent of wet earth, leather, and lingering sex. You couldn't tell where you ended and he began, limbs tangled in the sweetest kind of chaos.

You blinked, the world slowly coming into focus, and that's when you realized three things in quick succession:

1. You were still naked.

2. Dean was still naked.

3. Someone was knocking on the window.

A loud, authoritative knock.

Dean groaned, half-asleep, and shifted against you under the thin blanket. "Five more minutes," he muttered against the top of your head.

"Dean," you hissed, your heart sprinting, trapped between the seat and his body, "Someone's at the window!"

"What!?" he sat up too fast, the blanket slipping off his shoulder.

Then came the knock again, louder this time, followed by a voice: "Sir? Ma'am? Step out of the vehicle. Now."

Dean swore under his breath. "Oh, son of a bitch."

You scrambled to clutch the blanket around you, and Dean fumbled to cover both of you with the rest of it, twisting around to squint through the window. Sure enough: a very unimpressed-looking sheriff, mirrored sunglasses and all, stood outside with a notepad in one hand and what looked like a ticket book in the other.

"Oh God," you whispered. "Dean... what do we do?"

"I got it. I got this," he said, trying (and failing) to sound confident. He rolled the window down two centimeters. "Morning, officer."

The man stared, jaw tight. "Morning. We got a call from the farm owner. Said he found your car fogged up and occupied. You do realize you're trespassing, right?"

Dean cleared his throat. "Right. Yeah. Look, uh... there's a very romantic explanation for this."

The officer looked pointedly at the crumpled clothes in the front seat and your sock stuck to the gearshift.

Dean winced. "Okay. Not a great explanation. But I swear, we're consenting adults. Nobody's in danger here."

"You're also naked in public," the officer said flatly. "Which puts us in indecent exposure territory."

"Okay, okay... technically, we're in a car..."

"You're not helping," you whispered.

Eventually, the officer gave five awkward minutes to "dress and compose yourselves" standing with his back turned. Dean struggled to get his jeans on while still inside the cramped backseat. You accidentally elbowed him in the ribs trying to find your bra. And your dignity.

"Romantic night under the stars, huh?" he muttered, wincing.

"Romantic until the part where we get arrested."

Once (mostly) clothed, you were herded into the back of a patrol car like a couple of teenagers caught skipping curfew. You just wanted to cry, humiliation creeping up your whole being.

At the station, Dean was allowed one call. Of course, he dialed Sam.

"Yeah?" Sam answered, groggy.

"I need you to come to the county sheriff's office."

Pause. "What did you do?"

"It's not... okay, yes, technically it's public indecency, but..."

"Oh my God," Sam groaned.

"Also, bring bail money. And pants. Mine have a strange stain on it."

"Dean, I don't wanna know..."

By the time Sam arrived, looking smug and far too well-rested, you and Dean were sitting in plastic chairs, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

"So," Sam said, barely suppressing a grin, "Romantic getaway, huh?"

Dean glared at him. "Shut up and pay the damn fine."

Sam turned to you. "You okay?"

You buried your face in your hands. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair."

As Sam paid the bail and the receptionist handed over a brown paper bag with your boots inside, Dean leaned toward you with a sheepish smile.

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The door to the bunker groaned open as you and Dean stepped in, both red-faced, tired, and still vaguely humiliated from the morning's events. Sam followed behind, biting his tongue to keep from laughing out loud for the hundredth time.

Castiel looked up from the map table as you entered. He tilted his head, his brows furrowing at the sight of you two slinking in like teenagers caught sneaking in after curfew.

You passed him by, unable to even look him –or Sam, or Dean– to the face, and go sit down in a chair. Castiel sat across from you, watching you with intense curiosity as you shifted on the hard wooden chair, trying not to wince. "Claire, are you injured?"

Instinctively, your eyes turned to Dean, who somehow seemed to read your mind: you were sore. His gaze softened, a silent apology in his eyes. Cheeks burning, you quickly shifted your gaze to the table.

"No, Cas. Just my dignity."

"What happened?" Castiel asked, his voice low and steady, like the head of a household demanding the truth from his daughter.

Sam, already sipping coffee and waiting for the explosion, said casually, "They were caught... romancing in the back of the Impala. By the police."

Castiel's gaze snapped to you. "You were compromised in a vehicle?"

You sank lower into your chair. "It's not..."

"I trusted him," Castiel said solemnly, pointing a very slow, accusatory finger at Dean. "I left you alone for one evening and this is the result?"

Dean held up both hands. "Whoa, okay. Let's not go full Puritan ghost here."

"She's from 1815, Dean. That is practically the Regency era. Have you any idea what this would do to her dowry?"

You choked. "I don't even have a bank account, Cas."

"And now your reputation is in ruins," he added gravely, looking mildly offended on your behalf.

Dean, trying not to lost control of the situation, ran a hand down his face. "Cas, I didn't seduce a nun. I took Claire stargazing and then... things happened."

Castiel turned to you, eyes softened but authority still on them. "Did he declare his intentions? Did he offer marriage, or at the very least a respectful courtship letter?"

Dean choked on his own saliva the moment the word "marriage" reached his ears.

"I don't think people write letters anymore," you mumbled.

Castiel's jaw tightened. "They should."

"Cas," Sam said, nearly wheezing, "You're reacting like she was ruined in the middle of a ball."

"She was ruined in a Chevrolet, Sam!"

"Okay, that's it. It's enough, dude," Dean replied.

But Castiel wasn't done. He stepped in front of you and placed a hand on your shoulder. "If you are with child..."

"CASTIEL!" The three of you shouted at unison.

He blinked. "Then I shall smite him accordingly."

"No one is smiting anyone, Castiel," you intervened, somewhere between a nervous laughter and wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

Dean stood up. "Listen, Cas, I really appreciate your concern about my girl, believe me, I do."

Your cheeks burned and your heart flipped at the expression he used to refer to you: my girl.

"But this is the 21st century, and she's a grown, consenting woman. We don't need divine supervision every time we get a little close. So, now I'm going to take a shower, and when I come back, everyone's going to pretend this never happened."

Castiel tilted his head, visibly processing the statement.

Sam cleared his throat and stood as well. "Alright, I think that's our cue. C'mon, Cas. Let's give them a little privacy."

Reluctantly, Castiel nodded. "Very well. But if she is harmed..."

"She won't be," Dean cut in gently, but firmly. "Ever."

The angel gave Dean one last glare before walking out of the room in a swirl of dramatic disapproval. Sam snorted, giving the both of you a knowing smile before following Cas to the kitchen.

Dean turned back to you, that cocky little smirk softening as he approached.

"Except you, sweetheart," he murmured low, only for you to hear. "I want you to remember everything."

Dean brushed his knuckles gently along your arm. "So... shower?" he offered, a glint in his eye that made your stomach flutter.

You nodded, smiling, heart thudding when his fingers laced with yours. He led you to the bathroom, and the door clicked shut behind you.

NEXT PART

🏷️Tag list: @thej2report | @mostlymarvelgirl | @anniebannanie0315 | @kr804573 | @britneynicolel | @globetrotter28 | @mandee7 | @cassiecourtemanche | @hobby27

Let me know if you want to be added in the Tag list!

[hubristicassholefight]

Swordswoman showdown FINALS

Hornet (Hollow Knight) vs Xena (Xena: Warrior Princess)

(Better here in a "preferred character" sense, not "who would win in a fight")

Propaganda below cut

Hornet

Technically its not a sword but she wields a needle in a setting where swords do not exist and she wields it in an exceedingly swordlike fashion so. She counts; Girlboss demigoddess spider lady. She's been protecting an entire kingdom for longer than many of the other characters have been alive. She systematically kills her siblings for being too weak. She's simply the best.

#im pretty sure hornet can beat like. anyone in a fight.#have you ever fought hornet#its so fucking hard getting past her every time i play hk i go literally insane.

#i remember getting stuck on the first hornet fight on mt first play through and bring likr#''omg the boss fights in this are so hard!!!''#like what. you're not even half way through what are you talking about#you can't even DASH honey. you don't know what's diffcult or not in this game.

So, SPOILERS

but I feel like the "she systematically kills her siblings" part needs a little clarification. See, one of her siblings was used as a living prison for an angry god and that uh. Didn't work out for the sibling in question or anyone else.

This account is itself heavily abbreviated but it's likely that any other sibling Hornet encounters will be trying to take over as the god's new prison. She appears to challenge any sibling she sees to battle, in order to test their resolve against herself and her needle - would they actually have a chance against that god?

We never actually see her kill any siblings, but she does quite pointedly tell one of them that (to paraphrase) "My needle is lethal and I would feel no sadness in a weakling's demise."

Feels like a relevant quote. In any case, if they can't beat Hornet, it seems like her needle would be a far more merciful end than what the god would grant.

Anyway, a bit of additional material for @swordswomanshowdown :

As is the case for any cool swordswoman, it's not just her sword that's lethal, it's her with it. And Hornet's needle was custom made for her - the creators have said that, while other needles exist, hers was made specifically for her to wield, and its construction allows her to use her spider silk better in combat.

And another thing that I think makes her a good swordswoman: she's actually pretty thoughtful about how she uses it. There's a least one instance where she tries to warn someone off before fighting them! At the same time, when she does fight, she seems to enjoy it - during her boss battles, you can hear her laugh sometimes, as if exhiliarated. She's really got it all, as a swordswoman!!!

#HORNET SWEEP CMON PLEEEEEEASE#shes gay. shes the only sibling with a gender. shes a spider named HORNET. look like croissant. whats not to like

Xena

Warrior Princess

She wields a sword and chakram. Just had to submit a biconic swordswoman.

i love her. she made me gay as a kid. Anyway, her weapon of choice is her sword, she is obviously very good with it

#unfortunately i have to choose and i have to choose xena#a) utena had no warcry. b) xena fought gods. c) xena has kickass goofy comic book combat which is my favorite

xena didn’t just fight gods. she fucked up a girl’s life so bad that she (calisto) devoted her entire being to destroying everything that xena loved that ended up with calisto becoming a god in order to destroy xena, which didnt work because xena entombed her in lava. and then when xena and gabrielle encountered calisto in the (christian) afterlife (different from the greek one which they also fought her in), calisto dragged gabrielle to hell so xena became an archangel in order to save gabrielle and then sacrificed herself in order to undo all the harm that she did in calisto’s life and then when not!jesus (played by timothy omundson) revives xena and gabrielle, calisto impregnates xena with the reincarnation of calisto’s soul in order to end the cycle of hate. xena doesnt just fight gods. she creates and destroys them

#this isnt even mentioning her fighting julius ceasar several times#telling brutus that caesar is not his friend#xena and gabrielle’s souls reincarnating across centuries in order to kick ass and fall in love all over again#or the time xena became a god but tbh that ep is kinda ‘uhhhhh…..’ even if they did hire a consultant for it

#I think everyone here knows to vote for Xena. I think a couple people here might have some propaganda for Xena saved already#everyone remember that Xena/Gabrielle is CANON and that's a pretty big deal also#(does anyone have that Xena Loves Trans People interview around because that would also make good propaganda)

I love Xena ❤️ 😍 💖 ❣️

[miraclecherryblossomsblog]

Yandere Jin woo brainrot

TW: yandere themes, bit solo leveling spoilers, kidnapping, jerking off mention, possessiveness, muder implication, manipulation mention yall let me know for anything i missed

Ok wanna join on the yandere potential jin woo has cuz ya'll so right and should say it full with ur chest-

I get it. Making jin woo possessive is hot and yeah! He would definitely he would be a possessive type and I can see him not even flickering a finger when it comes to kidnapping his darling. Probably the easiest kidnapping ngl feel darling would take a sole minute to realize the oh-so-late the situation they're in

or mabey there isn't a need to kidnap them cuz my guy got thousands of eyes around, its impossible to miss darling by a beat and besides feel like he's the type of yandere that doesn't affect darling's life that much other than him being a maniac simp (killing for beloved way i mean)

I can see both scenarios but....

What I don't see is for him being aggressive to darling...even when confronting them I feel like he wouldn't be angry....like if darling's crying or confused on what's happening Jin woo would certainly comfort and coo at them, I can definitely see him being outright screaming ur heart out to anyone else

Ya'll remember that jin woo became who he was for the sake of protecting his family right? That including their happiness as well. Yeah he wanna keep them forever and ever and only make darling look no one else but him-

but seeing darling sad and loosing that shine in their eyes they once had after taking them by force.....i can see that affecting him because even so the system forced him to become a lethal weapon doesn't mean that he becomes immune to sadness or hurt (ya'll remember how he cried as his dad vanished like????? OUCH???? TF??????)

Feel like he would manipulate darling into making them believe that their asshole coworker's probably just on vacation or maybe he quitted and got another job.....yeah that gotta be

pretty sure he gotta have a photo book(?) of u somewhere, most of the pics are u doing normal stuff or u just asleep drooling on a table or something lol.

Would he be like bit of a pervert too? I can defenitely see him having higher horny level, specialy after getting with his darling WITH CONSENT CUZ CONSENT'S HOT U GUYS JIN WOO STILL A GENTELMAN (even tho i can def see him jerking off with his nose on one of ur clothing pieces ANDAOOP-)

lmao like those moments where the character goes "let's fuck" with the most serious face and the other's like "HUH???like right NOW???????" JDUISFPIUAOEUGRBEPIGBARBGPB

He loves darling so much, he wants to see them smile, tease them until their face runs hot, maybe annoy them a bit and see their cute lips turn into a pout have fun and enjoy their lives together as they grow old.....

yandere shadow monarch's scary as fuck to anyone human or not, but to his family and to you he is nothing but their jin woo who worked hard af to get the power to protect those he loves

[felassan]

New BioWare Blog post:

"Journal #6 Lethality and Levelling An inside look into Rook’s Warrior combat Hello everyone, Since our summer reveal in June, we’ve been reading all the great excitement for the game and listening closely to what you’d like to see next. Our reveal trailer showed off the prologue and very beginning of the game, and now we want to shift our focus to higher level combat. Today, we’re going to cover our game’s combat system, looking at how Rook and Companions can be built up to meet the perils facing Thedas, using deep RPG systems. This starts with choosing a desired class as there are three main classes to select from when creating Rook: stalwart Warrior, deft Rogue, or spell-slinging Mage. This blog and accompanying videos will focus on the Warrior class, and we’ll have more to share on the other classes before launch."

"PREPARE FOR BATTLE By choosing Warrior, the fighting style revolves around close range combat and defense. Skills, Traits, Runes, and Abilities are customizable to best suit that type of playstyle. The loadout will have slots for Abilities, accessed from the Ability Wheel. Picking which Abilities from the many in the arsenal to bring into battle is a strategic choice made for each encounter, and they can be swapped out anytime, except during combat. For some added depth, there are up to three equipable Runes. Runes provide a variety of control, utility, or additional damage to synergize with your build. While in combat, all three Runes can be cycled through and activated. There are a wide range of potential Abilities that are unique to each Class and can be customized by spending Skill Points. For example, the Warrior class will have certain abilities that deal fire damage. Players can plan their build around this, and each skill point spent could be in pursuit of this build. Each step taken is designed to augment Rook and/or Abilities. Eventually, Rook will gain access to Specializations, which grant powerful Abilities, unique to each Specialization. These Specializations will also provide a unique Ultimate Ability (more on that later below) tuned to the theme of that Specialization, so a Warrior specializing as a Grey Warden Champion will gain access to the devastating incendiary Warden’s Fire that launches a flurry of searing strikes that ignite foes like tinder. This is the best Specialization Area for defeating darkspawn, an enemy that many Dragon Age fans know well. Check out all the Specialization Areas below (minor gameplay spoilers) and we’ll have a separate spotlight on progression later as well."

"Warrior Rook Specialization Areas: Reaper - Become night's blade. Steal life and risk death to gain incredible, unnatural abilities Slayer - Leap into the fray. Wield massive, punishing weapons while rushing enemies to deal devastating blows. Champion - Be the shield. Shrug off damage while summoning righteous fire down on enemies. Rogue Rook Specialization Areas: Duelist - Draw your steel. Parry and dodge past enemies to gain strength with every strike. Saboteur - Set the stage. Deploy explosives and turrets that devastate enemies, then pick them off with arrows. Veil Ranger - Hunt the enemy. Snipe enemies from afar using artifacts that charge arrows with dangerous, powerful magic. Mage Rook Specialization Areas: Death Caller - Embrace the dark. Drain life from enemies and cast spells that writhe with the essence of death itself Evoker - Call the void. Freeze enemies in their tracks, then summon the deepest cold to tear them apart. Spellblade - Be the storm. Channel potent spells for close-quarters combat infused with lightning's wrath."

COMBAT BASICS Now let’s talk about the foundations of the combat system. The four core moves that all three classes share include jump, dodge, light attack, and heavy attack, which can all be chained together. Rook can dodge at any time, even mid-attack, which adds fluidity to the combat. Is taking damage or dealing it better at that moment? Light attacks do quick damage and build small amounts of stagger; heavier attacks are slower and build more stagger to your opponent. Once enough stagger is built, the enemy will be rendered more vulnerable to all incoming damage and allows Rook to perform a takedown.  Each of these attacks (light and heavy) can be charged by holding down the button to deliver a more potent version of the strike. For example, a heavy attack can be charged while using a staff to unleash a magical wave of destructive energy. Attacks can also be triggered while sprinting and/or jumping to add depth and fluidity to combat. In addition, each class has ranged attacks, blocks (or parries, if timed properly with the right weapon set), and the ability to control Companions’ combat strategy. Each Class also has two distinct weapon sets, which can be swapped seamlessly in the heat of battle. This drastically changes the available move-sets and strategies. Heavy attacks remove Armor Barrier (denoted by a yellow bar) faster, and ranged attacks remove Shield Barrier (denoted by a blue bar) faster. There is also the Stagger meter (denoted by a lavender bar) which builds as hits are landed against an enemy. Stagger creates opportunities for bonus damage and special Takedowns.  The Ability Wheel pauses the fight for more precise control over Rook’s own abilities and those of their Companions, and where those tactical RPG elements come into play. Players can use the Ability Wheel to assign Companions to attack specific enemies, individually or together. Abilities can also be bound shortcut keys to keep the action flow going, instead of always bringing up the Ability Wheel. Vulnerabilities and resistances of enemies can also be seen while targeting enemies in the Ability Wheel. For example, Darkspawn are weak to fire damage."

"BUFFS, DEBUFFS & CROWD CONTROL Some Abilities apply buffs or debuffs to help you in the fight. For example, Davrin has the Heroic Strike Ability which applies the Overwhelmed debuff to enemies. This will increase the enemies’ Stagger and make it easier for Rook to perform a Takedown. There are also Area of Effect Abilities to help the party defeat large groups of enemies. Controlling the field of battle is a key consideration in Dragon Age: The Veilguard. Players will need to consider which buffs/debuffs or crowd control Abilities will work best for each situation.   Abilities require Class Resources (Mana, Momentum & Rage) to be able to use. Each class primarily builds up their Class Resource by dealing damage with basic attacks. In addition, each class has a secondary way to build their Class Resource - Warriors build Rage by taking and dealing damage, Rogues build Momentum by dodging attacks and parrying successfully, and Mages regain Mana passively over time.   Warriors who go into battle with a sword-and-shield build, will have access to the Shield Throw Volley. By landing a Heavy Attack on a Shield Throw return, the shield will ricochet, taking out multiple enemies. This sequence can repeat up to three times, causing a devastating ring of damage around Rook. This attack works well against swarms as well as distant adversaries. Other ways to manage distant enemies lean into Companion abilities, such as Davrin’s Death from Above to send Assan, his griffon, to attack enemies. Warriors also have the Grappling Spear Ability to pull enemies close for an easier victory. With these tools, attacks can be chosen based on the type of enemy and the situation to dispatch foes in the most optimal way, especially on higher difficulties."

"PRIMERS, DETONATORS & ULTIMATES Many Abilities include some type of coordinating effect and serve as either a Primer or a Detonator that can result in devastating combo attacks when properly executed with the Companions. These Ability combos can be set up in the Ability Wheel.  Finally, you have your most powerful attack: Rook’s Class Ultimate Ability. Doing damage to enemies increases your Ultimate Meter. The Ultimate Meter won’t fully fill during smaller skirmishes, because they are designed to decimate a significant swath of the battlefield or the toughest bosses.  All of these options combine together to create a rich combat experience that is highly customizable. The entire Skill Tree is also fully refundable, and Skill Points can be redistributed. We encourage you to try out multiple builds, use different Abilities for each mission, and change up the Companions you bring into battle. These videos have highlighted several of the ways that players can achieve strategic combat in Dragon Age: The Veilguard. We’ve put them all together in case you wanted to see them back-to-back. Check out the full video below! there’s a lot to explore in the game and a lot more to talk about. We’ll have more to share on the Rogue and Mage before launch, as well. Next week, we look forward to companions week, along with another Discord Q&A planned for August 30th where we can answer more of your questions about the game. Chat soon!             — The Dragon Age Community Team"

[source] <- video links at link

[yzegem]

The great dragon. (In some drawings the scale with humans is a bit off lol)

Some lore: The Empire of the Sun used to be a large, rich and diverse empire that managed to keep many religions and ethnicities at somewhat of a tense peace. Then, this changed.

A massive volcanic eruption very far away caused a short volcanic night and after it, the dragons came.

The dragons were probably the apex predator of the unknown lands destroyed by the volcano. The eruption caused a handful of them to flee and stumble uppon a new continent.

The arrival of the dragons caused immediate agricultural and farming colapse in the Empire and threatened every ecosystem.

Many factions in the now crumbling Empire saw this as a chance to seek independance and pillagers and raiders took advantage of the military colapse.

Dragons attacked wild megafauna, cattle and human settlements. They took the role of an ambush predator and also a scavenger that could intimidate any other predator to steal their food.

Dragons have two jaws, similar to morray eels. The first is a projectile jaw with long, curved and serrated teeth, meant to grab and immobilize prey and a second, stronger pharingeal jaw that chops away and swallows whatever the first one catches.

They are also able to spit gastric acid and have a long tail that they use as a whip. This has proven to be their most lethal weapon against humans since it can disrupt any formation and break buildings.

A young dragon vomiting gastric acid:

An adult dragon whipping its tail:

In a later post I will explain how the Empire dealt with the dragons and the deep consequences it had in the society and politics of the continent. (Spoiler: dragon-slaying feudal nobility)

Chill dragon as my way to say goodnight!

Hope you like this concept and tell me what you think abt it/any ideas

[thecagedsong]

Okay, I watched K-Pop Demon Hunters on Netflix and it was actually amazing. Amazing sounds, awesome animation, real connection between the characters. You should go watch it.

I would have written the ending differently, and i want to talk about that, so spoilers below the cut.

They had such solid messaging throughout. You can't hide who you are, you have to deal with the ugly parts of yourself, you have to deal with your shame. Golden was all about being themselves and who they are supposed to be, and Rumi recorded it with the idea that once it was out, the humon would be golden and she'd be free of her demon patterns.

But that's not how that works. You don't get to run away and squish yourself until you are the person you want to be. And the movie was doing so good. She could finally feel like herself once someone knew her secret and she didn't have to hide. In sharing their shames, Rumi and Jinu forged a real connection.

Then it was devastating when Jinu betrayed that, and I wasn't quite sure whose side he was on by the idol awards ceremony until his glamour was shaken off with Mira and Zoey away from Rumi.

Then Takedown happened, and you thought that Rumi's issues with Takedown were because she was seeing the humanity in Jinu. She was still separating herself from the heritage, even if she talked about it.

Then Takedown applied every insult to her (which I did see coming, but in the fun actively engaged with the story kind of way) and she everyone knows her secret shame. Mira and Zoey draw weapons on her, both because of the heritage and because she had been lying.

With Huntrix broken, Rumi is going demon mode and the honmoon breaks. Rumi proclaims that any honmoon that required them to hide and lie in order to succeed should fall, she'll create a new one.

It's empowering, the message is all lineing up.

Rumi sings the real song they needed, the vulnerable one, the one that admits to the mess, admits to the shame of being part demon, but finds the beauty of the mess, and the love and intimacy that can only exist because of the flaws and the messiness.

Huntrix responds. And this is the song that is actually going to connect the world. One that doesn't pretend to be perfect, and hurts, but it's honest and everything they and normal people try to hide but we all feel.

It's beautiful and powerful.

Together they slay all the demons, lay a new golden honmoon, save the day, and go on being K-Pop stars with no secrets between them now!

Wait.

But the demons. Rumi connecting with the part of her heritage she tried to hide. Where is that!

Jinu was the only demon that proved he had a soul at the end by betraying the big bad at the last moment and empowering Rumi with that soul, but also dying.

But the demons.

The demons, the ones we are introduced to as living in fear of Korean Satan, Gwi-ma, subject to his every whim. Who Jinu fears above all others and is the constant voice of shame in his head. The demons who are k-pop fans just like humans, and were humans, until they gave into Gwi-ma's temptations and soul-selling contracts. The demons, who were never shown personally profiting from human souls, but instead gathered souls for Gwi-ma.

If this was a series and not a movie, I'd be so mad if there wasn't a whole episode of Rumi trying to understand her mother and her father, understand why she was born.

But this is a movie, so instead I would change the ending like this:

First, I would make it clear that the demons are only happy about collecting human souls because it means Gwi-ma stops killing them.

Zoey and Mira question whether they should be killing these guys, and are going only for non-lethal hits in the final battle, because what if one of these guys is Rumi's uncle or grandpa or something? (Now that they know demons can be like Rumi, can they call them unfeeling? They don't know the whole story, but they know that the story they've been told is wrong, and because they aren't willing to kill Rumi, they stop killing demons until they can figure it out.)

Jinu still sacrifices himself and turns his energy into a super-powered sword for Rumi. But as the song touches people's hearts around the world, Rumi's honmoon changes, it's golden and different and wraps around Gwi-ma specifically in a thousand layer net.

Gwi-ma, who stupidly came to the surface for the first time in maybe ever because he was prideful enough to think he had won. That is his downfall, and because he's here, and honmoon under Huntrix's song is Rumi's to craft. A new honmoon, something no one has ever seen before.

Just like her.

Gwi-ma is sealed by their golden song, and they don't know how long it lasts, but it will be up to another generation to fix it when it breaks.

The demons stop attacking, freed from Gwi-ma's control. One of them attempts to attack a human and Mira hits it on the head with the butt of her glaive.

(Jinu can be unexpectedly revived once Gwi-ma is gone, or he can stay dead. Because he fully intended to die and everyone believed him dead, revival here doesn't undercut the sacrifice, and instead is Rumi saving her friend with her new ability to change what it means to be a demon and what it means to save people.)

Zoey asks Rumi what they're going to do about the demons, but in a way that indicates it's Rumi's call. (She also apologizes in advance if she had ever accidentially killed one of Rumi's cousins or something, and Rumi gives her a 'what the hell?' look before turning to the demons in the audience.)

Rumi tells the demons to listen up, from now on, humans are off the menu, but if they want to live on the surface, fine, enjoy the music.

The honmoon still exists, but it's a rainbow now (all the colors), and it will alert Huntrix if anyone attacks a human. . Anyone who attacks a human will have to deal with Huntrix (keep it a vague threat, we don't have to build a whole accountability system with the end of a movie). If you want help figuring out what to do in the surface, leave a message for Huntrix on social media.

Otherwise, enjoy the show! They start up the song the movie started with and demons and humans alike go wild.

The public bath scene happens, but it's Zoey and Mira actually asking about Rumi's heritage, and Rumi admitting that she didn't know but she was going to find out, though not until after she had a long break with her girls. They and Huntrix were always going to be the most important things to her.

The end scene happens where they come across little K-pop fans of theirs, but the middle school girls are talking about how much they love Huntrix WITH two demon children. It's awkward and uncomfortable, but then Huntrix shows up, Rumi with her patterns showing, and they kids can finally have a natural conversation with each other and their idols.

Maybe a flash of a news paper article or TV newscast about no one knowing what to do about demon k-pop fans living in a new town called Zo-Rum-ira and the first thing they built was a concert stadium.

It's messy and imperfect and fractured, but better than hiding and hating.

And that's how the ending could have pulled together the messaging of the entire movie.

[zepskies]

Girl, let me know when you catch up on Countdown cause we have things we need to DISCUSS 👀 And happy Beau Arlen/Mark Meachum day!

MICHELLEEEE I'M FUCKING SCREACHINGGGG. 😭😭😭

I just binged episodes 1-3 of Countdown and--askfgrhucbfreusfiz

**Countdown spoilers below the cut**

Okay, first of all, how THE FUCK did you know that his ailment was going to be basically a fatal diagnosis and therefore a double Countdown??? 😭😭😭 I'm sick.

Compounded by the fact that I already love Mark so much lol. I see a mix of Russell and Beau in him for sure, especially in that reckless attitude. But something I love about his characterization is how -- both for us the audience and for Amber Oliveras -- while he seems like this reckless cowboy vigilante in the surface, there's always been a deeper story that shows that he had a valid reason for doing what he did. Like I have a feeling that getting that diagnosis is the real reason he left his fiancé two weeks before the wedding. 💔

(Or maybe it was the sister Rachel thing lol)

I do think Mark and Amber have great chemistry so far, and she's already warming up to him a little. I love to see Jensen going toe-to-toe with a powerful Latina~ 😏❤️‍🔥

And I even like the rest of the team too. Like you said in your review, each of them has their strengths and weaknesses (Evan is such a lovable nerd lol, Finau seems like a big teddy bear family man, Bell is that FBI legacy, but he's got the chops to avoid the nepo baby label).

And the overarching story is actually really compelling so far, very well written (better than Tracker imo). Like you said, the "villain" is also compelling. I can see why he'd want revenge on Americans. 🥲 But dear Lord that E3 cliffhanger was crazy. I think Drew might be the first casualty of the team, but I hope not. Poor guy's been through enough. However, if he is the first casualty, then I think it might give Mark a little wake-up call as far as the consequences of the risks he's taken. Maybe that "endangering the lives of his fellow officers" thing is really gonna hit home this time.

But also, he's an adorable lethal weapon and I wanna squish him 🥰

[sereneisstillhere]

Daughter of Ai and Gorou...!? [Fem!Reader x Oshi no Ko]

A/N : Oh my God I'm so sorry if my principle is bothersome to someone out there😭🙏🏻 I just have the same views like J. K. Rowling regarding LGBTQ+, but let's not talk about that rn. I made the whole story and somehow Tumblr decided to do shts and it's gone from my draft😭💢 FU Tumblr- anyways, please interpret the story to your liking, this is rewrite since the shts Tumblr decided to do, and I hope you enjoy it!!🫶🏻

Request by : @the-letter-horror-lover (sorry if I make you uncomfortable🙏🏻🧸)

Warning!! : angst, major character death (Ai, Aqua, Gorou & Reader [before reincarnation]), slight depression (Akane part), AU where Ai and Hikaru are married but divorced after 4 months only, fluff, please interpret the story as you like it, spoilers for manga tho it's ended, if I miss anything just reblog and tag. Thanks🫶🏻🍫

.

.

.

You and Gorou were left behind by your mother for some stupid guy. Gorou takes great care of you and never talk about your mother ever since that. What you know is that they're divorced when you're 6.

The life Gorou gives you isn't that luxury, but it's still comfortable and you're not starving. That's what matters. Your study and academics are also great, thanks to Gorou's dedication on teaching you.

But, even the purest swan will meet its doom.

When you're 14, your friends asked you to go on hiking, so you agree. At first, everything seemed alright and goes just fine. Until one of your friends was stung by a wasp and accidentally push you over the cliff. As ridiculous as it sounds, it's actually very fatal.

Not only you who fell, but your friend who got stung by the wasp also fell. The two of you suffer lethal injuries, but your friend survives. It's you, however...

...blood spills everywhere, you couldn't move a muscle, your mind's going haywire, your heart beats faster before it slows down...

...and before you know it, you're gone.

This incident caused a deep pain to Gorou. Not that he lost his wife to another guy, he also lost his only daughter to the death. It left him devastated, depressed, and he even thinks of suicide.

But he remembers that you won't like it. You won't like your father kill himself for blaming everything to him, right? He knows it, so he canceled the plan.

Well, he's going to die anyway, pushed by Ai's deranged fan off the cliff and reincarnated as Ai's son.

It's not that complex, just a world full of lies and deception, and the former is known as the weapon in this entertainment industry...

Ai and you had the wholesome mother and daughter relationship.

Not only that, but if Ai's being honest which she clearly doesn't, you are her favorite out of Ruby and Aqua. But no, she had to be fair with her children, so she keeps it to herself.

When you and Ai are practicing to dance, you're a very talented girl and she immediately knows it.

Will teach you and Ruby how to be an idol at the age 3.

When Aqua is filming the movie he and Ai starred, she will bring you no matter what. With an excuse that you're her niece.

Why does she reasons like that?

Your hair is purple, like hers. Not to mention your eyes are literally Hikaru's. So yep, you're her niece in the public's eyes.

When you feel down or sad, just remember her. She will always catch you if you fall. <3

Even after her death, her influence over you is still prominent.

The way you behave and speak is her exact copy, except that you're the nicest and purest kid in the world, unlike Ai who views herself as sneaky and dirty.

When you witnessed Ai's death in front of your eyes, your whole body couldn't move, and just like Aqua, you got a severe PTSD.

But fret not, when you're asleep, Ai will always come to you, saying how sorry she is to leave you, and how sorry she is to never got the chance to tell you who's your father.

Ai will always love her children, but when it comes to you... she will never leave your side.

"[Y/N]... you're my sunshine, my world. I love you..."

Oh and btw, why is your name the same with your previous life's? Because the moment Ai knew that Gorou had a daughter who died at the age of 14, she immediately vowed to the stars that she'll name her daughter the same as her, [Y/N].

When Aqua found out that you're his daughter in the previous life, he'll go to super duper siscon mode.

He knew you so well after all. Your mannerism, your behavior, your tone, and your way of thinking. He knows it all.

Even if you don't realize that he's Gorou, he'll still control your life like how he was when he's your father.

The moment he found out that Hikaru is your father and that he takes interest in you, Aqua won't ever leave your side. Like, ever.

Hikaru got his eyes on you due to your beauty, talent, and definitely charisma that even Ai couldn't rival.

Had Ai and Hikaru are together, Aqua will never let Hikaru get close to you, even when he's just a father who's curious about his daughter.

He'll be like 'excuse me man, but I'm her father in the previous life and her soul is my daughter so don't even think that you can be her father' kind of person whenever he saw Hikaru.

And he'll definitely snatch your phone the moment you set your eyes on someone.

His daughter- I mean sister, is about to date?!! No, no. As a good father, he should be the one who pick your boyfriend. You never knew if that guy is good or bad!

When he died, people believed that Hikaru killed him, but you don't. You knew that Aqua would risk everything just to ensure you and Ruby alive. Even if that means he'll stab himself and push Hikaru to the ocean as a disguise of Hikaru killing him, so be it.

No need to cry now, my little dove. He will always watch over the two of you. This is his choice, and even he's starting to regret to never see you again, at least... he won't lose you for the second time.

"[Y/N], you're always been my guiding light. I never thought I'll see you again, but now you're here as my sister. No matter what, I'll always be your father, got it?"

Ruby Hoshino... now, I won't say that she's not jealous of you.

She envied how fluid and graceful your movements are, how talented you are, and that you got the natural charm.

But she welcomes it as a part of being human.

Jealousy, envy, insecurity... she feels it.

Ruby is not the person to be that envious and act on her feelings alone.

She knows that you'll never flex your abilities in front of her, not when all you do is helping her to be an idol like her dream.

You're not a threat to Ruby, she views you as someone she relies on, she could believe, and she had no mind when you outshine her.

She thinks you deserve it, but the feeling of envy is still there.

Regardless, she won't ever and I mean it, ever try to bring you down.

Ruby imagines how kind you are and how sweet you are to everyone, especially to her.

She often laughs and giggles whenever the two of you around. She loves you just like how you adore her.

When she found out that you and Aqua were daughter and father in the previous life... all I could imagine is her face like this ':O'.

Will definitely call you "Aqua's baby girl" and "Sweetheart" just to tease you.

When Aqua dies, she comforts you despite her own sadness.

Will help you out of your depression as she knows that you're the most affected (and not dramatic like Kana is when she's no one to Aqua- oops🫢)

When she reaches the stardom with you and Mem-CHO at Tokyo Dome, she'll always be by your side, knowing that you and her are the only ones left on the Hoshino legacy.

"Aqua's baby girl~...- ow, ow, alright, alright! [Y/N], I'm so lucky to be your sister. We're in everything together, right?"

You met her when Aqua brings you and Ruby to a dinner with his friends.

Immediately likes you due to your kind nature and soft spoken manner.

Akane feels comfortable around you, and she immediately forgets Aqua as she knows how protective you are to him. She'll do anything for you. <3

When she finally connect the dots that you, Ruby, and Aqua are Ai's children, she'll be more affectionate and kind to you, being mature and always try to console you from your PTSD.

You're just like Ai... except that you're not manipulative and good at deception like your late mother. Or so Akane thought.

But you've proven her that your angel heart and doll face can be a very weapon to manipulate those around you.

When she's bullied by netizen, you always ask her conditions, often offering poor Akane advice and shoulder to lean on.

Even as she's about to jump from the bridge, she keeps getting reminded of you. How you'll react when she died...

...she almost stop, but then she imagines your disgust face when you fully understand what she did to Yuki...

Aqua managed to save her just in time, and you waste no time to visit Akane right away. Ruby stayed at home to take care of Miyako's unfinished work.

The moment Yuki is about to slap Akane on the face, you slap her first in a very harsh way.

The anger in your eyes is palpable as you yell at the black-haired girl, "Are you out of your mind?! Akane almost commit suicide, and the first thing you do is slapping her?!!"

It took Aqua and Akane herself to calm you down from beating Yuki's arse off.

Since then, you and her are close, often hand to hand as she fears that you maybe lost due to your childish nature around her.

But she believes that you're old enough to not lost on a crowd, so she sometimes let you wander, but not too far. She's worried for you.

When Aqua died, she's so worry about you. She hadn't hear about you for days, only cryptic answers from Miyako and that is.

But you hug her and cry on her shoulder after persuaded to come out of your room.

She watches as you, Ruby, and Mem-CHO reached your stardom at Tokyo Dome with proud eyes and happy smile.

"I knew that you could face everything, [Y/N]. You're stronger than anyone I've ever met."

Oh... and this redhair...

You don't like her very much as she used to insult Ai in front of you.

When Ruby is asking her to be an idol with her and you, the stars in your eyes are black. Both of them.

So you're officially the first Hoshino sibling to shown dark star eyes! <3

She sees you as someone who'll take all attention away from her, but come to realize that you deserve it more than her in a harsh way.

Kana will always act a bit too close to Aqua, and it irked you a lot.

Got into fights with you is nothing new to Kana.

When she's confident in her acting skills, the way you can do it better, charming, and even attractive than her and Akane combined makes her question herself even more.

Kana also thinks that you're being overprotective to Aqua, shown when you always hold his arm whenever Kana is near, or the two of you always hold hands.

She's jealous that you and Aqua had a better relationship than she'll ever be.

But the moment Kana realized that you're Ai's daughter, she tries her best not to speak so badly about Ai, or at least not talking about her.

When Aqua died, you slap her for slapping Aqua's dead body. Girl, who'd slap a corpse of someone?😭

The two of you mend things again after a few weeks since his death.

She watches as you, Ruby, and Mem-CHO reached your stardom by performing in Tokyo Dome. She knew it's Ai's dream, and she finally learns to support you wholeheartedly.

"You're annoying, Hoshino. But even so, I'll always support you, as your senior, of course."

.

.

.

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[guilty-ff]

𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐏𝐭. 𝟏

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏 ˚⁎⁺˳ .

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐘/𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 , 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝- 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐀𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨, 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞. 𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝- 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝.

This story takes place after Jason's death (warning: not 100% Comic accurate)

Pairings: Dick Grayson/Nightwing x (fem!Reader) Slight Jason Todd/Red hood x (fem!Reader)

Genre: Action, Angst, Revenge, Violence, DC

Warnings: Comic Spoilers!, Explicit content, Child abuse, swearing, torture, mental health, weapons

Word count: 4178

Y/n lay curled on the cold stone floor of a dim chamber, the hard surface beneath her bruised body unforgiving. Faint, flickering candlelight licked at the ancient walls, casting restless shadows around the room. She awoke from a fitful sleep, startled by footsteps echoing down the narrow corridor outside.

Pain grew with her every movement, her muscles worn and aching from hours of brutal sparring against her grandfather, Ra's al Ghul. Each session with him left new bruises, deeper aches, and a burdening doubt that clung to her like a shadow she couldn't shake.

But even through the soreness and exhaustion, a trained instinct in her forced her to her feet, to ready herself. She barely had time to stretch her limbs when the door swung open, and Ra's himself stepped into the room, his gaze piercing and severe, his presence casting a weight that even the flickering candlelight seemed to shrink from. He did not say a word, simply gestured to the center of the room with a single, commanding flick of his wrist. It was time to spar again.

Y/n dragged herself upright, feeling the ache in her bones but refusing to let it show. She squared her shoulders, locking her eyes on him. This time, she told herself, this time I won't lose. But she could not ignore the tiredness that seeped into her very core. She took her stance, her fists raised, ready to face him.

Ra's circled her, his gaze unrelenting. "Your posture is sloppy, child," he sneered, his voice like venom. "That fatigue- you let it weaken you. A true warrior rises above physical limitations."

Y/n gritted her teeth, trying not to let his words affect her. She needed to focus. She needed to keep her cool. But Ra's knew exactly how to break her.

He lunged toward her without warning, his movements precise and lethal. Y/n barely had a second to react, her hands fumbling to reach down to her boots, where she kept her daggers hidden. She managed to draw one, its edge glinting in the candlelight as she raised it defensively. She aimed a calculated strike toward his shoulder, hoping to throw him off-balance. But he moved with practiced ease, sidestepping her attack and catching her arm with a bone-crushing grip.

Ra's twisted her arm, forcing her to drop the dagger. It clattered to the floor as he kicked her back, causing her to fall to the ground. Her body screamed in protest as she tried to roll back to her feet, scrambling to retrieve her fallen weapon. She snatched it up, but Ra's was already advancing, his expression mocking.

"Pathetic," he taunted, sidestepping another one of her attacks. "You waste your energy on emotion, and it makes you weak."

Anger surged within her, giving her the strength to attempt another swing, her blade slashing through the air toward him. But he was faster, his movements fluid and effortless.

He caught her wrist, twisting it painfully, until the dagger slipped from her grasp once more. Then he brought his other hand down, a brutal strike that landed against her ribs, knocking the wind out of her lungs.

Y/n stumbled back, gasping for breath. Her vision swam, but she forced herself to keep her gaze fixed on him. She could feel his contempt radiating, a burning heat that made her blood boil.

"Is that all you have?" he scoffed, his voice like ice. "I expected more from you, the daughter of Talia and my former student."

The mention of her father sliced through her like a knife. The man who had abandoned her, the one her mother had spoken of only in hushed tones filled with pain. Her mother had told her that she wanted to keep her safe, away from the world that Ra's had built- a world of blood and brutality.

Talia had spoken of a plan once, how she would even try to send Y/n away, to give her a chance to escape this life. She would whisper to Y/n about lying to her lover, telling him that she had a miscarriage and died immediately after birth, unable to bear the thought of their love creating something that would be raised in this darkness.

Yet here she was, her mother's plan twisted and crushed by Ra's iron will, and her father- a man she had never met, who had not cared enough to search for her- was just a painful ghost in her mind. She had no loyalty to him, no desire for his approval, but hearing her family used against her, ignited something fierce and unyielding in her heart.

Fueled by anger and defiance, Y/n dove for her second dagger, lunging at Ra's with renewed fury. She swung with precision, aiming for his side, but he parried her strike with ease, twisting her arm again until pain shot through her shoulder. She cried out, trying to twist free, but he slammed his elbow into her back, forcing her down to one knee.

"Anger without control is nothing more than recklessness," he hissed, tightening his grip until she could feel her bones creak. "You think you are strong, but you are nothing more than a disappointment."

The words stung worse than any physical blow, and she fought to keep her composure, fighting the tears that pricked at her eyes. He released her roughly, and she staggered, barely managing to stay on her feet.

"You let your emotions control you," he said, voice low, triumphant. "A real assassin knows that anger is a weakness, a gap in one's armor. Until you learn control, you are nothing but a reckless child."

Y/n glared up at him, her chest heaving, every inch of her aching. She wanted to lash out, to prove herself, but she knew he was right. She had let her anger take control, and it had cost her the match, again.

Ra's released her with a shove, and she collapsed onto her knees, her fists clenched. Her grandfather's cold gaze lingered on her for a moment before he turned away, pacing slowly.

"Get up," he ordered, not even looking back at her. "There is much you still lack. You have no discipline, no restraint. Tomorrow, you have an important task. One you cannot fail."

She struggled to her feet, holding back the sharp words she wanted to throw at him. "What task?" she managed, her voice low and filled with defiance.

"You will see in time," he replied dismissively. "Rest, if you can manage even that." He cast one last look of disapproval her way before leaving the room, his footsteps echoing down the darkened hall.

As she sank back onto the ground, exhaustion settled over her like a heavy blanket. She could not deny the bitterness building inside her- toward her grandfather, toward this life that demanded so much from her. A flicker of sadness washed over her as she thought of her younger brother, Damian, separated from her for years, was undergoing his own trials somewhere out in this vast, hellish empire her grandfather had built.

The last time she would seen him, he would been smaller- still with the innocent and rebellious curiosity in his eyes that had not yet hardened into Ra's brutal expectations. She wondered if he, too, had been subject to this same torment, if he was enduring the same impossible lessons drilled into his spirit. Her fists tightened at the thought of him, alone and unprotected.

──────────────────────The following day, she arrived at the designated location, a small building in the heart of the compound. Inside, it was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant.

A handful of assassins stood guard around the room, their gazes expressionless. Near the back was a small medical station, complete with a heart monitor and surgical tools that gleamed in the sparse light. The setup sent a chill down her spine.

Ra's stood at the center, next to a medic. He gestured toward a chair in the middle of the room, a chair with thick leather straps at the arms and legs. She hesitated, glancing around the room, confusion and unease knotting in her stomach.

"Sit," Ra's commanded, his voice carrying an edge of finality.

Her instincts told her something was wrong, but this was her grandfather. She had been raised to trust his judgment, to believe in his vision. She took a breath and sat down, allowing the guards to bind her wrists and ankles to the chair.

As the leather straps tightened around her, she looked up at Ra's, her eyes questioning. "What is this?"

He gave her a thin smile, something almost like pride mingling with a cold calculation. "This is for your own good, my child. And for the future of the League of Assassins."

She clenched her fists, anxiety twisting in her chest. "What- are you going to do?"

The medic stepped forward, holding a n injection filled with a dark fluid. Ra's took the injection, studying it for a moment before turning his gaze back to her.

"This is a serum that will strengthen you, enhance your endurance, and allow you to reach heights no assassin has before," he said.

"It is a gift, one that will push you beyond human limits."

A part of her wanted to resist, to question him. But she forced herself to relax, to trust. She nodded, her jaw clenched as she prepared herself for whatever was to come.

Ra's gave a nod to the medic, who adjusted the monitor and placed it on her chest. The screen came to life, beeping with each steady heartbeat. Y/n took a deep breath, keeping her gaze on her grandfather as he approached.

"This will hurt," he said with a hint of warning, though his voice lacked sympathy.

He slid the needle into her arm and pressed the plunger down, injecting the dark fluid into her veins. Immediately, a sharp, searing pain exploded in her arm, spreading like fire through her bloodstream. She clenched her teeth, trying to keep still, but the pain intensified, radiating through her body with a burning intensity that made her gasp.

The medic watched with a calculating gaze, his attention fixed on the monitors as they beeped and whirred. "The formula seems stable," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Ra's looked on impassively, his gaze unmoved by her pain. "Increase the dosage," he commanded, his tone clipped.

The medic hesitated. "It could push her beyond her limit."

Ra's raised an eyebrow, a hint of displeasure flashing in his eyes. "If she breaks, she was not worthy of the League to begin with."

The medic obeyed, pressing another dose into her. The pain intensified, a white-hot blaze tearing through her body. She tried to fight it, to hold on, but her vision began to blur, her mind slipping into darkness as her heart pounded erratically.

Her vision blurred, her muscles tightening as the serum pulsed through her veins. It felt like her blood was being set alight, as if every cell was being ripped apart and rebuilt all at once. Her body trembled, her breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps as she fought to stay conscious.

The medic glanced at Ra's, his brow furrowing. "The reaction is... extreme. Perhaps her body is rejecting it?"

Ra's narrowed his eyes, watching her with an unreadable expression. "She will survive. She must. The pain is necessary."

Y/n could barely process their words through the haze of agony, her world reduced to the relentless fire tearing through her. Her heartbeat quickened, the beeping of the monitor escalating into a rapid staccato. She tried to focus, tried to breathe, but it felt as if her very soul was being consumed by the serum.

Her vision swam, the edges darkening. She heard a faint, distant voice- her own, whispering a desperate plea that she barely recognized.

Please... stop...

But the pain only grew, swelling into a hurricane that drowned out every thought, every sensation. Her body shattered, her vision fading completely as a single, high-pitched beep filled the room. The medic's voice echoed somewhere far away, filled with panic.

"She's crashing! We're losing her-"

The last thing Y/n saw was her grandfather's cold, unwavering gaze as the world faded to black.

Here she was. Abandoned and tossed away, as it always has been.

─────────────────────

Darkness swallowed her whole as she slipped into unconsciousness, but her mind refused to stay still. It dragged her into a whirlwind of twisted memories, pain, and a rage that had no end.

She could feel herself spiraling, a hollow, sinking feeling in her chest as memories surfaced- shit, she would tried to push down, bury, forget. But they clawed their way up, bringing all her nightmares with them, every goddamn thing she wished she could rip out of her own mind.

She was back there, seven years old, sitting on the cold, stone floor with bruised knees and chapped lips, staring up at Ra's. He towered above her, looking down with that ice-cold, unfeeling stare that made her want to run and hide or, hell, to fight him until her knuckles bled.

In his hand, he held a small bottle, filled with some sickly green liquid that looked wrong. She would heard the whispers from the others, the talk about "training" that went beyond fists and blades. But nothing could have prepared her for this.

He would handed it to her, a simple, unforgiving command. "Drink." His voice, as sharp as steel, gave her no chance to hesitate, no chance to refuse. Her small fingers shook as she lifted the bottle to her lips and swallowed.

The taste was worse than anything she would ever felt; bitter and oily, coating her throat as it burned its way down. Within seconds, her stomach twisted, her head went light, and a wave of nausea tore through her, bringing her to her knees. She tried to breathe, to focus, but the poison was like fire in her veins, searing her insides until all she could do was choke back sobs.

"Good," he would murmured, watching her squirm with a sick kind of satisfaction. "This is how you build strength. Pain reminds you of weakness. Endure it, and you will become immune."

She remembered the rage, the fear, the aching need to scream at him, to fight him, even though she knew it would not change a damn thing. He watched her without flinching, like her suffering was just part of the plan.

To him, I was nothing more than a weapon, she thought, bitter and young, still too naive to understand just how deep that truth ran. But she did know one thing, even back then: she was alone. Her mother, her brother, her father- none of them could save her from him, from what he wanted her to become.

As the memory faded, a dull, sinking pain settled in her chest. She was still that child on the floor in his eyes, wasn't she? A tool, a pawn for him to mold. And no matter how far she pushed herself, how much blood she shed, it would never be enough. She would always be left searching for approval, chasing shadows, bending under the weight of his expectations.

The world around her shifted, her thoughts slipping, her mind dragging her deeper into the dark. A voice echoed somewhere in her mind, her own voice but darker, colder, taunting. You think you are something more now? You are still his weapon. Just a puppet in his game.

A feeling of cold dread twisted in her gut, gripping her so tightly she felt like she was drowning in it, in the memories, the scars, the poison. She tried to fight it, tried to pull herself out, but the darkness would not let go. And the last thing she felt before everything faded was that cold, hard floor, and her own desperate, unsteady heartbeat fighting to stay alive.

Then, a sharp light cut through the haze.

As her senses sharpened, she realized she was lying on a narrow bed in a sterile, dimly lit room. The faint hum of machines was the only sound, each beep a reminder of her pulse, steady but weak. CCTV cameras sat ominously in the corners, red lights blinking as they watched her every movement, and a monitor beside her displayed a barrage of medical statistics she barely understood.

She shifted slightly, feeling the stiffness in her limbs. Her memory flickered, bringing back only fragmented flashes of pain, the biting grip of leather straps, and her grandfather's cold gaze.

A medic rushed in, his coat brushing against the metallic table beside her as he leaned over, checking the various monitors. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice neutral, though his gaze was intense as he studied her face.

"What...what happened to me?" she murmured, her voice scratchy, throat raw as if from screaming. "I remember... pain. And then... nothing."

He did not answer immediately, instead adjusting one of the IV drips at her side. "Your body's adjusting. The injection had... expected effects," he said, sidestepping her question. "You survived. That's what matters."

She frowned, narrowing her eyes. "Expected effects? You mean whatever you injected into me was supposed to feel like... like dying?"

The medic looked down, his expression tightening, though he did not respond directly. Instead, he muttered, "You should focus on resting. You'll need your strength." He moved away, but Y/n could feel the tension lingering, thick in the air like the shadow of an unspoken warning.

Before she could demand further answers, the heavy door opened, and Ra's al Ghul entered, his silhouette casting a shadow across the dim room. She felt her muscles stiffen instinctively, a lingering resentment growing.

He stepped forward, his eyes sweeping over her, assessing her with the same calculating coldness he always wore. "My weapon," he began, his voice a chilling calm, "is looking sharper already."

She forced herself to sit up, her body protesting with every movement, but she met his gaze, defiance burning behind her exhaustion. "Weapon?" she repeated, her tone laced with contempt. "Is that all I am?"

Ra's gave a small, humorless smile. "You are precisely what you are meant to be- what you were always destined to become." He paused, his gaze hardening. "A weapon, yes, but one that will serve a purpose greater than yourself. Soon, you will meet someone who will help you understand this purpose."

She frowned, gripping the edge of the bed. "Who? Who am I supposed to meet?"

"That is not your concern yet," he replied, dismissing her question with a wave of his hand. "In three days, you will be ready. For now, rest." He glanced at the medic, giving a subtle nod before he turned and swept out of the room, leaving her with more questions than answers, each one tightening around her like a vice.

──────────────────────Three days passed slowly, a blur of loneliness, rest, and uneasy recovery. On the third day, as she lay half-asleep in bed, she heard the door creak open.

Her mother, Talia, stepped inside, her movements hesitant, her face plastered with an expression Y/n had rarely seen, fear. Talia's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and before Y/n could react, her mother crossed the room and enveloped her in an embrace, her grip tight, desperate.

"My child," Talia whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I never wanted this for you. Not this. I thought I could... protect you." Her words came out in choked fragments, as though each one pained her.

Y/n stiffened, unused to this softness from her mother. But she could feel Talia's shoulders shaking, the rare vulnerability in her mother's touch. Despite her own bitterness, Y/n found herself whispering, "It's... it's not your fault, Mother. You couldn't have changed his mind." The words felt heavy, a lie that scraped at her own heart.

Talia pulled back slightly, her eyes searching her face, filled with regret. "When you were born... I thought of sending you away, giving you a life untouched by all of this." She took a shaky breath. "But I couldn't do it. I told... him... that you were gone, that I'd lost you. It was the only way I could think to keep you safe. But then-"

Her voice broke, and she lowered her head, grief pooling in her eyes. Y/n felt her throat tighten, her resentment momentarily melting away in the face of her mother's raw pain.

"You did what you could," she whispered, though it felt hollow. Deep down, her own anger and resentment pulsed, a silent accusation, though she could not bear to voice it now.

Talia held her gaze, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I only wanted you to be safe," she murmured, barely audible. Y/n forced herself to offer a faint smile, a mask to soothe her mother's guilt. Yet, inside, her heart ached, the weight of everything pressing down, suffocating.

After a long silence, Talia finally released her, helping her stand with a steadiness Y/n had not felt in days. "There is someone you need to see," she said softly, her tone laced with a strange mix of hope and reluctance.

Y/n followed her mother out of the compound, walking through the winding corridors until they reached an opening that led to a hidden cave deep within the mountains.

The air grew damp and thick, carrying the faint smell of something metallic, ancient. At the center of the cavern was a pool of murky, green-tinged water, the infamous Lazarus Pit that she would heard whispers about her entire life. Its ominous glow bathed the cave in a sickly green light.

Beside the pit lay a man, half-naked and visibly scarred, likely in his twenties. His skin pale against the dark stone floor. His black hair fell over his eyes, though a striking streak of white cut through his bangs, an unnatural contrast to the rest. He seemed dazed, disoriented, though the fury in his gaze was unmistakable as he glared at her, his breathing ragged and shallow.

He looked around wildly, his eyes darting between Y/n, Talia, and Ra's, who now stood at the edge of the cavern, watching with cold satisfaction.

"Who are you people?" he snarled, voice hoarse, his gaze landing on Talia and narrowing. "Where am I? Where's Batman? And... the Joker..." His voice faltered slightly, an edge of agony creeping in before he masked it with renewed rage.

Y/n remained silent, her own confusion growing. She glanced at Ra's, who stepped forward, his expression one of grim satisfaction.

"This," Ra's began, gesturing to the man, "is our guest, found at death's door, and brought back to life by the power of the Lazarus Pit." His eyes gleamed with a cruel satisfaction as he looked down at the man. "A gift of resurrection... though I'm sure it's left you with memories you'd rather not confront."

The man struggled to sit up, his muscles tensing as he looked around, his eyes blazing with anger. "What did you do to me?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.

Ra's simply watched him, unperturbed. "What I did, I did for a purpose greater than you. You will serve the League in return for the gift of life-"

"I didn't ask for your 'gift,'" he spat, glaring up at Ra's, his gaze cold. "I don't owe you anything."

Ra's lips curled into a faint smile, his gaze shifting to Y/n. "You may not feel inclined to serve us now, but that will change. You will find that we can be... persuasive."

He turned to Y/n, his expression stern. "This man will help you hone your skills and strength in a way I cannot. You are both the weapons this League needs." His voice softened slightly, taking on an almost mocking tone. "And perhaps, you both have something to learn from each other."

She looked down at the man, who met her gaze with fierce distrust and hostility. His hands clenched into fists, and she could see the tension in his posture, the resistance and defiance etched in every line of his body. She felt her own sense of rage rise. It was not pity she felt for him, but a recognition of the same anger that burned within her.

Without breaking eye contact, she reached out a hand to him, an invitation to stand, to fight, to accept this fate they would both been forced into. Her hand hovered in the air between them, unwavering.

"My name is Y/n," she said quietly, her voice steady. "If we're both trapped here... then we might as well work together."

The man hesitated, his eyes flickering between her face and her outstretched hand. Finally, he reached up, clasping her hand in his with a firm, defiant grip.

"Jason," he replied, his voice dark. "Jason Todd."

Part 2

[unlucky-phantom]

The reunion

A little writing piece about my OC reuniting with Mr6

No warnings

Maybe spoilers for The Final shape of you haven't played it

Phantom stepped through the old tower with the same confidence she carried everywhere, her black armor gleaming faintly in the strange light of this place. Midnight, her Ghost, hovered close at her side anxiously waiting for the next threat to pop out. She scanned the area, head tilted slightly at the faint sound of a harmonica, a familiar tune weaving through the ruins

Following the sound, her steps measured and deliberate, even now, she moved like a shadow, her presence a ripple in the air. It's like the whole area held its breath as she rounded a corner, stopping suddenly as her gaze landed on the source of the music.

Cayde-6.

He was standing leant against a railing, harmonica in hand, leaning like he didn’t have a care in the world. He hadn’t noticed her yet, too focused on the tune he was playing.

Phantom froze. Her entire body stiffened, like she’d been struck by lightning. For a moment, she didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Tension radiated off her as she took in the sight before her. She takes a tentative step forward, her usually silent footfall anything but that in the moment.

"You gotta get better boots crow. I could hear you coming a mile away" The gunslinger chuckles "Now uldren? He could sneak up on a fella"

When cayde didn't hear a response, his brow furrows.

"*You're not Crow*"

Cayde suddenly spins on his heels, his harmonica flying through the air like a makeshift weapon. Phantom caught it effortlessly, her reflexes as sharp as ever but made no move to retaliate.

The ex vanguards posture straightenes and he lowers his drawn gun as he recognises the figure before him was a guardian. “Whoa!” Cayde exclaimed, his hands going up in mock surrender. “Easy there, stranger. That thing’s not exactly lethal, but I’d hate for you to break it.”

Phantom didn’t respond. She just stood there, holding the harmonica, her head tilted slightly as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Cayde frowned, his usual swagger faltering as he looked her over. “Not much for conversation, huh? What’s with the spooky armor? You with Crow?”

Still, she said nothing. Her hands shook slightly as they moved toward her helmet, heart racing as she slowly, carefully pull it off.

Her red hair spilled out, framing a face few had seen only glimpses of—pale skin, faint freckles across her nose and cheeks, and those eyes. Her green eye shone with intensity, but it was the iridescent white one, scarred and piercing, that gave her away completely.

Cayde stared at her, his glowing white eyes widening in recognition. For a rare moment, he was completely silent.

“Cayde,” she whispered, her voice trembling, raw with emotion.

“...Aurora,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. The name rolled off his tongue like a memory he’d carried for lifetimes.

Phantom stiffened at the sound of it, the faint tremble in her hand betraying the storm raging within her. She raised her weapon—his weapon. The Ace of Spades. Its barrel leveled squarely at Cayde’s chest as her face hardens and her posture stiffens. “No,” she said, her voice sharp but unsteady. “You’re not him. You’re not real. You’re just another lie conjured by the Witness to get in my head.”

Cayde didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. Instead, he took a slow, cautious step forward. “Aurora,” he repeated, his tone steady and calm. “It’s me.”

“Don’t.” Her voice cracked as she took a step back, the Ace trembling in her grip. “Don’t say my name like that. Don’t you *dare.*” She looked ready to pull the trigger, but there was something in her eyes—a flicker of doubt, of hope—keeping her from following through.

Cayde didn’t stop. He took another step forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “I get it. You’re scared, and honestly? I’d be too. But it’s me, Aurora. I swear.”

“Stop it,” she hissed, her voice shaking. “You’re not him. You can’t be. I watched you die, Cayde. I *buried* you.”

“And yet here I am,” he said softly, taking another step closer. He was now only a foot away from her. “You know me, Aurora. You *know* me.”

She shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes as her face twists in a pained grimace. “No. No, you’re just some twisted creation meant to toy with me. I’ve seen the Witness’s tricks before. You’re *not* real.”

Cayde lowered his hands slowly and reached out, his touch impossibly gentle as he cupped her face. “Look at me,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “Look at me, Aurora.”

Her breath hitched as his thumbs brushed over her cheekbones. She didn’t pull away, but her grip on the Ace tightened. He slowly pulls down the gaiter that hid half of her face, his gaze softening. "There she is..."

Phantoms head twitches, conflicted between leaning into the oh so familiar touch and pulling away.

“You’re stubborn,” Cayde said with a soft chuckle, though there was a tremor in his voice. “You always were. Stubborn and scrappy, like the time you tried to punch a Shaxx because he stepped on your cloak. Remember that? I told you it was a terrible idea, but you just *had* to prove me wrong.”

She didn’t answer, her lips pressed into a tight line. But it was there—the flicker of recognition in her eyes.

“And then there was that time we got stuck on Titan because someone,” he said, giving her a pointed look, “thought it’d be a good idea to see if Hive knights could swim. Spoiler alert: they can’t”

A shaky exhale escaped her, almost like a laugh. Almost.

“And what about the time we played poker with Drifter? You cleaned him out. Guy wouldn't play with me if you were around. I don’t blame him though, I think you cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat,” she said before she could stop herself, her voice barely a whisper. "He's just bad at poker"

“There it is,” Cayde said, grinning. “That’s my girl.”

Her eyes squeezed shut as if hearing those words physically hurt her. “Stop,” she said, her voice breaking. “Stop doing this.”

He ignored her, his hands still cradling her face as he leaned in closer. “Remember how you’d always sneak off to the Tower’s rooftop because you said it was the only place quiet enough to think? And how I’d find you there every time, sitting in the same spot, staring at the City lights?”

Her trembling grew worse, and the Ace dipped slightly in her grasp.

“And what about the song?” he continued, his voice softening. “The one you used to hum when you thought no one could hear you? That old tune from before the Collapse? You don’t think I remember, but I do. It was your favorite. You said it reminded you of home.”

Her lips parted, a shaky breath escaping her as her walls began to crumble piece by piece, the cold, clinical mask she wore splintering under the weight of his words.

“Cayde…” she whispered, her voice fragile and raw.

He nodded, his glowing eyes locking onto hers. “It’s me, Aurora. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but I’m here. I’m *here.*”

Her grip on the Ace faltered completely, and the weapon clattered to the ground. She didn’t move to pick it up. Instead, her hands slowly rose to rest against his, her fingers curling around his wrists as if anchoring herdelf to him. Phantom—Aurora—looked small, vulnerable, like the weight of centuries had finally caught up with her.

Cayde pulled her closer, his forehead resting against hers. “I’ve missed you,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “I’ve missed you so damn much.”

Phantoms quiet sniffles broke the silence, the sound carrying through the strange expanse like a ripple. She clung to Cayde’s wrists as if letting go would make him disappear. Her tears fell freely now, tracing the scar that marred her pale skin. The scar that seemed to tell a story of battles fought and losses endured.

But even through the tears, there was doubt. Cayde could see it in the way her eyes darted between his face and the ground, like she was searching for some crack in the illusion.

“What…” Her voice trembled, soft and fragile. “What did I say to you that night… the night on my balcony?”

Her words hung in the air, a challenge wrapped in desperation. She wanted to believe, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Not without proof.

Cayde didn’t hesitate. He leaned closer, his glowing eyes never leaving hers. “That night,” he started, his voice low and steady, “you told me that the stars felt too far away. You said they were cold and distant, just like everything else. Just like the Tower. Just like everyone around you.”

Her breath hitched, and her hands tighten against his wrists. She wasn’t breathing. She was waiting.

“And I told you,” Cayde continued, his voice softening, “that the stars weren’t cold. They were just lonely. That’s why they shine so bright—because they’re looking for someone to see them.”

Phantom’s lips parted, but no words came. Her tears fell faster, her head shaking slightly as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“But that’s not all, is it?” Cayde pressed, his voice warm and teasing now, like he was pulling her back into the memory. “I said that if the stars could feel, then they’d be lucky to have someone like you around to keep them company. And you laughed, Aurora. You laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.”

Her hands flew to her face, covering her mouth as a soft sob escaped her. Cayde reached out, gently pulling her hands away, cradling them in his.

“And then,” he added, his tone dropping into something softer, something raw, “you told me that I was your star. That I was the only light you could still see.”

Phantom broke then, her body shaking as quiet sobs wracked her frame. Cayde pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her like she might shatter if he held her too tight.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I missed you so damn much.”

Phantom clung to Cayde like he was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. And maybe he was. For once, she didn’t look like the cold, unshakable Guardian who had truged through centuries of loss with just a blade. She looked like someone who had finally found the one thing she thought she’d lost forever.

And Cayde? He wasn’t the legend, the Exo everyone admired and remembered. He was just a man who had been given a second chance to hold the person he loved.