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rafes-juno · 14 hours ago

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My Brother's Best Friends; Slim Pickins

Pairing: Brother's Best Friend! Rafe x Brat! Female Oc

Summary: What happens when Rafe returns from college and turns Isla's life upside down? Will Isla be able to handle her brother's best friends? Are Rafe and Isla overcoming their rivalry this summer, or are their feelings brewing ready to explode? Secrets will come out testing Isla and her brother's relationship.

Contains: Enemies to Lovers, Brother's Best Friend, Harsh Language, Sexual Content, Drinking, Harassment, Mentions Of Blood. (18+ ,minors do not interact!)

WC: 3.905

Previous Chapter: 1

“So… you never kissed?” Rosie asks as she sips her drink, her eyes drifting between me and our best friend, Sunny.

I shake my head, just as disappointed as them. “No. Rafe came in and ruined it all, too. He talked about how I needed to stay away from Alex and said he was just looking out for me. " My eyes roll as I sip on my straw, watching the girls share a knowing glance.

Rosie and Sunny have been my best friends since elementary school. I don’t think there’s been a full day in my life where I haven’t seen at least one of them. We’re inseparable.

“Maybe we need to ask the cards?” Rosie suggests as Sunny digs through her bag to find her tarot deck.

When she drops the deck onto the table, I slump back. “Guys, I don’t want to do it if the cards are going to tell me something I don’t want to know.”

Truthfully, I think I’ve started to develop a crush on Alex. He’s been here a day, and I already can’t stop thinking about him like I’m a teenager again. Rafe’s words keep swirling around in my head, though. I don’t want to step on anybody’s toes and ruin any friendships– but at the same time, Theo and Alex don’t seem that close.

“Maybe they’ll confirm that he wants you–”

I laugh, reaching for my drink. “I don’t need the cards to confirm that.”

Sunny starts to shuffle the deck, and I sit up straight, watching how quickly her hands move. Cards fly out of the deck and land on the table; some even land on the ground, but Rosie quickly picks them up and hands them back to the witch. Sunny hums and turns over the cards, her eyes full of mischief.

I notice the time on my phone and sigh, “I only have five minutes before Rafe is coming to pick me up–”

“Oh, Rafe, again?” Rosie teases, her eyebrows raised.

“Yes, Rafe again,” I mumble. “We’re shopping to pick up some stuff for Theo’s birthday party tonight. Only me and him seem to give a shit. I don’t see you two offering–”

Sunny cuts me off, “Okay, so you have the fool card first. New beginnings– a new chapter in your life.”

I smirk, “Does the new chapter begin with an ‘A’ and end in ‘lex’?”

Sunny ignores my words and stares back down at the cards. “Death card. Is Alex a Scorpio?”

I shrug, “No. I don’t think so. I don’t know. I don’t think I know any Scorpio’s either.”

Sunny hums as she taps her long nails against the card. “Okay, so, a transformation of some kind. It could be during Scorpio season… or maybe he is a Scorpio.”

I open my mouth to reply, but she cuts me off and moves on to the next card. “The lovers. Self-explanatory.”

When we were fourteen, we entered a new store on the island. They sold all kinds of things, one of them being tarot cards. Sunny bought them and taught herself how to read them. Ever since we’ve relied on the cards for advice and guidance. Only recently has she started reading astrology, too. I rely on her to tell me when to invest in something new is a bad time. I swear, it feels like there's always something in retrograde or whatever.

“These are good cards,” Rosie comments. “Sounds like things could happen between you and Alex.”

Sunny pulls back her bottom lip, her head tilted. “Well– yeah. Maybe. I have a feeling it isn’t Alex, though.”

I laugh, lifting my drink to my mouth. “Well, who else could it be?”

Sunny shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ll see, I guess.”

She taps her finger against the next card. “Two of cups. Partnerships, relationships. Someone is coming in. I don’t know who, though. We need to find out Alex’s star sign.”

“I’ll ask at the party,” I say, sliding my chair out from the table and grabbing my phone. My screen lights up, and I see Rafe's missed texts telling me to hurry up and that I’m late. When I glance over my shoulder, I can see his car in the parking lot and his pissed-off face glaring through the open window.

We all watch as he opens his car door and climbs out. He rounds the car and crosses his arms, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Wow, has he been working out?” Rosie asks, her straw hanging loose in her mouth as she leans back in her seat.

I shrug, taking my time to grab all of my stuff as I keep my eyes on his. “I think so.”

It’s evident that he has been because of his black shirt. The material is clinging to his arms, chest, and toned stomach, and with the sweat dotted across his forehead, it looks as though he’s just got back from the gym.

“Hurry up, Isla! I don’t have all fucking day!” he yells over at me as I sling my bag over my shoulder.

“Calm down, Rafe. It’s not that serious.” I roll my eyes and turn to the girls, “I’ve never seen someone so eager to pick up a birthday cake.”

“I can hear you,” he says, opening the passenger side door as I wave goodbye to the girls and hop down the steps to the parking lot. I walk over to him with a cheesy grin.

I climb into his car, watching him slam my door shut with a low grunt. He walks around to the driver's side and clambers in, slamming his door as loud as he did mine. He merely glances in my direction as I pull the seatbelt over my body and click it into place.

He pulls out of the parking lot quickly, making me fall forward before falling back into my seat harshly. “Shit, Rafe. What’s the rush?”

“I have shit to do. Not that you’d give a fuck anyway, you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

I scoff, my eyes widening as I stare over at him. “What’s your problem?”

“It’s too hot, and I don’t want to go to the store and–”

“Maybe you wouldn’t feel so hot if you weren’t wearing all black. It’s like a million degrees outside.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Isla.”

“Don’t be a dick, Rafe,” I bite back with a smile on my lips. “Let’s just go to the store, and then you can drop me off at home.”

“Home?” he asks. “I thought you were helping me put up all the party stuff on the druthers?”

I sigh, throwing my arms down to my sides in defeat. “Fine! If you want to hang out with me that bad, all you have to do is ask, Rafe.”

He doesn’t say a word; he keeps his eyes on the road, and his jaw clenches. I settle into my seat with a satisfied smile, knowing I won this time.

He never used to be so mean and hostile toward me. I’ll never understand what changed.

He used to be kind. He would talk to me with respect.

I don’t think he’ll ever tell me what changed. I don’t think I want to know, either. If he hates me, then so be it. I’m not here to have a friendship with him, and I certainly don’t want any validation from him.

If he’s happy for us to act like this, fine.

I couldn't care less.

“Oh my god, Rafe! Look!” I exclaimed, pulling a string of fairy lights with plastic strawberries from the self. “Strawberry lights!”

He snatches the box from me and stares at the picture on the front. “I don’t get it.”

I snatch them back and throw them into the shopping cart, “They’re just cute.”

“They’re a waste of money. That’s what they are.”

I grab another three and throw them into the cart with a thud. “Fine, I’ll buy them with my money.”

He pushes the cart slowly up the aisle with his veiny forearms resting on the handlebars. His shoulders are slumped, and I can tell he’s bored out of his mind, so I plan to spend as much time here as possible.

“Do you think we need party hats?” I ask, picking up a plastic box full of them. “I think we do.” he looks at me from the side, his eyes rolling.

“No, we don’t. There are just a couple of us on the boat. All we need is cake, balloons, and two banners,” he says, taking the box from my hands and throwing it back onto the shelf.

I cross my arms in defiance before reaching for the same box and throwing it into the cart. “You aren’t the only one using your daddy’s money today, Rafe. He paid me a hundred dollars just for tutoring your sister for an hour yesterday. We’re getting the hats.”

I spot a pack of party whistles and pick them up with a grin, “Oh, and these. We definitely need these.”

He sighs, standing up straight as he rolls his broad shoulders back. “Whatever. I don’t care anymore.”

I throw the whistles in and eye the fully stocked shelves for something that would really piss him off. I thought the whistles would send him over the edge, but apparently not. Although, I can’t imagine him using the whistle at the party.

His attitude is starting to piss me off. I understand he doesn’t want to be here; he only told me that four times on the way here. I knew I should’ve asked Alex to tag along. At least then, I’d have someone fun to talk to.

I watch him pull his phone out from his black shorts, and his fingers scroll on the screen for a few seconds before he clears his throat. “Okay, so we need–”

“Can we get these feather boas?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Rafe!” I sing, pulling the hot pink boa from the rack. “It’s fluffy.” I step toward him and drape it around his neck.

He tries to pull it off, but I hold my hand, keeping the material in place. “Wow, pink is your color. It brings out your eyes.”

“Oh, yeah?” he steps closer to me, pulling a yellow-colored boa from the rack. He drapes it around my neck and flicks up the side so it’s danging over my eyes, obscuring my vision. “This compliments your outfit.” For the first time today, there’s a hint of playfulness in his eyes as he reaches onto the shelf and hands me a pair of oversized sunflower glasses. “These will complete the ensemble.”

I hum, pushing the glasses onto my face. “Wow, is that a smile I can see, Rafe? Are you finally having fun?”

He scoffs, throwing his feather boa into the cart as his faint smile fades. “No.”

“Liar,” I sing, using the end of my feather boa to tickle his sun-kissed face. “You’re having so much fun with me.” He swats my hand and the feather away with a low growl.

I notice the pink pinata on the top shelf, shaped like a unicorn, and my eyes light up like a kid at a candy store. “Okay, we have to get that.” I tap Rafe’s shoulder and motion to the thing I need most. “Pick me up, I wanna grab it,”

“Pick you up?” his eyebrows are furrowed, and his forehead creased.

I nod, “You won’t be able to reach the one at the very back that’s probably in the best condition. Pick me up so I can grab it.”

He sighs, moving the cart out of the way as I stand before him. He hesitates briefly before grasping the curve of my waist with his big hands, causing my already-cropped t-shirt to rise. I feel the warmth of his touch bleed through my skin as he lifts me effortlessly.

He really has been working out.

“I can’t see,” I complain. “I need to get up higher!”

He groans in annoyance and hoists me onto his broad shoulder, holding me up there as I peer over the shelf to the pinata at the back, the most perfect unicorn calling my name. I feel one of his hands settle onto my thigh while the other grips my waist tighter, being sure I don’t fall as I reach across to grab my newest prized possession– which will be smashed to pieces by the end of the night.

“Got it,” I tell him as he pulls me back. I look at him with a smile as he carefully lowers me back to the ground, his hands still on my waist. “You're so helpful,” I coo, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek.

Just as I pull my lips back with a smile plastered on my face, an elderly lady passes by us, her head tilted as she smiles at us. “Oh, aren’t you two just so sweet.”

The look on Rafe’s face says it all as he steps away from me, his head shaking. Before he can say anything, I slip my arm through his and smile at the lady. “Oh, thank you so much,” I look up at Rafe and drape the end of my feathered boa around his neck, pulling him closer to me.

“We’re just buying party supplies for our… son.”

The lady’s eyes widen, “Son? You two look awfully young–”

I grip my fingers around his upper arm, feeling his muscles tense under the fabric of his shirt as I rest my head on his chest. “I know, but age doesn’t matter when you’re in love. Isn’t that right, Rafey?” I look up at him, flashing a knowing look as he glimpses down at me.

He eventually lifts his gaze back to the lady and forces a smile. “That’s right.”

The lady presses her hand to her heart and pouts. “How sweet. You remind me of my husband and I when we were kids.” she takes a moment, releasing a deep sigh before facing us again, her smile gentle. “I hope your son–”

“Tiger,” I tell her the name of our imaginary son with a sheepish grin. “Well, his name is Prince Tiger, but we usually just call him Tiger.”

Rafe nods, pulling me closer to his side as he lifts his arm and wraps it around me, pulling me into him. I try to ignore the fact that I can feel his strong arms tightening around me and the fact that his cologne is intoxicating.

“Oh, that’s a… lovely name,” the lady says, clearly uncomfortable now.

Rafe’s lips curve into a half-smile. “Thanks. It’s just a shame that I recently found out I'm not his biological father,” he looks at me with a challenge in his eyes. “Turns out my girlfriend likes to fuck other guys behind my back.”

The lady is pale now, her eyebrows raised and her mouth open. I’m mirroring her expression as I turn to face her once more. I clear my throat as I rush to find something to say to make Rafe seem like the bad guy.

I know it's over when my mind goes blank, and the lady scurries off down the aisle with her cart full of supplies, her feet moving faster than the cart.

I untangle myself from Rafe’s arm and shake my head. “You’re evil! You scared that woman away!”

He shrugs, grabbing the cart again, “I think you scared her away when you told her our imaginary son was named Prince Tiger.”

“Would you have rathered him be named after his daddy?”

Rafe turns the corner and the wheels of the cart screech against the hard ground. “I’m not his Dad, remember.”

“I hope you’re happy with yourself, Rafe.”

He smiles at me, the first genuine smile I’ve seen in months. “I’m happy, thank you.”

I follow him around the store for the rest of the shopping trip before we go to the register to pay. Even when I try to pull out my phone to pay for the items, Rafe beats me to it and puts it all on his card. I scoff, “I thought all this was a waste of money.”

He ignores me and hands me the heaviest bag with a smile. “This is all the stuff you picked up. I hope it isn’t too heavy for you,” he flashes the cashier a smile before picking up the cake and a few lighter bags. “Come on, we gotta start decorating.”

I sigh, feeling the bag's weight pull me down as I follow behind him, my fingers aching and my arms falling weak. It’s too hot outside to be carrying a bag as heavy as this.

“It’s heavy,” I complain as we walk through the parking lot toward his car.

“Not my problem,” he replies, walking faster.

I groan, my head falling back as I pick up my pace to catch up with him. When I reach him and the car, my arms feel like jello. I drop the bag to the ground and let out a heavy sigh as I watch Rafe load the bags into the car.

I reach down, searching the top of the bag for the water bottle Rafe so generously bought me. As I bend over, I hear a car honk behind me, startling me to stand straight again. I turn around, watching a guy I don’t recognize wolf-whistle at me. There’s a cigarette hanging from his lips. He laughs, “Give me a twirl, sweetheart.” There’s a sleazy smile on his lips when he says, “Want me to give you a ride?”

I ignore him, turning my back to him and his truck as Rafe lifts his head from the trunk of the car, his eyes darting between me and the truck.

“Fucking bitch,” the guy calls from the truck, throwing the remainder of his cigarette in my direction.

I turn to face the truck again, ready to tell him what I think, but as I do, I see Rafe storming with his fists at his sides. I watch wide eyes as Rafe grabs the guy from inside the car by his collar, pulling him from his seat. “What did you call her?”

I release a breath, my stomach churning from anticipation. “Jesus, Rafe–”

“Say it to me. Say it to my fucking face,” Rafe urges the guy, who’s now a sickly pale color. His mouth moves, but no words come out when Rafe aggressively throws him back into his seat. “Call me a bitch, do it.”

“I didn’t realize she was your girl, man. I’m sorry–”

Rafe takes a step back from the guy's truck, and I think it’s all over when he walks back to me. “Rafe–” he cuts me off by reaching into his vehicle and grabbing one of his golf clubs. My eyes are bulging at this point, and there isn’t a thing I can do to stop him because before I can fathom what’s happening, he’s knocking the guy’s brake lights out with the club.

“What the fuck!” the guy yells as Rafe rounds the front of the car, knocking off the side mirrors. There’s glass everywhere, and I notice how shards hit Rafe’s bare legs, grazing his skin.

People are watching with wide eyes, and the elderly lady from early is on the verge of a heart attack as she watches Rafe wreck the guy’s car.

Rafe walks around to the guy’s open window and points the club at him with his head tilted. “If you fucking look at her again, I’ll do a lot worse, alright.”

The guy nods profusely as Rafe pulls the club out and gives the car door one harsh hit, denting the metal with the club. Rafe walks away, his hands white around the club as he approaches me. “Get in the car.”

I do as I’m told and climb into my seat, my hands shaking as he throws the club into the trunk and climbs in after me, barely giving me a chance to put my seatbelt on as he vaults out of the parking lot.

“Are you okay?” he asks me, his crazed eyes darting between me and the road ahead of us as he picks up the speed.

“I’m fine,” my voice is shaky as I buckle into my seat and lean back, resting my head on the headrest. “Are you okay?” I ask him, noticing the blood dripping from his knee. “You’re bleeding.”

He nods, but his fingers are pale white, and he grips the steering wheel. “I’m fine. We just need to get to the druthers and set up. That’s all. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

“Are we going to get arrested?” I ask, gulping harshly. “My dad will kill me–”

Rafe faces me, his hands shaking as sweat builds on his forehead. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“But–”

“Nothing will happen. It’s fine. I’ll figure this out. That guy–” he points to the store that’s probably miles behind us now, “All of that was his fault. He shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

I exhale a shaky breath, nodding in agreement. “I agree, but that was extreme, Rafe.”

He laughs manically, his head falling back against his seat. “It could have been worse.”

“Could it?!” I exclaim. “You nearly blinded him with the glass shards!”

Rafe glances over to me, a smile on his face as he laughs harder. “Okay, well, at least our son– Tiger, wasn’t in the car. The therapy would be crazy expensive.”

“Are you serious right now?” I hide my laugh by facing the half-opened window, feeling the cool airflow through the car.

I feel the sudden warmth of his hand meet my exposed thigh, and it’s like a bolt of electricity runs through me. I turn to face him, and the feeling runs straight to my heart, suffocating me as it takes all the air from my lungs. His eyes are on mine when I feel his fingers tighten on my skin, “It’ll be okay.”

There’s a quiet moment between us where nothing needs to be said. His palm is still on my leg, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was warming up to me again. Of course, when I think about it, his phone rings, and Theo’s name pops up on the car screen. It’s a searing reminder of what we’re actually doing here and why we’re working together. We’re not here to be friends. We’re here to set up for my brother’s birthday. His best friend’s birthday.

Rafe pulls away from me quickly and hits the answer button as Theo’s booming voice sounds through the car’s speakers. “Hey, man. Where are you?”

“Uh, I’m just– out.”

“Out? Where? Are you with Sofia?”

Ah.

Rafe shakes his head as if Theo can see him before replying, “Uh, no,” he clears his throat and shifts in his seat as I sink into mine, wishing for this car journey to be over so I can go home and get ready for the night. To see Alex.

Rafe changes the subject, “Are you still coming tonight? On the boat?”

“Yeah. Can I invite some people?” I know my brother well enough to know ‘some people’ actually means a dozen.

Rafe nods, “Sure. Just not too many, alright?”

I can hear the smirk in Theo’s voice when he answers, “Alright.”

🪽 Chapter Two of Brother's Best Friends as promised! Like, Comment & Reblogs are highly appreciated !!

🪽 Author: Matilda , Theme: Evelyn

🪽 Credits for dividers ( here & here )

#rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #drew starkey x oc #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #harris dickinson x reader #harris dickinson #jacob elordi #rudy pankow

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tinylilacbun · 3 days ago

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Leverage

Summary: Rafe owes Barry a lot of money and the pogue is done with waiting, so he takes the only thing that gets the Cameron boy moving.

Pairing: daddy!rafe x little!reader, barry x little!reader

Warnings: age regression, dark themes, kidnapping, drugging, swearing, happy ending, set in season 1, word count: 1,4k

•─────⋅☾⋅─────•

You hum to the current song that's playing from your phone as you apply body lotion onto your skin, having just finished taking a bath and getting ready for the day.

Rafe is already out and about. He did ask if you wanted to come with him but you rather wanted to sleep in.

After you finish spreading the lotion everywhere you put on your clothes, a plaid skirt and pastel colored shirt to match and fits your headspace as you start to feel like regressing, fixing your hair a little before grabbing your phone and leaving the bathroom.

You make your way downstairs to eat some breakfast, ascend the stairs and walk past the entrance hallway, stopping in your tracks when you see the front door slightly open.

"Sarah? Wheezie?" You call out, getting no response as the house is completely empty, or so you thought.

Before you could take another step, a hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your screams as you trash in the intruder's arms, breathing heavily and suddenly starting to feel dizzy as you inhale a rather sweet scent.

"You can thank Rafe for this, sugar." You hear a familiar voice whisper in your ear just as your vision turns black.

When your eyes finally flutter open again you groan softly, sitting up on the creaky mattress as you try to get your bearings, lifting your hands only to find them tied together with rope that's tightly looped around the bedframe and tug on it.

You frown, your fuzzy brain getting a little more clear as you look around the room you're in, taking how messy it is and the smell of weed and other stuff you don't even figure out lingering in the air.

Your body jolts when you hear footsteps approaching the room, pulling your knees up and tense as the door unlocks and opens with a creak.

There stands Barry, with a cigarette between his lips and a twisted smile forming on his face. You barely know him, he's Rafe's dealer and that's about it.

Well, you only know his name, that hes a pogue, and now partly dangerous.

"G'morning there, pretty girl." He drawls, stepping into the room and beside the bed.

You instinctively scoot as far as your bound wrists let you, your lip trembling as the fear creeps up about not knowing what he's gonna do or why you're here in the first place.

"Easy. M'not gonna hurt you, I mean, unless you decide to be difficult." He chuckles, reaching out to pat your head in a patronizing way before taking a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke in your direction. "Sorry that I had to drag you into this shit but your loverboy messed up bad this time, and I ain't gonna let myself be fucked around with."

"R-Rafe? What did he do?" You ask shakily, and hoping for your life that he's already on his way to get you because you can feel yourself panicking and regressing because of this whole situation.

"You see, he owes me 20 grand and has been late on paying it back. I'm done waiting and to get his ass moving, I have to motivate him a little, and what better way is there than you, his sweet girl." He explains, dubbing his cigarette out in an ashtray on the nightstand.

He pulls out your phone, looking back at you expectantly. "Code?" You keep your mouth shut, which seems to be a mistake when he narrows his eyes, leaning closer to your face. "Listen, either you tell me willingly or I'll force it out of you."

"2406..." You mutter out. it's the date you and Rafe got together.

"There, good choice." He murmurs, getting into your contact list and looking for Rafe's number, lifting the phone to his ear after hitting the call button.

"Baby? Where are you? I thought-" Rafe starts when Barry cuts him off.

"Country club, haven't heard from you in a while." Barry greets him enthusiastically. "A'ight, let's get this straight. I got your girl here and if you want her back in one piece you get me my money. I'll give you 24 hours."

"Barry, I swear if you touch a single hair on her head I'll-" Rafe is about to threaten him.

"You're not really in the position for making any threats, y'know?" Barry teases him.

"Let me talk to her." Rafe demands and Barry holds the phone to your ear with a smirk.

"R-Rafey?" You speak with a tremble in your voice, feeling tears building up in your eyes.

"Baby, are you okay? I'll be there soon, yeah? Just, stay calm and don't do anything. Daddy's gonna handle this, you hear me? I promise." He assures you and you nod even though he can't see you, starting to sniffle.

Barry lifts the phone back to his ear. "20k. 24 hours. And don't you dare pulling any shit, got it?" He warns him before ending the call, tossing your phone out of your reach. "Hungry or thirsty? Don't look at me like that. I may be a criminal but I'm no monster, sugar."

It's been awhile since you woke up. You have been fed and hydrated throughout the whole time, anxiously waiting for Rafe to arrive and save you.

You can't even get yourself to be mad at him for getting you into this whole mess, you just want to be held by him more than anything right now.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Barry comes into the room again, walking over to you and untangles the rope from the bedframe but keeps your wrists still tied.

He grabs your arm and you yelp in surprise as he yanks you up to stand, pulling you with him while you stumble to try and keep up with him.

As you're dragged into another room relief washes over you when you see Rafe pacing restlessly, holding a black bag tightly in his hand, stopping in his tracks as his eyes lock with yours.

He instinctively attempts to take a step towards you but stops again when Barry pulls out his gun, pressing it to your side. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, you know better. Money first."

Rafe scowls but tosses the open bag onto the coffee table, the many bundled stacks of money visible as he holds his hand out. "Now let her go."

Barry nods, tilting his head a little to glance at you . "I'll miss your company." He breathes into your ear before he lets you go, tucking his gun into the waistband of his pants, looking back at Rafe. "Don't run off, gotta count it first."

Without hesitation you crash into Rafe's body, holding onto his shirt with all your might as you start to cry into his chest, all the while Barry sits down on his worn out couch and starts to count the money.

Rafe hurriedly unties your wrists, rubbing his thumb carefully over the slight rope burns, his chest feeling tight at your quiet whimper and wraps his arms tightly around you.

You instantly wrap your arms around him, gripping onto the back of his shirt.

"Shh, it's okay now, I got you..." He shushes you, his one hand holding the back of your head, pressing a reassuring kiss to your temple. "I'm sorry."

A few minutes later you hear Barry whistle, turning your head a little to face him as Rafe tightens his hold on you, afraid to let you go. "You're good to go, country club. See this as a warning as to what happens the next you think to fuck with me."

Not even answering, Rafe simply picks you up bridal style and leaves the trailer with you clinging to him desperately, making his way to his truck.

"I really didn't mean for this to happen, y'know that, right?" He asks as he keeps walking, feeling you nod against him.

"I knows...s'okay." You hiccup, nuzzling your face in his neck to inhale his cologne. "Was really scared, daddy."

"I know, I know. Daddy makes sure to never ever let this happen again, yeah?" He promises, setting you down in the passenger seat and buckling your seat belt, reaching up to wipe some of your tears away. "I love you, more than anything."

You give him a smile, leaning into his touch. "Luv you more..."

He leans closer to peck your lips before shutting the car door, walking over to the driver's side and hopping in.

Quickly turning on the engine he drives away from Barry's trailer, placing his hand on top of your thigh in a protective and reassuring way, occasionally squeezing or rubbing your soft skin.

#little!reader #daddy!rafe x little!reader #daddy!rafe cameron #daddy!rafe cameron x little!reader #daddy!rafe

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physalian · 2 days ago

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Beta Reader Checklist! (Suggestions)

Beta reading is highly, highly subjective, so take this whole post with a massive grain of salt. IMO, in short, more feedback is always safer than less feedback, unless the author states otherwise.

Like, if they ask you to do a final read through for any lingering issues, you can speed-read your way through the manuscript for general vibes and enjoyability. If this is the first round of edits and beta reads, the more you can give them, even if you think you're over-reaching, the better.

Thank you to all my betas thus far, absolutely no shade meant with this post. Everybody's got different expectations. This is meant to help anyone who's unsure about the task before them.

So I'm going to use some snippets from my seasoned beta reader's feedback from my upcoming novella for the variety of commentary you can give.

Positive vibes/reader reaction

Even if the manuscript is a hot mess, sending back a beta read with 0 good things to say is going to demoralize the author. Even if all you can say is "this is a cool concept that can benefit from a better execution," letting the author know that they've written something salvagable helps, especially if you can do it in the first few paragraphs.

Grammar and Syntax

You are not a line editor and should not be expected to line edit someone's first draft (and this beta got the ~7th draft). However, if you do see something while reading, there's no reason that you can't leave a suggestion.

Fun commentary

We authors like to know that the reader is connecting with the story. These comments tells me absolutely nothing helpful about bettering the manuscript, but they're human responses from a human reader and it's just nice to see. Beta readers are casual, you should be allowed to stay stuff like this.

Developmental edits

Beta readers generally come before the big expensive editor (if you ever hire one at all) which means the goal is more big picture, developmental commentary over splitting hairs about punctuation. This comment got me to add about half a paragraph's worth of extra narrative to expand upon, because I liked the suggestion.

Continuity and reader comprehension

This novella happens to be about a niche subject that not every layman reader will understand, so I have to find the line between overexplaining to those who know, and underexplaining to those who don't, without reading like a textbook. The top line I ended up leaving as I didn't think the risk of confusion was worth the added technical detail. The bottom line was a continuity error that I did have to fix.

Repetition and style

I'm an author who will always look for ways to lower my word count. Sometimes cutting a random line is better for the narrative than doubling down and trying to justify it with extra details. In this case, I over-used a motif, and happily saved myself 7 words.

Potential for extra detail

If you struggle with lengthening your word count, you can ask your betas to focus on where the narrative is thin and can benefit for more immersion and backstory. This beta leaves me comments everywhere suggesting places for extra sensory details, as I write very lean narratives with little fluff, and my consistency with sensory details varies widely.

All told, over 21k words of story, this beta left me exactly 100 comments, and a couple quick line edits within the text itself. It shows me, at the very least, that she was engaged with the story. The only time she doesn't leave me comments is when a scene is so intense that she forgets to make one.

The Reader Report

The reader report is a separate document from the manuscript copy that compiles and condenses the beta's thoughts into a much shorter format so the author doesn't have to scroll up and down constantly for a big picture takeaway. It also expands upon any commentary the beta had, but didn't want to put in a single tag within the narrative and is typically written after most of the manuscript has been read for overall thoughts.

This beta in particular knows what I like, which is breaking down the report by chapter (or parts in this case). The only thing missing from her delivery is a final conclusion that will answer the three big questions:

Did she like it?

Would she buy it?

Would she recommend it?

But it was also done in a rush and in her email she said I made her cry so I count that as a yes for all 3.

—

I did not implement every suggestion from her, but I did acknowledge where other readers might feel the same and weighed the pros of trying to satisfy everything vs maintaining my clear vision.

The benefit of the beta process, if you work with multiple betas, is having more than one reader's opinion, and why I don't think anyone should pay ridiculous fees for a developmental editor. My betas all had different opinions on this manuscript, and I can treat their feedback like a scatterplot, deciding on revisions with an average throughline.

At the end of the day, you write for yourself, not to please any one beta reader. They're suggestions, not rules, and even if your beta tells you they hate it, you at least learn who your target audience isn't, and what naysayers wouldn't like.

#writing #writeblr #writing a book #writing advice #writing resources #writing tools #writing tips #beta reading #how to #editing #editing process #editing advice #indie publishing #fanfiction

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voxina · 3 days ago

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Jade Thirlwall was only 14 when she first presented herself for judgement. She put on her best leopard-print headband and bravely sang some of Whitney Houston’s ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go’ in front of the X Factor panel. “You’re a funny little thing, aren’t you,” remarked an amused Simon Cowell, like a cat playing with its food. Louis Walsh then jumped in with: “Unusual!” In response, Thirlwall thanked them with an unwieldy grin.

For this tiny singer, it would be a case of third time lucky. After being put through to boot camp twice, she auditioned again at the age of 18, now wearing leopard-print trousers. Judge Kelly Rowland told the naturally shy teenager she’d be good in a girl group, an idea that Thirlwall was completely unimpressed with. She was resolute about being a solo artist and an unusual one at that.

Rowland, of Destiny’s Child fame, had correctly identified herself in Thirlwall. That season of the show, Thirlwall was placed in what would become the second biggest-selling UK girl group of all time, Little Mix. Their accolades could fill an infinite scrolling Wiki page. They were a well-oiled commercial pop machine amassing billions of streams with hits like ‘Black Magic’ and ‘Shout Out to My Ex’ while touring stadiums until they went on hiatus in 2022. “I didn’t see myself as a conventional girl’s girl. I was nerdy and quiet. When they told me I was gonna be put in a girl group, I automatically thought of Pussycat Dolls,” she laughs. “I thought, ‘Oh no, I’m not sexy — and if they’re bitchy, I’ll struggle because I’m not confrontational at all. I shrink at any drama.’ But it turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to me for my confidence and understanding of sisterhood.”

Tonight, I’m sharing wine with her at a table in Shoreditch House to discuss the fact that Thirlwall finally has what she wanted: she is the solo pop star she always dreamed of being. “I’m a bit of a dark horse,” the Rolling Stone UK Trailblazer Award winner tells me. “I’ll try anything once. I don’t see myself as a safe person creatively and I am a bit strange. All my life I’ve been told I’m weird.” Her bandmates and friends saw it, her boyfriend, Rizzle Kicks singer Jordan Stephens, saw it, Cowell clocked it after only minutes in her company, and now the rest of the world gets to see it.

Outwardly, she didn’t seem like the biggest personality in the band, but behind the scenes, Thirlwall had been the creative driving force and business mind. For her solo project, that incisive playfulness is fully on display. From the horror-influenced visuals to the Drag Race inspiration, Thirlwall — whose solo artist name is JADE — is more aligned with Charli XCX than Little Mix. On the addictive lead single, ‘Angel of My Dreams’, she switches between a Y2K sound, hyperpop and a nostalgic girl band chorus gone wonky to tell a story about the dark side of the music industry, a theme that is repeated across her presently untitled debut album. It’s smart and entirely unexpected.

In person, Thirlwall has the same excitable offbeat energy she had as a 14-year-old in her first audition. She’s like a conspiratorial friend primed for gossip exchange: she directs me to a clip that circulated from a Little Mix interview where fans thought she was on cocaine because she was pulling odd faces. “People don’t believe me even now,” she laughs, pausing to sip on her rosé. There were bad moments and dramas when she was in the group, of course, but she’s prepared for the same to happen in her solo career. “I’m never going to discredit what we achieved. I don’t have anything bad to say about it, so I wouldn’t stir anything up, just to look cool,” she laughs again.

The group’s young fanbase has matured with its members. Thirlwall doesn’t see it as her responsibility to appease them or tell them what they should and shouldn’t do. “I’m 31 years old, I’m gonna write about stuff I experience, my merchandise will reflect that, you know what I mean?” One such recent merchandise bundle includes sex aids. The other day, while recording with Sugababes, she told them what’s included in the package and had to explain to Keisha Buchanan what a butt plug is, much to her amusement. This is an older and wiser Jade Thirlwall having even more fun.

Thirlwall grew up in a household of eclectic tastes in South Shields, a seaside town near Newcastle. Her mother was a Motown fan who looked like Diana Ross, while her dad listened to 80s power ballads and VH1 classics. Her big brother — who she aspired to be like as every younger sibling does — was deeply into the happy hardcore-clubland classics era of the 90s and 00s. It was a happy childhood, in part due to the fact that there’s a strong Yemeni community in South Shields (Thirlwall is half Arab: one-quarter Yemeni, one-quarter Egyptian). “I have a lot of memories of my grandad cooking curries or waiting for him outside the mosque,” she remembers. “I listened to his prayer and Arabic music, too.” It wasn’t until she went to a Catholic secondary school, where she felt alienated, that she began to struggle with racist remarks and her feelings of anxiety. She was bullied by other girls, hence her initial reservations about being in a girl band.

While she was in Little Mix, she didn’t understand that she could have spoken out more about her race. “I’d only ever seen negative stereotypes of Arab people in the press, so I was scared to promote my heritage,” she says. “I feel sad for my younger self that I could’ve been the representation I needed back then. I try to make up for that now.” Thirlwall has been outspoken about issues close to her heart. Whether it was attending Black Lives Matter protests and pro-Palestine rallies or becoming an LGBTQ+ rights ambassador for the UK charity Stonewall, she stands out among many of her peers for her political verve.

Each of the girls knew a year ahead that Little Mix were disbanding, so they individually spent that period preparing in the studio. “It took me a long time to figure out how to not write a Little Mix song because that’s all I’d done for a decade,” admits Thirlwall. Panicked about the idea of having so much stillness after the group, she made an abundance of music in a bid to find her sound as soon as possible. This became an advantage: so sure of what she wanted to do, Thirlwall was able to approach potential labels with a fully formed vision. After signing with RCA of Sony, they assured her she could take her time to release her solo music, which came as a surprise: in the pop world, two and a half years is a long time to disappear. “In hindsight, I was freaking out about existing without the group and thought I had to jump on the hype of us just disbanding. If I’d released then, I would’ve been anxious and have put so much pressure on myself to be as big as [Little Mix] was.”

[...]

If Thirlwall was in charge of the music industry, it’d look different. Sure, it’s improving for artists because social media means “you can’t get away with as much bad shit”, but there’s some way to go. When I ask her how she’d change it, she sits up in a businesslike manner and adopts an Elle Woods from Legally Blonde tone. Before she’ll answer that, she’ll take me back to the nagging feeling she had that something wasn’t right with Little Mix. The four girls were presented with different contracts and told who their team was, and she didn’t feel she had a choice.

To all intents and purposes, Thirlwall and her fellow Little Mix band members were child stars. She agrees with this assessment. “I almost think you shouldn’t be allowed to be a star until you’re 18. I’m so glad I was turned away and didn’t get put in Little Mix until I was 18 — and even then, I feel like that was too young,” she says.

Previous X Factor winner and South Shields born-and-bred Joe McElderry had warned Thirlwall of his negative experiences in the industry. “I remember him saying make sure your mum’s there when you’re doing all these important signings. But I was too young to understand what he meant, and I made the same mistakes as him.”

It wasn’t until halfway into their career that the young women looked around and wondered who that person in the room being paid to be there was or why their peers and friends were making more money than them. Thirlwall and bandmate Leigh-Anne Pinnock helped to write the Little Mix music but weren’t signed into a publishing deal until 2019. Unfortunately, it was a “really shit deal” that they were stuck in but at least she was finally recognised as a songwriter, financially speaking. (For her solo career, she has not signed a publishing deal because she now finds it hard to trust the entire framework.)

If she were queen of the industry, her first decree would be to introduce a comprehensive course that artists take as soon as they’re signed by a label (if not sooner), that teaches them what a label deal is, how royalties work and how they make their money. That would prevent the type of situation that Little Mix got into when they were first signed. “When you come from a working-class background, you get your advance and think you’ve made it, but you have to recoup everything back. You’re getting all these lavish cars and making them wait for ages, but you’re footing that bill eventually,” she laughs drily. She would also introduce the sort of mental health care she’s managed to negotiate as a solo artist with her new label: a substantial pot of money that she can use if she needs therapy.

The topic of mental health brings the conversation round to Liam Payne, the One Direction member who tragically died in an accident while under the influence of drugs in October. He was Thirlwall’s peer — the only X Factor pop group to outperform Little Mix by any metric was One Direction, with the two groups frequently spoken about in the same breath — and was once her friend. They both had their first auditions during the same series, aged 14. The pair returned a second time: Liam went through to the finals and was placed into One Direction while Thirlwall was sent home. Payne was encouraging of Thirlwall and told her she had to keep trying X Factor. She was then put in a group on a later series. They fell out of touch over the years, but she was naturally upset to hear of the news for both him and for his family — their mothers are still friends.

“When the news broke out, it did shake me up because we’d started the same, but we’d ended up on very different paths. We both wanted to make it so much and sometimes that is a blessing and a curse to get what you’ve dreamed of. It’s unbelievably tragic,” she says of Payne’s death.

Just hours after it was reported that Payne had died, Thirlwall was due to start a heavy day of promo for her single ‘Fantasy’. She cancelled it as she didn’t feel like she was the right person to be fielding questions about his passing so soon after it happened. After all, she hadn’t been close to Payne over the past several years. “All I can speak of is who I knew he was when we were kids, and he was someone that wanted to make his family proud,” she reflects. “He wanted to be a singer more than anyone I knew.”

[Full article here]

#jade thirlwall #music industry #mental health #liam payne #xfactor #the x factor #tw liam's death mention

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pamwritessometimes · 2 days ago

Text

The Great Invasion: Chapter 2

Dean Winchester x female!reader

Summary: In a world turned upside down, where monsters hunt and hunters are the prey, Y/N must choose: follow the new rules to stay alive or join a rogue band of hunters determined to reclaim power and change the game for good.

General warnings: dark themes, gore, kind of apocalyptic vibes, language.

Chapter warnings: slight sexual innuendos, depression, ridiculous ghost talk, having dark flashbacks

Theme song of the chapter: Don't Ask Me No Questions by Lynyrd Skynyrd

Set after season 15.

Somewhat canon-divergent.

Catch up on Chapter 1 here

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2: I Just Want A Little Peace Of Mind

This was… not as nice as the Mandarin Oriental. In fact, everything felt outdated and dusty, and the black satin pajama set you were kidnapped in didn’t help you feel any better — it just reminded you of the rapid downhill ride your life was taking. It was something you thought wasn’t even possible:

Everything to get worse.

The room that Castiel guy led you to was smaller than the bathroom of your last suite. While you were used to these kinds of digs back when you were a hunter, being the legendary champion of the First and Second Hunter Games had spoiled you with the perks of luxury.

And not to mention that with that, you got another room that wasn’t quite yours.

Before you slammed the door in his face, Castiel mentioned that this room was one of the last available in the bunker. Apparently, they’d tried to clean it out, but some things from the previous owner stuck around thanks to the lack of storage space elsewhere.

A bunker. You were stuck in a goddamn bunker.

What a twist! Not only were you trapped in a completely unfamiliar place with strange people and the ex-Queen of Hell, but now you were a hunted target. Barbas wasn’t the type to let things slide.

It had been a couple of days now since you arrived, you assumed. You could hear chatter and occasional movements from other parts of the building, which you figured must be the other hunters Rowena had mentioned.

But somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the sturdy walls of your room. You didn’t want to face anyone out there, knowing they’d remind you of how you ended up here in the first place, something you never even wanted.

After a day or two of letting your anger fester, you decided enough was enough. Truth be told, boredom was starting to take over. The room didn’t offer much in the way of entertainment. You could work out — a habit that seemed to stick with you even after your captivity…though, to you, this also felt like captivity.

Still, that didn’t exactly fill up the day.

So, you decided to search the room. Castiel’s words about a previous owner stuck with you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to them. Maybe sifting through the remnants of their stuff would give you some answers… and it might keep you busy for a bit, too.

Boredom and a healthy dose of curiosity got the best of you, and before you knew it, you were rooting through the various storage boxes you’d found tucked away in the corner of the room. They were a mix of old files, random junk, and a few forgotten knick-knacks that looked like they hadn’t seen the light of day in years. You came across a huge stash of R rated magazines, too.

Great.

Then, you stumbled across a stash of clothes that definitely screamed menswear, which now wasn’t much of a surprise to you: old tees, button-ups, and pajama pants that looked like they’d been on a permanent sabbatical from their glory days. Still, they fit the bunker aesthetic far better than your matching set, which was starting to feel like a bit much for this apocalypse-chic vibe. With a reluctant sigh and a ‘why the hell not?’ shrug, you decided to give it a go.

lThe pants were a nonstarter; they dragged behind you like a sad and worn wedding train, so you stuck with your own. But the flannel? Now that was a surprise. It hung loosely on you, the sleeves comically long, but there was something almost charming about it. And nothing a little roll-up sleeve couldn’t fix. The fabric was soft from years of wear, frayed at the cuffs in a way that made it feel like it had lived a hundred lives before landing on your shoulders.

What really sold you, though, was the smell. Despite their worn appearance, the clothes carried a faint, lingering fragrance, woodsy, warm, and somehow very comforting. Whatever its origin, it was soothing enough in this apocalyptic time to convince you the flannel was a keeper.

After your little bunker chic makeover moment, one box caught your eye. It was a bit more organized than the rest, filled with neatly stacked tape cassettes. Most of them were unlabeled, but one tape stood out. The label on it read:

Dean’s Car Shaking Traxx

Well, that was… something.

Curious, you pried the tape from its resting place and noticed something odd as well: a tape player sitting smugly at the bottom of the box. A little old-fashioned, sure, but it was there. And, lo and behold, there was a set of headphones too, though slightly frayed at the edges but still in one piece.

They both seemed to be in working condition.

You hadn’t heard any music in what felt like forever, not since Hell decided to make Earth its vacation spot. What was the last time you actually listened to songs for the sheer enjoyment of it? Probably it was with your dad before the Invasion. He used to take you out to concerts, your favorite bands, his favorite bands, on weekends. That tradition started when you turned sixteen, and he surprised you with tickets to an Aerosmith show. It became a regular thing, a tradition you kept up for years until—

You shook the thought away, eager for something that would make you feel normal, even if it was just for a few minutes.

You plugged in the tape, set the headphones over your ears, and hit play.

“Well, Dean, please don’t be a country guy” you muttered, glancing down at the flannel you were wearing.

The first few chords kicked in, and you couldn’t help but smile.

CCR.

Up Around The Bend.

You leaned back and thought the tape was crackling slightly, it didn’t matter and you didn’t care. For a moment, you could almost pretend the world hadn’t turned upside down and fish yourself a little piece of peace.

Castiel walked up and down the hallway, clearly waiting for someone. Every now and then, he'd glance at the different rooms and areas in the bunker.

The library was full of hunters, some reading lore books, others chatting casually. A few stayed in their rooms, likely dealing with their own thoughts — that he understood. None of them signed up for this. Others were at the shooting range, either to train for whatever came next or to numb their nerves about the whole situation, the sound of gunshots a clear indicator of it.

He had been running the bunker alone for what felt like ages. Jack was supposed to be back by now, and yet here he was, walking holes into the floor of the building. If he were human, his feet would’ve been screaming by now.

Suddenly, he froze. A familiar voice hit his ears coming from the hall from the west side of the building.

“No, no, explain it to me again” Dean’s voice rang out, equal parts frustrated and confused. “What do you mean Hell invaded Earth? How the hell does that even happen? And where the hell was Rowena—?”

Another voice, Jack’s this time, came. “I told you, Dean. Demons came up earthside, unleashing every monster they could find.”

"When did that even happen?” Sam asked, the confusion clear in his voice.

Castiel took a deep breath and started walking towards them, dreading two facts: one, it’d been Jack knows how long since he met the Winchesters; and two, it seems Kid God didn’t brief them in entirely.

It wasn’t necessarily the reunion he once hoped for.

He rounded the corner, and there they were. Dean, leaning against a table, rubbing his face as if he could somehow erase the last few hours from his brain. Sam, on the other hand, was pacing the room like a human tornado, clearly trying to solve a puzzle that was missing half its pieces and the other half was written in hieroglyphics.

Both of them looked… well, confused and mildly pissed, to put it lightly. But honestly, who wouldn’t be? Their perpetual, much-deserved heavenly nap had been rudely interrupted by yet another apocalypse. They’d dealt with more end-of-the-world scenarios than any human ever should, and now, it seemed they couldn’t even catch a break in the afterlife.

But the second they saw their long-time-no-see friend, everything seemed to stop. Time hung for a beat.

Dean blinked as he caught the eyes of the blue-eyed angel.

"Cas?" his voice cracked slightly, his lips twitching into a genuine smile.

Sam’s face softened too, once he glanced at his old friend.

Dean took a step forward, pulling him into a tight hug. Then, Sam wrapped his arms around both of them, the three of them standing there for a moment in a rare moment of peace. Like the world wasn’t crumbling outside, like there wasn’t a bloody, chaotic mess waiting to tear them apart.

Castiel smiled, a strange nostalgia creeping through his perpetual mind.

Yet, he cleared his throat as he reluctantly pulled away. "It’s good to see you again, too" His gaze flicked from Dean to Sam. "Though I wish it was in a better situation. I'm sorry we had to interrupt your Heaven. But the world... it’s in chaos. Hell’s on Earth, literally."

Dean pulled back slightly, his grin fading into a more serious expression. "Yeah, I figured this wasn’t gonna be all hugs and ‘how’s afterlife’. Can’t even let a guy rest in goddamn peace."

Then, Jack turned to Cas. “Was everything alright while I was gone?”

The angel nodded, then added, “Rowena’s back as well.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “She brought her, too.”

Jack's smile widened a little as he processed the news.

“That’s good” He then turned to Sam and Dean with a spark of excitement in his eyes. “Come on. I want you to meet everyone here.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. “Everyone?” he echoed, sharing a quick glance with Dean before the two followed Jack toward the war room.

As they entered the room, the on-going conversation quieted and was replaced by the weight of at least a couple dozen curious stares, all pointing to their direction. Hunters of all kinds were scattered around the room. Some were fairly young, almost teens, a few of them older, battle-worn and their expressions ranged from intrigued to wary, all fixed on the newcomers.

Dean furrowed his brows, his gaze sweeping the crowd. Despite the enormous size of the bunker, the room suddenly felt suffocatingly small. It reminded him of the time they offered their home to the refugees from Apocalypse World — except now, it wasn’t just a handful of people. This was at least three times that number, maybe more.

He glanced and Sam and then muttered, “Guess we missed the memo about this place turning into Grand Central Hunter Station.”

Sam pointed a glare at him, then turned to Jack. “So… what are we facing here, again?”

Guns N’ Roses blasted through your headphones, drowning out every thought except the music. You made it your mission to listen to every cassette tape you found in the boxes. By the time you hit cassette number three’s flip side, the music was doing its job at making you feel a bit calmer a little too well. Your eyelids got heavier with every riff and before you knew it, you’d dozed off against the headboard.

The music was loud enough to block out the creak of the door opening, but not the voice that followed.

“Why’s there a chick in my room?” a gruff voice demanded. A pause. Then louder, like the words were physically offensive: “Listening to my damn tapes? Wearing my damn clothes?”

Maybe that last part didn’t bother him as much as the rest, though he wasn’t about to admit it. He was too busy scowling and reminding himself that this room, his room, was supposed to be his sanctuary. Instead, here you were, in his flannel, looking entirely too cozy and he woudln't admit it out loud, but also borderline irresistible for someone squatting in his space.

Or was this Jack’s way of saying, Sorry I yanked you out of Heaven, but hey, thanks for agreeing to help me clean up yet another apocalyptic mess!?

Because if so—

But before Dean could spiral further, you jolted awake at his raised tone. Your heart pounded as your survival instincts kicked in. Adrenaline surged and without fully registering who or what you were looking at, you lunged your fists.

“Whoa!” Dean yelped, stumbling back as your fist connected with his chest. He rubbed the spot but barely flinched, barely feeling anything. It was more the act that bothered him. “What the hell was that for?”

Your breath hitched as you glared at him, still half-asleep and wildly defensive. “Who the hell are you, and why are you in my room?”

“Your room?!” Dean repeated, incredulous. “Lady, this is my—” He didn’t finish before you aimed a swift kick at his shin.

Dean sighed, though it was clear he wasn’t actually hurt. “Okay, seriously, what is your deal?”

“My deal?!” You shot back, breathless and still glaring. “You’re the one creeping around in my room, touching my tapes!”

Dean stopped mid-reach for his cassette player, looking at you with a frown.

“Touching your—?” Dean sputtered, clearly at a loss. “This is literally my room, and you’re wearing my—”

Before things escalated further and you could throw another useless punch in his direction, a firm hand landed on your shoulder.

“Y/N” Castiel’s voice cut in, calm and steady. “This is Dean Winchester. He is, technically, the original owner of this room... and much of what’s in it.”

Your brain paused mid-comeback. You glanced at the man, Dean, then down at the flannel you were wearing, and finally at the stack of tapes you’d been working through.

Wait. This guy made those awesome tapes? This is the guy whose flannel I’m wearing?

Dean didn’t miss the realization dawning on your face.

“Yeah” he said dryly, crossing his arms. “That’s my flannel. And my tapes. And my room.”

Castiel sighed, already sensing the incoming argument. “Dean” he said flatly. “you died.”

Dean turned to him. “Yeah, well, guess what, Cas? I’m back.”

“Technically…”

Dean’s frown deepened. “What?”

“Technically” Castiel continued, “you’re not back in the way you used to be. You’re a spirit now, Dean. You don’t need sleep, which means you don’t need a room.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “‘Scuse me?”

You finally found your voice again, snapping your attention to Castiel. “Wait, wait, what the hell do you mean he died?”

“Y/N—” Castiel started, but you weren’t done.

“No, seriously, what the hell?” you repeated, panic and confusion rising. “Are you saying he’s a ghost? Or, like, a demon or something? How the hell did he even get in here?”

“He is not a demon” Castiel said, cutting you off. “And he’s here because Jack brought him back.”

“Am I supposed to know who this Jack guy is? And why are you saying he ‘brought him back’ like that’s supposed to make this sound less insane?”

Dean threw his hands up in the air, clearly done with you, starting to pace the room. "Great. How is she supposed to be a part of this team if she doesn’t even know who Jack is? Does she even know our lore?” He shot a glance at Castiel, as if begging for some backup, but you weren’t having any of it.

“Do you know my lore?” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "How about the fact that I literally crawled out of the deepest pits of demon's hell just to survive, and now I'm stuck in this insane supernatural soap opera? Pretty sure I didn’t sign up for this mess.”

Dean stopped pacing and turned to face you. “Listen, princess, I’m not exactly thrilled about this either, but guess what? The world’s ending. Again. And we don’t have time for your pity party.”

“Oh, princess? Real original, flannel boy” you fired back, stepping even closer, toe-to-toe now. “You think you’re so high and mighty because you’ve been doing this longer? Look where it got you! And mewsflash: your tapes aren’t that good.”

Alright, that last part was just you being pity.

Dean gasped like you’d just kicked his puppy. “Not that good?!”

“That’s right, you heard it.”

“You’ve got a big mouth, you know that?”

“And you’ve got a big ego” you snapped back, your pulse inexplicably speeding up as you met his fiery gaze. Up close, you could see the freckles dusted across his face and the slight dots in his green irises, and the way his upper lip curved into a perfect cupid bow. You weren’t sure if you wanted to smack him or just—

“Enough” Castiel interjected, his tone like a bucket of ice cold water thrown on fire. He stepped between the two of you, looking like a frustrated parent breaking up a sibling fight.

Dean and you both took a step back, muttering under your breaths.

“Y/N” Castiel began, his blue eyes meeting yours, his voice calm but firm. “You need to understand. Jack isn’t just anyone. He… well…Jack is… essentially God. Or, at least, the closest thing to God we have now.”

You blinked at him while his words were bouncing around your brain like pinballs. “Wait, what?”

“He’s God” Dean said bluntly, clearly enjoying your disbelief. “The big man upstairs took early retirement for being a shithead, and Jack stepped in to take over. He’s the one keeping this whole crapshow from falling apart.” Dean then leaned toward Castiel, loudly whispering, “So, I’m guessing she also doesn’t know he’s Lucifer’s kid?”

Your eyes shot to Castiel, disbelief written all over your face. “Lucifer’s kid?”

Cas nodded.

“Let me just repeat: wait, WHAT?” You threw your hands up, pacing a small, frustrated circle before spinning back to face them. “So, let me get this straight. Ghost-boy over here” you jabbed a finger at Dean, “is somehow back because the world’s new Devil-God hybrid thought it was a good idea?”

Dean crossed his arms and looked rrather affronted. “Ghost-boy? Seriously?”

“Jack’s not the devil” Castiel said, voice steady and soothing like he was talking to a toddler. “Far from it. He’s actually the one who fixed what Chuck, uh, the former god, broke.”

You let out a slow, sarcastic chuckle. “Oh, sure. The perfect way to fix God’s mess: The Devil’s spawn. Makes total sense.”

Dean let out an exasperated groan. “Alright, you are just impossible.”

“And you are dead” you shot back. “So maybe take a seat, Flannel Casper.”

Dean let out a dry laugh, the kind that oozed disbelief. “Flannel Casper? Oh, that’s real funny. Guess what, sweetheart? This ain’t your room. It’s mine. You’re the squatter wearing my shirt.”

You shot him a glare, tugging the oversized shirt tighter around you. “Well, maybe you should’ve labeled it before you kicked the bucket, Flannel Casper.”

“I swear, if you call me that one more time—”

“What? You gonna haunt me harder?”

“I’m resurrected, not haunting” Dean corrected. “And as much as I’m loving this little spat, Cas is right. Jack’s the real deal. He’s a kid with God-level powers trying to fix what’s broken. Cut him some slack.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving Dean an unimpressed look. “And how’s that working out? Because from where I’m standing, the world’s still a total dumpster fire.”

Castiel sighed deeply, his expression softening a little, clearly happy Dean is at least trying to calm you down now. “We know. We all know. But that’s why we’re here, trying to fix it.” He gave a quick glance toward Dean before turning back to you. “Look, we’re not asking you to like it. Just to… cooperate.”

He paused for a moment, then added, “There’s a meeting tonight at six in the war room. It’s just down the hall.We’d like you to join us.”

He then glanced at Dean and nodded toward the door, silently asking him to lead himself out and let you weigh his words. He sighed, but complied nevertheless.

You narrowed your eyes at his back as he left, but you had to admit, something about the whole situation made you curious. You glanced at Castiel, who was still standing there, his expression unreadable.

“Do we really have God in this bunker?” you asked, finally breaking the silence.

Cas nodded slowly. “Yes. Jack’s on our side. In fact, he’s the one who organized this.”

Your gaze fell to the floor, shaking your head slightly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me" you mumbled in disbelief.

"Believe me, I'm bad at kidding."

He then turned to leave but paused at the door.

“We’ll be in the war room at six. Think about it.”

And with that, he was gone. You leaned back against the door, arms crossed, your mind a whirlwind of frustration, disbelief, and a healthy dose of curiosity.

God-level powers. Devil’s kid. The Great Invasion. It all felt like you were stuck in the worst kind of fever dream. You couldn't decide if you wanted to scream, cry, or run. Or maybe all three.

By six p.m., the war room was packed. Well, almost packed.

You, of course, were missing.

It was the first official meeting for the hunters living in the bunker. Some had been here for over a year, while others had only recently joined. They’d all arrived, courtesy of Castiel, Jack, or whatever angel Jack had managed to charm into playing cosmic Uber. Some unlucky souls, like you, were recruited, or more like brought here without their consent by Rowena. At first, the whole thing had been met with skepticism. And who could blame them? An underground bunker full of demon traps seemed too good to be true. But, given that hunters were now the ones being hunted, this was their best shot at survival.

And now, with you and the Winchesters finally being dragged into the fold, the recruitment process was officially over. They’d rounded up every hunter in sight. The team was complete and now, it was time to figure out what the hell came next.

But none of that really mattered to you. You were currently in your room, headphones in, pretending that a meeting about saving the world was the last thing on your to-do list. Who needs that noise when you could be busy being a reluctant background character in their season finale of Apocalypse: Part 230?

You leaned back in your chair, giving the ceiling a long, judgmental stare. Maybe you’d just sleep through the whole thing. It’s not like you were going to be much help. And honestly, your bed was giving off some serious come lay down and avoid your responsibilities vibes. A good ten hours of sleep sounded like just the thing to get you through the next apocalypse.

Your body, however, had other ideas. Four days of solid room service (courtesy of mystery snack fairy) had only fueled your inner hermit, and the clock on your nightstand didn’t lie: you were starving. You had no intention of facing the others, though.

So, for now, you'd been making it work. Snacks magically appeared at your door. Just a knock, and then bam. A tray of food, like some weird, celestial version of Grubhub. You’d never figured out who was behind it, but you were grateful, even if you missed Rommer's presence sometimes and the meals he brought.

Today, however, there was no knock. No food. No magical snack delivery.

You glanced at the clock again. Six ten.

Your stomach grumbled in protest. Fine. Maybe you’d have to venture out and loot some food yourself. At least with everyone at that meeting Castiel was blabbering about, you might have a shot at swiping something before anyone noticed.

You sighed, dramatically flopping your feet onto the cold concrete floor and headed out of the room.

“This place is like a goddamn maze” you muttered as you wandered down the hallway.

You’d been wandering for what felt like hours, but only was probably a solid five minutes, trying to remember whether you’d just passed the same door for the third time or if you’d entered some cruel parallel dimension where all hallways looked suspiciously identical. At the end of your latest path, you spotted one lonely doorway, and figured, why not?

You stepped into the threshold, but then froze.

And you’d probably still be standing there, wondering what cruel joke the universe had played on you, if not for the fact that what you found on the other side was, well... a bit of a shock.

The room in front of you was packed.

Your eyes scanned the scene: hunters of all shapes, sizes, and moods. Some looked like they had been at it for decades, their faces as hard as their weapons. Others looked more like they were holding on to whatever shred of humanity was left in a world gone to hell.

So I guess I found the war room, you thought sarcastically.

Your brain had no idea what to do with this. This was the first time you’d stepped out of your room. This was the first time you were actually face-to-face with any of them. Well, all of them.

They were looking back at you, and that, for some reason, scared the shit out of you.

“Is that—” A voice whispered from across the room.

“What the hell is she doing here?” another one piped up, followed by a chuckle laced with disbelief.

“She can’t kiss demons’ asses out of death here” someone else muttered.

Well, isn’t that just peachy? Your reputation had clearly made the rounds before you even had the chance to make an entrance. Perfect.

You had this gut feeling, the kind that whispered, Stay in your room. Don’t go. It’s not worth it. And damn, how you wished you’d listened to it. But hunger had a way of overriding any form of common sense, and now here you were, in the lion’s den.

You clenched your jaw, every fiber of your being screaming at you to turn around and retreat back to your room, where the worst you’d have to face was your own reflection. But instead, you planted your feet firmly in place, squared your shoulders and made an unspoken promise to yourself that you were not going to let their words get to you. You were better than that, right?

Or at the very least you could look like you didn’t care.

The whispers grew louder, the judgment palpable as more people recognized you. A few hunters exchanged glances so loud, they might as well have been shouting.

“She’s gonna get us all killed.”

“Should’ve left her out there where she belongs.”

Nice. A real welcoming crowd.

Dean, sitting at the table and clearly having a moment of ‘where the hell did all this drama come from,’ glanced over at you. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but he somehow saw through the tough act you were putting on. Beneath all that bravado, he could see the raw and jagged edges of hurt just begging to break free.

Leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, Dean couldn’t help himself. He turned to Castiel with a mischievous smirk, his voice was dripping with curiosity about you.

"So, room squatter’s real popular here, huh? What’d they mean she can’t kiss demons’ asses out here?"

“It’s… complicated” the angel replied, just realizing Dean is still a bit behind on this whole story. “She, uh, she won the Hunter Games twice.”

Dean squinted, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Wait, that teen novel from the 2010s? With the guy with the bread name?”

Cas rolled his eyes with a quiet, almost exasperated sigh. “No. Not that. It’s a game demons set up for hunters they capture. They… They fight for their lives in an arena against monsters. And she was very favored by the monster crowd.”

Dean’s face contorted, his brain clearly still struggling to process the concept of Hunter Games, but he kept his mouth shut. His attention shifted back to you, standing there like a lion tamer on the edge of snapping.

Stubborn. Broken. Probably both at once.

It finally clicked. You weren’t just some random face in the room. You’d been through hell. Literally. No wonder the anger radiated off you like a force field. You’d been fighting demons for who knows how long. And now, here you were, in a room full of strangers judging you without even trying to understand you.

You opened your mouth to say something about maybe just finding the kitchen (if this place even had one), but before you could get the words out, you were cut off.

“Welcome! You can take a seat, if you’d like to” Jack offered you an encouraging nod.

For a split second, you froze, staring at the guy like you were trying to solve a riddle. Was this guy, with the warm smile and the kind eyes, really God and Lucifer’s kid?

And if this kid was truly God… Should you bow? Kneel? Say Hallelujah? Maybe throw in a spontaneous hymn for good measure? You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for meeting a divine offspring, but your instincts were telling you that flinging yourself on the floor wasn’t exactly the best approach.

So, you did the only reasonable thing. You followed his simple instructions.

Your feet felt like lead as you stepped into the room, the stares burning into your back even without you actually seeing them. You spotted an empty chair near the edge of the group, far enough from the center of attention but close enough to hear whatever grand plan they were about to lay out.

As you slid into the chair, someone across the table muttered just loud enough to be heard “Hope she doesn’t screw things up.”

Without missing a beat, you shot back.

“Don’t worry. I’ll leave the screwing up to you.”

A few hunters snickered, and the guy who’d spoken, Joe as you later learned, glared at you like he was about to unleash some righteous indignation but ultimately decided against it.

Smart choice.

Dean leaned toward Sam with a smirk. “Feisty. I like it.”

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, he muttered under his breath, “Can we focus, please? Wait…” His eyes narrowed as he glanced at you. “Is that your shirt she’s wearing?”

Dean grinned like a kid caught stealing cookies. “Hot, innit?”

Sam facepalmed, but before the verbal sparring could go any further, Jack stepped in.

“Thank you all for coming to this meeting. Some of you may know me, but for the newcomers, my name’s Jack” he said, his eyes sweeping across the room. “We’re here because this is it. Hell’s armies are growing stronger every day, and we’re running out of time. We have to find a way to stop them before they overwhelm us completely.”

Dean, now leaning forward with his elbows on the table, raised an eyebrow. “Alright. What’s the play? Because I’m guessing you didn’t pull us all together just to give us a ‘rah-rah, go team’ speech.”

Jack gave a faint smile but didn’t lose his serious tone. “As you all know, Hell revolted against Rowena’s new leadership. They didn’t like her reforms, making Hell less about eternal suffering and more about, well… governance.”

Your brows furrowed.

Wait a damn minute.

That didn’t match what you’d been told at all. Alright, demons weren’t exactly known for their honesty, but if what Kid God was saying was true, then Rowena’s leadership wasn’t the tyrannical nightmare you’d been led to believe.

Was she… not as bad as Barbas and his demon cronies had painted her?

“Every revolution has a leader” Sam said, clearly still piecing the Great Invasion together in his head. “Who led the uprising?”

“It was a demon named Malgathor.”

The name poked at your brain just a bit, nagging like an itch you couldn’t scratch. Malgathor. You’d heard that name before. But where?

Before you could follow the thread, it hit you — a sharp and searing pain flashing into and through your skull, so sudden and intense it felt like someone was trying to peel your brain apart from the inside with a crowbar.

Your hands shot to your temples as you squeezed your eyes shut and that’s when you saw it.

A dimly lit room. Fancy but not ostentatious. Mandarin Oriental vibes, but more… utilitarian. Probably somewhere in its basement.

You were sitting in a chair, restrained. Across the room, faceless figures moved, one stepping closer. There was something about him that sent a chill crawling up your spine and you instinctively started to tremble.

And then, a voice.

“Hey!” the figure shouted. Harsh, commanding. “Hey! Are you okay?!”

But the voice twisted as the vision fractured, morphing into something softer. Female.

“Hey! Are you okay?”

You blinked hard, the image shattering like glass as reality crashed back in. The dim light was gone, replaced by the suddenly too bright fluorescents of the bunker. Dozens of eyes were on you, their expressions ranging from concern to confusion.

A blonde woman had her hand on your shoulder. “You okay there?” she asked, her voice cautious, like she was afraid you might snap at any moment.

You swallowed hard.

What the hell just happened?

You straightened, trying to play it off. “Yeah, I’m fine” you muttered, though you were acutely aware of how not fine you looked. Your face was pale, your hands trembling like you’d downed five espressos too many.

Dean’s eyed you from the other side of the table. “Fine? You just looked like someone plugged your brain into a car battery. That doesn’t scream fine to me.”

You shot him a look, equal parts defiant and exhausted. “Where were we?”

Dean frowned, clearly unsettled by your lack of snark. No witty comeback? No biting remark? That wasn’t you, not like he knew much about what was you. But if he learned anything from his one encounter with you was that you never shut up. His eyes stayed focused on you a moment longer and he couldn’t help but catch the slight tremor in your hands that you thought you were hiding so well.

Before he could press further, Sam shifted the focus. “Malgathor?” he said, his brows knitting together in thought. “How come we’ve never heard about him before?”

“Because he liked Fergus’ version of Hell” Rowena’s Scottish accent chimed in.

Your gaze flicked to her and your eyes narrowed instinctively. Something about her perfect red curls and sharply lined crimson lips rubbed you the wrong way, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. But then Jack’s words about her earlier came rushing back. Nobody else in the room seemed suspicious. Hell, they barely batted an eye at her presence.

Was it possible… she wasn’t the villain you’d been led to believe?

“Malgathor had no interest in causing trouble before. Fergus, for all his flaws, kept Hell… predictable. Contracts, misery, order. But when I took over and began implementing reforms, he turned on me. Violently.”

“Reforms?” you asked before you could stop yourself, the word tasting strange in your mouth. “What kind of reforms are we talking about here?”

Rowena’s eyes flicked to you, and for a moment, her expression softened. “I ended crossroads deals, stopped the eternal suffering racket, gave the damned something resembling purpose. Needless to say, it didn’t sit well with the traditionalists.”

You blinked, your brain working overtime to reconcile this version of her with the one you’d been told about by the demons who’d dragged you through hell. Had they lied? Twisted the truth? It wouldn’t be the first time.

“So” Dean said, his voice drawing everyone back. “This Malgathor guy was all-in on the Crowley’s Hell playbook, huh? Contracts, fire, long-ass lines, the whole nine yards?”

“Precisely, dear” Rowena replied, her lips curling into a grim line. “Only now, he’s expanded his vision. No longer content with Hell as it was, he’s decided to extend its boundaries. Permanently.”

Sam straightened, his brow furrowing. “You mean… he’s trying to bring Hell topside?”

Rowena nodded.

“Not just bring it topside, Samuel. Recreate it. The whole planet, one giant pit of eternal torment, chaos, and misery. He’s determined to make Earth Hell’s crowning jewel — greater than it ever was below.”

You sat back, watching the pieces click into place for everyone else, but your mind was spinning in a different direction. Malgathor’s plan sounded insane, sure, but it also felt oddly familiar. Like you’d heard of something similar before.

“What’s the plan, then?” Dean asked, breaking the tense silence. “How do we stop this Hell wannabe dictator?”

Jack finally spoke. “We need to find his residence. He’s cloaking himself with magic strong enough to evade even me.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Even you? Aren’t you, like, God 2.0? Shouldn’t that come with a built-in demon GPS?”

“It’s not that easy, Dean” Jack said simply, then turned to you. “I may not have the means to find him… but someone might have heard something about him.”

You froze. The sudden shift in attention made your skin crawl. “Oh, no” you muttered, holding up a hand that was still trembling just a little. “Don’t look at me like that. I have no idea who this Malgathor is.”

Joe, that hunter guy from earlier shot his eyebrow up. “Oh, come on, champ. You’ve been cozying up to demons for how long? You’re telling me not one of them dropped Malgathor’s name during happy hour?”

“Cozying up to demons? Is that what we’re calling ‘being tortured and barely surviving’ now?” you snapped at him.

Sam’s eyes flicked between you and Joe, sensing the brewing storm. “Okay, let’s all just—”

“No” Joe cut him off, leaning forward with a smug look on his face and his arms crossed. “I’m serious. If anyone here knows anything about Hell’s A-list psychos, it’s her.”

“Wow, thanks” you shot back, voice laced with venom. “Really nice to know my trauma has made me your go-to demon Rolodex.”

Dean muttered a low, amused yikes under his breath, but Joe either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

Rowena cleared her throat.

“Perhaps, instead of bickering like children, we could ask the right questions.” Her gaze landed on Joe then softened as it moved to you. It seemed uncharacteristic of her and infuriatingly annoying to you. “Y/N, dear, I understand you’ve been through… well, hell. But even the tiniest scrap of memory could make all the difference.”

“I said” you repeated and drew each word out slowly and sharper than a demon blade. “I. Don’t. Know.”

And with that, you decided this conversation was over.

Next on The Great Invasion (Sneak Peek from Chapter 3):

He picked up the silky fabric that you immediately recognized as your pajama top from earlier. “Except for this. Didn’t take you for a fancy PJ girl… But I gotta admit, this looks nice.”

But my shirt looks better on you, he thought, as he placed the black satin on the chair next to you.

“Dean… I swear, if you don’t get the hell out of here—”

Instinctively, your hand shot under the bed, grabbing the box of rock salt you’d stashed there for just such occasions.

“Woah, no need to get antsy” he said, moving his hands up in surrender.

You chuckled, glancing at the salt in your hand with a wicked smirk. “Wait, does this really work on you?” You raised an eyebrow.

Hey, you! Yeah, I’m talking to you. Looking fantastic in his shirt. 😉

All jokes aside, I hope you had fun reading Chapter 2 of The Great Invasion. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 3: coming soon!

🤍Series taglist🤍

@thebiggerbear @spnaquakindgdom @artyandink @globetrotter28 @kaz-2y5-spn

🤍Jensen taglist🤍

@roseblue373

#jensen ackles #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x you #dean x reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #The Great Invasion

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thetommoway-oioii · 3 days ago

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I've finished s1 of bbc merlin and boy have I got stuff to say. first things first, if you've followed my watch updates through s1 you probably have figured out I know major spoilers already. not only do i know spoilers but I'd like to confess that I've already read ungodly amounts of merthur fics before even getting through the entire season. you can't really blame me because they've had tension between them since episode one like... fucks sake i needed them to make out right after merlin's royal prat comment because lord knows arthur was about ready to get on his knees for the snarky little fucker that came out of nowhere. sorry I'm rambling. back to the point.

I liked s1, aside from the stifling ST it was good. lots and lots of potential there. although I know I'm gonna be disappointed as I already know some major spoilers. aside from being completely in love with merlin, I'm also in love with arthur because that boy deserves to be wrapped up in a giant soft warm blanket as much as merlin does for his unappreciated work because FUCKING UTHER PENDRAGON is the worst father to walk the earth just after john fucking winchester and i hate him with the power of thousand suns. YOU GIANT ARSEHOLE. stop being a dick to your child you bigoted fucktard. anyway.

bottom line, s1 was good. merthur needs to fucking kiss or better yet just get married. uther is a little bitch and can catch my fucking fists. merlin and arthur are both absolute idiots who keep risking their lives for each other which is I guess the literal theme of the show. they're idiots but I love them nonetheless.

I'm off to scream into the void and start s2. later 🚶

#merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merlin x arthur #fuck uther pendragon

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shnoob · 2 days ago

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Kurapika Kurta HC’s:

A/N: FINALLY ONTO HXH!! I have been wanting to do this for a LONG time but life got in the way, which it will again this week but I'm very excited to get this out there!

C/W: Has both fluff and angst!

Leave any suggestions if you want to see something specific!

Fluff:

Is one of THE best people to ask about making bracelets or anything crafty related. Due to his exterior, he seems like somebody who wouldn't care about it (in for his goals he doesn’t do them often) but back at the village, he would teach all the little kids how.

Speaking of the village he also is probably really good about braiding hair or doing other people's hair. I can see him back then being an older figure to all the kids in the village so being that figure comes with responsibilities!!

If you need to know any definition or any historical facts, he is your man. You’ve seen him read those books, he’s educated!! Not only does he do it for fun (and probably used those skills for the Spiders-), but for the exam to go out into the real world he found some research on the history of the outside world to get him at least some sort of idea what he was stepping into.

Would 100% correct you if you spelled/or pronounced something wrong. If that ends up being verbal or just in his head? Depends on his mood. 9/10 it's in his head but catch him in a bad mood and he won't hesitate to mummer it under his breath.

Yes, he is very stand-offish due to his life/profession BUT I like to believe that deep down he is a really good listener and will pay attention. I mean we can see it first season!! Sure he may not say anything once it gets to the point where he’s in York New but he does retain the information said to him and just leaves it on the back burner.

Back on the crafty gig, he knows how to crochet and knit. Instead of buying bookmarkers to not lose his place in his book, he makes his own (when he has the time anyway).

One of the neatest people known to mankind. Although he doesn't get the time to do it, having a clean environment makes him happy and makes him focus better. If not in a clean environment such as his room, I feel like it stresses him out to where he needs to get up and put some stuff away before he can lay down and then stress about the Spiders.

Tea drinker!! Drinks coffee but doesn't like the taste of it. LOVESS a tea that tastes more fruity <3.

LOVES nicknames. Giving or receiving them deep down means something to him. Especially after you give one to him, if you don't use it he’ll wonder why and get a bit disheartened :(.

The biggest gentlemen around! Holds doors for people, always says thank you and excuse me when moving around, biggest tipper etc. An “angel from above” is the words you’d hear people using for him from strangers. It has come to the point where if he enters a coffee shop he often goes to they already know and get in such a good mood.

Loves birds!! As a side hobby he has a collection of pictures of birds he’s taken over the years. With that, he has definitely learned some bird calls and will not hesitate to show somebody the difference between them.

(is in love with Leorio I swear!!)

Angst:

When he was younger, the color red was something that was noted as a good thing, and due to his clan he was so confident in his eyes. Now he cant bare to look into the mirror somedays just because of his eyes.

With the color red, he cant stand the thought of it being his favorite color. He probably doesn't even have one after everything due to how attached he was to red and now that attachment is unhealthy.

Seriously doesn't take care of himself. Like at all. As much as I love the fluff he wouldn't know what a healthy life looks like anymore.

Has so much survivor's guilt (which this one is obvious but to the point where it hurts).

A lot of people say that he doesnt care about his friends bu he definitely does. In fact I say that he lives in a detachment type style. Due to his deep rage and focus it makes him feel that being away from everybody he cares about is the right thing to do because he cant let anybody else get hurt and theres no time to be doing things he enjoys most. By this though, he feels those surges of guilt by not keeping in touch; but now its been so long without talking to them the guilt of going back is so deep he cant bare to face them.

When he cries most of the time he doesnt even realize. His brain just shuts down to where it doesnt register that he is upset and needs to take a minute. It doesnt help that half of the time tears dont even fall, so its just a emotional block.

Will never be able to commit to a romantic situation but still dreams of it :(.

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losech · 2 days ago

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could you do a hunting gear haul of all the stuff you use for the dogs, like the reflective vests that you use and collars and such. I don't know what reflective vest I should buy for my dog and am wondering what a hunter uses.

The vests are old Ruffwear Track Jackets, they are not made anymore but you can still find them in ruffwear resale groups on facebook and sites like ebay. The newer version Ruffwear has is more bulky. A lot of hunters use vests made by a guy called Larry Riel, he does stuff the old fashioned way, you gotta call him and send a check.

The collars I have are 1.5" reflective biothane with name plates riveted on. I do not use dangly tags when hunting, they just get ripped off. I buy most of my hunting dog collars from Outdoor Dog Supply and Double U Supply.

You can use whatever leash, always have one with you.

My dogs also wear Garmin Alpha GPS collars. I have the Alpha 100 and TT15Mini collars. I like being able to use the tone when my dogs are out of sight or hearing for recall. If you want a Garmin GPS but don't want ecollar functions (which are customizable) you could get an Astro instead. I have birdseye, property types, terrain, trails, and road maps installed on my handheld. Be very careful buying these used, don't get them from some random guy on facebook as most of the time that is a scam. Buy from a Garmin authorized reseller for used and refurbished units. Most of them run black friday deals on Alpha and Astro units and collars.

GPS is not necessary to hunt with, I just strongly prefer to have it because I hunt on small tracts of land and like to know exactly where my dogs are.

You can use a cheap blaze orange shirt, hoodie, hat, or vest from walmart and as long as you've got the minimum required amount of blaze for your state you'll be good. You can carry squirrels in any kind of bag or pack, you do not need specialized equipment for that but it does make it easier.

The first vest I used was a Browning Upland vest I got for cheap on sale somewhere online. It's got pockets for carrying shells and game, but did not have a waist belt, was kinda bulky, and got warm quickly. This is a very common style of vest and you can find them for much cheaper than this one is new.

The vest I use currently is an older Orvis Pro Upland vest. I got this on sale too, I almost never pay full price for hunting stuff. They have a couple other models, and lots of other companies make these too. The problem I have with mine (and a few others I've tried) is they are too big even in the small size, and getting a vest that actually fits me from a company that makes products for smaller people and women is ridiculously expensive, so I just deal with it.

Most of my smaller hunting gear fits in this vest. Binoculars, leash, spare battery for the GPS, a headlamp, water bottle, multi-tool, snacks, and ammunition.

Boots, boots are very important. Wear something comfortable that is built for the terrain you'll be hunting in. During the earlier season or if it's not too cold and there's not a lot of water or snow, I wear my Merrell Moab hiking boots. I occasionally wear a pair of gaiters if I'm hunting a really brushy area, but only with the hiking boots. Once it's cold, snowy, or really wet, I wear muck boots, usually my Arctic Pros.

My favorite brand of socks are Darn Tough, I wear those for everything. They are worth what you pay for them and have a lifetime guarantee.

If you have to wear gloves, be sure you get something with good grip. A warm pair of gloves is useless if you can't hold anything. Since my shotgun is a pump I really need good grippy gloves to cycle a new round. I often just wear my mountain biking gloves from HandUp.

Since I hunt brushy and thorny areas, I wear brush pants. I have a fancy-ass pair from First Lite that are *extremely* comfortable, but they do not go over my mucks and are not good for very cold temperatures without a base layer or two. They are great for warm season hunting though. I recently got a pair of Duluth briar pants and they are my new favorite, but I cant find them on the website at the moment.

Brush pants are another very common item that you can get cheaply from other makers and are frequently on sale. You can also just use a thick pair of work pants, I hunted in double front carhartts for a couple years. Chaps are another option.

I use a Remington 870 Wingmaster 12 gauge fixed modified pump action shotgun and steel #6 small game shot. (A lot of words, I know.) You can use many different firearms, and some states allow you to use air rifles too. A friend I hunt with is a big fan of his Benjamin Marauder. I've seen people use slingshots, archery, and even hawks. Check your regulations to see what is legal and pick something you are comfortable with.

I accumulated my gear over time and either inherited it, bought used, or on sale. I've been hunting for 10 years now, when I first started all I had was my hiking stuff, shotgun, and a blaze hat. Hunting is only complicated and expensive if you make it.

#hunting #hunting gear #dog gear

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catsconflictscopicsandchamomile · 3 days ago

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ok first off

Are You Literally Cas

....secondly holy CRAP you don't know how right you are. There's this one irl folkloric/mythic source. Never referenced in spn afaik. But once you Know, the entire show is unintentional references, all the way through, Pilot-15x20. And what's worse, once you know The (Unintended) Parallel, the show makes MORE SENSE. The weird tone shifts, plot holes, power scaling, bizarre lore, nonsense plot progression in later seasons all not only MAKES SENSE, it also suddenly a REALLY FUCKING GOOD STORY. Like I consider spn to be THE SINGLE BEST retelling of the original folkloric narrative, in existence, PERIOD. Over a century of scholars studying this work in attempts to adapt or expand on it have not ONCE approached spn- and spn didn't even know it was doing it. BUT IT GETS WORSE, bc spn isnt just full of surface-level references to the work. I am in my third semester of college studying the detailed linguistic nuances and cultural context of this work, and still semi-regularly run into things that I, and the fandom, thought Supernatural made up. And like they did make it up! Becuase this work was lost until fairly recently (last 3 centuries) and the linguistics for even longer! It didnt have any long-lasting folkloric adaptations in its own time for many main plot elements to EVER be fully reconstructed, let alone for individual linguistic and cultural aspects to survive in popular consciousness. Some of the stuff "spn made up" have, afaik, NOT BEEN SEEN IN FOLKLORE SINCE THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT WAS SHELVED IN A MONASTERY 1000 YEARS AGO

....anyway yeah I feel you with how weird unintentional references are

Dean’s Angel Kink and Sam’s Witch Kink (Part 2)

—What I See in Destiel and Samwena (this has more depth and less kink than I made it sound like)

You can find part 1 here.

In the beginning of episode 2x13 Houses of the Holy, we see a despondent woman named Gloria channel surfing on her TV.

A being of light that she thinks to be an angel appears to her, telling her to kill a man who we later find out literally has skeletons buried in his basement.

When Sam interrogates Gloria, she tells him with an enraptured smile that she thinks she was chosen for redemption.

Keep reading

#read Beowulf. it'll be a bit before Sam or Dean actually show up and they don't last past the 2nd 3rd of the work #and dont have the same names #Dean doesnt even have ANY name #just a knife and a lot of emotions #but its definitely them lmao #spn #supernatural

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martianbugsbunny · 3 months ago

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I've just done the "it gets better" routine for an IRL who started watching MASH partly as my fault, I'm really part of mashblr now

#like there's some good stuff in the first season #but I will not lie it's also kinda rough #I only enjoyed mash when mom quit trying to introduce me through the first season #and skipped ahead to when bj and potter showed up #but now that I love mash I'll watch the first seasons and be happy as a clam #mash #mash 4077 #mashposting #mashblr #got a new convert hehe

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pleucas · 1 year ago

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witness

#pleuart #pleucas #bsd #bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu #dazai #colors taken ofc from the anime adaptation of the scene #bones had some reeeaally good coloring in the first two seasons... ive been rewatching (to cope with the manga) and there's some cool stuff #mafia dazai makes me upset #like tfym he was 14... tfymmmmm

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batcavescolony · 1 year ago

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just saw someone say Rick Riordan making a TV show is just as bad as anything JKR has done. BFFR you're comparing Rick Riordan trying to make his world more inclusive, changing some parts because of money/time constraints, or just making changes cus he thinks they're needed, to JKR being a terrible person!

#and not to say Ricks work is perfect. ill be the firat to tell you his mistakes. his aspec rep is shit. his minorities rep has problems #he has general time line problems. im not says hes perfect but he tried from a good place #jkr named a character ChoChang. her Scottish character blow stuff up and tried to make alcohol. named a black character Shackelbolt #like damn get over yourself.#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percy series #pjo series #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo tv series #pjo tv adaptation #if you wanna say shit about Rick ok. but be correct about it #how is he just as bad as jkr for not using the book he made in the early 2000s an exact script for the TV show being released in 2024?#and they yall had the audacity to be pissed when he didn't put a song about sex thats literally says `fuck her face° in the background of #LITERAL 12 YEAR OLDS in a place with memory altering properties..... thats whats you wanted. children getting high to a song about sex.#°oH bUt iN tHe mOvIe tHaT i WaTcHeD wHeN i waS tWeLvE' where the actors where like what 18? and weren't 12? that one? 🙄#some of you are getting on my nerves. yes the show's pacing is eh really thats a reason to curisfy Rick Riordan? thats what you're deciding #this is the line? a tv show thats on its first season and is more accurate then the movies that came out?#good to know

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tookishcombeferre · 2 days ago

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Okay, it took me a moment to gather my screenshots from the various Wiki pages. I couldn't get a decent one of teen Cedric. But, here we go.

I also have theories about this, and it might sound nuts, but hear me out.

So, we know that in the universe of Sofia the First that magical artifacts of the Princesses exist, and that it seems that the histories of the Disney Princesses intertwine with the lore of the Sofia the First universe.

This is what they set up with Vor, at least, to my understanding. And, the presence of Merlin from The Sorcerer's Stone and The Good Fairies from Sleeping Beauty would also seem to suggest this theory.

Now, it also seems to be that with the right set of words and tones just about *anything* can become a curse, hex, or spell. New potions, spells, and whatever are being invented all the time.

So ... hypothetically ... some really unliked kid at Hexley ... with the right/wrong combination of some misplaced (or intentional) words and actions from some bullies gets hit with a spell meant for ... oh ... something like freezing a heart?

And, out of embarrassment, or sadness, or bitterness, or fear, or some combination of all of those things, he might decide to, say, hide his magical healing instead of revealing the fact that he's cursed to anyone?

Yeah. I could see that happening. That sounds accurate to Cedric's character. He's the "no one's going to believe it happened, so why bother?" type.

I have visuals to explain my thought process here. So, one second.

Obvs. I own nothing. Disney owns the images. I pulled all these images from the Cedric and Anna character Wiki pages.

Here's where we're going to start as our base images for Cedric. This is before the two tiny streaks he had in his hair on the day of The Incident spread. So, even though in the second image he's nervous, and tiny, he's still like, fine? I think this was from the "Sorcerer's Secret" flashback. So, not only that, he's got a supportive teacher in his corner. He's doing alright. Life is okay. This is our base.

But, before we get into comparing skin tones and hair and all that stuff. Let's talk about what we *know* about freezing spells, how they're healed magically, and all that from the Frozen universe.

Grand Pabbie says in Frozen "You're lucky it was her head and not her heart. The heart is not so *easily* changed, but the head can be persuaded."

Now, this seems to imply that the heart CAN be changed, just not *easily.*

Secondly, we also know when frozen heart, head, etc. curses are healed the white/ frozen color *remains* in the body.

After Anna was struck by Elsa, the streak of white remained in her hair. The physical change remained permanent.

Now, what has changed between our first two images and later Cedric?

A whole heck of a lot of white in his bangs, that's what.

It's a call back to Cruella, sure. However, let's think about this character a little more shall we?

The younger sibling left in the shadows of an incredibly powerful older sister, who just sort of doesn't pay said sibling any mind anymore, but the older sister still probably cares about the younger sibling a decent amount, magical accident occured in childhood leaving the two of them on the outs with one another, and it turns out it was just a big misunderstanding caused by an overbearing dad ...

Where the heck have I heard that story before?

So, with the that comparison drawn, I want to look at the physical characteristics of a frozen heart because there's some interesting things to point out.

Cedric's season one skin tone, as mentioned by OP, also looks a lot like this -

We also see Cedric in that second posture a lot. His arms drawn up close to the chest. And, that's consistent throughout the seasons. Whenever he bows, his arms are almost always up. (Sadly, I don't have a good screenshot for proof, but you can see it in the first screenshot above.)

So, let's run with this theory that at some point Cedric's heart was frozen and fixed magically.

It's entirely possible whomever magically healed Cedic's curse was powerful enough that it only left the two larger markings in his bangs, or the curse was caught early enough that it never progressed quite as far as Anna's curse did.

Though, hair aside, I also began to wonder, what would a magically repaired frozen heart *be* like?

Would it be more prone to breaking? To becoming stoney and evil? To not understanding how to love and be loved?

Physically, would there be consequences?

What Frozen seems to imply about frozen hearts is that they need true love to be cured. They need an act of true love to thaw them.

That's something, that given Cedric's history, likely would have been hard, if not impossible, to come by in his young life.

Hence, why the curse likely would have had to be cured magically through a sort of "loophole" in the first place.

So, convincing a heart that it is loved magically, especially one as broken as Cedric's, would have been difficult.

So, I had to wonder if that's where the scheming came in?

Are the "evil dreams that always comforted me" what his frozen heart latched onto?

Or, did something else happen that made him latch onto the schemes and evil dreams because something happened to his last tethers to goodness?

Did someone say something at some point and Cedric's already fragile heart just had enough and went to stone?

Was the teacher in the Sorcerer's Secret flashback the one who saved him?

Or, was it someone else?

These are all questions I have absolutely no confirmed answers to but are really fun hypotheticals.

I mean, this is all a hypothetical anyway. No one has confirmed this. I just like thinking about it.

(I have personal HCs about how this all could have played out and how this affected Cedric's evil scheming. But, like, have fun with your own hypotheticals and HCs before reading my fanfics where I tell you mine.)

You'll also recall the first presentation of Anna's frozen heart curse, after her hair, was her *hands?* It's possible the reason Cedric wears compression-like gloves is because the magical healing post frozen heart curse couldn't fully repair his *hands.*

I also noticed Cedric's occasional issues with running and physical activity. I think it's in the episode that they turn James into a baby that he has a hard time chasing the dog down? That also, to me, lent credence to this particular theory.

However, the thing that really made me hone in on this theory was what Anna says to Olaf as she's freezing.

"I don't even know what love is."

This could very easily describe Cedric's entire arc in the show. He doesn't. He has no idea what it means to love or be loved. It's his entire question. In the end, it's what he's searching for, and it's what he finds.

He finds it as Sofia's mentor and teacher. He rediscovers it in his relationship with Roland. He discovers love in the act of teaching at RPA and helping James with special effects at the play. He discovers it in protecting and teaching his niece as a sort of parental figure to her. He even discovers it in rekindling a relationship with his *sister.* What started EVERYTHING to begin with.

(I feel like the teacher with the tack on his seat in The Incredibles right now.)

As Cedric starts to learn what *love* is, he starts to heal. He starts to look less like the above images and more like this.

Now, it's not perfect for him. He never fully loses his bangs. He never fully goes back to "normal."

And, my theory on that is because his heart was repaired *magically* as Anna's head was repaired *magically.*

When a curse is repaired magically, it cannot be undone. It is forever there. So, things can improve, however the physical reminders are still there. (In Cedric's case: his bangs, the fainting after freeing Sofia from the Amulet, etc.)

So, my theory is that the more Cedric accepts love, and shows love, the less the magically healed curse would affect him. The more he integrates into palace life the more hands there are to take care of him and show him the love he would literally need to survive. However, because the curse was healed by magical means, there would be very few ways to actually fix it.

Thus, this theory attempts to explain why Cedric turned evil, why his redemption arc took as long as it did, some of the allusions to his potential physical health issues in the show, and why his character design looks the way it does.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

Can we talk about the fact that in the debut movie and in first season Cedric looks literally sick? He's not pale/his actual skin color. He's grey next to other characters. He looks like he didn't had a proper meal in days and is not sleeping well either, he doesn't even look like has strength to get up. He wasn't okay

I think this was a design choice done on purpose to subtly add to his "villain" look but still, considering what we discovered about this character later on, kinda looks like a mental health issue

#sofia the first #cedric the sorcerer #frozen heart #head canon #character analysis #frozen references #pip does life #pip rambles

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