#look at lisa's smile i will not be moving on from this scene ever

[buffonias]

My boss has phoned and said I can start back next week.

[chikaras-garden]

Batboys as scenes from my favorite romance novels

Even when you’re alone, it’s like your love is torn from a page.

Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x fem!reader

Contains: A very self-indulgent author. Scenes inspired by trashy Regency/Victorian romance novels. Oral sex (f!receiving) in Dick’s and (m!receiving) in Tim’s. Praise kink in Dick’s. Blindfolding, bondage, and vaginal fingering in Damian’s.

Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked. Scenes are inspo only, not direct quotes. I swear I can write cute smut. I have so many other favorite books and could do this another two times at least.

BRUCE WAYNE 💋 When He Was Wicked by Julia Quinn

“Do you ever wonder what I think about?” Bruce murmurs, head buried in your neck. He refuses to touch you with his lips, only ghosting his nose over your sensitive skin; you feel his breath, warm and lightly spiced, fan over your collarbone.

He lets out a low sigh that covers your chest like a blanket, and your heart echoes the way his breath trembles. Whatever control he thinks he has most of the time—it’s completely gone with you.

“Do you wonder,” he continues, “what I wish I could do to you?”

You’re laying back in his bed and he kneels between your thighs, supporting your back with one hand while his fingers absentmindedly toy with the zipper on the back of your dress. Like this, he notices everything about you: the way your hair sits, the warm sparkle in your eyes, the way your lips part with every breath.

And you look so unbearably kissable that he’s fighting against his baser instincts.

“I would start right here,” he answers himself, finally pressing his lips against your shoulder. You shiver in reply, and a low chuckle slides out of his throat. “I would kiss every inch of you. Twice. I’d figure out where to bite you to make you squeal, where to lick to make you whimper. I’d have you come undone on my tongue—and I think you’d like it. Maybe you’d like it so much that I’d have to do it again.

“And then I’d sit you in my lap,” he rumbles, lips pressed underneath your ear while he finally, finally, unzips your dress. His eyes are half-lidded, his mind just as hazy as yours is. “I’d fill you so completely, darling; your heart, your thoughts. I’d make every one of your breaths mine—forever, if I could.”

DICK GRAYSON 💋 Heartbreaker by Sarah MacLean

“Here, baby, give me your— Yeah, just like that.”

The second Dick says that, your breath catches and you feel yourself tense. Heat washes over you from cheeks to toes, and you let out a soft whine that makes blue eyes dart up to your own. All he did was ask you to move your leg, then take your thigh in his hand to bring it over his shoulder.

His eyes glint and he smiles like a kid on Christmas. You just gave him a fun new trick to use on you.

“Oh baby,” he croons. “You’re gonna be such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You whimper. “Dick, please—”

While his cheek presses against your thigh, his smile is nothing less than devastatingly sweet. “I know, baby; I know.”

He watches you like you’re a work of art, like he’s in awe of every breath you take. Eyes locked on yours, he kisses his way from your knee to the juncture of your hip and thigh, then lets you watch as his tongue darts out from his lips and laves over your soft mound. You tense, shivering, and nudge your hips just a little closer to his lips.

“Oh, good girl,” he groans as if your eagerness is bringing him pleasure. He rewards you, then, with a languid lip up your folds, another groan, and a muffled murmur of, “Look how you squeeze me when I praise you, baby. Fuck, just like that; just like that. Wanna feel you nice and tight, can you do that for me?”

JASON TODD 💋 Scandal in Spring by Lisa Kleypas

“I’m here,” Jason murmurs near your ear, lifting his lips only as high as is necessary to whisper to you. In a second, his mouth is on you again, kissing down your jaw and throat until his face is buried where your neck and shoulder meet. In one swift, light motion, he tugs your shirt down so he can mouth over your skin, and your heart begins to race.

Because, just a few hours ago, you were under the impression he was dead.

Equal parts astonished and worried, you brush your hands over the angry bruises purpling on his skin. You don’t know what to say except, “Please be real.”

“I’m real,” he instantly replies in a shaking voice, kissing down your chest until he reaches the point of a nipple and sucks it into his mouth. Warmth blooms where his lips meet your skin, and you know for certain that this can’t be a dream; your imagination has never been so vivid.

“I’m real,” he repeats. “Feel me.”

“But you’re covered in cuts—”

His eyes, glinting in the moonlight that streams through your window, dart up to your face. He looks at you the same way you look at him: as if you’re newly aware of how lucky the two of you are.

“They don’t matter,” he promises. He takes your chin in one of his hands, and you feel his fingers—rough with scars, freezing cold—as they slide toward your neck. “You’re all that matters, baby. I’m not going anywhere without you, understand?”

TIM DRAKE 💋 Devil’s Daughter by Lisa Kleypas

“Oh fuck,” Tim murmurs behind you. At first, you think it’s in ecstasy, given the fact that he has you bent over a low bookshelf with his cock shoved mercilessly in your cunt.

But then he repeats himself, and you turn your head—but you can only catch a glimpse of how his lips are pressed tightly together. “What’s wrong?”

He huffs out a self-conscious laugh. “Do you have any tissues?”

Huh? “No, I don’t think so—”

“I forgot,” he declares around the thick lump of embarrassment of his throat, while letting his head unceremoniously fall on your shoulder, “a condom.”

“Oh,” you say, and then you start to laugh. Here you are, having sex where you definitely shouldn’t be—in a private study room in the library—and of course this happens. It’s too funny. Perfect, even.

“That’s okay,” you assure him before you wriggle and turn in his arms. With gentle hands, you touch his hips and nudge him backwards; now, he’s the one against the wall instead of you, and you smile up at him while you drop to your knees. Biting your lip, batting your eyelashes, you have the perfect solution in mind.

All his mortification goes up in a puff of smoke when you take his cock—so pretty, pink-tipped and bobbing against his thigh—in one of your very capable hands. Leaning forward, you kiss up the shaft until your nose meets coarse, intimate hair; then, you kiss down again and wrap your lips around him, drawing precum and a soft moan out of him with your first curious, teasing suck.

DAMIAN WAYNE 💋 Widow in Emerald by Scarlett Peckham

You don’t know him, but that makes it better. You’re blindfolded before he ever enters the room, and his hands are cool to the touch and efficient in every movement as he binds your wrists to the four-poster bed. 

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t kiss you. That’s the arrangement you have: you place your trust in this stranger as a means of learning how your body finds release. He, for whatever reason, wants to make music out of your whimpers and moans.

His weight shifts, and you feel him slide in between your thighs. His fingers spread atop your bare chest, and you marvel at how big his hands must be for his thumb to reach one nipple while his little finger grazes the other. He puts just a hint of pressure on your sternum, then drags his hand down your stomach until his palm cups your sex.

Cold. His fingers are cold as ice, and you wonder if he’s just like that, or if he did something to his hands before his time alone with you.

With a flick of what feels like a sturdy yet nimble wrist, two fingers spread your folds, gathering your beginning wetness and exposing you to the air of the room—no, that’s his breath, and you feel the sensation of menthol when he breathes a sigh against your clit. Those same two fingers slip into you now, and you shakily sigh. The pace of his breaths becomes your own as he sends waves of pleasure through you, fingers moving in and out in a slow rhythm that draws a veil between who you are outside this room and who you’re meant to be within it.

[ninii-winchester]

Unveiled Sorrows (Part 8)

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader, Sam Winchester X Reader (platonic)

Word count : 5k

Warnings : angst, spoilers s6, canon level gore, violence, language, Samuel is fucking annoying, also i made up the signal on my own (it’s not very creative lol)

A/n : This series follows canon plot line but some scenes might happen differently or be completely changed. Check the warnings for each part before continuing.

A/n 2: gif (1) from Pinterest. Credits to owner.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

It was a given that Y/n knew Dean wouldn't stay. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch. She has been holding on for too long, pretending to be strong. It was time she dealt with her feelings. She would let herself wallow in misery. She didn't know for how long had she sat in her room. She checked that clock it read, 10am. She sighed sitting up against the headboard. She needed someone to be by her side. She didn't feel like crying, too exhausted for tears. She looked at the crib and watched Adeline sleeping soundly.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Y/n sighed before closing her eyes. "I know this is bizarre, but I'm desperate here. I know you and Dean have a connection and you only respond to him but Cas, I need you. If you hear me please, respond." Y/n breathed opening her eyes. She peeked around her room for the angel but he wasn't there. "Dean's bitch." She muttered turning to lay on her side and gasped when she saw Castiel sitting on the other side of the bed.

"Hello Y/n."

"Cas you scared me."

"You called. I came." He replied flatly. He's back to his angel self and he's emotionless as ever. "You look terrible."

"That is comforting, thanks." She replied sarcastically. "Where've you been?"

"Around."

"I know you're busy with angel business so thank you for coming."

"You seem to be in terrible condition. And you sounded...anguished." Y/n nodded. She moved and wrapped her arms around his frame and he hugged her back awkwardly. Y/n felt safe and not-terrible. He may not be accustomed to human emotions and gestures but his presence comforted her.

Surprisingly, he stayed with her for more time than she expected. He brought her food as she didn't want to leave the room. Adeline woke up with a loud cry and y/n tended to her. When Castiel held Adeline he had half the mind to brand the child with the sigil but he knew y/n wouldn't let him, she's too small and it would hurt her. He just wanted to keep her safe but he wouldn't do anything she or Dean wouldn't allow him to.

"I have to go." Cas said all of a sudden. Y/n nodded, she knew he would stay if he could. She was grateful that he even came.

"Sure, thanks for coming Cas." She said taking Adeline from him. She didn't even get an answer when Cas disappeared.

It was around six pm when she heard a knock at her door. Y/n tensed at thought of having to interact with anyone. Bobby knew well enough when to leave her alone so either it must be really important or it was Lisa. She opened the door finding, it was the latter.

"Hey, I didn't mean to bother you but Sam called and said you didn't answer when he called, he's worried." She spoke politely. "you've been in your room the whole day and it worried me too."

"It's not a bother at all. I'm just tired." Y/n replied with tired smile. She actually was tired.

"It's not because of me is it? That you're scooped up in your room?" Lisa asked hoping it wasn't the case.

"Oh no not all Lis." The nickname and y/n's light tone made the woman feel a bit better.

"Okay." She smiled. "Sam and Dean left for my place in the morning to track the Djinn. They might be back tomorrow." Lisa informed.

"Alright." She nodded and Lisa turned to leave when Y/n spoke, "I'll uh call Sam. And thanks for checking in."

"Anytime."

Y/n closed the door when Lisa left. She grabbed her phone as saw five missed calls from Sam, each with a gap of an hour. He must've been worried. She dialled his number and pressed the phone to her ear. He picked up on the first ring.

"I know you hate me but that doesn't mean you get to leave me worried sick." Was the first thing he said as he answered the phone.

"Hello to you too." She replied.

"This isn't funny. Where have you been? You haven't left your room the whole day, you weren't answering my calls."

"You keeping tabs on me Winchester?" She teased.

"It's called caring." Sam replied, harsher than he intended.

"Sorry I was in my head. I needed space." She replied honestly.

"Take as much space as you need. Next time just let me know you're okay.!!"

"Yeah." She nodded even though he can't see her. "How's it going?"

"We've checked the place. There are three of them. We figured they'd only come out when it's me and Dean alone. So we're waiting."

"You're waiting for three Djinns to attack you while its only you two. Not to mention they're extremely powerful ones who almost killed all three of us?" Y/n sighed at their stupidity. But then, what are Winchesters if not stupid.

"That's one way to put it." Sam chuckled. "But Samuel's backing us up."

"For the record," she softly said, "I don't hate you."

"Uh thanks." He said making her chuckle. "I think i gotta go."

"Be safe, Sammy." With that Sam hung up.

It was around midnight, y/n was in the main room reading, Adeline laid in the middle of the room, staring up at the devil's trap, gazing the the symbols with curiosity. The shapes enticing the little baby. She had a good amount of sleep while being trapped inside the room so now she's wide awake keeping her mother company.

Y/n heard the sound of tires against the road and then Sam's car's horn. She didn't want to see Dean but she couldn't just hide anytime he was around. She knew it was going to be a frequent occurrence now that he knows Sam's back so she stayed seated. Sam and Dean appeared at the doorway and she shifted her gaze from the book to the men.

"How'd it go?" She asked the younger brother.

"Terrible. But we killed them."

"Basically the story of every hunt." She retorted and Sam chuckled walking towards her. He kneeled beside Addy and was going to pick her up when Y/n swatted his hands away. "Clean up first."

"You're mean." He pouted.

"No, you're dirty." Y/n shooed him away. Sam didn't argue and made his way out of the room to get cleaned. Dean, glanced at Adeline and left without a word.

Now that the Djinns were gone, Lisa and Ben were free to go back to their place. That meant Dean will leave too. She wanted to be bitter but she knew the way Dean thought. He dragged them into this, put a target on their backs and now it's his responsibility to protect them. After they left, it was just her and Bobby. Sam had been gone with Samuel again.

"Hey Bobby!" She called out to the older man who was playing with Adeline. "I think I'll move."

"You two are idjits you know that?" His reply made her snort. He was against the idea but he knew she had made her mind.

"It's the company." She teased which earned her a glare from the old man.

"You better be safe, ya hear me?" 

"You got it."

Y/n leased a house in a neighbourhood few towns over. It was her fresh start. No hunting, no monsters, no Dean. Just her and Adeline. The house was well furnished and she didn't have much stuff to set up anyway. She had a spare room for a nursery. She set everything up but she put the crib her own room. With everything she knew was out there, she wouldn't leave her baby alone.

"This is a bad idea." Sam said pacing in her new living room.

"It is not." She replied glaring at him. "Would you stop pacing."

"It's not safe. You're too far from us. We can't reach you in time if something happens." Sam said sitting on the couch.

"Sam I've monster proofed the whole house. There's salt on every window, devil traps all over the place. I've got my gun, holy water, machetes, plenty of silver...Even Bobby checked the whole place." She assured him.

Sam sighed leaning back on the couch. He still thinks its a bad idea. He just wants her to be safe.

"I got out Sam. I'm not a hunter anymore."

"Yeah but that didn't stop that Djinn to come after you. Who knows what else could be after you. You and Addy were safe at Bobby's." Sam tried to argue. "I know you left because of Dean but he won't be going over. He stopped hunting for good." She gave him a look but he continued. "He did. He made Lisa and Ben move. And he told me he's done. He won't hunt with me or anyone."

"Look, i know you think I'm unsafe but I promise you I'll be fine. I'll call you even if I doubt anything in the slightest, I swear."

"Okay." Sam accepted defeat. "Get me a beer."

"Hey, don't order me around." She kicked his leg lightly, a smile on her face. "Go get it yourself. And get me one too." This might actually be a good start. She felt happy. She could start fresh. Or could she?

She had been living under one of her aliases, Emma Parker. And her daughter Adeline Parker. The neighbourhood was decent and people were good. It had been smooth sailing for the past two months. Until she heard the news of six months old babies disappearing from locked homes and their parents being brutally murdered. It was happening too close to her location. However she didn't think it was some sort of supernatural gig, even if it was she was prepared to fight whoever it was.

Y/n's phone rang and she sighed knowing who it was and what they're going to say. She answered it begrudgingly.

"Y/n you need to go back to Bobby's." Sam told her while driving his car.

"Sam that's bullshit and you know that."

"I don't care whatever it is. You need to leave. Addy turned six months a week ago. They're killing parents and taking babies. Even if it's not our kinda thing it's not safe." Sam argued.

"Sam how long am I going to keep running? I can't lock myself at Bobby's. Addy's gonna grow up, she's gonna go to school. She's not growing up in this life Sam, I'd die before I let that happen."

"It's not safe considering what's happening in your town."

"Just because I don't hunt anymore doesn't mean I don't know how to fight. Be it a human or a monster. I'll kill anyone who tries to harm my baby." Sam didn't speak for a moment. He sighed before agreed.

"I'm in town investigating this thing. So I'll see you soon yeah?"

"Yeah."

Sam went around investigating the murders and disappearance of the children. He went to Y/n's house and the two of them brainstormed MO's, reasoning and potential suspects.

"You don't have anything to do with Harper security, do you?" Sam asked y/n who brought him a beer, with Adeline on her hip.

"Nope, why do you ask?"

"All of the houses had their services. That's the only thing in common." He said standing up and grabbing his jacket.

"Where are you going?"  She asked as he stood up abruptly.

"Well I'm on this case, as a Fed or a Hunter. Can't stay here long. It'll put a target on you." He said grabbing his things. He kissed Addy's head and then hers. "Lock the windows and doors. Stay safe." With that he walked out of the door.

After Sam left he went to watch another house that had Harper security. He watched as a man entered the house, he followed him inside. The man turned to attack him and Sam fought back, he nicked the man with a silver knife and his hand burned. It was a shifter. He left the place and Sam checked the place and found a baby. He sighed.

"Dean i need your help." He said into the phone as he got into his car.

Dean met up with Sam and sighed as he saw a baby in the backseat.

"You need help with a baby? Haven't you been around Adeline to know all the baby stuff." Dean rolled his eyes at his brother.

"No. Not most of the time. Besides I'm working a job here." Dean sighed knowing Sam's right.

The two of them headed to a store to get necessary supplies for the baby and they ran into the shifter. It took the baby pretending to be a nice old lady. But Dean watched the woman in the cctv cam and noticed her eyes were like those of shifters. Sam and Dean fought with the shifter and grabbed the baby and ran out of the store. The two of them were in a motel room Sam was going through the papers while Dean was watching BobbyJohn. Sam stopped his work to watch Dean.

"You're surprisingly good at this." Sam commented.

"I've done this before." Dean replied vaguely.

"Last I remember Ben was a full grown child." Dean glared at his brother.

"I put Addy to sleep. Once." Sam raised his brow in curiosity.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No." Dean immediately replied.

"Alright, you stay here with Bobby John and I'll go see what i can find out." Sam said getting up. Dean just nodded.

Sam was driving to meet with one of the babies' father, who was not at home during the attack. After talking to him, he reached to a conclusion that the shifter cloned himself into the husbands, knocked up the wives and is now collecting his own babies. He needed to tell Dean the baby is a shifter. He retrieved his phone from his pocket to call Dean but before he could, his phone rang.

"Hey." Sam answered.

"Hey, how's it going? Did you find anything?" Y/n asked.

"Actually, I found everything." He told her everything he found out. He just left the part where he was working with Dean.

"Well that's great. Now you have nothing to worry about since Addy is Dean's daughter and not some psycho shifter's." She said over the phone.

"Yeah I'm relieved over that." Sam responded.

"Yeah, how about you come over for dinner tonight?"

"I can't y/n, I'd love to but I've got one of the babies with me and I've got to take him to Samuel." Sam explained. "Look, I have to go but I'll call you."

Sam went back to the motel and saw a sherrif dead in the motel room and Dean carrying a baby that looked like the baby on the diaper box. He shifted.

"We've gotta take him to Samuel."

Y/n was in the kitchen when she heard the doorbell ring. She opened the door to see Sam in standing there. She knew it wasn't Sam. He was on his way to Samuel. And she knew a shifter was in town so she knew what she was dealing with.

"Sammy hi." She invited him in. She knew she had to attack when he least expects it. "I thought you were too busy to drop by."

"Yeah uh, I did. But family first you know." Family my ass Y/n thought to herself.

"That's amazing, you staying for dinner right?"

"Sure." He replied taking a seat on the couch. She watched as he kept eyeing Adeline who was crawling throughout the living room. Ever since she learned how to, she hasn't stopped.

She has to do something quick or else she'd regret it. She can't risk leaving Addy alone with the monster so she subtly grabbed a silver knife from the cabinet behind her and put it in the back pocket of her jeans. Her gun was taped under the table in the living room and it was stocked with silver bullets. She cringed at the idea that crept in her mind. The shifter doesn't know the relationship between her and Sam.

"You know..." she walked towards the shifter who was pretending to be Sam. "It's been a while since we had some fun." She dropped herself in his lap and he immediately grabbed her hips. Yep not my Sam. She thought to herself.

"I think so too." He breathed as he felt her up. She was internally cringing so bad, first this was a slimy shifter she was straddling , who on top of that was wearing Sam's face. Her best friend. She was hating the feeling of his hands on her body. She lifted her shirt over her head and he immediately distraced by that.

Men, she rolled her eyes.

He was eager to latch his mouth to her skin and she knew she had him. She slipped the knife from her pocket and stabbed him in his chest. The creature groaned and Y/n immediately jumped off him and went up to pick Adeline from the ground. The shifter removed the knife from his chest and threw it away. He grabbed her by the ankles and threw her against the wall, blood trickled down her head. He went for Adeline but y/n pushed him.

She grabbed the knife and lunged at him but he grabbed her arm and twisted it. He made her stab her own side. She screamed in pain as blood gushed out of her side. She knew better than to remove the object so she elbowed him in the neck and crawled towards the table and grabbed her gun.

He had picked up Adeline who was now wailing in his arms. She knew it was risk shooting him while he was holding her daughter but she knew she couldn't let him take her. She took a deep breath and steadied her arm. She's done it a thousand times before, she can hit moving targets. It should be easy. She gripped the gun tightly in her hand and shot twice at his vacant shoulder on the side he was not holding Adeline.

"Tell her father I want what he has. I'll be in touch." With that he ran out of the house.

Y/n watched in horror as he left with Adeline. He should've been dead. She shot him with silver bullets. What does Dean even have that the shifter wants? She clutched her side as she grabbed her phone and dialled Sam.

"Sammy. He took Adeline." Sam slammed the brakes, hard.

"What the hell Sammy?" Dean asked as Sam reversed the car and drove past the speed limit. Sam was breathing hard as he clutched the steering wheel tightly. "Would you tell me what's going on?" Dean demanded.

"Dean shut up." Sam said aggressively. Dean was shocked at his outburst. It was only a matter of minutes before they arrived a house, which Dean had never seen before. Sam ran out of the car and Dean watched as his brother kicked the door open to the house. He grabbed the baby from the back seat and followed Sam.

Sam entered the living room and the whole place was bloody, The whole place looked like a mess, shattered lamps and photo frames. A bloodied Y/n was on the couch holding a kitchen towel to her side. A bloodied knife and gun was placed on the table. He rushed to her side.

Dean walked inside the house hesitantly, unsure of what to expect. The moment he stepped inside his heart stopped. Out of everything in world this is the last thing he expected.

Y/n was barely holding onto consciousness and Sam patted her cheek to keep her awake.

"Hey stay with me." He looked down and removed the towel to see blood gushing out of her wound. "You need stitches. Dean grab the medical kit." Sam looked back at Dean who was frozen in place. "DEAN." Sam yelled.

Dean shook himself as he watched his biggest nightmare come true. The love his life barely hanging to life, bloodied. He jumped into action when Sam yelled his name, he ran inside the kitchen and checked all the cabinets. He found the box in the cabinet above the sink. He grabbed the box and another clean towel from the shelf. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey that he luckily found. He re-entered the room handing the box to Sam. She was already shirtless so it was easier for Sam to patch her up. Dean poured the alcohol on her wound and Sam cleaned the area. Y/n hissed in pain as he did so.

"Bite into it, sweetheart." Dean said place the clean towel inside her mouth. She clenched her teeth as Sam stitched her up. Her scream was muffled by the towel inside her mouth. Dean clutched her hand in his as she withered in pain. "Almost done, baby."

When Sam was done he placed a gauze over the stitches and closed the wound. Now that the blood was not oozing out her body she could keep herself awake. She removed her hand from Dean's grip and threw the towel on the floor.

"Son of a bitch." She gasped sitting up. "Give me that." She grabbed the whiskey from Dean and gulped down the liquid. "He took Addy." She tried to blink back the tears. "He said, tell her father I want what he has and he'll be in touch." She cried. Sam wrapped her arms around her as she sobbed.

At her words the two brothers immediately eyed the baby in the carseat.

"Tell us everything." Dean said. She told them everybody that happened.

"It should've died, i shot him with silver bullets, twice." She cried.

"I think it was the alpha." Sam replied.

"The alpha? As in the very first of their kind?" Y/n asked and Sam nodded.

"It would've hurt him but only shooting him in the heart would kill him." Sam added.

"I thought about it, I would've done it had he not have Addy in his arms." Y/n sobbed.

"You should've called us." Dean stated.

"Excuse me?" She glared at him.

"You shouldn't have taken on him alone, should've called us." Dean replied.

"And you think he wouldn't have noticed me calling Sam, when Sam was clearly sitting in my living room and last I remember you were busy playing house." She snapped back.

"You could've gone to the other room." Dean argued.

"And left my daughter alone? Like you did?" She yelled. This made Dean and even Sam flinch.

"Hey.. calm down. Fighting isn't going to bring Addy back." Sam intervened.

"Sammy please do something, bring her back. I don't have any reason to live besides her." She cried in Sam's chest.

"We'll get her back. I promise." Sam rubbed back in a comforting manner.

Dean watched as his brother was comforting her. He wished it was him in his place telling her that it'll be alright, they'll get their daughter back. Hell he wished it didn't happen in the first place. It was all his fault, He should've been here, he should've.... His train of thoughts was broken by the ringing of a phone. 

Sam answered his phone, it was Samuel calling.

"What?" Sam exclaimed. "Tell him we agree. Yes we'll be there. Is she okay?" Dean and y/n heard the one sided conversation. Sam nodded as he hung up. "The shifter has taken Addy to Samuel, and he's bargaining. Addy for that child." Sam said gesturing to the child. It was the first time she noticed that child's presence.

"Let's go then." She said standing up.

"I don't think you should come with, we'll bring her home." Dean said fuelling y/n's anger.

"What makes you think you're in position to give orders? In a situation regarding 'my' daughter?" She sneered, emphasising on the word 'my'.

She grabbed her shirt from the floor not caring it was stained with blood. She grabbed her gun and stuffed it in her jeans. She put on her jacket and limped towards Sam's car. Sam and Dean followed behind her, Sam put the carseat with the baby in the back. Y/n rounded the car and opened the passenger's seat door.

"I'm not sitting beside that thing or I might break its neck. Baby or not." She said sliding inside and slamming the door shut. The two men nodded and got inside the car. Dean sat in the back while Sam drove.

They reached Samuel's warehouse in a few hours. The three of them walked inside the place, the carseat in Sam's hand. Christian took them to where Samuel was. The old man stood from his seat and glanced at the shifter baby.

"Where is he?" Sam asked.

"He didn't come himself, he sent a message. He said to signal him when were ready to deal." Samuel replied.

"And how do you do that?" Y/n asked shifting her weight on her legs.

"Sacred shots." Samuel said.

"Sacred shots?" Dean asked.

"Yeah there's pattern while shooting. First you shoot left in the air then right and then twice directly in the middle." Samuel explained. The three of them nodded. Y/n watched Mark, Gwen and a few unfamiliar faces walked inside the room.

"Now we need a plan of action, Mark-"

"What plan of action?" Y/n interrupted Samuel.

"To catch him of course."

"Oh hell no. You're not using my daughter as bait for whatever sick plan you have." She said sternly.

"Y/n, I know Adeline is your daughter and I adore that kid but we have to catch him, he's the Alpha." Samuel explained. "We will get her back."

"You will not. You said you made a deal. You lied to us to bring this child here." She yelled.

"I did what had to be done."

"Samuel. This isn't-" Sam started but his grandfather cut him off.

"Sam i know she's your friend," he gestured to y/n "and you care for her child but this is neces-"

"That's enough." Dean yelled. "You will give him this child and get Adeline back." He told his grandfather. Samuel walked towards Dean, staring him down.

"And why would I do that?" Samuel challenged.

"Because she is my daughter." Dean yelled. "and you will not play anymore games, do ya hear me?" He growled staring into his grandfather's eyes.

The room fell silent at his confession and the old man took a step back. Y/n watched Dean's face turn red in anger and his adam's apple bobbed as he stared up at Samuel, daring him to go against his word. The aforementioned man nodded his head in agreement.

They had decided that it would be Dean who would go out and deal with the shifter. He went to the backyard and fired the sacred shots. He kept the baby on the ground who was still strapped in the car seat.

"I'm here." Dean yelled. He heard the leaves crunching underneath someone's steps. He turned to see an unfamiliar man walking towards him with Adeline crying in his arms. Dean's skin crawled as he watched his daughter in a stranger's arms. "I've got what you want. I'm here to deal. No games." He said to the man.

"You know it's you humans who don't stick to your words. I'm just here to get what i want. I haven't touched a single hair on your daughter's head." The man replied.

"That better be the case." Dean replied. He grabbed the car seat and walked towards the man. He set it beside the man and held his arms out for Adeline who was still crying.

"No games?" The man asked.

"No games." Dean nodded. The shifter placed Adeline in Dean's arms and he sighed in relief having his daughter back in his arms. The shifter leaned down to pick up car seat and looked around suspiciously, still not trusting Dean. He picked the seat up and when nothing happened, he walked to where he came from.

"Daddy's here, baby. You're safe, my love." Dean cooed at his daughter. Tears pooled in his eyes as his heart was beating profusely in his chest. He bounced the little baby in his arms, Adeline curled herself in his chest as if she recognised his warmth. "It's okay, angel daddy's got you." He walked back to the warehouse and Adeline had stopped crying. He opened the door to Samuel's study where everyone was waiting, Y/n ran towards him and grabbed Adeline from his arms. Sam sighed in relief at the sight of his niece. Y/n clutched her daughter to her chest, crying and kissing the little baby all over her face.

"Oh Baby you're okay. I'm glad you're okay." She said to her daughter as if she'd understand her.. Holding Adeline in one arm she turned to Dean and wrapped her arm around him. "Thank you Dean." She cried. "Thank you for saving our daughter." She sobbed in his chest. He wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her closer.

"You don't have to thank me, baby." He kissed her head, cherishing the moment. He pecked his daughter's head, grateful that she was okay.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@suckitands33

[afro-hispwriter]

The French Mistake was a mistake

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles x reader

Soulless Sam x reader(brief mention)

Summary- Dean is starting to believe you and him aren't meant to be in any universe

Warnings- 6x15(doesn’t follow it completely), mentions of suicide, mentions of being admitted to a facility, break ups, so much angst, mentions of anna, lisa, and ben, dean is a asshole lowkey(in the situation at least)

Not edited

-

Sam and Dean burst through the window and landed on a blue mat but before they could stand up someones yelled,

"CUT!" Bells rang, clapping, and whole bunch of talking started. The brothers looked around, Balthazar was gone and that's when the confusion started.

 "Great solid fall." Someone slapped Deans ass making him jump.

"Jared, Jensen outstanding. That was just great!" Said a old man in a chair and from behind a kid started speaking nonsense.

"Supernatural, scene one, "Echo." Take one, tail slate. Marker." And closed one of those movie boxes.

"So no angels?" Sam says.

"No angels, I think."

"Should we be killing anybody?"

"I don't think so."

"Running?"

"Where?"

Sam and Dean looked at the group of guys sitting around tv screens all talking. Then one yells "Moving on" and lights start turning on.

"Thats a wrap on Jared and Jensen." 

"Who the hell are-?"

It went by quick after that. Dean got dragged up to makeup stations and got the makeup he didn't think he had on him. Sam got dragged into an interview he had no idea how to answer.

They met up again, settling on being sent to another universe where they are actors who play Sam and Dean. They walked out of the building and the sight of Baby gave Dean a huge smile. But he watched a guy throw stuff over it and saw a whole bunch of Baby's. 

"Im gonna be sick." Dean says and starts to back away.

"We need Cas." Sam says and Dean tries to do some sort of "prayer"  but that was short lived when they spotted the man. 

That ended up being fake too. Cas' name in this universe was Misha. Misha? They kept walking around the lot until they saw the trailer that said "J. Ackles." 

"Thats fake me." Dean says and pointed at himself.

"Yeah." 

"This mist be fake mine." They walked in and Dean was instantly in awe. The fish tank and the freaking helicopter. Dean looked around the trailer and noticed a framed picture on a table. It was of fake him and a woman with brownish red hair. Maybe his sister? But the picture looked a little too intimate to be that.

It made him think of you. You left the team after the showdown with Lucifer. But he couldn't blame you. He hurt you, deeply. From Lisa, all the way too Anna. He really did like you but his connection too Anna was too great. And Lisa, Lisa and him are good. He loves her and he loves Ben. But every once in a while his mind would drift off to you, wondering what you were up too.

It was a dick move. Sam called him out on it, as did Bobby and Ellen. 

All this thought of you made him want to see if you were in the universe. Sam was typing away on fake his computer.

"Hey Sammy, I want to check something." Dean says and takes the laptop and plops on the couch. He starts typing in your name.

Y/n L/n Supernatural 

Pictures of you popped up, along with a description of your character. And again the bottom in the little box there were drop down choices with answers.

Why did Y/n Carter leave Supernatural?

Why did Dean and Y/n break up?

Do Y/n and Sam get together? 

That made Deans eyebrows furrow. Why would you and Sam ever get together? But he immediately groaned. When Sam was still soulless he apparently went to go see you, wherever you were. Because apparently Sam and Bobby were the only one to know where you went. He then proceeded to heavily dropped hints that he slept with you. It had taken everything for Dean not to beat up his soulless baby brother. 

Y/n Carter must be your name in this universe. Ironic how fake you and real you share the same first name. He clicked on the option that said why you left the show.

It was released that she left the show due to personal reasons but fans speculate it has something to do with her ex of 7 years Jensen Ackles(who plays Dean Winchester aka her love interest), leaving her and marrying a now former mutual friend, Daneel Harris now Daneel Harris-Ackles. 

"Holy shit" Dean mumbled, "Im a dick here too." 

"Whats wrong?"

"I looked up Y/n, wanted too know what she was up to. Apparently im an asshole here too." He passed the computer to Sam and he started reading. 

“At least you’re aware.” Sam mumbled and Dean shot him a look. “Huh seems like you guys broke up in this universe just after dad died in ours and she left the show around the time our Y/n left us." 

"You know where she is and wont tell me." Dean says with a slight glare.

"She doesn't want you too know, and for good reasons." Sam says.

"We need to find a way to get back to our universe." Dean says and looks over at the framed picture of fake him and the woman. It gave him a great unease. 

-

After trying to drive fake Baby. Sam and Dean just settled on getting driven to 'Jared's place as they should say. Fake Sam had a huge house, a freaking mansion. Dean noticed a tanning bed and opened it. 

"What am I Dracula?" Sam asks and shakes his head. Dean walked over to the large curtains as he heard animals making noises.

"Dude you have a freaking camal in your backyard."

"It's an alpaca, dumbass." A familiar woman's voice made them whip around. A woman at the top of the stairs, wearing a short black dress. 

"Ruby?" Dean looks at the woman is shock and she scoffs. 

"Gen, who is it?" The next voice that popped up was so sweet but sounded tired. Another woman appeared behind fake Ruby, dean let his eyes trail over her figure before his breath hitched.

"Y/n." He breathed out and took a step forward. He watched you swallow harshly all the way from where he was. You looked so beautiful, beautiful in every universe it seems. 

"G-Gen." you shakily said and grabbed her hand. "You said he wasn't going to be here."

"I know honey, I told a certain someone not to let another certain someone into the house even though I thought I didn't have to worry about it." Fake Ruby said all of that while glaring at Sam which made him shrink back. 

"I can't be here." You let her go and start to rush down the stairs. 

"Y/n wait let me talk to Jared and I'll take you back to your hotel room."

"Y/n." Dean walked towards you as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. "Hey." It had been more than a year since he last saw you, at least the real you. 

"Hey? Thats all you had to say after you admitted me to a fucking psych ward!? Dean took a step back and you took a step forward. "Got me written off the rest of 5?" You shoved your finger into his chest "You didn't even bother to visit me!" You shoved him fully this time.

This must have been what the internet was talking about.

“I-I-.” Dean tried to think of something to say but he was blank.

“Oh now you don’t have anything to say. Nothing about this being good for me, that everything is going to go back to normal after I get it. News flash Jensen, nothing worked. Fuck! WHY DIDNT YOU JUST LET ME DIE?” You screamed and shoved him hard making him almost fall back. 

“Okay Y/n honey go wait in the car.” Gen grabbed you by your arms and guided you to the door. 

“Fuck you Jensen, I wish I never fucking met you.” Gen opened the door for you and the boys watched fake Ruby watch you go to the car. She took in a deep breath before whipping around to the two boys. 

“Seriously Jensen, nothing you couldn’t say anything too her? Do you know what this could do to her?” Dean bit his lip and wiped his eye with the back of his hand. “Crying, you’re crying? Jesus I don’t want to see you talking to her outside of work, you’ve ruined my friend for the rest of her life.” 

Dean looked down at his shoes in shame and it felt weird too. This wasn’t his life, so why was it affecting him this much?

“And you.” Fake Ruby looks at Sam. “We’ll talk later.” She walks up to him and wraps a hand around his neck and pulls him down to her lips. He didn’t kiss her back, the shock of the whole thing has Sam stumped. She pulled away and let out a disappointed sigh before walking about of the house. 

It was quite for a mom between them. 

“Sammy we need to go home now.” Dean says, it was so quite Sam almost didn’t catch it. He didn’t sound like Dean.

“Dean, you okay?” He watched his brother bring bath hands up and wipe his eyes before turning around.

“Im going too stop asking you about her from now on.” He says and Sam cocks his head.

“About Y/n? Dean what’s happening in this universe, is nothing compared to what was happening back home.” 

“No you don’t understand! This just proved that me and Y/n don’t work, in any universe.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. Fake me left her first another woman after 7 years Sammy. And I left her for a woman who ended up wanting to ruin us. And them I didn’t even try to go after her after you disappeared, like you told me too. Im fucked up Sam, its better this way for her.” 

“Dean don’t say that-.”

“Sammy please, let’s just find a way back.”

-

A/n- if people want it, planning on making more about dean x reader, but the Jensen situation in this one… there is no coming back from that kinf of situation.  so no. But I have a big plan for Deans, I really hope people want more and want too know about it😁Feedback appreciated, I will love you forever

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (Prologue)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, implied break-up, sadness, rejection, Mary being a bitch, sleazy John

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Live was great. The man you loved proposed to you in the most romantic way. And later, you made love in his old Chevy Impala. The only girl he loved as much as he loved you; according to Dean.

Butterflies still fluttered in your stomach whenever he looked at you.

Everything was fine, great even. Until he invited you for a family dinner to get to know the rest of his family.

You already knew his younger brother. Sam was easy to be around. 

Dean never talked much about the rest of his family. All you knew was his mother came from old money, and his father was a made man. 

The moment you stepped into Mary Winchester’s house, your relationship with Dean was doomed.

Not only did she ignore you for most of the day, but she always invited Dean’s first love, the girl next door. The one and only Lisa Braeden.

You knew that Dean never got over her and accepted that he had a past. Everyone has a past, right?

It felt like someone stabbed you in the back and ripped your heart out at the same time.

But you never were a quitter. Instead of sulking in a corner and watching your fiancé talk to his ex, you decided to remind him what he’s going to lose if he doesn’t get his shit together.

“No, wait. He’s my man. His mother can’t do this to me,” you cursed under your breath." Dean was your man, he even proposed to you. His family just didn’t know yet. “I’ll beat you with your own weapons, bitch.”

You walked back upstairs, entered the room you shared with Dean, and threw on your most sexy dress, killer heels, and no underwear. – To hell with the girl next door. 

When you walked back down you put on a faked smile and confidently entered the living room again.

Your eyes scanned the room for you man only to watch Dean still talk to Lisa. They laughed, and she touched his arm, giggling like he said the funniest thing she ever heard.

You saw red but didn’t want to act like a jealous bitch in heat. So, you took a deep breath and brushed your concerns off.

“A nice party, huh?” Dean’s father stood a little too close for comfort. “Can’t believe my son got his hands on someone like you.”

John Winchester stank like booze and desperation. You assumed he didn’t get any from the ice queen his wife seemed to be.

“Mr. Winchester,” you excused yourself to walk toward Dean. 

You stopped in your tracks and took another deep breath. Dean ignored you calling his name, even when you put your hand on his shoulder. “Dean, I’m a little tired and I got a terrible headache.”

He didn’t react, too engrossed in listening to what Lisa had to say.

“Later,” he grumbled and didn’t even spare you a glance.

You knew there and then that Dean wasn’t ready to marry you.

Maybe you only were a rebound to him. A woman he could use until Lisa came back into the picture thanks to his mother.

“I thought you have changed. Dean, I believed you moved on from sleeping around when we met. Please don’t prove all the people telling me not to marry you right,” you grabbed his hand and tried to make him face you. 

“Y/N, not now,” he didn’t even hear what you said and waved you off. “Later.”

“Please…We need to talk Dean…it’s not only us any longer,” you whispered the words not daring to speak any louder.

You dropped his hand and stepped away, catching the attention of his whole family when you turned around to run upstairs.

You cried for what felt like an eternity when it was only a few minutes.

Sam came by after the scene you made in your opinion, but you didn’t open the door.

“I don’t know what to do now,” you wiped your eyes and choked out a sob. Dean changed so fast only because that woman was around. He didn’t act like the man you fell in love with that night.

It took all the strength left in you to change clothing again and pack up all your belongings. If he didn’t come to his senses tonight, maybe tomorrow when he found you gone.

You hastily wrote a few lines, and placed the piece of paper on the bed, along with your engagement ring.

Rereading the lines you choke out another sob.

One night of passion, a life-long responsibility. This is your decision. Are you in or out?  I got a job offer in London and will accept it if you don’t want to be a father yet (or at all).  If you are still the man you made me believe you are, call me tomorrow. If not, have a nice life…

Part 1

[lunaloveskpop23]

Non-idol Hongjoong x reader

Summary: The reader gets an invitation from her ex-boyfriend to his wedding. She gets upset and tells her best friend Hongjoong. She gets the idea of fake dating with her best friend Hongjoong. But what happens when Hongjoong takes the task too seriously?

Warnings: The ex is an asshole. A bit of a suggestive scene. Wooyoung is a flirt towards the reader. BxB moments a little with Woosan. Vernon is a fake character I came up with for this story. He is not Vernon from Seventeen.

Genre: A little bit of angst. Fluff.

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

"Ms. L/N, you have some mail." I look up and see my secretary, Lisa.

"Oh?" She hands me a letter.

"Thank you, Lisa." I say to her and she leaves.

I look at the letter and see it's from a familiar address. I get curious and open it. It's from my ex. Vernon. He's getting married and invited me?! What the hell?!

That jerk! Inviting me to the wedding and getting married to the woman you cheated on me with.

I throw that invitation on my desk and sigh. I put hands on my face. I hate him. I swear.

"Woah, stressed from work?"

I look up and see Hongjoong. My best friend. He and I have been best friends for years. Ever since high school. He is the boss at another company and our companies work together a lot. I trust him with everything and anything.

"Worse." I point towards the letter and he picks up the letter and reads.

He gets angry and throws the letter.

"That asshole has the audacity to do this to you! Say the word, I'll beat his ass."

"Hongjoong, no. He's not worth it." I tell him.

I rub my eyes.

"I don't even know what to do. What do you think I should do?" I ask.

"Don't go. Or go and beat his ass. Both are good options."

I giggle. He smiles at me.

"Now there's that giggle I know." He says softly.

I look at him and smile.

"You're so sweet. What would I do without you?"

"Hmmm live in a ditch."

I gasps and he laughs.

"Laugh one more time and I'll beat your ass." I tease.

"You know what, let's do something tonight. Get off early. We can go to my house and order food and watch bad comedy movies."

"That sounds incredible. Ok! I'll get off early."

"Then I'll pick you up at 5 sharp. Better not be working by then." He says seriously.

"Yes, sir!" I say playfully and he rolls his eyes and leaves.

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

Five rolls around. I walk outside and see Hongjoong waiting for me.

"Right on time! Your carriage awaits, my lady." He says playfully.

I giggle.

"Why thank you, my good sir!"

I get into the car and he drives away. Thankfully, his house isn't that far from here.

He pulls up at his house and I see the mansion. We get out of the car.

We walk inside.

"I'll get you some comfortable clothes. You better not think about that ex." He says going upstairs. I roll my eyes and sit down on the couch.

I look around the living room as I wait for him.

"I hope you don't mind my David Bowie shirt." He says walking down the stairs and I noticed he changed into something comfortable.

"You know I don't. I introduced you to him!" I grab the clothes gently.

"Thank you, Hongjoong." I say and I go to the bathroom and change.

I come out and see the movie pulled up.

"I ordered some chicken and I got two movies for us, tonight!"

"Ohhh fun!!" I say and we start watching the movie.

As the night progressed, we ate and watched the first movie. As we watch the second movie, we are eating ice cream. The movie we are watching had a trope of Fake dating. Which got me an idea.

"Wait Hongjoong..."

He looks up and pauses the movie and sets his ice cream down.

"Yes?"

"What if.....we go to the wedding......but as um....."

"But as what my star?"

"As fake dating. Like we go as pretend boyfriend and girlfriend and show that asshole that I moved on happily and show him he won't humiliate me."

He looks at me and is contemplating. He is silent for a while.

"It was just an idea. We don't have to do that."

"On one condition."

I look at him with wide eyes. "Yes?"

"You wear that dress I bought you."

I look at him like he's crazy.

"No way! That dress is way to expensive."

"Please!!! I promise I'll buy you another one if it gets messed up at this event."

I sigh and look at him.

"Ok. I promise."

He is happy and hugs me.

"Oh my fake girlfriend is the best!" He says dramatically.

"Yeah yeah."

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

The week goes by so quickly. Hongjoong and I plan out what our story is and how we got together. And the day before the wedding shows up.

We pack the car and head to the hotel for the wedding. We didn't go to the rehearsal because of work, but we are going to the wedding part. I did pack my dress. I look over at Hongjoong and wonder why all it took was a dress for him to say yes.

"Do I have something on my face?" He asks playfully.

"Oh um no. Sorry. I was thinking of things."

"Overthinking again? Oh love, you need to not think so much. Let that mind rest. It's not good for you." He says as he grabs my hand and holds it.

I blush. He always does this whenever I overthink. I smile.

We get to the hotel and we settle in.

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

* the day of the wedding *

I'm again in Hongjoong's car, but this time wearing a green dress. The one he bought me. I started getting nervous and worried.

"My star." I look at Hongjoong and he smiles at me.

"Everything will be fine. I promise."

I nod and smile at him. I love that he always calms me down before things like this. We get to the venue and I hear Hongjoong get out first and runs to my side. He opens the door for me. I smile.

"You're always so kind." I say to Hongjoong.

He closes the door and holds out his arm for my hand. He's really getting this fake dating thing down. We walk inside. A lot of people stared at us. I try to not look at a lot of people.

"Y/N!!!!!" I look up and see Wooyoung and San walking towards me.

"Oh my God! Look at you!! My pretty girl has returned to me!" Wooyoung says. Wooyoung is Vernon's brother and is two years older than him. San is Wooyoung's best friend.

I hug them both.

"It's good to see you two!" I say happily.

"Likewise. Look at you in that dress!" Wooyoung grabs my hands and kisses them.

"As you can see Wooyoung missed you a lot." San teases.

"Hey! She treats me better than my stupid brother. I swear he is a jackass for doing that to you! I actually smacked him upside the head because of what he did. I didn't even help with the wedding. I'm only here for the food. And San. I also heard heard you were coming so I couldn't say no to that." He smiles at me.

I roll my eyes.

"A flirt like always. But I'm glad to see you two. At least I have the both of you. Oh this is Hongjoong! My-"

"I'm her boyfriend." He says with jealousy in his voice and puts an arm around my waist. He pulls me closer.

Wooyoung gasps.

"Ohhhh he's a cutie! Better treat her right or me and San will beat your ass." Wooyoung says threatening.

"What he means to say is we hope you two are happy." San smiles at us.

"Thank you, both. We will take our seats." I grab Hongjoong and we take our seats.

"So, is Wooyoung usually that flirty?" Hongjoong asks.

"He is always like this. He flirts, hugs and kisses. It's normal for him. And I'm used to it. I mean, I wasn't at first, but he's literally better than his other two siblings, so I got along with him the most."

Hongjoong nods and looks around.

I sigh and I put my head on his shoulder.

"If you want to leave, we can. We don't have to stay." He says gently.

"I know. I just hope today will go by quickly."

Thankfully, the wedding portion of it did, but we are now at the party, and I changed into another dress Hongjoong bought me. It was a blue party dress.

As the party was going, I chatted with Wooyoung, San and Hongjoong. I ignored my ex and his wife. But obviously, they kept looking at me to my reaction to things. I didn't care. I was actually happy with Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and San.

I was dancing with Wooyoung as we talked.

"I'm surprised that you came, love." Wooyoung says.

"Well, I wanted to prove that I am strong." I say.

"And show that I'm better off."

"Well, clearly. I mean, Hongjoong is already a better boyfriend."

I blush as Wooyoung tells me.

"I can tell you both care about each other. It's adorable. Like how San cares about me."

"Oh? So finally, San mans up and asks you out?"

"Yes, finally. I swear, he's so oblivious sometimes."

I laugh.

"Knowing San, not surprised."

"May I cut in?" I look and see Hongjoong.

"By all means, lover boy." Wooyoung teases and leaves. He skips to San and hugs him.

"How many times are you going to get jealous of Wooyoung?"

"I'm not jealous." He grumbles. And I wrap my arms around his neck as we dance.

I looked into his eyes, and it felt like it was just us two. Nobody else in the world.

"I know it's not your day, but you're the most beautiful woman here." Hongjoong whispers in my ear.

I blush and smile.

"So. You actually brought a date." Me and Hongjoong stop dancing and pull away.

We look and see my ex. Vernon.

"Vernon.." I say.

"I thought you would come alone. Looks like I was wrong. Or are you her cousin she dragged here." He laughs.

"I'm her boyfriend. And I would watch your tone if I were you." Hongjoong says. He gets close to Vernon.

"Oooo so scared. Please. I was happy I cheated on her. She was to vanilla fo-" Hongjoong punches him.

"Hongjoong!!" I yell.

"Oh my God, Vernon!" His wife runs over to him.

Everyone stops and looks at what's going on.

"I said watch your tone. Now, Y/N here doesn't need an asshole like you in her life. You're just a no good scumbag who used a beautiful woman. Now, say anything else about Y/N. I dare you." He speaks with venom in his voice.

I blush. I never seen Hongjoong like this. It's really hot. Wait....hot?

Vernon gets up with his wife helping him.

"Get out!"

"With pleasure." Hongjoong takes my hand and we leave. I wave at Wooyoung and San goodbye.

They wave back.

We get into the car and he drives in silent. I don't know what to say after all of that. Hongjoong has always been protective, but I never seen him like that.

"Hongjoong..." I whisper.

"My star. I'm sorry."

I look at him confused.

"I scared you, didn't i?"

"What? No! I was just.......I never saw you like that before. I just..."

He pulls over. I get even more confused.

"Y/N. I have to tell you something."

I look at him.

"Yes?"

"I have been wanting to hide this for so long, but......I love you...."

I look at him with wide eyes.

"You.."

"That's why I acted like that. I've been in love with you for years. Even when you were with Vernon. I know this was supposed to be for the wedding, but you're so gorgeous, funny, sweet, kind, loving. Everything about you just makes my heart flutter more and I know this will most likely ruin our friendsh-"

I put a finger on his lips.

"Hongjoong. It's ok. Listen. You started acting like a boyfriend, and it kept making my heart flutter too. You're so kind, Hongjoong. I may not know how i feel yet, but how about we try this. Take me out for coffee, and we can see how it goes?"

He nods and smiles.

"Ok, coffee sounds amazing." I smile back at him.

------------------------------------------------‐-------

We went out for coffee and I had a wonderful time. We then went to dinner. Went to see a movie.

I fell for him. He acted as a boyfriend. I started gaining more feelings towards him.

We are at dinner at his house. He decided to cook.

"Is something wrong, my star?"

I look at him.

"Hongjoong.....I've thought about it more.....i...."

He grabs my hand gently.

"What is it, my star? Take your time."

"I fell in love with you. I really did."

Hongjoong smiles and come to my side. He hugs me tightly.

"My star. You have no idea how happy I am." I blush and cuddle with him.

"My Hongjoong." He kisses my cheek.

I never thought this would happen, but I don't mind. Hongjoong treats me right.

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

Hello, everyone. Here is my first story. I hope you all enjoyed it!! I'll be working on Seonghwa now.

Bye pookies!!!!!

[deathbyexhile]

Retribution. ( prologue ) — jackson rippner x reader

Summary: Jackson Rippner is back from his failed mission and no one is happy about it. Pairing: Jackson Rippner x Reader Content: Light smut, just a little tease. More to come later Word Count: 701

The first words Jackson Rippner hears when he wakes up are, “You’re lucky that you looked so pathetic in that hospital bed.” You’re standing over him, holding the supplies to change his bandages. After the failed assassination attempt, the rest of the crew wanted to leave Jackson behind and let homeland security deal with him. He wouldn’t snitch, we’d be able to get to him if he did.

Jackson looks up at you, his eyes are trying to adjust to the darkness of the cargo ship cabin you’re currently in. “The others wanted to leave you behind,” You cup his cheek and rub your thumb against his grown-out stubble. “But when I saw you there, hooked up to the machine, recovering from a vocal cord surgery that they only gave you so that they could question you and have you testify. I just felt such pity.” You pull your hand away, “You looked like a wounded little animal.”

Ever the fighter, Jackson tried to move, but both hands were cuffed to the bed. He tried to talk but it came out scratchy and unintelligible. “I wouldn’t talk if were you.” You roll my eyes, life just couldn’t keep him down. “When I working as your nurse at the hospital, they said you’d need to rest your vocal cords for a week. You’ve got a few more days to go.” His eyes go wide with anger and you laugh. Normally, an angry Jackson would be something to worry about, but right now he was like a neutered dog in a cone. Just wondering what the hell was going on and where his balls were. “That right there might just kill you.” He had always been a talker. Even getting stabbed in the throat by Lisa didn’t stop him.

While you clean his other wounds from the fight, you catch him up on what’s happened since he passed out on the floor of the Reisert house. “Clearly you and the plan to assassinate Keefe failed. Really it was doomed from the start if you ask me. A rocket launcher? I would have just gone with poison or a car accident, but you boys just had to go big.” You laugh again and look over at him. He’s got that usual displeased look about him. His head titled down, slightly furrowed brow, and pouty lips. “And I told you that Lisa wouldn’t be a good target. You told you she’d fight back, but no…you followed her for weeks.” Mocking his deep voice, “I know her. She’s a naive girl who drinks Seabreezes and calls her dad every day.” He pouts even more. “But she stabbed you and now your face is all over the news.”

Upon hearing the word news, Jackson’s eyes go wide, like he suddenly remembered he’s a wanted man. “Don’t worry. We’re on some old cargo ship heading far away from the United States. When things cool down we’ll get you a new identity and bring you back.” Not to Miami or Texas, but there were other states. He couldn’t be trusted to talk to any hostages. “You’ll be relegated to research and planning with me.” He moved his mouth to talk but then remembered he couldn’t. “Yes even with all your looks and charm, you’ll be stuck behind the scenes with me.” He hated not being the center of attention. Jackson Rippner needed to be the one calling the shots.

When you're finished changing his bandages, you say, “Just one more question, Jack. Did you fuck her?” His blue eyes had that wild look in them. Strapped the bed, bandages around his neck and chest, stubble now a week grown out, he looked like a madman. A smile, delighting in his frustration. “No, but you wanted to fuck her, right? Was your cock the reason we failed?” you reach down and stroke him through his pants. His eyes roll back and he lets out a scratchy pathic groan.

When he opens his eyes, You're on the other side of the room. You knock on a heavy metal door, it swings open and Jackson can see two armed guards. You look back at him and say, “You owe me big time.”

[hooked-on-elvis]

Elvis' worry and wholeheartedly support to Priscilla

Elvis was about to film the MGM picture "Speedway". On June 10, Presley and his entourage (wives included) boarded on the Grey Hound bus that George Barris had "customized so lavishly for Elvis". Filming began on 26 June 1967. Scenes were shot at the Charlotte Motor Speedway in Concord, North Carolina.

Great news fell on the Presley family just before the trip began.

Priscilla had her own reasons for resentment. Just before they left on the cross-country trip she found out that she was pregnant. Her first reaction was one of anger. Before the wedding she had asked Elvis if she should start taking birth-control pills, but he was adamantly opposed because, he told her, they had not yet been proven to be medically safe. She saw pregnancy as the end of all their dreams. "If I were pregnant, I knew that our plans to travel would have to be postponed…. For the first year I truly wanted to be alone with Elvis, without any responsibilities or obligations." She approached Elvis with a considerable degree of trepidation. "I expected him to react with the same mixed reactions I felt, but he was ecstatic… and immediately wanted to tell everyone." The instant that it was confirmed, he informed his father that he was going to be a grandfather. "You’re going to be a gray-headed granddaddy," he teased him in the doctor’s waiting room, as father and son shared a moment of unalloyed joy. Priscilla was determined not to let pregnancy interfere with her normal life; "as far as I was concerned, the less people mentioned about my looking pregnant, the better," and she went on a program to lose, rather than to gain, weight. She experienced periods of despondency nonetheless, and she made no attempt to hide her deepest feelings from Joanie Esposito, who observed that "it just took all the glow off." For all of Priscilla’s deep-seated ambivalence, Elvis' own feelings seemed to run remarkably true. When Priscilla, in a moment of despair, confessed that she was contemplating abortion, Elvis said he would support her in whatever she chose to do. Brought face-to-face with the necessity of actually making a decision, she realized she couldn’t go through with it. "'It's our baby,' I said, sobbing. 'I could never live with myself, neither could you.' There were no words, only his smile of approval; he held me tightly in his arms as I cried." And when he announced her pregnancy on the movie set, handing out cigars to cast and crew, he showed nothing but paternal pride, mixed with the understandable bewilderment of most first-time fathers. "This is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me," he told reporters. "We really hadn’t planned to have a baby this soon. [When] Priscilla told me the good news… [at first] I was so shocked I didn’t think I could move for a while. Then it began to dawn on me this is what marriage is all about." The Colonel confessed that he, too, was surprised, "but I’ve already got a Contract drawn up for the new Presley singer."

Excerpt: "Careless Love: The Unmaking of Elvis Presley" by Peter Guralnick (1998). Chapter "The Last Round-up: June 1967–May 1968"

The Presleys: Elvis, Lisa Marie and Priscilla

[honorary-knight-of-favonius]

Truth - Kaeya

Summary: You finally find the one

Warnings: crush!Kaeya, Fem!Reader, Multiple orgasms, cuninglings, fingering, living room sex, roommate!kaeya, collegestudent!reader.

I groaned rubbing my temples, I had been staring at this book for hours and nothing is being processed in my brain and it doesn’t fucking help I have a project due in less than twelve hours. As I was staring at the book the door to my room opened and in came my roommate and friend, Kaeya. 

“Yo, so you might wanna wait to shower, I might’ve used all the hot water.” I groaned in response, Kaeya came over and looked at my materials. 

“You’ve been on the same page since I got home, which was two hours ago.” I sighed and looked at Kaeya. 

“Thank you Captain Obvious!.” I said condescendingly. 

I heard a hum then I was lifted from my seat and carried out of my room and the only thing I felt was relief and warmth. Kaeya brought me to the living room and sat me down on the couch and he held me in his arms to make sure I didn’t try to get up and go back to that self-made prison. 

“I’m hungry, wanna order?” Kaeya asked, I looked back and at the perfect moment my stomach rumbled. 

“B-but money.” I whined. 

“I didn’t ask if you had money, I asked if you were hungry.” I nodded and Kaeya smiled and pet me, “What do you want?” He asked

“Can we get Indian food?” I asked, Kaeya nodded and pulled out his phone and ordered the food, while we were waiting for the food Kaeya turned on some historical looking romance movie and made sure I was into the movie before leaving the couch. When he came back it was with a giant tortilla blanket, my favorite stuffed animal and some comfier clothes. Kaeya changed my jeans to fluffy pants and took off my shift and bra putting me into an oversized shift I was pretty sure I stole from him, and then he wrapped the blanket around me and handed me the toy before a knock echoed through the apartment and he went to go get the food and then handed me my food and finally sat back down. 

“Is that why you like historical fiction?!” Kaeya asked as a certain explicit scene showed, “I mean I get the appeal but that’s. . .wow.” Kaeya said, I giggled. 

“I know it’s so enchanting isn’t it! It’s like he already knows her body without ever having to touch her!” I rave, Kaeya chuckled. 

“Oh. . .No I get that part, I mean take you for example. You hate when the top of your thighs are touched, but melt when the sides are caressed.” Kaeya said, I choked a bit before I looked back at him confused at home. He knew that and all I saw was a shocked expression almost like he exposed himself, “I-I, I didn’t mean that I meant-” 

“How much do you know about my body?” I asked, Kaeya swallowed harshly before putting his food down on a tiny end table and bit his lip. 

“A lot more than you think.” Kaeya said. 

“. . .explain.” I urged. 

“Well. . .shit I need an area.” 

“Chest.” 

“Shit, ok, you’re really not holding back. . .Um. . .You hate when people put their whole hands on your. . .boobs and just move them around, you like when they're worshiped or when your,” He coughed, “your nipples are stimulated.” He finished. 

I looked at him dumbfounded, “How the fuck do you know that!” I asked

“W-well. . .when you're horny and unsatisfied with a certain dude you tend to. . ."rant.” Kaeya said, “Most of the time it’s to Lisa and if I don’t hear it Lisa tends to tell me because well because she tends to vent about your choices is lays.” Kaeya said, I looked at him and saw color rising to his face. 

“Just. . .how much do you know?” I ask

“I know you like when guys take their time to eat you out, how you like foreplay, how to hold your body, how to get your legs shaking with ease, and I also know you like to kiss and makeout. . .Oh! And aftercare and I know a bunch of ways to arouse you too.” When he realized what he said he covered his mouth and even more color rushed to his face. 

“So you know everything about my body.” I whispered, Kaeya quickly went to take me in his arms.

“I-I’m so sorry! I am really sorry! I- I didn’t mean to say all that!” Kaeya rushed. 

“H-Have you told anyone else?!” I asked

“W-what?! No, no way! Why the hell would I tell the competition your preferences when I could try to use them myself?” Kaeya once again covered his mouth and got up and moved away from me, “Shit Kaeya you and your big mouth.” 

“H-have you tried to.  . .”Kaeya looked back. 

“No! No way! I-I mean I wouldn’t be opposed to using that knowledge on you, but I’ve never intentionally tried, not that I haven’t wanted to, but I-” Kaeya shut up the moment he saw my face, “Shit Kaeya you're not helping yourself.” He scolded, hitting his head. 

I looked away and covered my face. It almost sounds like Kaeya is confessing to me. Like he’s telling me he’s in love with me that he wants me and no one else. I looked back to Kaeya how he was trying to hide his anxiety, but he was failing. I got up and went close to Kaeya taking a hand and placing it on my hip and Kaeya quickly moved it to my waist and hugged me. 

“I-I. . .if you want what I think you want you’ll have to tell me. B-because otherwise I really need to get my hands off you, I-I really don’t want to ruin our relationship so. . .please, tell me.” I looked at Kaeya and put my hands on his bare chest and whined. 

“You’re thinking right.” Kaeya swallowed harshly, “Please, show me what you’ve learned.” Kaeya picked me up by the backs of my thighs and carried me to the couch when he laid me down before he got on his knees on the floor. 

“Are you sure you want this?” I nodded and he began tugging off my pants while removing my shirt. Kaeya started by cupping and caressing the side of my thighs just the way I liked before he bit my inner thighs as well as sucking some hickeys on them too. When he got to my cunt he blew twice before licking a long stripe up and diving in, he used his tongue to focus on my clit then wrapped his lips around it making my hands go to his hair. He began humming and the vibrations made my head all fuzzy, when he managed to slip his fingers in I closed my thighs around Kaeya and he welcomed me to squeeze his head and continued to use one hand to caress my thigh and I began grinding against his face my moans getting higher and my that knot was unraveling and the moment it was undone I arched my back rolling my eyes back. I took a deep breath and my body relaxed. 

Kaeya pulled away and moved his hands to my hips before he hovered over me, “well, did I pass Mistress?” Kaeya purred out like a kitten. The way the mistress came out of his mouth was perfect, like he was made to say. 

“Y-yes~ with flying colors.” I said, Kaeya moved to face my tits, and made sure to place his hands in a way that caressed them without grabbing them like an apple. He kissed the valley between and then moved his mouth to the left side while the right side had the nipple pinched, and twisted. I whined and arched my back, Kaeya took his mouth away and went to kiss and suck a hickey on my tit before returning his mouth to the nipple, I felt his teeth graze the skin and I tangled my fingers in Kaeya’s hair. 

“K-kaeya, you’re doing so good, so fucking good~” I praised, He smiled and grazed my nipple again. I felt the knot forming and then Kaeya switched his hand and mouth and the knot grew tighter and tighter and I managed to grind against his stomach and with all the stimulation I came undone going limp on the couch. 

“It seemed like I managed to scratch that itch.” Kaeya smirked, “How are you doing?” Kaeya asked, cupping my face. When I didn’t answer him he moved to get the toy he’d brought out, “Be a good girl and touch Nellie if you still want to continue.” I touched the toy and he smiled. 

“If you want a break, touch Nellie.” I did so again, “Ok, you must’ve needed that huh?” I nodded, Kaeya kissed my cheek, “you’re doing so good, so fucking good.” After a few minutes I pulled Kaeya into a kiss. He hummed and placed a hand on my waist allowing me to meet his hips. 

“There’s no need to be impatient, Mistress. Just order me to serve you and I’ll be a good boy and do just that.” I smiled and pulled him closer. 

“Then be a good boy and fuck your Mistress.” When I felt the slight movement on his pants then I felt his hard and ready cock on my desperate cunt and he looked at me. 

“If I hurt you tell me,” I nodded and he slipped in and I dug my nails into his shoulders and he stayed still before he began moving but his pace was slow but he was deep and rough, shit he even knew how I liked being fucked. Why didn’t I notice his lusting gazes or kind praise, or the sad smiles he gave when I told him I was going on a date? Why didn’t I notice them sooner? I should’ve noticed them so much sooner, I don’t need him as my bestfriend, I need him as my fucking boyfriend! 

“C-close~ I’m so close~” I whined, Kaeya went to my tits and worked their magic as I screamed, my orgasm washed over me and I felt Kaeya going to leave and I locked myself around him making it so he had to cum inside which he did and laid in my chest before looking up at me. 

“S-shit, shit, shit! I can’t believe I just came in you, I came in you! Oh fucking hell, I can’t believe that, I’m so fucking sorry, I-I’ll take responsibility if anything happens, shit.” Kaeya freaked out before I spoke up. 

“I-I have an implant.” I say, Kaeya looked confused but then it clicked and he grabbed a tissue before he pulled out making sure to clean me and once I was I had the oversized shirt put on and then cuddled on the couch with Kaeya. 

“So. . .Um. . .I know you know how I feel about you. But. . .what about you?” He asked

“Kaeya.” He hummed, “Would you like to be my boyfriend?” I asked, He smiled brightly and nodded before peppering my face in kisses and snuggling into my hair. 

[isnt-it-pretty]

I rewrote the conversation with Collei in my eleazar!cyno fic because it didn't fit, but I decided I'd post it here as an outtake!

Wow, it's 2,287 words. That's like a short one-shot in itself. Oh well, here! You can see which sections I took verbatim, which I rewrote, and which I cut entirely. It has a very different vibe than the one I eventually went with.

Let me know if you're interested in seeing more cut sections and outtakes. They're often not as long as complete ar this one, but I saved them all.

Also sorry for the spacing tumblr likes adding an additional one and I wasn't sure whether getting rid of them made it harder to read since it's so long. Let me know if it's harder this way and I'll fix it.

You can read the fic in its entirety here!

Chapter 5, last scene, Collei & Cyno's discussion:

“Master Cyno?” Collei asked. 

He looked up from his seat by the window to find her hovering in the doorway, looking unsure of herself. 

“Collei,” he greeted, uncurling himself to face her more easily. “What is it?”

He hadn’t seen a lot of Collei outside of his physical therapy, especially not without Tighnari at her side. Cyno suspected it was difficult for her to see him like this. Her memories of their time in Mondstadt had always been a challenge for their relationship, but it was probably worse now. He was frail where he used to be strong, and even weeks of recovery had barely helped that (much to his growing frustration).

Collei hesitated. “Oh, um, well, I was wondering if- no, wait,” she stopped herself and took a deep breath, straightening her back before she continued. “You and I are going to play TCG. I have a deck for you and everything. It was a gift from a matra named Nayab?” She said it like a question, even though it clearly wasn’t supposed to be. “Um. Mahamatra Taj brought it.”

That was the first Cyno had heard of such a gift. He raised an eyebrow at Collei’s forwardness and silently noted to himself to look into why Nayab was sending him TCG decks. 

She flushed beneath his gaze and looked away, fidgeting.

“Miss Lisa told me not to ask you if you wanted to do something, but just to tell you we’re doing it. She said you’d refuse if you aren’t feeling well, even if it’s something you usually like, and, um, Kaveh agreed when I mentioned it.”

Ah, so Lisa put her up to this. That wasn’t surprising—it sounded just like something she would do. Part of Cyno wanted to feel irritated at Lisa’s—and apparently Kaveh’s—intervention, but he knew she meant well, even if he didn’t want to admit that she was right. It was a lesson from their shared Akademiya years, when Cyno had avoided things because he felt too stressed to enjoy them, or hadn’t thought he deserved the break. He thought he’d moved on from that habit, but maybe Cyno wasn’t so far removed from his youth as he’d believed. 

Genius Invokation was never something he’d ignored before. It was the only hobby he really had, but as Cyno’s health had waned, so too had his desire to play. He just didn’t have the energy or time. All of his once well-loved decks were probably still sitting on a dust covered shelf in his apartment. 

He didn’t really want to play now, either. Maybe it was because he was tired, or the way his hands ached, or that he simply wanted to stew alone as he thought of his mistakes. TGC represented something from before to him, although Cyno wasn’t yet sure what that meant. 

Collei was still waiting for his response, shifting anxiously as she did, and Cyno couldn’t deny her this. He couldn’t deny her anything, really. 

“Okay,” he said, and she gave him a hesitant smile. 

Standing hurt. It was something he had taken for granted before his illness. His muscles were still weak and it would take months for him to be able to walk unsupported, if he would ever be able to again—it was something he tried not to think about, fear curling deep within his chest at the thought of his abilities changing so drastically. At least he was strong enough for crutches now. They were made from slender wood that reached his forearm, partially wrapping around it in a cuff. A leather wrapped handle at hand height allowed him to grip them comfortably. It wasn’t perfect—Cyno’s arms were weak and even more prone to fatigue than his legs—but it worked well enough for short distances and was easier to use than the alternatives. Gandharva Ville wasn’t known for its accessibility. 

Collei didn’t offer to help as he hobbled his way toward the table. He was grateful for it. Cyno wasn’t a particularly prideful individual, but he wasn’t sure he could bear that from the child he had saved. It was bad enough when he had to rely on Kaveh or Tighnari for such simple things. 

He sat at the table and leaned his crutches against a nearby chair, relieved to be off his feet. Collei watched hesitantly, likely feeling somewhat awkward, before she finally joined him. 

The deck boxes were well made from beautiful wood and leather. Collei handed him both of them to pick between, and Cyno glanced through each deck. 

They were competitive and synergistic, which was exactly the play style he enjoyed. Somebody had spent a lot of time and money on these.

“You said this was a gift from Nayab?” Cyno asked, looking up at her.

Collei bit her lip and nodded. “He gave them to Mahamatra Taj for you. I think a few of the other matra helped too?” 

Cyno’s hands were gentle, almost reverent, as he looked through the cards again. An emotion he couldn’t name welled up in his chest.

It shouldn’t have been surprising. Cyno had played hundreds of games with his matra to pass the time on long missions or after working hours. It was one of the few ways his subordinates could convince him to go out with them. Nayab, in particular, had spent months trying to convince him to play during the worst of his sickness. And yet, to know that they had paid such close attention to his favourite cards that they could imitate a deck he would create showed a level of care he hadn’t thought possible from anybody but his closest friends.

“I hope you one day realize how truly cared about you are, Cyno,” Taj had said. 

Shaking himself from his reverie, he picked the more complicated of the decks and gave the other to Collei. She always preferred the more straightforward tactics, but she had been branching out the last time they had played, several months prior.

There was a routine to TCG, and despite the time that had passed, Cyno fell into it with ease. He felt himself relaxing as they played.

Draw, roll, play cards, attack, pass turn.

He was never one to make conversation during games, but even he could feel the tension growing between them. It felt like the moment before a wave’s crash, when the water pulled back with the tide before rushing forward to slam against rocks and stone. 

Cyno cleared his throat. 

“How are you doing?” he asked, hoping to break the tension that felt like cracking ice. “Have you lessons been going well?”

“They’ve been fine,” Collei said. “The other Forest Watchers have been helping for the last few weeks, since Master Tighnari has been busy.” She kept her attention on her cards. 

Right. Tighnari had been with him, so Collei would have had to get her instruction elsewhere. 

He wondered if she’d felt hopeless for those long weeks, when her illness progressed as his did—albeit not as severely. Did she even want to continue her education knowing how little time she’d had left? Did her goals change now that there wasn’t a death sentence hanging over her head? Collei was so young. She’d never had the opportunity for dreams without the reality of her Eleazar shattering the image, no matter how carefully constructed. Cyno was lucky that way. His illness appeared in adulthood, although he wondered if he would have done anything different if his condition had been more similar to Collei’s. He suspected his decisions in life would have remained that same. 

He felt a hollow pang in his chest at the thought.

Cyno cleared his throat. “Are you planning on staying in Gandharva Ville?” he asked. 

Collei played a card. Her brows furrowed. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked.

“I just thought maybe there was something else you’d want to do now that your Eleazar is cured.”

She dealt three damage to his active character. 

“Gandharva Ville is my home. I wouldn’t leave it just because of that. I want to become a Forest Watcher and a medic. Only Master Tighnari can teach me those things.” Her voice was steady, but there was a hint of something else in it. 

They both rolled for the start of the turn.

Cyno played two cards and passed to her. The tension seemed to grow with each moment. 

“Collei,” he said the next time it was his turn. He kept his gaze on his cards so that he wouldn’t have to face her. “It’s okay if you’re uncomfortable around me. You don’t have to force yourself.”

He motioned for her to take her turn, and Collei slammed a card onto the table. 

“I’m not uncomfortable around you,” she snapped with uncharacteristic anger. Or, rather, uncharacteristic of her for the last few years. It was closer to the fury she held when they’d first met. 

She took a deep breath, visibly calming herself. “I’m hurt and I’m angry.”

Oh. 

“Collei-” he began, unsure of what to say, but she cut him off. 

“How could you?” she asked, some of the fury returning to her voice. “You told me to trust people, to let them in, to trust you, and then you lied for years! I understand not telling me, but how could you keep it a secret from Master Tighnari? I thought you loved him.”

“I do-”

“I thought you were dead when I first found him crying on the floor,” she sounded choked. “He was holding one of your shirts and I thought- but no, you were just dying from an illness you hid despite knowing it’s something I had too!” 

Her words were quiet when she spoke next, as if all the fight had fled her. “I couldn’t travel to see you,” she whispered. “I had to wait here for Lisa’s letters because Tighnari was too devastated to write. You would have died and I wouldn’t have even had the chance to say goodbye.”

She tightened her hands into fists, staring down at the cards in front of her. Cyno knew she wasn’t crying—Collei refused to allow that if she could help it—but she was close to it. 

He reached across the table to lay a hand over one of her fists, a steady ache between his ribs from knowing just how much he had affected her. It was naïve to think otherwise, and yet... 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Collei, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Then why?” she asked in that same meek voice. It reminded Cyno of Mondstadt, of the little girl so desperate for somebody to trust, somebody to care for her. 

He squeezed her fist. 

“I can’t tell you,” he said. “I don’t really know myself. All of my thoughts were just excuses.”

Collei clenched her jaw, her shoulders trembling as she stared down at the table. “That’s cruel,” she said.

Guilt curdled in Cyno’s stomach like soured milk. “I know, and I’m sorry I can’t do better.”

Archons, how he wished he could do better; wished he could mend all of his broken relationships. This was the last thing he’d ever wanted to happen. 

“Collei, I- if you want-” he cleared his throat. “I know you’re closer with Tighnari than me, but if you want comfort…” He raised one arm, a silent signal he would hug her if she wanted. 

Perhaps Collei had grown more than he thought she did, because Cyno didn’t expect her to take him up on it. To his surprise, though, Collei pushed herself out of her chair and quickly rounded the small table. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders tightly, hiding her face in his shoulder like she would if he was Tighnari.

The chair creaked beneath their combined weight, but held. Cyno was thankful—he didn’t think he could keep himself up otherwise, let alone Collei. 

It was awkward at first. Despite his offer, Cyno still wasn’t sure what to do. Lisa had hugged him before she left, and it was common for Kaveh to, but Tighnari was too careful when touching Cyno now. 

Cyno took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. He wrapped his arms around Collei and felt her soften into him. She sniffled against his shirt and hiccuped a quiet cry, her hands twisting in the fabric at his back. Cyno held her closer and rested his cheek against her hair. It smelled of the same Sumeru rose shampoo that all the Forest Watchers used—that Tighnari used. 

His eyes burned as the fabric beneath Collei’s face dampened with her tears. He supposed this has been a long time coming for her. Maybe for both of them. 

She really had her whole life ahead of her now, and Cyno realized with an ache that he was so glad he would get to see it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, whispering into the wisps of her green hair. 

Collei tightened her hold on him before pulling away. Cyno already missed her warmth. 

“I forgive you,” she said, sniffling. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy to match the damp section of his shirt. “You’re too important not to.”

Cyno breathed deeply, trying to brush away the pain in his chest from her words. It didn’t ease. 

He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it. 

“You’re important to me too,” he said. 

She wiped her eyes on a sleeve and sniffled again. Her expression almost made Cyno laugh.

“I hate crying,” she said. “It’s disgusting, and now my face hurts.”

Cyno did laugh at that, the sound barely a breath, but Collei heard it. 

She smiled at him and squeezed the hand he still held back.

For now, it was enough.

[longislandcharm]

PARTIES: @longislandcharm TIMING: The A few months before Winter arrived in Wicked's Rest SUMMARY: Winter is performing a ritual she found in her great grandmother's journal. A ghost appears. He is not happy. WARNINGS: fire, gore, blood tw

Some notes: Kind of short and I meant to post this when I first joined but I'm a dumb. Thanks to Addie for reminding me.

“Are we rolling?” Winter looked up from the table she’d set up in their filming location that day, her eyes bright from the light of the flames flickering all over the place. She was just lighting the last candle she’d brought in to help give the old warehouse some ambience and was ready to get this scene going but the crew was lagging for some reason. Her patience was wearing thin but the girl kept her cool when the director waved her off or else she feared she might run another one off…something she’d been warned about by the studio. Apparently she needed an attitude check. Rolling her eyes, she took another look around to make sure everything was perfect before bringing in their guest for the night. Trying something new meant keeping things hush, under wraps, in case something went wrong during set up or she felt that things wouldn’t work but Winter was definitely excited about this one. “Guys, we’ve had three successful seasons and we’ve never thought to do a ritual before? I’m surprised we’ve lasted this long.”

The words were a tad biting, yes, but everyone could feel the enthusiasm dripping from every syllable she uttered and they all seemed to relax more as they realized their star was concentrating more on the set than them. The atmosphere was less tense than usual as Winter moved through the charred remains of the abandoned ACME warehouse in town. The place had burned down many years ago and she’d been asked by a girl around her age to help contact her father who had perished in the fire. Meeting her early that day, seeing how hopeful the woman was, and knowing that she herself was a daddy’s girl did nothing to dissuade her from doing just what the girl asked…even if she couldn’t actually do it. No, it only made Winter work harder at making this a special episode for the grieving daughter.

The candles were normal but there was something extra that Winter had found in a book that once belonged to her great grandmother. Specific symbols littered the ground around the table, ones that she had drawn herself with white chalk in hopes to make the place look even spookier. Winter was proud to say she had succeeded in that endeavor. The book that had displayed these symbols was sitting open to a page with a funky little chant to go along with the ambience. 

“Winter!” Oh, it seemed the director was finally ready. She looked up from one of the symbols on the ground, her hand paused over one of the lines of chalk. “Yes, Brookes?” The director waved his hand again, indicating that he was rolling the cameras, and her smile faltered. If the man didn’t get his head out of his ass and use his words he would soon find out why the other directors had left. “Brookes, has anyone ever told you that the strong, silent type doesn’t do it for anyone anymore? I’m gonna need some actual words from you if you’re sticking around.” She left it at that, though, as she stood and stood on her mark a couple of feet away from the table. She was so ready for this.

The cameras were rolling, the crew was quiet, and Winter put on the sad smile she reserved for the people she was trying to “help.” It was almost too easy to slip into the character she had portrayed for three seasons but the candlelight helped emanate the warmth she was trying to extend towards her guest as the woman slowly walked into the room. “Hi Lisa.” Lisa’s fear and hesitance was something that most people showed while on this show and Winter had perfected her soothing tone for just this moment. “Welcome.”

Twenty minutes passed as the girls had a conversation for the camera and Winter explained what she was about to do. She was getting antsy, pushing Lisa towards the little ritual as much as she could while keeping that calm exterior. When her guest was finally ready, Winter took Lisa’s hand and they made their way over to the book that was still lying open waiting for its moment to shine. The words started to roll off her tongue as if she’d said them millions of times before because in truth, rehearsals had ensured that she had. But something felt different this time. The air was getting colder by the second, the flames of the candles were flickering wildly, and the crew themselves started to get restless. They’d witnessed Winter’s antics for three years now but they’d never seen anything like this before.

Winter closed her eyes for a split second while she let herself lean into the words. But when she opened them the chant was replaced by a shrill scream tearing through her throat. She bumped the table as she scrambled backwards, candles spilling wax all over the place while they fell over, and she fell back onto her butt while her gaze locked on an ethereal being standing on the other side of the table. His gaze was cold as he stared at her but her wide eyes were drawn to the man’s arm dangling at his side. The limb was practically shredded, blood covering the whole right side of his body, and it was clear that he was seriously injured. 

“Where the hell did you come from?”

Everyone was staring at her in shock but not one person made a move towards the bleeding man to help him. Winter was cold but damn, these people were straight up assholes. 

[kanisema-blog]

My In-Laws are Obsessed with Me

Chapter 5

The next morning, I gathered my team in the conference room to share the exciting news from my meeting with Lisa. Everyone was eager to hear about the plans for turning our project into a series.

“Good morning, everyone,” I began, smiling at the eager faces around the table. “I had a productive meeting with Lisa yesterday, and she’s really excited about expanding our movie into a series. We discussed adding more depth to the characters and introducing new story arcs.”

“That’s fantastic news, Kelly!” Emily said, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. “I’ve got so many ideas for expanding the backstories of some of our characters.”

“Great to hear, Emily. We’re definitely going to need those ideas,” I replied. “Lisa also mentioned wanting to introduce a new antagonist. Someone who can challenge our protagonist in unexpected ways. I think it’s a brilliant idea to add more tension and keep the audience hooked.”

Mark leaned forward, nodding. “I’ve been thinking about that too. I have a few concepts for an antagonist that could really shake things up.”

“Perfect, Mark. I’d love to see what you’ve got,” I said, feeling the energy in the room lift with each new suggestion. “Now, let’s talk about tasks. Emily, I want you to start working on the backstories. Mark, start developing the antagonist. Jessica, I’d like you to focus on storyboarding some of the key scenes we discussed.”

Everyone nodded, jotting down notes. “Let’s make this series as amazing as our movie. I know we can do it,” I encouraged them, feeling a surge of pride in my talented team.

The rest of the day was a blur of brainstorming and planning. We exchanged ideas, sketched out scenes, and began laying the groundwork for what promised to be an incredible series. By the time the workday ended, I was both exhausted and exhilarated.

I decided to stop by the grocery store on my way home. My fridge was looking pretty bare, and I needed to stock up. As I roamed the aisles, grabbing what I needed, my mind kept drifting back to the project. I was so lost in thought that I almost didn’t notice him.

There, standing by the oils, was John. He seemed to be deep in thought, scanning the shelves. I hesitated for a moment, then walked over to grab the oil I usually buy. As I reached for it, I couldn’t help but make a comment.

“Aren’t you going to buy the most expensive one?” I said, a hint of teasing in my voice.

John looked at me, his expression as nonchalant as ever. “Trying to spend my money wisely these days,” he replied, then glanced at the oil I had chosen. Without another word, he grabbed the same one and walked away.

I watched him go, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. Seeing John always stirred up old feelings, memories of our time together, both good and bad. I took a deep breath, shook my head slightly, and continued with my shopping.

After picking up the rest of my groceries, I headed to the checkout counter, paid for my items, and walked out of the store. As I approached my car, I nearly jumped out of my skin when John appeared beside me, offering to carry my bags.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his tone casual.

I almost punched him in surprise. “John! You scared me,” I said, my heart racing.

“Sorry,” he said, though his expression remained unchanged. “Just thought I’d help.”

I hesitated, then handed him a couple of bags. “Thanks.”

We walked to my car in silence. As he helped me load the groceries into the trunk, I couldn’t help but steal glances at him. Despite everything, there was something comforting about his presence.

“Thanks for the help,” I said once we were done.

“No problem,” he replied, turning to walk away.

I watched him go, a part of me wishing things could have been different. But life had its own plans, and we were both trying to move forward. I got into my car, took a deep breath, and drove home.

Once home, I put away the groceries and settled onto the couch, reflecting on the day. It had been a whirlwind, from discussing exciting new projects with my team to the unexpected encounter with John. As much as I tried to focus on the future, the past had a way of sneaking back in. But I knew I had to keep moving forward, one step at a time.

[oxy-daisy]

Coffee at 7th and Main:

The golden sunlight illuminates the stone steps of the Art Museum, and on my way into the building I pass people taking pictures of the sunset. As I walk through the doors I had walked through as a child, I find the reception desk, and get a ticket.

"Hi Olivia, nice to see you back,” the receptionist says to me with a smile.

“Nice to see you too,” I headed to the coat room. There I drop off my leather bomber jacket and take a look in the mirror to make sure my light brown hair isn't a mess. My pale face has a rosy blush from the cool air outside.

I've done this before. Museum for an afternoon, get dinner in the cafe, leave before closing, and walk back to my family's townhome near the museum. Until now I had only really been in the summer, not autumn. I check my coat in and find my way to the first gallery.

The whole building is made of marble and stone, and is built to emulate Ancient Greek architecture. I find the history of furniture interesting, so that exhibit has become a staple of my evening visits. I breeze through the furniture and move across the main hall to the sculpture garden. Quite possibly my favorite part of the visit, I get to see sculptures of all different kinds of people. I like looking at different sculptures of women, ones that look like me, and ones that don't. I spend as much time as I'd like here. My stomach rumbles as I look at Degas’ ballerina which signals my turn to the cafe.

During the week there are not many people in the art museum cafe. A grab and go sandwich stifles my hunger. Fizzy lemonade washes it down. My favorite part of the meal is the chocolate chip cookie at the end. I flip through art pamphlets as I eat, but really enjoy watching other people in the cafe. I find myself daydreaming of who they are and what they could be doing on a Thursday night at an art museum. Truth being they are likely wondering the same thing about me.

Once I finish my dinner I walk through the corridor, past the medieval armor, to the paintings. The museum I go to has a section of prints, so they can capture famous paintings through history. I stop first at the ever popular Mona Lisa. I look into her eyes and she gazes back at me. I can't tell if she is smiling or frowning, happy or upset. The colors seem sad but her face seems almost content. Her eyes follow me as I cross the room, almost as if she is a real person who is watching me, analyzing my every move, and trying to get a read on me. A few paintings down is A Sunday on La Grande Jatte, or more famously known as the Ferris Buller painting. Of course I recreate the scene, standing far away from the painting then really close to see all the little dots. I stood so close the tip of my rosy nose was just barely off the glass frame.

Abruptly, my vision swirls, like the movement of a hypnosis swirl, and the air changes from the cool air conditioned museum to that of a warm spring day. Birds' song touches my ears as if I were out by a river, and the sound of people conversing meets me as I come back to a state of consciousness. At first the light is intense, but it settles in the shade of a tree. I am sitting next to a woman wearing a red blouse and a pink skirt. She is holding a parasol to shade her pale skin and dark hair from the sun nearby. I find myself wearing different clothes than before, I used to be in a long sleeved t-shirt, black pants, and doc martin boots. Now I am in a dark top with a yellow skirt, I have my hair braided and draped over my shoulder. I am holding a small bouquet of flowers. The woman next to me is gazing off towards a river where the sunlight glistens. I turn to my left and there is a woman dressed just like the lady next to me, but she is wearing black and is holding a black parasol.

“Is that lady taking a monkey for a walk?” I ask before I realize what I've just said.

The woman next to me turns, and examines the lady in black, then says “Yes, but stop staring.” She immediately turns to face me, “It is extremely rude, Eliza,” my name is Olivia, not Eliza.

“I must be dreaming,” I simply cannot believe what is going on, “No way."

“What's wrong Eliza? You know that Mrs. and Mr. Thomas love that monkey. They walk it here every Sunday afternoon.”

“She's from the painting,” I look around, and sure enough there is the man laying down propped on his arms, dogs running around, a lady in red with her child, and boats on the river. This is the scene from the painting I was just looking at.

“What painting? You sound crazy,” she looks as confused as I feel.

“This… this isn't right. I shouldn't be here.” I find my footing and get up. “I am so sorry, but I have to go. I have to get back home to my family.” I start to run. I run so far. I run to the point where all the little dots would disappear into a fuzzy mist. I run where there is nowhere to run anymore.

Then I stop, out of breath, exhausted. I lay down under the tree in the soft green grass. Nobody is here. It is just me, the hills in the distance, the river, and the trees. I lay there for some time before deciding to get up.

Slowly and carefully, I make my way to the water. I look at the small bouquet of flowers in my hands and sigh. “What am I going to do?” I say to myself aloud. “My parents, my brother and sister, they're going to miss me. I'm going to miss them too.”

I toss the bouquet into the water and shout “God! Why would you do this to me?” I take a deep breath, holding back tears, “Why… I was just… just doing what I'd always done. Now, look what that got me.” If there was anyone else around I would look crazy, mad, insane, and all other terms to think of for someone who has lost their mind. The bouquet floats slowly down the river, getting further and further from me.

Keeping some sense of determination, I keep walking away from the front of the painting. I just keep going, along the river, into the mist. Surely there is an end to the painting, a wall, or something. It felt like ages, like the walking would never end, never ever. The landscape slowly transformed from a forest to an open grassland meeting the river, the width of the river kept getting smaller and smaller, to the point where it was like the trenches of water I dug as a child from the ocean up to the spot where we sat on the beach, to the point where it was no longer there. It was just sky and ground, going on indefinitely. I didn't trust it. Going that way wouldn't solve my problem. So I turned, and made my way back to the front of the painting.

Paintings never really end, do they? I realize. I walk slowly to conserve my energy. The river reappears, so do the trees, hills, boats, people, animals, the lady in red with her child, the lady in black with the monkey, the woman who called me Eliza, and the painting became again what it was before. So if I came in through the front, I'll go out that way.

Much the same to what I experienced coming in, I experienced going out. Swirling unconsciousness, a slight ringing in my ears, and coming back to the cool museum air. Relief washes over my body, from my head to my toes. That was crazy, I was trapped in a painting, an oil painting, an oil painting with real people. That was crazy.

Wondering if I could do the same thing in another painting, I walked over to Frida Kahlo's Wounded Deer painting. Looking at it makes me feel deep sorrow. I do the same thing as before. The same sensation as before consumes me in transition. I find myself instantly face to face with Frida Kahlo's head, adorned with antlers, on the deer's body. Arrows impaling her body. Blood trickling from the puncture wounds. She sees me and tries to run but can't. She is stuck. Stuck like I just was, like I am again.

It hurts to watch her suffer. Why would I choose to go into such a depressing and sorrowful painting? Maybe something about it resonates with me. I'm honestly not sure. I walk backwards into the front of the painting, leaving the wounded deer there, suffering, bleeding, dying. Warm, the tear rolls down my cheek, hits my chin, then falls to the floor. I wipe the tear from my face with the back of my hand.

I move on, and visit other artists I like, Van Gough's Starry Night, Monet's Bridge, Mary Cassat's Little Girl in a Blue Armchair. After my last visit with Johannes Venneir's girl with the pearl earrings I decided to go back to the museum. Distraught, I notice the lights are turned off. I check my watch, it's 10:36. Too long, way too long.

Oh no, I'm stuck again. First the painting, now the whole museum. Trying to think logically I make my way to the front of the museum, but nobody is there. Not a soul, not a mouse, not an insect, not even the comfort of people from paintings around.

I walk to the coatroom and grab my jacket and put it on, then go to a window facing the outside of the building. It is not much higher off the ground than the window on the first floor of the townhome. I look out at the street where there is just one person coming my way. She has long curly blonde hair, and clear glasses. She has a brown backpack that looks like she was coming back late from studying. Hoping that she didn't see me. I sit down, my back against the wall, willfully out of her view. I pull out my phone, to check my messages, or call someone. It doesn't turn on. “Great,” I mutter softly to myself.

Clang, clang, clang. The familiar and almost comic sound of spray paint being shaken. As I peak out the window I can see the same girl spray painting the side of the building. Her backpack is sat down next to her, wide open, revealing cans of spray paint. I turn back around.

Maybe… if I can go into regular paintings, I can go into street paintings too.

I wait for her to finish, which ends up taking longer than I anticipated, and then lean back against the wall. I will myself through the wall, anxious for the sensation I had become familiar with, and when it washes over me again, I am filled with joy. I am now in the back of the painting, I walk to the front around lines that make up a form I am unaware of. Then I find the front of the painting. I will myself through again, and stumble onto the pavement in front of me.

I find myself face to face with the girl from earlier.

“How… what the…” She is shocked, her mouth is gaping open, her eyebrows knotted, searching for an explanation.

“Honestly I don't know either,” I say, and I turn around to see what she painted on the museum wall. It's a child running away from the window with a trail of butterflies following him. “That's beautiful,” I say to her.

“Thank you,” My eyes meet her beautiful dark green eyes, we are both equally confused and in awe of each other. I don't know if I should explain to her what happened, how I got trapped in the museum, why I was there, how fortunate I am that she was painting in this particular spot.

“Do you want to hear how I did that?” I ask, still unsure of what to do.

“Obviously,” she says, somewhat excited.

“Ok well, how about I meet you for coffee tomorrow morning? Corner of 7th and main at 6:30?”

“Sure, I'll see you then.” With one last nod, I turn away from her, and start back to my home.

[dandelion-wings]

Today, an equally self-indulgent follow-up to this, because this scene (technically two scenes, but the first is mostly set-up for the second) has been in my head ever since I wrote the first part.

---

By the time they make it to the Dawn Winery, the assassin--Kaeya's sister--has stopped kicking Kaeya in the shins, and he's pried her sword away. She slumps in Kaeya's arms, flashing Diluc a resentful look every time he glances their way but otherwise unresisting. Diluc knows better than to trust that for a moment. He recalls that same feigned resignation from Kaeya, when he was her age, and how quick he was to take the first opening to wriggle away.

Kaeya must remember, too, because he holds her firmly until they're safe inside and he's handed his sword and hers both off to Adelinde. She asks no questions as to why he wants her to unbuckle them from his belt. As soon as that's done, Diluc whisks them both into a side room he can lock behind them. He still stays at the door, and Kaeya moves to put his back to its lone window before he sets the girl free.

She spins about in a full circle, scanning the room for possible weapons. It takes Diluc's breath away how *similar* she is to how Kaeya was at that age. Angry and afraid and braced against attack for reasons that Diluc hadn't understood at the time, but is all too cognizant of now. He'd done his research on his journey across Teyvat.

"So long as you don't attack us, no one here will hurt you," he tells her, and is of course met by a look of disbelief. "We care too much for Kaeya to do that. What's your name?"

"I'm not telling *you*."

Diluc looks up at Kaeya, who shrugs helplessly, a wry smile on his face.

"She didn't have a name when I left. We don't name children until we're certain that they won't become hilichurls."

That feels like an unexpected blow to the chest. Diluc carefully sets the implications of it aside. Remembering the horned mask she'd been wearing, he looks at her more critically. The cloak hides a great deal.

"She isn't," Kaeya adds, following his thought. "Though I imagine she's taken the first few steps towards being as an Abyss Mage. Those don't show on the outside. Nor make her any less human than I am, if you're concerned."

No less human than *he* is, rather than a comparison to anyone else. Diluc notes that with nothing more than the briefest flare of the old, familiar betrayal. It doesn't change anything at this point to know.

It does remind him of a remark Kaeya had made earlier. He keeps one eye on the girl, prowling restlessly around the room, but she doesn't seem to have spotted anything she can use as a weapon just yet. He'd chosen this room carefully. "You said you expected both your father and Miss Minci to react to her gating. Should we arrange to warn Jean?"

"Oh, he's formidable. But unless I miss my guess, Lisa won't let Jean go out to investigate alone." Kaeya smiles that same wry smile. "And even *Faðir* isn't a match for the Witch of the Purple Rose."

***

Normally, Abyss Mages show up in Mondstadt with an entourage of hilichurls. Encountering this one alone is unexpected, especially as Lisa can tell that its gating followed the one that attracted her attention in the first place. But then again, normally Abyss Mages aren't this powerful. This one is enough so that it doesn't feel any need to laugh and taunt; it just brings Knights to its knees in precise and vicious silence.

"If we could just break its shield," Jean mutters, falling back behind the same abandoned stall Lisa has. She's already waved the other Knights off to hold a perimeter, as it's clear that no one without a Vision stands any chance. "I've never encountered one this strong."

"No," Lisa agrees, eyeing the Mage thoughtfully. It's winding up one of the longer spells, one that will send a string of ice-bolts straight at them; they'll have to abandon this shelter when it fires off, but she and Jean are both waiting for the right moment. There's something about that Cryo shield that niggles at her. The way it regenerates every time it's almost broken. She hasn't seen anything *exactly* like that, but....

"I hope whatever preceded didn't do anything to Diluc," Jean goes on, looking again towards the claymore lodged in the broken stall that she'd been examining when this thing appears. "We'll have to question it if- *when* we bring it down. Move!"

Her sense of timing is slightly better than Lisa's, so Lisa moves at the order, splitting away in the opposite direction from Jean without having to be told. The ice-bolts slam into the stall and shatter the wood like glass, then slant off sideways, following Jean. She's too fast for it, though, and the power of the spell runs out before they can catch up.

It gives Lisa a second to test her hypothesis. She opens her catalyst to a certain page and lets Electro run through the metallic ink inscribed on it, a spell-sigil that Kaeya had helped her work out the basics of and then insisted she test on him, over and over, no matter how much injury he took, until she had it perfectly tuned.

The result is a harmonic resonance that works on any shield, if crudely, but takes his down in an instant. Fully primed, the Electro crackles out from her in a broad wave, encompassing the Abyss Mage's shield before it can finish turning towards her. It runs around it, tracing purple lines through the ice, and then the shield cracks along it and the Abyss Mage falls to the ground.

She'd always suspected that Kaeya's shield wasn't truly a product of his Vision. It's nice to have a theory confirmed.

Jean plunges towards it without hesitation, flinging it back with a Gale Blade and slamming it into a cliff. Even a Mage as powerful as this is vulnerable to physical force with its shield gone. It hits the ground and for the first time it speaks, a furious shriek as it falls to the ground at the foot of the cliff.

Lisa's command of the Abyss Order's language, or of the Old Khaenri'ahan from which it descends, isn't as strong as certain other members of the Ordo, but she can speak the basics. She steps in front of Jean, holding a hand out--Jean stops immediately, though she still holds her blade at the ready--and looks down at the fallen Mage. *"If you want an answer, repeat that in Mond."

The Mage, breathing hard, struggles to sit up. "Before you kill me," it says, in a high, cracked voice, full of venom that doesn't hide the hopeless desperation, "at least tell me what you've done to my children."

"Ah," Lisa says, as Jean's sword arm drops and she stares in astonishment. "I couldn't tell if that was a dialectic variation or a true plural. Given the evidence we spotted earlier, I think that may be a question for the master of the Dawn Winery. If you surrender," and she smiles sweetly at the Mage, "Perhaps the Acting Grand Master and I would be willing to escort you."

A quick little very self-indulgent warmup for this morning, featuring an OC that @theabysscomeshome will recognize (because if you can't make up self-indulgent OCs with your friends, what's the point of fandom?), but in a somewhat different scenario.

---

Diluc is just past Springvale, at the entrance to Drunkard's Canyon, when the assassin attacks.

His only warning is a flicker of movement overhead. He flings himself to the side just as they dive, hitting the ground blade-first and landing in a crouch a second later. The shockwave makes him stagger, but he'd dodged far enough from the point of impact not to fall.

They're up again and moving in before Diluc has time to do more than draw his blade. He parries the first few blows, trying to get a good look at his oppenent, who's moving far too fast. His first impression is that they're small, and dark, and human-shaped, or at least humanoid; that they wield a blade, and with such precision, tells him that this is no hilichurl, though the horned mask they wear bears more resemblance to a hilichurl's than those of the Fatui. If they're a human, though, they're very short for it.

Or a child, and the high adolescent voice exclaiming angrily in response to Diluc's first counterattack gives him a second's pause. They take advantage of that to step under his extended claymore, stabbing at him with their own thin needle-pointed rapier. Diluc turns away, the blade catching nothing more than the flaring edge of his jacket, and seizes the initative again in the moment they lose yanking their sword out of the fabric.

He doesn't hold back because they seem to be a child. The House of the Hearth sends its agents out shockingly young, at times, and there are beings of the Abyss that can take many forms. Besides, to do so would very clearly be to sign his own death warrant. They attack with deadly fury, every strike made with all their strength behind it. Their swordwork feels eerily familiar, though Diluc can't quite place it, and through several exchanges neither he nor they make contact--they dodge with almost supernatural speed, and that eerie familiarity is just enough for Diluc to anticipate each move and turn it aside.

Then they fling themselves forward under his swing again, stabbing instead of slashing. When Diluc steps aside and back, there's an odd shiver to the air around them, and on pure trained-in instinct Diluc spins about as they appear, with no prelude, at his back. He catches the slash that would have gotten him in the kidneys on his claymore and throws them staggering back.

For a second they study each other, both breathing hard. Diluc's gaze flickers from their dark clothing, seeming almost more a shadow around in this evening light, to that dark horned mask, to the hood above their head, and somehow he knows, too, to leap aside as they raise their free hand and hiss something in a familiar harsh language and a point of ice slams down where he'd been. An Abyss Mage, then, or some monster spawned or trained by one. Diluc lets flame run down his blade and leaps towards the assassin.

And then there's a taller figure in front of them, a sword coming up to parry a blow that thin blade couldn't possibly hold back, a single diamond-pupiled eye wide in old remembered fear despite the set jaw beneath it. Diluc twists aside, feeling something in his back wrench as he forces the heavy claymore off its path. It rips free from his hands, swinging off sideways to set an abandoned stall alight. Diluc doesn't care. He is never setting his brother on fire again.

Kaeya drops his sword, too, as the assassin tries to dart past him with their blade bared. He snatches them up, pinning them to his chest, murmuring something Diluc can barely catch beneath the assassin's furious cries--both in a language that Diluc recognizes, though he understands it better written than spoken, and far more in the assassin's sharp accent than in the soft, almost gentle one that Kaeya is using. He doesn't have to understand it perfectly to pick up that the assassin's shrieking is mostly about killing him. While they're vigoriously kicking Kaeya in the shins, though, they don't turn their tightly-held blade upon him to get free, and so Diluc steps closer to his claymore but doesn't torment his screaming back by bending to pick it up.

In their struggling their hood falls back, and Diluc can see the shock of dark blue hair, a few paler strands running through it. Kaeya adjusts his grip under their armpits to get a hand up and tug their mask free. Beneath it, the face is almost as familiar as the swordwork--though in this one two blue diamond-pupiled eyes meet his in a defiant glare. The adolescent shrieks again about killing him, and Diluc recognizes Kaeya's answer, sterner this time, as a 'no.'

"A relative of yours?" Diluc asks.

"Ah." The smile Kaeya gives him is oddly apologetic. "If I don't miss my guess, this is my little sister. Though she was much smaller the last time I held her."

"I'm going to kill you!" she shrieks at Diluc in heavily accented but perfectly correct Mond. "You took him, and you ruined him, and then you hurt him, and I'm going to kill you and take him back! Put me down so I can kill him and take you home!"

"She still screams just as loudly, though," Kaeya says, with a sigh. "Quiet, systir, you're hurting my ears. And you're not killing anyone. Except maybe my shins."

"How did you know she was here?"

"She used the sloppiest Abyssal gate I've ever felt. Half of Teyvat must know she's here. Lisa certainly does, so I don't think we'll be alone out here for long."

The girl drops out of Mond to say something low and vicious. Kaeya ignores her abuse, and so Diluc does, too, much as it sets his teeth on edge to hear her hiss those insults at his brother. His brother; if she's part of the family who abandoned him, he doesn't see how she has any claim.

"Anyone we need to worry about other than the Knights?"

"Ah. Well. If Faðir is still alive, I imagine he'll be right behind her as soon as the local leylines reorder themselves out of the mess she made." Kaeya's smile goes wry. "Which means that now that we've established that no one is killing anyone, we may want to move this discussion elsewhere."

[seanpultz]

The Simpsons in The Haunted Mansion

As the Simpson family approached the imposing silhouette of Gracey Mansion, a Gothic Revival Pointed-style villa reminiscent of the Joel Rathbone mansion in the upper Hudson River Valley, their excitement grew palpable. Homer's eyes widened at the sight of the spooky abode. "Whoa, Marge, check it out!" he exclaimed, nudging his wife. "It's like someone took a castle, slapped on a couple of turrets, and said, 'Let's go all out for the Halloween bash!' " Marge rolled her eyes, ever the patient counterbalance to her husband's exuberance. "Homer, it's the Haunted Mansion at Disney World, remember?"

Bart, ever the daredevil, shot his arm up in the air. "This is gonna be sick! Can we go on it, like, five times?" Marge sighed. "Bart, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We need to wait in line like everyone else."

Lisa, ever the skeptic, corrected him. "Actually, it's not just for Halloween. It's a classic ride that's been here all year round."

Grampa Abe chuckled, leaning heavily on his cane. "Back in my day, we had to make our own fun with nothing but a flashlight and a good ghost story."

Maggie, perched on Marge's hip, seemed unfazed by the ominous atmosphere, her pacifier bobbing up and down as she gazed curiously at the mansion.

The family's anticipation grew as they stepped through the iron gates and into the shadowy courtyard. The air was thick with anticipation and the faint scent of cotton candy wafted from somewhere in the distance. As they neared the entrance, a cackle echoed through the night, and the mansion's doors swung open, beckoning them into the realm of the supernatural.

"Look at that, kids!" Homer exclaimed as they stumbled upon the macabre sight of the busts, his eyes lighting up like a jack-o'-lantern. "It's like they're trying to tell us something with their dead stares." Marge shot him a sideways glance, her patience waning thin as they continued along the eerie path.

The crypt's embossed musical instruments began to play a mournful melody, and the children looked at each other with a mix of terror and fascination. Lisa's curiosity was piqued. "How does it do that?" she whispered.

"It's just a trick, sweetie," Marge reassured her, though her voice trembled slightly.

Bart, ever eager to test the limits of his bravado, leaned in closer to the bubbling crypt of Captain Culpepper Clyne. "It's probably just someone down there blowing bubbles." He poked it with a stick, only to jump back as a ghostly hand shot out, causing him to yelp.

Maggie, unfazed by the spooky scene, giggled and clapped her hands, prompting a gentle scolding from Marge.

Finally, they arrived at the servant's entrance, where a gloomy doormat read, "Bet you're dying to get in here." Homer stepped over it, his heart racing from both excitement and fear. "Okay, let's do this," he said, leading the way into the dark abyss of the mansion.

As the Simpsons entered the dimly lit foyer, the haunting melody of "Grim Grinning Ghosts" filled the air, played by an invisible pipe organ that seemed to echo from the walls themselves. Homer looked around nervously, his eyes darting to the shadowy corners of the room. "I dunno, guys," he muttered, "this place is giving me the heebie-jeebies." Marge gently coaxed him forward, her gaze drawn to the portrait above the crackling fireplace. The handsome young man in the painting, with his piercing eyes and enigmatic smile, seemed to follow her as she moved. "It's just part of the experience, Homer," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

Bart and Lisa took in the gothic decor with a mix of awe and skepticism, while Maggie, still clutching her pacifier, pointed at the portrait with a look of wonder. "Look, Lisa," Bart whispered, "it's like that guy's watching us." Lisa, trying to maintain her composure, replied, "It's probably just a trick of the light." But even she couldn't shake the feeling that the painted eyes held a secret. Grampa Abe, leaning on his cane, chuckled again. "Back in my day, we had real ghosts, not these fancy-pants fake ones."

Suddenly a voice boomed out from the darkness: "When hinges creak in doorless chambers. When strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls. Whenever candlelights flicker when the air is deathly still… That is the time when ghosts are present, practicing their terror with ghoulish delight."

"Who said that?" Homer's voice quivered as he stared at the portrait, his hand instinctively reaching for a beer that wasn't there.

"It's the Ghost Host," Lisa whispered, her eyes widening with excitement.

Marge clutched Homer's arm tightly as the portrait above the fireplace began to morph, the handsome young man's visage twisting and decaying into a ghastly specter before their eyes.

"Eek!" Bart squealed, jumping back as the wall beside the grotesque painting slid open, revealing an octagonal chamber.

As the Simpsons entered the octagonal chamber, the four paintings of the bearded gentleman, the pretty young lady with a parasol, the old woman with a rose, and the man in a bowler hat watched them with unblinking eyes. The candles held by the stone gargoyles flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced across the room. Homer nervously scratched his head. "Okay, so we're in the ghost's office now, huh?" he quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

"Welcome, foolish mortals, to the Haunted Mansion." The voice boomed out. "I am your host, your Ghost Host. Our tour begins here in this gallery. Here, where you see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state. Kindly step all the way in please, and make room for everyone. There’s no turning back now."

The doors behind them slammed shut with a dramatic finality, making everyone jump. The room began to stretch before their very eyes, the walls seeming to pull away from each other, and the paintings on them stretching along with it. "Wow, they really don't mess around here," Homer muttered, his eyes widening in surprise and a hint of fear as the grisly fates of the portrait subjects were revealed. The bearded man looked ready to be blown to smithereens, the lady's elegance was now a precarious balance on a tightrope over a hungry alligator, the old woman's grief had turned to a grim spectacle, and the bowler hat man's situation looked like a circus act gone wrong.

Marge clutched Maggie closer, whispering calming words into her ear, while Gramps Abe leaned heavily on his cane, his chuckle turning into a wheeze. "Looks like we're in for a real treat, folks," he said, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Bart, his bravado not entirely shaken, pointed at the stretching paintings. "This is cooler than the time I put a photo of Principal Skinner through the photocopier!"

Lisa, her curiosity piqued, studied the room. "It's an optical illusion," she whispered to herself. "They use forced perspective to make the room seem taller. The portraits are on panels that stretch with the walls."

"Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding, almost as though you sense a disquieting metamorphosis." The Ghost Host said ominously. "Is this haunted room actually stretching? Or is it your imagination — hmm? And consider this dismaying observation, This chamber has no windows and no doors… which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out!" The Ghost Host unleashed a bone chilling laugh which reverberated throughout the room. The Simpsons had all eyes glued to the ceiling. "Of course, there’s always my way."

"Wha-what the…!" Homer's voice was lost in the chaos of screams as the lights plunged them into darkness, the only light coming from the occasional flash of lightning outside. The children clung to Marge's legs, their own cries muffled by the thunderous sound of bones breaking. The silence that followed was deafening, until the lights stuttered back to life, revealing the once-skeletal figure of the Ghost Host had vanished, leaving only a swinging noose.

Marge, her grip tight on Maggie, stared in shock at the new wall that had replaced the grim spectacle. "H-Homer," she stammered, "what just happened?"

Homer, equally as stunned, managed a quivering chuckle. "I think we just got our first taste of the Haunted Mansion's… hospitality."

The wall slid open with an ancient groan, revealing a hidden passage shrouded in cobwebs and dust. "Looks like the party's just getting started," Bart exclaimed, his bravado returning.

"Oh, I didn’t mean to frighten you prematurely," The Ghost Host said apologetically with a slight touch of mirth. "The real chills come later. Now, as they say, ‘look alive,’ and we’ll continue our little tour. And let’s all stay together, please."

Lisa, wide-eyed and trembling, whispered, "Well, I guess we're going through there."

Gramps Abe, ever the trooper, took a deep breath and marched forward. "After you, young'uns," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "I've got plenty of ghost stories to tell if you get scared."

The Simpsons stepped into the passage, their hearts racing as the walls closed in around them, plunging them deeper into the mansion's mysteries.

"And now, a carriage approaches to carry you into the boundless realm of the supernatural," The Ghost Host announced, his voice seeming to come from the very walls themselves. The Simpson family exchanged nervous glances as an antique-style doombuggy rolled into view, its leather seats crackling with the promise of a thrilling journey. "Once on board, remain safely seated with your hands, arms, feet, and legs inside. And watch your children, please," the disembodied voice continued, the amusement tinged with a hint of the macabre.

With a collective gulp, they stepped into the velvet-covered doombuggy. Homer, his knees knocking together, took the seat next to Marge, who held onto Maggie protectively. Lisa and Bart sat in the back, their faces a mix of excitement and trepidation. Gramps Abe took the seat opposite Homer, his eyes twinkling with the thrill of the unknown.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Marge murmured, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Don't worry, Marge," Homer said, attempting to sound brave despite his own fear, "I've got us covered. If any ghosts try to get too friendly, I'll just give 'em a good ol' Springfield bear hug!"

"That's comforting," Marge replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Do not pull down on the safety bar, please." The Ghost Host continued. "I will lower it for you. And heed this warning: the spirits will materialize only if you remain quietly seated at all times."

The safety bar is lowered keeping them in place.

As the doombuggy lurched into the steep stairwell, the Simpsons felt a sudden drop in their stomachs, their eyes drawn to the floating candelabra above them. It hovered eerily, casting flickering shadows across the walls and ceiling as they passed beneath it. The staircase itself seemed to stretch into an infinite abyss, adding to the unsettling atmosphere. Once they emerged into the hallway, the sound of thunder rumbled through the mansion, and the windows to their left revealed the tumultuous storm outside. The curtains billowed with each flash of lightning, briefly illuminating the four paintings on the opposite wall.

"Look at that!" Lisa exclaimed, pointing to the painting of the woman on the daybed. With each flash of lightning, the scene transformed from serene to sinister—now an anthropomorphic tiger lounged in the room, its eyes gleaming with an unnerving intelligence.

"Cool!" Bart whispered, his eyes wide with excitement.

Marge clutched Homer's arm tightly. "What's happening?" she whispered.

"It's just another trick, Marge," Homer assured her, though his voice held a hint of uncertainty.

Gramps Abe leaned over, peering intently at the paintings. "Hmph, I've seen better special effects in my day," he said, though his grip on the side of the doombuggy belied his bravado.

The transformation of the paintings continued with each flash of light. The sloop on calm waters morphed into a ghost ship in a raging storm, the knight into a skeletal figure riding a bony steed, and the tranquil Greek scene gave way to the terrifying visage of Medusa, her eyes glowing with malevolence amidst the ruins. Despite their fear, the family couldn't help but be drawn into the artful choreography of the mansion's ghostly residents.

"Oh yes, and no flash pictures, please." The Ghost Host continued. "We spirits are frightfully sensitive to bright lights."

The doombuggy rolled into the vast library, the dimly lit room teeming with a silent cacophony of books and shadows. The air grew thick with the scent of aged parchment and dust as the phantom hands danced among the shelves, pulling out tomes that seemed to whisper secrets of the afterlife. An empty rocking chair swayed back and forth, its rhythm eerily matching the squeaks of the sliding ladder that skimmed the floorboards. The marble busts stared down at them, their stern expressions seemingly judging the intrusion. "Wow, talk about a bookworm's paradise!" Homer quipped, his voice echoing through the cavernous space.

Marge shot him a nervous look. "Homer, maybe we should be a little more respectful."

"Yeah, Dad," Lisa added, her eyes wide with wonder. "These are probably the original works of Edgar Allan Poe and other legendary authors!"

"Poe, huh?" Homer mused. "I thought he was that guy who made those bird poops that taste like jelly beans."

"It's not polite to talk about someone's 'poe' in such a manner," Marge chastised, her attempt at a stern look undermined by her trembling chin.

"But this is all just for show, right?" Homer whispered, his gaze flitting from the rocking chair to the ladder.

"Well, I hope so," Marge murmured, her eyes never leaving the moving ladder.

Bart leaned over the side of the doombuggy, trying to catch the ladder as it passed by. "Hey, look at me, I'm ghostbusting!"

"Bart, don't touch anything!" Marge exclaimed, her grip tightening on Maggie.

Gramps Abe leaned back in his seat, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I had a friend who swore he saw a ghost in a library like this. Of course, he'd had a bit too much to drink at the time."

The Ghost Host's voice filled the room again, "Our library is well stocked with priceless first editions, only ghost stories, of course, and marble busts of the greatest ghost writers the literary world has ever known." His words seemed to hang in the air, each syllable resonating with a pride that could only come from a true aficionado of the macabre.

Leaving the library, the Simpson family found themselves in the Music Room, where the haunting notes of "Grim Grinning Ghosts" echoed through the air, played by an invisible pianist. The ghost's shadow danced gracefully upon the floorboards as the storm outside grew more intense. "They have all retired here," the Ghost Host's voice continued, "to the Haunted Mansion." Homer leaned over to Marge. "It's like they're holding auditions for the world's most exclusive retirement home," he whispered. Marge shot him a look that was half scolding, half amusement. The children stared in awe as the piano played on, the shadow's hands moving with a speed that seemed almost human. "But there’s room for 1,000," the Ghost Host announced, pausing dramatically. "Any volunteers?" The room fell silent, the only sound the mournful tune and the distant thunder. Then, in a burst of bravado, Bart's hand shot up. "Oooh, me! I wanna be a ghost!" The suddenness of his enthusiasm caused the shadow to miss a beat, the music stumbling before returning to its eerie crescendo.

"Well, if you should decide to join us, final arrangements may be made at the end of the tour." The Ghost Host continued. "A charming "ghostess" will be on hand to take your application."

The doombuggy rolled into the grand stairwell, and the Simpson's jaws dropped in unison as they gazed upon the M.C. Escher-inspired madness before them. The stairs twisted and turned in impossible configurations, seemingly defying gravity and logic. "Look at those stairs, Marge!" Homer exclaimed. "They're like something out of a nightmare!"

Marge nodded, her eyes wide with amazement. "Or a Salvador Dali painting," she murmured.

"This is like a geometry test from hell," Lisa said, her voice filled with a mix of fascination and dread.

Maggie, ever the silent observer, pointed at the ectoplasmic footprints that danced across the stairs, a trail of spectral shenanigans leading the way.

"Don't worry, I got this," Homer said, puffing out his chest. "I've climbed plenty of stairs in my life, even if they were covered in sticky floor cleaner."

"But these stairs, Dad," Lisa warned, "aren't just sticky. They're… they're not even stairs anymore!"

"Wow, this is like being inside a giant spooky kaleidoscope!" Homer exclaimed as the doombuggy descended into the realm of the ghostly ballroom. The wallpaper around them began to pulse with a ghostly glow, revealing hidden eyes that blinked in time with the music. "Look, Marge, it's like we're in the middle of a peep show!"

Marge squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to think about the implications of Homer's remark. "Homer, please," she murmured, her voice tight with tension.

"You're right, it's like the walls are watching us," Lisa whispered, her own eyes widening with curiosity.

Bart leaned over the side of the doombuggy, reaching out to touch one of the floating eyes. "Cool!" he exclaimed as his hand passed through the spectral illusion.

Maggie giggled, the light from the eyes reflecting in her own wide gaze as she waved her hands in the air, the pattern seemingly following her movements.

Gramps Abe chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I've got to hand it to them, this is some top-notch spookery."

"We find it delightfully unlivable here in this ghostly retreat." The Ghost Host said. "Every room has wall-to-wall creeps, and hot and cold running chills."

The Simpson's doombuggy continued on its spectral journey, passing through the second floor's seemingly endless passageway. The walls stretched into infinity, lined with closed doors that seemed to whisper secrets of the mansion's past. A single candelabra hovered in midair, casting a flickering glow that danced along the corridor. Homer leaned over to whisper to Marge, "Do you think they have a secret room for beer up here?" Marge rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile.

"Shhh, listen!" The Ghost Host suddenly hissed, his voice echoing down the hall. A haunting keening sound, eerily reminiscent of a banshee's wail, filled the air. The children clung to each other, their eyes wide with terror and fascination. Homer's smile faltered as he glanced around nervously.

The sound grew louder, a mournful cry that seemed to resonate within their very souls. "What's that?" Marge whispered, her voice trembling.

"It's just part of the ride, Marge," Homer assured her, though his knuckles were white on the side of the doombuggy.

Lisa leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "It's a recording, designed to create an atmosphere of suspense and fear," she explained, though the tremor in her voice suggested she wasn't entirely convinced.

Bart's bravado returned. "I bet it's just a tape player on a loop," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Gramps Abe leaned back in his seat, his eyes narrowing. "Sounds like the kind of thing you'd hear back in the war," he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of the distant past's horrors.

As the doombuggy rolled into the conservatory, the haunting wail grew distant, only to be replaced by the sound of creaking branches and rustling leaves from the misty outside. The space was a tableau of decay, with vines and ivy choking the once-beautiful statues and the floor covered in a carpet of dead petals. The raven, perched on the funeral wreath stand, cawed mournfully, adding to the unsettling ambiance. In the center of the room, the children's eyes widened in horror at the sight of the skeletal hands pushing against the coffin lid. "Let me out!" the muffled voice begged, the desperation palpable.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Homer muttered, though his voice held a slight tremor. "It's just a bunch of plants and a fake skeleton."

Marge shot him a look. "Homer, not now," she whispered, her eyes never leaving the struggling coffin.

Lisa's voice was a barely contained squeak. "It's a clever use of pneumatics and a recorded voice, but it's still terrifying!"

"It's cool, though, right?" Bart whispered, his grin a mix of excitement and fear.

Maggie, still clutching her pacifier, stared at the coffin, her little eyes wide with curiosity.

"Let's just keep moving," Marge said firmly, her grip on Maggie tightening.

As the doombuggy retreated backward down the corridor of the Haunted Mansion, the Simpson family couldn't help but feel a shiver run down their spines. The walls around them seemed to pulse with the muffled cries and laughter of the trapped spirits, the doors bulging and contracting as if alive. Homer leaned back in his seat, trying to put distance between himself and the eerie sounds. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm getting a real 'get me out of here' vibe," he murmured.

Marge's grip on Maggie tightened as the doors grew more frenzied. "It's just part of the experience," she repeated to herself, though her voice didn't quite match her words.

Bart's eyes darted from door to door, his curiosity warring with his fear. "What's behind those doors?" he whispered.

"I'd rather not know," Lisa replied, her voice trembling slightly.

The grandfather clock at the end of the hall caught everyone's attention as its hands spun wildly backward, chiming the thirteenth hour. A shadowy hand with ghostly claws reached out from the clock's face, casting an elongated shadow on the floor.

The Simpson family entered the shadowy Séance Circle, their doombuggy circling the central table adorned with a crystal ball. A raven, perched on the chair's back, cawed eerily as the ghostly figure of Madame Leota materialized within the orb. Her disembodied voice filled the space, chanting incantations that sent chills down their spines. "Serpents and spiders, tail of a rat, call in the spirits, wherever they’re at!" she cackled.

Marge clutched Maggie tightly, her heart racing as the air grew thick with anticipation. Homer leaned over to whisper in Marge's ear, "I hope she's not calling any actual snakes. I've had enough of those in my life."

Bart leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face. "Maybe she'll bring back my pet frog, Kermit!"

Lisa, ever the skeptic, whispered, "It's all just a cleverly done projection, guys."

Gramps Abe nodded sagely. "Back in my day, we had real psychics, not this hocus-pocus stuff."

The room grew darker as the chanting continued. "Rap on a table — it’s time to respond," Leota called out. The doombuggy's seatbacks began to tremble and knock, sending the family jumping in surprise.

"It's like she's playing a ghostly game of 'Knock Knock'," Homer quipped nervously.

"Send us a message from somewhere beyond," the spectral voice beckoned, the raven on the chair's back flapping its wings in time with the incantation. The table grew more frenzied, knocks turning into a rapid tattoo that seemed to echo through the very walls of the mansion.

Marge looked around, her eyes wide. "Homer, I think she's serious!"

The lights flickered, and suddenly, ghostly faces appeared around them, floating in the darkness. Homer swallowed hard. "Okay, maybe it's time to reconsider my skepticism," he murmured.

The doombuggy lurched forward, carrying them out of the séance and into the next chamber of the Haunted Mansion's secrets.

"Goblins and ghoulies from last Halloween," Madame Leota continued. "Awaken the spirits with your tambourine! Creepies and crawlies, toads in a pond, let there be music from regions beyond! Wizards and witches, wherever you dwell, give us a hint, by ringing a bell!"

Suddenly The Ghost Host spoke: "The happy haunts have received your sympathetic vibrations and are beginning to materialize. They’re assembling for a swinging wake, and they’ll be expecting me… I’ll see you all a little later."

As the Simpson family's doombuggy glided along the balcony, the ghostly festivities below grew more vibrant. The translucent figures danced and feasted with a joy that seemed to transcend their ethereal state. Homer leaned over the railing, his eyes wide. "Look at all those ghosts, Marge! They're throwing the party of the century!"

Marge nodded, her eyes darting between the floating spirits and the eerie spectacle before them. "It's quite the soiree," she agreed, trying to keep her voice steady.

Lisa studied the scene intently. "It's a clever use of projections and lighting," she murmured. "But it's also fascinating how they've created a narrative within the illusion."

Bart watched the rocking chair with the vanishing old woman with a mix of awe and delight. "This is like a magic show!"

Maggie clapped her hands, giggling as the ghosts cavorted below, her curiosity and wonder overshadowing any fear.

Gramps Abe leaned over to whisper to Homer, "Reminds me of the parties we used to throw at the retirement home—minus the floating, of course."

The family chuckled nervously as the duelists' pistols fired with a flash, the ghosts vanishing in a puff of smoke before reappearing with a flourish. The spectral waltz continued unabated, the ghosts' laughter mingling with the haunting melody of "Grim Grinning Ghosts." Despite their initial fears, the Simpsons couldn't help but be drawn into the whimsical world of the Haunted Mansion, each new room revealing another layer of its mysteries and charms.

Leaving the Grand Hall, the Simpsons found themselves in the dusty attic, the air thick with the scent of old memories and a hint of something more sinister. The ominous beating of a heart and the haunting tune of "The Wedding March" grew louder as they approached the piano. Homer leaned in, squinting at the shadowy figure playing. "Hey, that's some sick jazz," he murmured, tapping his foot in time with the eerie melody.

Marge's gaze was drawn to the unsettling wedding paintings on the walls, each depicting the same bride with a different groom. "What a peculiar collection," she whispered, her voice hushed.

"Look at their heads!" Bart exclaimed as the grooms' heads began to vanish, only to reappear in a macabre game of musical chairs. "It's like they're playing hide and seek, but with their own craniums!"

Lisa's eyes narrowed as she studied the ghostly phenomenon. "It's an intricate combination of lighting and mechanics," she murmured, though the fascination in her voice was clear.

Maggie, ever curious, reached out to touch one of the floating bouquets. As her finger brushed the petals, they turned to ash, leaving her looking up at the ceiling with a puzzled expression.

The music grew more intense, and the ghost of Constance Hatchaway materialized before them, her spectral form holding a bouquet of black roses. She recited her grim verses, the hatchet appearing and disappearing in her hand as if by magic.

Marge clutched Maggie closer, her heart racing. "Let's not stick around for the reception," she whispered, urging the family towards the open window.

Homer nodded, his bravado slightly shaken. "Good call, Marge," he said, his eyes never leaving the ghostly bride. "I've had enough of weddings for one night."

The family climbed into the doombuggy, which lurched forward as the window beckoned. They could feel the rush of cold air as they escaped the attic, the mirthless laughter of Constance Hatchaway fading into the night.

"Well, that was… enchanting," Lisa said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Bart grinned. "Best wedding I've ever been to!"

Gramps Abe wiped a tear from his eye. "Reminds me of my wedding," he chuckled, his mind lost in a whirl of ghostly nostalgia.

The doombuggy's descent into the graveyard was accompanied by a cacophony of ghostly laughter and music. Homer's eyes grew wider with each spectral shape that emerged from the shadows, his knees banging against the side of the car. "Marge, did you pack the garlic?" he whispered, a hint of panic in his voice.

Marge rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "It's just part of the show, Homer."

Bart leaned out of the doombuggy, watching the caretaker and his dog with glee. "Check out that raven! It's like it's telling us to 'Nevermore' look back!"

Lisa studied the scene with an analytical eye. "The use of projections and animatronics is quite sophisticated," she commented. "I wonder how they synchronize all the movements with the music."

Maggie, still unfazed, waved her chubby hand at the floating spirits, prompting a gentle giggle from a nearby ghost.

The Singing Busts serenaded them with a chilling melody, their vivid faces lighting up the gloomy scene. Homer leaned closer to Marge, his voice a shaky whisper. "Remember that time we went to Vegas and saw that ventriloquist act?"

Marge nodded, her eyes on the ghostly performance. "Yes, but these are much better singers," she said with a forced chuckle.

Gramps Abe's eyes lit up at the sight of the phantasmagoria. "This reminds me of the old folk songs from my youth," he said, tapping his cane in time to the tune.

The doombuggy rolled through the gathering of ghosts, each one more whimsical and eerie than the last. The Mummy's fruitless attempts to communicate with the hard-of-hearing spirit sent a ripple of laughter through the family, and even Homer couldn't help but chuckle.

As they approached the Mausoleum, the raven's caw grew louder, the ominous bird seemingly watching them with a knowing gaze. "Looks like we're on the guest list," Homer quipped, his voice not quite steady.

Marge took a deep breath, trying to soothe her own nerves. "Remember, it's all in good fun," she whispered to Maggie, who was now kicking her legs in excitement.

The doors to the Mausoleum swung open with a dramatic creak, inviting them into the next chapter of the Haunted Mansion's spooky tale. Despite the chills that danced down their spines, the Simpsons couldn't help but lean in, eager to see what other secrets the mansion had to share.

Then a familiar voice is heard, "Ah, there you are!" It was The Ghost Host. "And just in time… there’s a little matter I forgot to mention."

"Beware of Hitchhiking Ghosts!"

The Simpson family's doombuggy slowed as they approached the trio of hitchhiking spirits: a Traveler, a Skeleton, and a Prisoner. Each spirit held out a thumb, their eyes twinkling with mischief as they begged for a ride. "But we're already full!" Homer protested, his voice a mix of amusement and concern. The Ghost Host's words sent a shiver down their spines as the walls of mirrors surrounding them came to life, revealing the grinning ghosts taking seats beside them in their doombuggies.

"They've selected you to fill our quota," the disembodied voice explained, "and they'll haunt you until you return!"

Marge's grip on Maggie tightened as she stared into the reflection of the ghosts' eyes. "Homer, this isn't funny," she whispered, though she couldn't help but feel a begrudging admiration for the clever trickery.

Bart's eyes widened with excitement. "Cool! Real ghosts!"

Lisa, ever the skeptic, studied the reflection with a critical eye. "It's just a clever use of mirrors and lighting," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Grampa Abe chuckled, his eyes gleaming with the excitement of days gone by. "Reminds me of the time I hitchhiked across the country in '43. Not quite as spooky, though."

The Simpsons' doombuggy halted before the crypt of Little Leota, her ghostly visage floating in the gloom. Despite her diminutive size, her presence was commanding. She held a bouquet of dead flowers, her long blue hair cascading over the non-transparent white satin hood that framed her glowing pale blue skin. Her voice was a haunting whisper, sending a shiver down their spines as she spoke. "Hurry back," she urged, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Be sure to bring your death certificate, if you decide to join us. Make final arrangements now! We've been dying to have you…"

Homer stared at the tiny apparition, his jaw slack. "Whoa, that's… that's one tiny bride," he managed to say.

Marge looked at her with a mix of horror and fascination. "Little Leota," she murmured.

"It's all part of the act," Lisa assured them, though her voice wavered slightly.

Bart leaned in, his curiosity unquenched. "Can we get our picture taken with her?"

Maggie, unflappable as ever, reached out a pudgy hand toward the ghost, her pacifier bobbing as she cooed.

"Now I will raise the safety bar, and a ghost will follow you home!" Laughed The Ghost Host.

As the doombuggy came to a gentle stop outside the mansion, the Simpson family stepped out into the moonlit night, their hearts racing from the exhilarating experience. Homer looked back over his shoulder, his nerves still a little frazzled. "Well, that was… uh… haunting," he said, trying to sound brave.

Marge took a deep breath of the cool, crisp air, relieved to be out of the eerie mansion. "It was quite the adventure," she said, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

Bart slapped his hands together. "Can we go again?" he begged.

Lisa rolled her eyes. "It's just a bunch of special effects and gimmicks," she said, though she couldn't hide the smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Gramps Abe nodded sagely. "It's all fun and games until you actually start seeing ghosts in your bedroom," he warned, a glint in his eye.

Maggie, still clutching her pacifier, waved goodbye to the mansion, her expression a mix of wonder and contentment.

The Ghost Host's laughter echoed through the night as the mansion's doors creaked shut behind them, the ghosts' whispers fading into the darkness. The Simpson family, hand in hand, walked away from the Haunted Mansion, their spirits high despite the spooky ordeal they had just faced. They had survived the haunts and horrors of the mansion, and the night had brought them closer together, their shared experience a bond that transcended the barriers of the living and the dead.

[violeteyedhero]

Glass Onion and the Mona Lisa

(Major Glass Onion spoilers obviously)

I saw a post yesterday that showed the Mona Lisa next to the final shot of Helen sitting on the beach, posed the exact same way, with that same unreadable smile. I think in that moment everything kind of clicked for me, and I think I understand now how it was used as a motif. I poured things out on twitter and I'm gonna do it here too.

So the Mona Lisa is introduced about thirty minutes into the movie, before anything has technically happened. We are shown that Miles purchased it, had it put in his living room (full of volatile hydrogen gas), behind a glass door, and that he can override the glass just to see her face. He looks at it with some awe, but to do something so arrogant and dangerous is not something that you do when you just admire the art...it's a power move. It's a rich man flaunting a priceless artwork and saying, look at me, I don't give a flying fuck about the consequences.

Then, he talks about how he saw it when he was six, and how he longs to be immortalised like the painting. Smash cut to Andi.

Now, I have only a rough recollection of Da Vinci's story, but something that I do recall is this--we still don't know who was the true subject of the Mona Lisa. There were at least two women who it could have been (as well as Da Vinci's male student/lover and Da Vinci himself). There's even still a fair bit of debate as to whether he painted it at all. The truth has long been obfuscated. Only the physical painting by Da Vinci matters to people. The subject is irrelevant.

Not long after this scene, we discover that 'Andi' is not in fact Cassandra, but Helen, employing the rich bitch voice that the sisters created as kids. An elegant, unreadable woman with an ever-changing mood and smile, and an air of absolute mystery. Her character is framed, in the first half at least, as the real-life Mona Lisa.

As the story goes on, you can see how important this parallel becomes. Miles constantly reiterates how he wants to be mentioned in the same breath as the Mona Lisa. In the same way, he wants to be mentioned in the same breath as Andi Brand. He tries to be like her, cheat her, steal from her, surpass her, and take her life from her. He uses the image and money that he gets from being her partner, and uses it to steal her ideas and kill her. He obfuscates her role in the company's founding, takes it for himself.

Andi as a person is dead, but the world doesn't know that yet. For now, Miles gets to keep her image and everything she's built for himself. Not for admiration, but for power. The world just sees her as the subject of his work. Secondary, and irrelevant.

Enter Helen, who steps into her sister's role and uses her image to get to the truth. The others don't know who she is, but Miles should. It's glaringly obvious, but he never thinks to look beyond the glass between them and see who she truly is or why she's there. And he doesn't let go of his need to show off how powerful he is.

Because like the Mona Lisa, the envelope is in plain sight. The last piece of Andi's work is hidden within the Glass Onion, just behind his fake napkin--the one he took credit for.

Miles loses, in the end, because he's so deeply arrogant and idiotic. He plays dirty to get what he wants, and can't help but mount his prizes on the wall. But Helen understands that, at the end of the day, she is a third grade teacher from Alabama, and a black woman against an absurdly wealthy white man. He will not face consequences for this. He won't even be arrested for Andi's murder.

So what does she do? She literally destroys the glass. She annihilates the illusion of his brilliance. She destroys the layers of the onion, shows the rot in its core--his persona, his wonder fuel--and then, she destroys the Mona Lisa. Because it is a painting, something that he chose to put in danger. And the world will see if it is gone.

She brings down the glass barrier, but he destroyed the painting the moment he set foot in Andi's house. And maybe this way, even if he isn't remembered as the murderer of Andi Brand, he will always be remembered as the destroyer of the Mona Lisa. It's a small sort of justice, but it's the only thing that Miles will answer to.

The dust settles, Helen goes to the beach. She ends the story sitting as the Mona Lisa did, her arms crossed, expression unreadable. There's no illusion anymore, no glass between us and the subject. We can look into her eyes. It's a moment where the subject of the art reclaims the narrative, not unlike OJ's ending shot in Nope. The painting may now be gone, but the Brand sisters have been immortalised in a way. Andi is gone, but Helen is alive and true.