#my grandpa fell out of a fucking window and bounced all the way to pound town neville longbottom style anon

[dipperscavern]

millions must know what you’re currently cooking in the drafts…

HEARD!

jon snow & cockwarming

jon snow & a fellow nights watch reader breaking the nights watch no kissy oorah rule (curtesy of spirit airlines anon)

jon during his wife’s pregnancy/taking care of his child after it’s born

a jon snow fic (no i will not be elaborating) 🧏‍♀️🧏‍♀️ (curtesy of aristotle anon)

thoughts on how the stark men would eat you out [posted]

how i think cregan would be on your wedding night as he takes your maidenhood

flirting with cregan stark

deepthroating cregan stark (curtesy of cheeky anon)

cregan stark eating you out in the godswood/under the weirwood tree

cregan stark cockwarming (curtesy of reverse elsa anon)

enough father cregan stark thoughts to make the labrant family’s breeding kink look tame

i’ll expand on specifics w the father cregan stark thoughts because i’m soooooo kind and generous and merciful. consider these your winter rations

cregan being there for you during the birth/helping you through it (curtesy of reverse elsa anon) [posted]

how he’d react to you interacting with rickon, his one year old son from his late wife (curtesy of witchy anon)

just father cregan thoughts all around. raising them, training them, telling them stories of the north, playing with them etc (same ask as cregan being there during the birth. reverse elsa anon was having thoughts) [same first link]

a lord or lady visiting winterfell & seeing the wolf pack you and cregan have

some will probably be out tongiht during thought sharing time & others will take longer because of my long ass response LOL

[chisie12]

Dance of Silver, Chapter 3 - Smile

Ah! Took longer than I expected but here’s chapter 3! Hope you guys enjoy it! The bed lulls me to sleep.

¬-¬

The silence was heavy between them, one person on either side of the train. It was deserted in the train, barely another living soul besides the few students grouped in a corner and an elderly lady going home, besides Angela and Jesse.

Her legs wouldn’t stop twitching as she repetitively curled and uncurled her toes. Her teeth was continuously lodged in her bottom lip, eyes blankly staring out the window, unregistering the blur of scenery that rushed by.

Directly across on the left was Jesse McCree, head lowered with elbows heavy on his thighs. With a groan, he dragged a hand down his face before sliding it up and over his head, combing the messy strands of his hair back. Dropping his free hand on his cowboy hat occupying the space next to him, his eyes darted over towards the blonde woman of a sister who was equally hunched over as he was.

“Jesse! No!”

Her shrieks fell on deaf ears. Jesse tightened his hold on her body while he ran, ran as far as he could go, leaping over the roots and fallen branches, making a beeline towards even the smallest sign of civilisation.

“Let go of me! We can’t just leave him there!”

“No can do, sis.” There it was again. ‘Sis’. The underlying tone of seriousness and absolute defiance to any of her requests. Not taking any bullshit from anyone, not even her.

She screamed his name again, pounding her fists onto his back. Bloody scenes filled her mind, the anxiety painting a gruesome play of shredded limbs, broken bones, and the lone, desolate curve of his back, as though he gave up on living, on fighting.

“Fuck! Jesse, we have to go back!”

Jesse dug his nails into her skin, bearing the pain with gritted teeth. His head still throbbed with pain from the fall, and she wasn’t the only one screaming at him. His muscles wanted to give up, to break down, stabbing pains shocking his nerves, but he focused on putting one foot after the other. He needed to run. Keep running.

He needed to bring her back to safety.

Angela fought and wiggled out of his grasp, her mind filled with only the smile Genji last gave her, and that small wave of his hand. He’s all alone, fighting those hordes of vampires alone! And that sniper! Weren’t they after him!? As if by a stroke of luck, she successfully hammered her knee into Jesse’s stomach, and the man doubled over in pain, grip loosening and sending her tumbling forward.

“Oof!” A sharp pain shot up her neck as her back hit the sturdy wall of a stump, and painful groans drifted into her ears. Her eyes flew open, directly landing upon the young cowboy hunched over, arms wrapped around his middle. “Jesse? Jesse!” She scrambled over, tripping over the propped root and falling onto her knees before him. She hadn’t kicked him that hard, did she? It shouldn’t have caused him this much pain!

Her hands trembled as they reached out towards him. Now, it was only now that she took a good look at him. Soft brown locks matted and stuck to his face, sticky with sweat. Splats of blood caked his skin, from his cheeks to his neck, and definitely over his clothes, but as her eyes moved downwards, they widened as fear struck her hard.

A large patch of eerie crimson extended its greetings towards her, the pool growing bigger and bigger, all the while Jesse pressed a hard hand onto the wound.

Jesse glanced down at his black undershirt, having thrown his shirt away after being stained by blood. They barely passed the checks even with his stained undershirt, the dried blood barely visible over the black, and with Angela blocking the view from the front. Security had been suspicious, warily watching them with narrowed eyes at their staggered, slow steps, and laboured breathing.

But at least they got home.

The pair of siblings stared up at the three-story house, brick walls painted a clean white, tall silver gates bordering its large perimeter with lush trees providing a curtain to what’s inside.

Angela gingerly held onto Jesse as she tapped the four-numbered pin and the side gate opened with a click and closing behind her with a light kick and a loud clang.

“Angie!” A raspy voice called out. A figure padded his way over with arms open wide, face marked with the vicissitudes of life and a bright smile. His blond hair faded into a silvery white but unlike other old men his age, his head still had a full head of hair, and that was something he was still proud of.

Angela’s eyes, tired and rimmed with shadows, lit up at the sight of her grandfather. “Grandpa!”

“Come here, my darling angel.” He kissed her hard on the temple, ignoring the spluttering of a certain cowboy in her arms. “I’m so glad that you’re finally home. Are you alright?”

“Yes, grandpa. But we need to tend to Jesse. He’s been wounded.”

The old man scoffed, eye-rolled at Jesse and gave the younger man a pointed look. “Weren’t you supposed to be tough? ‘Those vampires ain’t got anything on me!’, or something. Didn’t you tell me that?” The grandfather mocked with a badly done accent, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

A pleasant laughter bounced on Jesse’s chest. “It sounds funny coming from you, old man. Good to see you’re alive and still kicking.”

“And I can easily kick you a hundred meters away if you weren’t injured!”

Altherr Ziegler was an old man in his mid-60’s, standing tall and proud at nearly two meters. His biceps were still bigger than his own (and there’s no way Jesse would acknowledge that. His were always going to be bigger) and he was still as fit as a fiddle, as healthy as an ox even.

“Come on. I’ve already prepared the room just in case.” A warm, deep voice carried over from the door, watching the trio slowly make their way over amidst their banter.

Jesse looked at the man leaning against the doorframe. Unlike Altherr who was muscle-bound, Wendell Ziegler was tall and wiry. His body was lean and defined, blond hair tied into a low ponytail. Rectangular glasses framed his vivid blue eyes and the cowboy’s lips twitched upon seeing the smile on the man’s face. From the hair to the eyes and to even the smile.

Like father, like daughter indeed.

Wendell helped his daughter bring Jesse into the medical ward of the house, set aside for emergencies like this. Altherr wordlessly stood outside the door, watching his son and granddaughter do their medical magic through the small window. He clicked his tongue, seeing them clean the wound, flit and stitch it with deft fingers, made him clueless yet proud. He knew the young cowboy was definitely going to live.

Enough for him to beat him up again.

“Done? Is he done?” Altherr voiced out, an eagerness unmasked in the tone.

Angela and her father cleaned themselves before bringing a bandaged Jesse out of the room. Altherr trailed behind them like an oversized puppy. When they set him down in a clean bed, he repeated again: “Done? Is he finally done?”

Angela giggled and held onto her grandfather’s hand. “Yes, yes. He is, grandpa. What’s wrong?”

The old man beamed, stretching the laugh lines on his face and patted her hand lovingly. “Come! Grandpa has something for you!”

At the mention of a gift, Jesse shot up but he groaned and fell back down onto his back. “Gift? I wanna see too,” he whined.

“It’s not for you,” Altherr snapped, bringing his granddaughter away.

“Rest well, Jesse.” Wendell graciously wished before closing the door behind him, leaving the young man to his sulking.

Alther set his granddaughter on the three-seater couch of the living room before running upstairs. Angela faintly heard the sound of metal clanking and doors slamming before an excited grandfather bounded down the steps. Her father watched in amusement at his own father, sitting on the sofa on the other side of the couch. Turning her head at the nearing footsteps, the smile on her face froze.

“Is that…?”

“The one and only! Our ancestral weapons: Caduceus Staff and Blaster!” Altherr plopped himself down onto the space next to her and gently set the two weapons in her lap. The staff’s body gleamed an inky black with a silver head and the blaster was similarly coloured.

“But why…?”

She knew of the two weapons, having been brought down generation after generation, but all this time, she didn’t think they worked, having only ever seen and heard of them.

“As you know, our family is a descendant of Angels,” Altherr began solemnly. “And unlike other hunters, we rely on our blood to sense and hunt the vampires. The reason you hadn’t seen it being used is that our blood wasn’t strong enough.” He folded her hands over the weapons. “But yours is.”

She spluttered some words, half-formed from confusion and shock. Her mind was reeling at the turn of events. Half her heart was beating furiously at the pride and happiness at being given the responsibility, to actually be acknowledged, strong, yet it was that very same responsibility that weighed down on her like a ten-tonne boulder, pushing her shoulders down and holding her there.

Could she do it? What if she disappoints everyone?

“I was supposed to give it to you on your 21st birthday but…” Altherr trailed off in a nervous laugh, the words stuck in his throat.

“Father forgot where he left it. So he never gave it to you. That’s why he was so excited the moment you came home,” Wendell filled in, cheeks on his knuckles and a leg over the other.

“Wendell!”

Instead, Wendell chuckled and grinned at the frantic spluttering of his father, but his eyes turned worried as they landed on his daughter’s quiet figure. Her head remained lowered, fingers absentmindedly stroking the metal on her lap. He furrowed his brows.

What was she thinking?

———

Red. It was only red in her vision. That dark, sinister colour painted everything in her sight, the Caduceus weapons turning into the backdrop as blood spilled.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

It had been the scent that day. Their sweet, young fleshed aroma that counted. Their sugar levels were high, having been only 15 years old. The vampire had been like an uncontrollable diabetic and the first crazed one of their kind.

Her eyelashes trembled, her eyes squeezed shut tighter.

The warm blood splattered onto her fear-laden face. Her body froze. Her muscles were heavy, stuck to the ground, unmoving. His voice, just having cracked from puberty, screamed. Screamed so loud, so terrified. But she couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t even twitch. Couldn’t even goddamn scream.

She didn’t know what to do.

“J-Jesse…”

Her voice came out weak, utterly weak that even she was disgusted.

Swoosh!

A gust of wind blew with a dark, lithe silhouette dropping beside the pair of hunter siblings. Hidden by the shadows, the figure easily ripped the diabetic vampire away from Jesse’s neck and sunk his own teeth in his new victim’s neck.

Why it chose the vampire and not Jesse? … was something they couldn’t comprehend.

And it had happened all in practically three breaths; The time short enough that Jesse wouldn’t turn into a vampire even if he wanted to.

When Jesse slumped forward, hand clutching his bleeding neck, Angela swore as she caught his body, wishing and hoping that she just had something, anything, to patch him up. But she didn’t.

The bone-crunching crunch and slurps caught her attention, yet all her eyes could catch in the utter darkness was a glimpse of bright green hair crowning a pair of demonic red eyes.

The scene faded and blurred. The darkness stayed. But instead of a bleeding, screaming Jesse came the screams of another young man, no, vampire. He was being ripped limb by limb, scratched and torn by a horde of newborns, all because he wanted to protect. Her. Protect her. She didn’t know if he escaped, or if he was even still alive.

The smile he threw her way, that wave he waved before Jesse dragged her away, that heart-wrenching, gut-stabbing pain in her soul; She couldn’t forget.

She wouldn’t forget.

If only she had the ability, the strength, then things would turn out differently. If she could protect others and protect herself, wouldn’t that change so many things? Not just to her as a vampire hunter, but as a combat medic.

Gripping onto the staff and blaster, Angela’s eyes glazed over with a newfound resolution, and the silent men in her life could see it, the change happening in her mind, in her spirit. They watched her lift her head, a fire blazing in her gaze, and they knew they made the right choice in entrusting the Angelic articles to her.

“Thank you.”

Just those two words, nothing more, nothing less. It was her pledge to them and they understood the silent pledges; She believed she could save the world, both humans and vampires alike.

And they believed she could change the world the way she wanted to.

One step at a time.

The door to his temporary room slid open and Angela emerged from the doorway. He was pleasantly surprised to see her there when surprised crossed his face upon catching sight of the staff in hand and blaster holstered on her waist and to complete the oddity, there was a brown box tied with a big red bow in her arms.

“What’s that, darl’?”

She beamed at him. “Your last gift.”

Jesse grinned at the box shoved into his arms, body jumping in excitement. Who wouldn’t from being given three birthday gifts? The suspense could have killed him! Tearing open the bow, he lifted the cover just as Angela sat on the edge of his bed, watching his face change from surprise to utter glee.

“BAMF indeed!” he exclaimed in joy, removing the belt from within the box. The gold buckle was engraved with the same four letters in uppercase on a neat leather strap. “You spoil me too much!”

Angela hurriedly leaned over and accepted his hug so that he wouldn’t have to move too much, and accidentally straining, as well as ripping the stitching open. Knowing him? The possibility of that happening was well within the 90’s. This brother of hers couldn’t stay still no matter what.

“Happy 21st birthday,” she softly said with a smile.

Jesse caressed the leather, a loving gaze in his eyes. From the cowboy hat to his Peacekeeper and now the BAMF belt. He didn’t think things could get any better.

Oh, yes. He didn’t have to watch the unrestrained flirting of that damned green-haired vampire.

Other than that, he was blissful.

“Grandpa gave this to me just now,” she showed him the weapons, finally getting to the main point she came in instead of letting him rest. “As a late birthday gift.”

He nodded at the weapons. “Did the old man forget where he left them and that’s why he gave them to you now?”

Her mellifluous laughter made him grin wider. “You sure know him well. It’s our Angelic artifacts from way back when. To fight against the vampires.”

Jesse nodded. He knew of the family’s Angel’s blood, that they were all descendants. “What does it do?”

“I’ll show you.”

She lifted the staff, hand in the center of the body and clicked onto a mechanism with her thumb. The three ribs at the head of the staff flicked open and a yellow halation appeared. The blood in her veins boiled, rushing faster at the sudden connection between her and the staff, and willing it in her mind and thumb still on the button, she gently waved it towards his wound. A yellow ball of light separated from the halation, extending out into a beam that floated towards the side of his body.

It was an icy, itchy sensation the moment the beam touched him. His muscles shivered, mind refreshed with the chill and he felt it close. The wound that was held together with the stitches twitched and waved towards the other edge, skin automatically grafting together and swiftly closing. Gasping, he threw the blankets off and lifted his side, inspecting the wound he — the wound that was supposed to be there.

“Holy shi—” Jesse’s mouth gaped open. Sure, he had thought that the Angels were cool, but not this cool.

Now this, this topped it off. Cowboy hat, revolver, and BAMF belt could only come second to this. Alright, maybe not. Those three still meant a whole lot. It’s a close battle for first place.

Angela also leaned over to inspect the wound, glad that it had disappeared with a simple heal. Her thoughts wandered over to a certain vampire whose smile she couldn’t erase. “Now you can keep going. I’ve got you.”

———

Haa…

A breathy mist drifted out of his mouth, white fangs drenched in blood. A pile of newborn corpses lay by his feet in a mound, strewn over the trees and covered the ground.

His demonic red eyes darted up towards the opposite canyon where the sniper’s glint was not seen in the last hour. They flickered with an intense heat, the glare almost burning through the thick clouds that obscured the sky. Despite the weariness in his bones, the aching of his muscles, it did little to diminish the hate that he kept buried inside.

“It’s not over yet.”

The face of a gentle smile flickered in his mind and the anger promptly sizzled away like a bucket of cold water splashing his face, and he found his own lips curving upwards at the mere thought of seeing her.

“It’s definitely not over yet.”