#the nuisance to the supernatural and the supernatural nuisance

[midnightdahlias]

Bait for a Broken Heart

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summery - Sam tries to protect you from harm, but you end up hurt either way word count - 3.5k cws - fem!reader, kinda fluff and angst (ig), typical supernatural violence and gore, mild language, mentions of injury, unrequited love (not rlly), lmk if i missed anything a/n - can you tell i'm a Sam girl? this one took hoursss to write, but i quite like how it turned out, comments and rebloggs are always appreciated. also feel frre to send requests and thanks for the love on the others. happy reading !

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Even the best of hunters get hurt.

It’s part of the job description, sure. You know the risks. You take them anyway, so others don’t have to. So you can help those who can’t help themselves.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. That doesn’t mean it’s not terrifying.

Demons are nasty creatures. Shocking, right? They’re violent, cruel, relentless. And today, you got to experience firsthand just how twisted they can be.

You’d only gone for a walk to clear your head when a pair of demons with a vendetta against the Winchesters jumped you. You didn’t even hear them coming, too wrapped up in your thoughts from your argument with Sam. Then, darkness. A swift blow to the back of your head, and you were out cold.

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You’d known Sam and Dean for years now, worked so many hunts with them, spent so much time together. It had started as just another job, but somewhere along the way, you’d grown close. Very close.

Although you seemed to find yourself with one of the brothers consitently dancing around your mind, whether you were together or apart. Sam.

Sam was different. He was sweet, gentle—much more laid-back than his brother. You liked how soft he was, how deeply he cared for people, for you. You and Sam were friends, but there was something about him that pulled you in deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. And, truth be told, you cared for him. More than you should.

But lately? Sam had been distant, his usual warmth replaced with something cold and guarded. It was subtle at first, just a shift. But you felt it. And it hurt more than you cared to admit. It made your stomach twist in knots, leaving you wondering if you’d done something wrong. If he was starting to pull away from you.

And the worst part? He wasn’t saying anything about it. It was like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk. You’d hoped, at least, you were friends—he’d talk to you. But maybe that was just wishful thinking.

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When you woke, your head was spinning. You were slumped against some wooden beam, your arms and legs bound by thick ropes. You could feel the sticky warmth of blood from your scalp.

The room around you was pitch black, save for a sliver of moonlight creeping through a small window. You tried to move, but the ropes were too tight. You always kept a hidden blade or two, but of course, whoever captured you had already found them

Then, the door slammed open. A dark figure stepped inside, barely visible at first. But then the light flicked on.

“Who the hell are you?” you spat.

“Name’s Damian.” He stepped closer, and that’s when you saw it, a distinct featute that you’d grown to know all to well. His eyes were black as coal. He was a demon.

‘’What do you want with me?” You sneered.

“Other than the fact that you’re a nuisance? Nothing,” he said. Then, his lips curled into something ugly. “It’s the Winchesters we want. You’re just bait.”

His words sent a chill down your spine.

"Go to hell," you snapped, and before he could say anything, you spat directly in his face.

He wiped it off, a dark sneer curling on his lips. “Bitch,” he hissed before punching you square in the face.

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“What’s wrong?” you asked, frustration seeping into your voice as you sat across from Sam in the motel room.

He barely looked up from his laptop. “What?”

“You’ve barely said three words to me in two weeks. What’s going on?” You couldn’t keep the edge out of your tone. It was exhausting being ignored.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Sam mumbled dismissively.

“Seriously?” You raised your voice, growing more frustrated by the second. “If I’ve done something, just tell me!”

“I’m just tired, okay? I need space, just… drop it” he snapped.

You blinked, taken aback by the sharpness in his voice. But then, your stubbornness kicked in, and you couldn’t let it go.

“Yeah, you look real tired, especially when you’re joking around with Dean. Fine. You want space? Fine I’ll give you space,” you shot back, grabbing your coat and storming out without giving him a chance to respond.

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It had been almost an hour since your walk, and as much as you didn’t want Sam and Dean walking into a trap, part of you wondered if they even realized you were gone, or worse, if they cared.

Your body was bruised and battered, blood oozing from the cuts and scrapes. The demons hadn’t cared that you weren’t their real target; you were just a hunter they could use to hurt the Winchesters

The door swung open again, and a second demon stepped in, motioning for Damian to follow. He looked back at you with a venomous smile.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” Damian said before leaving.

Now was your chance. Your mind raced as you scanned the room for anything sharp—anything you could use to cut the ropes. Then, you spotted a shard of glass within reach.

You worked quickly, sawing at the thick ropes, every motion desperate and frantic, praying it was sharp enough to work. Your eyes flickered constantly to the door, watching for any sign of the demon coming back. Whatever had pulled him away seemed to be keeping him busy, but you knew that wouldn’t last long. Then, you felt it, the ropes finally giving way with a satisfying snap. Without hesitation, you left the frayed remnants of the bindings on your wrists and went straight for your ankles, cutting through those with the same urgency. You couldn’t afford to waste another second.

As you cut through the final rope, your mind raced. Getting past the door wasn’t an option. You had no idea how many demons were on the other side, and rushing in blind would be a death wish.

Then, your eyes landed on the window. If you could just get it open, maybe, just maybe, you could slip through. You pushed yourself to your feet, wincing at the pain, but adrenaline kept you steady.

You hobbled over to the window, praying it wasn’t locked, and gave it a tentative push. The creak of the frame made your heart race, but it slid open with just enough space to fit. With a surge of determination, you pushed yourself up, forcing your body through the narrow gap. The sharp edges of the frame scraped against your skin, but you barely registered the pain.

A moment later, you hit the ground hard. You didn’t have time to savor the freedom. They’d notice you were gone soon enough. So after a second of your feet hitting the ground, you took off running as fast as your body would allow. You had no idea where you were going but you’d figure that out after, because anywhere was better than right here.

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Sam was furious with himself. He should’ve stopped you. He knew it. But if he had, it would have forced him to face the truth; something he wasn’t ready to admit, not even to himself.

But now that didn’t matter. Because you were missing, and he couldn’t shake the guilt. He should’ve stopped you.

His mind drifted back to when you two first met. He remembered thinking you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He’d never said anything, of course—he couldn’t. Being around you had always been intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of you, of your laugh, your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you were excited. Everything about you made his heart race.

But the more he was around you, the harder it got to push down the feelings that were growing inside him. He tried to ignore it, tried to bury it, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk losing you, not like that. Sam had never had it easy with love—everyone he’d ever cared about always seemed to get hurt. He couldn’t do that to you. In his eyes, you were too good, too pure for someone like him. He was afraid his darkness would taint you.

So he distanced himself. He thought it would make things easier, but it didn’t. It hurt more than he could ever have imagined. When you’d argued in the motel room, when you’d walked out, it took everything in him not to run after you, not to wrap you up in his arms and never let go. But he couldn’t. He acted cold. Uncaring.

And when he saw the hurt in your eyes, when he saw you trying to mask your pain under anger and frustration, it shattered him. He’d tried to protect you, to keep you safe. But in the end, he only ended up hurting you more.

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You kept running, your body aching with every step. Blood dripped from your wounds, the pain relentless, but you knew one thing—if you stopped now, the demons would catch you. You didn’t have a choice. So you pushed on, drawing from every last bit of strength, every ounce of adrenaline left in your system. The trees started to thin out, and you saw the break in the forest, the familiar silhouette of the road ahead.

You stumbled out from the trees. The only sound to be heard was your ragged breathing, and the only light was the dim glow from distant streetlamps. You had no idea where you were, but there was no time to think about it. And that’s when you saw it, the headlights of a car, bright and blinding in the dark.

You froze, not sure if you could get out of the way in time. The car skidded to a halt just a few feet from you, the tires screeching in the silence of the night. Before you could even react, the doors swung open, and footsteps rushed toward you.

You barely had time to process what was happening before you heard a familiar voice call out your name.

“Sam…”

Your voice was barely a whisper, rough and strained from the screams you’d held back in that hellhole. His name escaped your lips in a breathless murmur, but you couldn’t stop the world from spinning. You were fading fast.

“Hey, hey, what happened to you?” Sam’s voice was a mix of panic and disbelief, his hands steadying you as your knees buckled. He was there. He was really there. But it didn’t matter. The exhaustion, the pain, the adrenaline, it all crashed down at once.

Before you could answer him, the world around you went black, and you slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing you felt was Sam’s arms catching you, holding you close as everything slipped away.

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Sam's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with guilt and fear. He couldn’t believe he had let you walk out of that room. Every part of him screamed that he should have stopped you, that he should’ve said something. Now, here you were, unconscious in his arms, and all he could do was curse himself for his letting you go.

Thirty minutes had passed since you left, and the slowly increasing worry had turned into full-blown panic. Just as Sam was about to run out the door to find you, the motel door creaked open. His breath caught in his throat, but the moment he turned around, his hope shattered. It wasn’t you.

“Sammy? What’s going on? Are you okay?” Dean’s voice cut through his thoughts, full of concern. Sam didn’t even look up. He couldn’t. Not when the weight of everything was crashing down on him.

Dean’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene. He noticed the absence of you right away. His concern deepened. Sam could barely make sense of the words spilling from his mouth, his thoughts too scattered, his heart too heavy. He tried to explain what had happened, the argument, the way you had left, but his words were a jumble. All he could focus on was the sickening feeling in his gut. Something was wrong. He knew it.

The brothers didn’t waste any time. They searched the motel, asking the front desk clerk if anyone had seen you. But the answer was always the same: no. With no other choice, they hopped in the Impala and started driving, stopping at every place still open, hoping for a clue, hoping someone had seen you. But nothing. No one had seen you. The knot in Sam’s stomach tightened with each passing minute.

Just when he thought he might lose his mind, he saw movement in the distance. Someone running into the road, a dark figure weaving between the streetlights. His heart stuttered when he realized who it was, even from this far away. You.

But as he rushed to get closer, dread gripped him. You weren’t just running aimlessly, you were running from something. You were covered in blood, your clothes torn and stained, bruises blooming across your skin. The ropes that had bound you were still hanging from your wrists and ankles, making Sam feel sick to his stomach from the sight.

“Hey! Hey!” Sam called out, his voice breaking with desperation. You didn’t seem to hear him, your movements uncoordinated, like you were lost in a daze. Sam’s chest tightened. "What happened to you?”

He took a step toward you, his voice shaking as he gently reached out for you. But before you could even answer, your body went limp, your legs giving way beneath you. Sam’s heart skipped a beat as he rushed forward, catching your unconscious form before it could hit the ground. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, holding you tight, but inside, his panic was overwhelming.

"God," he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. "I’m so sorry”

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When you regained consciousness, you were back in the motel room, lying on a somewhat comfortable mattress. You tried to move, but a sharp pain in your abdomen made you hiss.

“Hey, hey, careful. Careful,” a soft voice came from beside you—Sam’s voice.

A wave of relief washed over you as you felt his familiar hands helping you sit up against the headboard. The simple act of his touch, grounding and steadying you, settled the panic that had been brewing in your chest.

As your senses fully returned, you noticed that the ropes that had bound you were no longer around your limbs. You also observed that someone, presumably Sam, had attempted to patch you up. His hands were still gentle on you: one holding a cold compress to your forehead, the other resting on your back from when he helped you sit.

The warmth of his touch made your stomach flutter.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked, his voice still thick with concern.

“Sore, but alive,” you said with a weak chuckle, trying to lighten the mood that seemed to hang heavily in the room. But even that small movement made you hiss in pain, and you could see the worry flicker across Sam’s face.

Sam’s expression was unreadable, his eyes distant as if he were trying to process everything. You didn’t know what he was thinking or what he might say, but you definitely didn’t expect the apology that came next.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Sam blurted, his voice tinged with guilt. “I should never have let you leave like that. I was being a dick, and now you’re hurt because of me.”

His words struck deep, breaking your heart. You reached for his hand, trying to calm him. “Sam, this wasn’t your fault. It was demons... you didn’t do this.”

But he shook his head, the guilt swallowing him whole. “It is my fault. None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t let you leave. If I hadn’t been a jerk... If I hadn’t pushed you away. I was only trying to protect you.”

“What?” you asked, furrowing your brow at his words.

Sam hesitated, like he was weighing whether to go on. His eyes flickered to yours, and in that moment, all his walls came down. He couldn’t hide anymore.

“I thought... if I pushed you away, you’d be safer. Everyone around me gets hurt. I couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me. You mean so much to me, and the idea of losing you, of you being hurt because of me, it’s too much. But I couldn’t protect you... and you still got hurt.” He stammered through the words, his voice trembling, tt was like he was… nervous?

His confession left you stunned. It made your heart flutter, you knew exactly what he was saying. But you needed him to say it.

“What are you trying to say, Sam?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, urging him to go on.

He looked at you, really looked at you. This time, his gaze was soft and vulnerable, like he was laying his heart bare for you to see. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to lose the words, his breath hitching in his chest.

Then, without a word, he leaned forward, and before you knew it, his lips met yours. The kiss was slow, tender, and gentle, but it carried something deeper, an unspoken desperation, a fierce love that he hadn’t known how to express until now.

For a moment, the world disappeared. It was just the two of you, tangled together in a fragile, perfect moment.

When Sam pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, hisbreath shaky as he whispered, “I love you.”

In that moment, time stood still. Neither of you noticed that Dean had returned from his demon hunt, ensuring that the bastards who’d hurt you would never get the chance to do it again.

As he stood in the doorway, watching the scene before him, he muttered with a grin, “Took you two long enough.”

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masterlist

[displayheartcode]

1, 3, 7, and 22 for Emmett and Rosu!! <3

1. What memory would your OC rather just forget?

Emmett would love to forget the dull haze he was in after his childhood best friend was murdered. Imagine, you’re twelve and goofing off as you sneak into the fairgrounds, and while getting lost in a corn maze, you’re both dragged into a hellish pocket dimension where only one of you returns alive. Now, you’re the weird local kid related to a strange disappearance and you don’t know how to tell people that it was monsters.

On the flip side, Rosu would love to forget how badly he fumbled telling his high school girlfriend that A. he’s not human and B. Their town resides in a Bridgewater Triangle. Thanks to his poor communication, Marisol slid him a copy of Twilight for clarification.

3 . What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

Rosu has the mentality of My way is the only correct choice. This is my moral high ground and I don’t care what the personal cost is.

Emmett lets his insecurities get the best of him, causing him to miss out on things like FRIENDSHIP and BEING SOCIAL. He is a clenched fist of repressed emotions.

7. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Emmett is a relatively new OC compared to others. The core of him has stayed the same since conception: a character that stays human, acts as the moral center of the cast, and is incredibly tired and Jewish. The cerebral palsy is the only new addition because I want more disability rep in the genre!

With Rosu, I like playing with the sliding scale of his selfishness. How much of his humanity is he willing to sacrifice, and because of that, how does he embrace (and detest) his growing vampirism. This is a character who wants to live but knows what the consequences are.

22. What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

Emmett was thrown headfirst into knowing that gods and monsters are real. After avenging his friend’s murder, he struggles to figure out what he should do next, but his personal code of I must help those who feel powerless remains at the center. He’s lawful good.

Rosu is a slippery bastard and has also killed people. He understands that the normal laws of justice don’t apply to the supernatural, and that tough calls have to be made. (ex: He’s on Team Murder for complex cases while Emmett is Team There’s a Third Option We Have to Try.) Growing up with a witch for a mother, he knows the old rules and likes to find ways to twist them to his advantage – even as these prohibitions are placed on him the more powerful he becomes. He skirts between chaotic neutral and chaotic good.

ask me about my OCs

[bruhstation]

I wonder how Big Mickey would be worked in your AUs, since he exists in both TUGS and TTTE. I'm not asking you to design or make a concept, just I'm curious about your short thought

they're the same character. big mickey was in his late 20s in fortezza bigg city and in his late 80s in casa tidmouth. he moved to sodor after ww2. still fit and very much kicking, though he's considering retiring.

big mickey seldom speaks in casa tidmouth, but his accent has changed considerably after all his years on sodor.

[peco5bi11]

this is the kind of “urban fantasy” i can get behind.

[footage of the inside of an ordinary Eastern-European home, taken with a handheld phone camera, the man filming is walking from the living room to the back door of the house]

man, narrating in russian: Every fucking year, this time of the year, the pond at my backyard gets infested. What do ponds get infested with? Frogs? Poisonous weeds? Geese? No. Not my pond.

[The man opens the back door, stepping out into a garden. Three or four nude, human-like figures dash from the borders of a pond back into the water.]

man: Rusalki! I don't know where they come from or how they get here, and I can't afford to hire an exterminator every year. I can't let my cat outside anymore. Last year a rusalka managed to drown a whole deer in my pond, the stench was unbearable.

[He walks as he speaks, approaching the pond. There are several eerily beautiful female beings peering at him from under the surface, their long hair floating in the murky water. Their eyes are gleaming in an unhuman way. The man holding the camera stops to film them.]

man, calm and deadpan: What the fuck are all of you staring at. Get jobs or something.

[One of the rusalki, smaller than the others and clearly not a fully matured adult, slowly reaches out of the water with her white, thin hand, grasping his ankle. He appears unconcerned.]

man: You can't drown me, you little idiot. You're too small. Shoo!

[A loud thud startles the rusalki, making them scatter. A second thud makes it clear these are the approaching footsteps of something massive. The man turns around and points the camera at what appears to be a house, walking past above the treeline with chicken-like legs]

man, now yelling: IF YOUR HOUSE SHITS ON MY YARD AGAIN I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD-

[hqmagic]

there r less than 24 hours to go & magical university rp plot # 2 is winning by 1 vote ( ik it looks like 2 but i voted for that early on so i cld see the results, am discounting my vote bc ofc i am down for all of them ) so if ur interested in some kind of magical / supernatural rp then vote here & here !

[fangstv]

welcome    to    chance    harbor,        damon  salvatore,  stiles  stilinski  &  daniel  molloy   !    thank    you    for    applying,    cody.    you    have    twenty    -    four    hours    to    submit    your    account    ,    if    you    need    more    time    please    don't    hesitate    to    let    us    know    !

› :･ﾟ ⧼ alperen duymaz , cisgender man , he / him , tvd. dumon söylemez ( damon salvatore ) is a thirty ( 170 ) year old vampire who’s been in chance harbor for two weeks. the unemployed / general nuisance is known for being charming on a good day and manipulative on a bad day. they're often heard listening to tear you apart by she wants revenge and can be described as a thick fog rolling in over the horizon line, engulfing everything in a pale grey; what happened to family over everything else; crimson staining a white satin shirt collar. ( cody, twenty3, est, she / her + n / a )

› :･ﾟ ⧼ thomas weatherall , non binary , he / they , teen wolf. mieczysław " stiles " stilinski is a twenty ( n / a ) year old human who’s been in chance harbor for their whole life. the college student is known for being charismatic on a good day and sarcastic on a bad day. they're often heard listening to circus clown by mom jeans and can be described as an oversized college branded sweatshirt, sleeves too long and build too baggy; your whole existence hinging on public image; stacks upon stacks of various occult books. ( cody, twenty3, est, she / her + n / a )

› :･ﾟ ⧼ oscar isaac , cisgender man , he / him , iwtv. daniel molloy is a forty5 ( n / a ) year old human who’s been in chance harbor for twenty years. the journalist is known for being inquisitive on a good day and cold on a bad day. they're often heard listening to one of these things first by nick drake and can be described as endless piles of discarded, crumpled papers and disappointing displays of literature; sometimes you question the state of your own mind; what would you give for just a taste of what they have. ( cody, twenty3, est, she / her + n / a )

[deepspacenova]

A DRAGON'S SACRIFICE

2000 words | missing scene. dragon sylus. light-hearted. sort of fluff.

Beyond Cloudfall [Deleted Scene]: In which we experience the trials and tribulations of a frustrated dragon and a snobby mountain cat and how, exactly, that cat came to find the Sorceress of Ivory City.

Note: Dragon!Sylus lives to keep his chokehold on me another day! Haven’t been able to get this out of my head since (like MC) I realized Sylus went on a whole ass adventure to make her feel better with a cat. Full of self-indulgence and an out-of-his-depth Sylus. Hope you enjoy xx

The Dragon stood at the mouth of his cavernous home, gazing out at the rain-soaked city below with a stoic frown. The glowing embers of its citizens�� hearths twinkled in the distance, mocking him with their warmth. The scenery was almost peaceful—a true testament to how unbothered Tarus City was by the Legion’s mindless warpath. He didn’t know whether it was admirable or just another example of mortal stupidity. 

Behind him, a disturbing silence clung to the rocky walls of the cave. The scent of the sorceress — which seemed to have nestled itself inconveniently into every crevice of his supernatural senses — marked her location atop a stone platform. 

Though she toggled between the top of the cave she’d almost hurled herself over the other day — the sharp feeling in his gut from the incident, most likely irritation, had only just dissipated — and the platform, her silhouette remained the same. Knees drawn to her chest, blankly staring into space. He shifted uncomfortably, obsidian horns lightly scraping against the cave’s jagged overhang. 

She wasn’t crying, he knew. She never cried, though he almost wished she would. That would’ve made it easier for him to write her behavior off as nothing more than some human hysterics.

Instead, she exuded a quiet, crushing sorrow that weighed more heavily on his conscience than he cared to admit. She’d been like this for days.

Despite the world’s insistence of his monstrosity, of his evil nature, the dragon didn’t innately enjoy her despair. In fact, she was weighing down the elation he should’ve been feeling over his long-awaited freedom. Shackle-less, far from the abyss, pillaging nearby towns. This should be a happy occasion for him, by the gods, and she was ruining it.

He’d already tried tributes. In his experience, mortals liked trinkets. The greed in their eyes when they gazed upon gold and jewels almost always overtook any other emotion. He grimaced as he recalled yet another way she defied those expectations the past few days, picturing those empty eyes glazing over further at the sight of his offerings.

The dragon sighed. He loathed how her sadness clawed at him, a grating reminder of the humanity he’d long since tried to bury. But she treated him... differently. This fragile, stubborn human. 

Not as a man. Not even as a monster or a dragon. When she spit her version of fire at him, she looked at him as though he were something else entirely. Harmless, unremarkable, and, well, a nuisance. 

It infuriated him, and yet he’d never been regarded with such… normalcy.

He rubbed the back of his neck, claws clicking softly against his scales. He needed to do something. Her melancholy was suffocating.

He unfurled his wings, the membrane stretching taut against the sharp gusts of wind that coiled around the mountain peak. With a powerful leap, he launched himself from the ledge, the force kicking up loose pebbles that scattered down the mountainside. The air whipped past him as he angled his descent toward the copse of trees clinging to the slope below. 

The treetops swayed gently beneath his shadow as he descended and folded his wings tightly against his back. He strolled the area as his irritation bled into a sense of purpose.

“What does a human even want?” he muttered to himself. 

As if in answer, a faint yowl drifted up from the distance. The dragon froze, senses on alert. Peering down the incline of the small forest, he spotted a small, shadowy figure weaving through the underbrush. A scruffy little thing, it had lowered onto its haunches, tail flicking as it hunted for something amidst the tall bushes.

A mountain cat. 

He snorted at the absurdity of the creature’s arrogance. The cat was lean and scrappy, its fur sticking out in untamed tufts. It was prowling around with single-minded determination, oblivious to the real predator watching it from above. 

“A creature as insufferably small and contrary as she is,” he scoffed. Then again… 

The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close. Perhaps this... thing would do.

The thought of those despondent eyes brightening even slightly steeled his resolve. 

Without another word, the dragon unfurled his wings and took flight, gliding effortlessly through the trees, just high enough to keep his approach silent. The soft crunch of underbrush and a flicker of the cat’s ears were the only signs of his arrival.

He stood motionless as the creature turned its curious yellow eyes toward him, fighting offense when it flicked its attention back to its prey, completely unbothered. 

“Right,” the dragon said, crossing his arms. “You’ll come with me willingly, or I’ll drag you by your tail. Either way, your new destiny is to be a gift.”

Abandoning its prey, the cat sat up at the sound of his voice. Finally, some self-preservation in the face of his intimidating presence. 

”So? What’ll it be, little beast?”

The cat blinked at him and then licked its paw, clearly unimpressed. The dragon narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t mistake this for a negotiation, now.” He crouched low, his tail coiling behind him. “I am Stayrus the Fiend. My name alone strikes fear into the hearts of—”

The cat darted away before he could finish, slipping into the underbrush with a small chirp. Growling in indignation, the dragon lurched forward, His wings folded against his back as he pursued, claws tearing through leaves and brambles in his path as the chase began.

It became quite apparent, however, that his dragon-like physique was more well-suited for widespread destruction rather than stealth. His horns snagged on low-hanging branches, his claws caught on roots, and his tail kept dragging in the soft earth, leaving deep gouges in his wake. 

The infernal creature, meanwhile, moved like smoke, slipping effortlessly through gaps and crevices too small for him to navigate. Without his reptilian vision, the dragon was sure he’d have lost it by now.

“Cursed vermin,” he hissed, pausing to disentangle his tail from a thorny bush. “Do you even know who I am? I could scorch this entire hillside with a single breath.”

Though the mountain cat didn’t answer, it did take refuge atop a precariously balanced boulder near the cliffside, its gold eyes glowing mockingly in the moonlight. The dragon glared at it, debating the merits of simply incinerating the creature and presenting her with a pile of ash instead. But no, that wouldn’t do. 

She wouldn’t smile at ash.

The ground beneath him was nowhere near strong enough to hold him for long so he shifted his weight and stepped forward carefully, determined to capture his prey. Just as he was close enough to extend his grasp, the cat sensed him and leapt to the next perch, then the next, its movements fluid and maddeningly graceful until it reached the edge of the cliff, paces away from plummeting toward its sad little death. 

The dragon growled low in his throat.

“You test my patience, creature,” he snarled, lunging for it. His claws grazed its tail, but the cat slipped free, landing neatly on a patch of grass in the opposite direction. 

It meowed at him — a taunt, he was certain of it — before darting off again.

The moon continued to rise over Tarus City as the hours passed and midnight arrived. The once-pristine hillside now bore visible scars of an angry dragon’s pursuit of a wily mountain cat: gouged soil, uprooted foliage, cracked branches, and a few unfortunate scorch marks where the dragon’s temper had flared. The cat, however, remained unscathed, not one patch of fur out of place.

He was reclined against a tree trunk to catch his breath, glaring at the smug feline — who was currently lying on its side, tail swishing calmly every few seconds — as he tried his hardest to hold together what remained of his composure. 

And his dignity. 

“Alright, enough games,” he rumbled, getting to his feet. 

The dragon closed the distance between them in a few swift strides, his footfalls as unrestrained as his frayed patience. To his astonishment, the cat did not flee. Instead, it sat up, blinked lazily at him, and began grooming itself, utterly unperturbed by the massive dragon towering above it. 

“You’re mine,” he declared authoritatively as he reached for it, his moonlit shadow engulfing the small animal.

When his claws were inches from its fur, he hesitated, frowning as the cat glanced up and met the dragon’s gaze with an expression that could only be described as disdainful. 

“You’re not afraid of me,” he said flatly. “Have you been… playing?”

The feline exposed its teeth with a yawn.  

The dragon huffed, a stream of smoke trailing from his exhale. “Fine,” he snapped. “But if you bite me, I swear—”

In one swift motion, he scooped the cat up, lifted it into the air, and nestled it into his arms. It only tensed for a moment before it settled, its tiny body warm against his chest. The dragon blinked, uncertain what to make of the sudden compliance and the contented rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate its body.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, cradling it awkwardly as he spread his wings. “Do not get used to this.”

The flight back to the cave was uneventful, though Sylus was acutely aware of the cat’s claws kneading his scales. It was a strange sensation, almost pleasant — though he’d be taking that confession to his grave.

When he landed, he paused at the cave entrance, staring into the dimly lit yet lavish interior where she still sat, her silhouette framed by the distant city. He frowned, his grip on the cat tightening slightly.

He couldn’t let her know it was from him. That would ruin everything.

Carefully, he placed the cat on the ground and gave it a gentle nudge toward the cave. 

The cat hesitated, glancing back at him as if to say, you coming?

“Go, you vexing creature,” the dragon said, his voice low. “She’ll like you better than I do, that I can promise.”

The cat seemed to consider this, then accept it, padding cautiously into the cave. Every few seconds it would stop to sniff a treasure or rub the side of its face on a damned goblet, like it was purposefully pulling at the last strand of patience left in the dragon’s body.

Careful to stay hidden, he watched from the shadows as it approached her at last, its tail flicking curiously. 

She didn’t notice until it brushed against her leg with a trilling chirp, causing her to blink down at her unexpected visitor.

“Where did you come from?” she murmured, her voice soft but warm. Hesitantly, she reached out, her fingers brushing its fur. The cat made that contented rumbling noise again, leaning into her touch.

And then — finally — a faint smile graced her lips. It was a small thing, fragile, and gone almost as fast as it appeared. But it was enough to melt a block of tension from his body he hadn’t even realized he was holding. 

As she started to sigh and coo over the smug bastard — who was acting as if it had scaled the mountainside to reach her on its own four paws — the dragon backed away, retreating to his usual perch deeper in the cave. 

He couldn’t say he’d be willing to go through the hours he had spent chasing that infuriating creature again. The frustration and humiliation. The near-incineration of half this mountain. 

But seeing that ray of joy banish the stormy dimness from her gaze for a fleeting moment? Well, suddenly the grave indignities he’d suffered that night didn’t smart so badly.

Let her think it was fate, or luck, or some divine gift. Let her smile. That was all that mattered.

He settled in to watch her from afar.

“You’re welcome, my nemesis.”

[billiewena]

THREE YEARS SINCE NOV 5TH, 2020 as summed up by Supernatural (sequel to this and this)

image ID & context below:

[image ID: screenshots of Supernatural paired with screenshots of various tweets, news headlines and Tumblr posts.

A screenshot of Ed and Harry in SPN 3x13 Ghostfacers saying "You gotta be gay for that poor dead intern" with a screenshot of Misha Collins at the SPNNJ 2023 convention saying "I got a call from Warner Bros and they were like hey uh...is there any world you just let it go?" This is in reference to an incident in 2022 where Misha accidentally made headlines after a comment that seemed to be referring to his sexuality. His comments at this year's panel imply that the studio in fact did not want him to retract the comment and make the apology that he posted, but to instead just roll with it.

A screenshot of Bobby saying "Time travel?" and Dean saying "Yeah" in SPN 6x18 with a headline that says "Jensen Ackles' Explains The Winchester's Multiverse Twist & Supernatural Connection." This is about the series finale of Jensen's Supernatural spinoff "The Winchesters", in which it is revealed Dean and the Impala somehow traveled the multiverse to the alternate timeline the show takes place in.

A screenshot of Dean in SPN 15x08 saying "He's back, and he's out of control" with a screenshot of Misha Collin's first Tumblr post in seven years, a video with him and his brother being a public nuisance on public transportation. Also included are screenshots of various Tumblr users reacting with tags from various tumblr users. becauseofthebowties: "mishacollinsofficial tumblr account back from the dead???" myboobsarentsentientbeings: "this is the first thing he posts? after nearly 7 years???" casismybestfriend: "RED FUCKING ALERT MISHA IS BACK ON TUMBLR" cannabiscasgate: "who the fuck gave you back your password"

A screenshot of two news anchors in SPN 14x20, with one (named Jack) telling his co-host "I love you" and her replying "Jack?" with screenshots of the Destiel/Supernatural Confession meme trending multiple times this year with other current events topics like Russia, Titanic, etc. There is also a screenshot of a post by saintedcastiel that says "I cannot believe that since we started using the destiel meme as a breaking news alert that there hasn't been ONE destiel news anchor AU fic where they're co-anchors on the morning news. cas confessed on accident while they're on air and dean doesn't know how to respond so he just reads the next thing on the teleprompter."

A screenshot of Dean in SPN 5x14 as Cupid says "I-I was just following orders" with a screenshot of an anonymous Tumblr ask to user luxshine. The ask says "Hey! I was wondering if you have any updates on the LATAM dub situation and if you were/will able to contact the dub director". luxshine says "Hi! Well I could get the translator (you know, our dear rogue translator) and he told me that while he doesn't remember it completely (because he translates a lot of series) if Dean said "And I you" it's because the script he got said "And" I you" and the video he saw said "And I you" because he doesn't add stuff." This is in reference to a change in Spanish LATAM dub of Castiel's confession SPN 15x18, which added a line where Dean reciprocates, which was previously suspected to be a change added by the LATAM dubbing director or translator

A screenshot of a detective from SPN 8x08 saying, "[Chuckles] Whatever you say Scully" with a screenshot of the tumble blr blog ao3topshipsbracket's poll "AO3 Top Relationships Bracket - Round 2 Side 1" with Fox Mulder/Dana Scully (The X-Files) vs. Castiel/Dean Winchester (Supernatural.) In the final results from 51,514 votes, Mulder/Scully won by 53% and Castiel/Dean won by 47%. In early 2023, Tumblr added a polls feature which has led to numerous content, debates, and bracket polls similar to this.

A screenshot from SPN 11x15 where Dean says "No money, no glory" with a headline that says "Supernatural creator Eric Kripke gets 'zero' residuals from Netflix"

A screenshot of Dean rising from his grave in SPN 4x01 with a screenshot of a post from the official CW Supernatural Instagram with a clip from the pilot episode and the caption "And the story continues..." and a comment from a user that says "THE STORY CONTINUES?? WTF ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL US?? I HAVE ANXIETY YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME." For context, no one is sure if the post was supposed to reference new content from Supernatural or not but it has led to speculation.

A screenshot of SPN 8x01, with the onscreen lyric "Another year has passed me by."

[sselenophiliia]

Headcannons for the creeps x a super extroverted and hyperactive reader??? Please and thank you :3

CREEPS X HYPER! READER <33

TW - serial killers (duh) , mention of supernatural activity and gore & stuffs

TOBIAS ROGERS

• He’s naturally pessimistic, and has never cared for the rambunctious type. So at first, he’d find you very annoying and childish.

• Due to his devotion to the Slenderman, he has little to no control over his emotions and doesn’t have much of a personal life. He comes to find your extroverted personality somewhat..refreshing after spending so much of his time within the gloomy (and gorey) confines of the forest.

• Your time spent together may be short, but he grows to enjoy your company, and spends all of his personal time with you. He enjoys listening to you speak and silently admires how outgoing you can be. His distaste quickly becomes less apparent, and is replaced with a sense of familiarity. This would probably take an extremely long time though.

EYELESS JACK

• He has very poor social skills, and extremely prominent trust issues. He doesn’t trust anyone, especially those who are outwardly trying to befriend him.

• This doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to meet someone, possibly fall in love, but it does make it very very hard for him. Like toby, once there is a bond built he becomes quite fond of your outgoing personality.

• He lacks basic communication skills due to a sheltered upbringing and his adult life being cut short, to put it simply. A lot of experiences with you will be firsts for him in social, communication aspects. He greatly enjoys conversations with you and hearing you recount past wild escapades once he’s comfortable enough to let his guard down. Although, like toby this will take years.

JEFF THE KILLER

• To put it simply, he hates it at first. He sees it as a challenge. Do you think you’re better than him?! He hates anybody whose better than him at anything, and he has horrible social skills. At first, you’ll catch him glaring, then he’ll try to start a fight with you for no apparent reason. Then he’ll try to make conversation even though his social skills are horrible, then be offended when you don’t want to speak to him.

• If at some point you forgive him for being a nuisance, you will have to calm him down a lot and essentially talk for him in many situations. He’s not as calm or mature as Jack or toby in this sense.

• Similarly to Jack, you’ll have the stronger communication skills in the relationship. He differs from Jack in the way that he won’t let you.

LAUGHING JACK

• He’s extremely extroverted as well, so you’ll essentially be bouncing off of eachother and annoying everybody.

• He’s very happy that you’re equally as hyper at him, nobody else is. Mischief is on the horizon…

• He’s basically the only one whose normal about anything. Despite being a murderous clown. Does that say a lot?

[somanystars]

in the secret good s16 of supernatural tfw 2.0 would go to a grocery store

NOT a conveniance store

a grocery store

-sam would get jack into the cart (jack just teleports in) and then pushes him down the aisles super fast. he loved doing it with dean as a kid and now he gets to do it with jack. they nearly run over dean at one point and dean tells them off for it, calling them a public nuisance ("like you're one to talk" "shut UP sam") and as revenge they wait until dean and cas are standing right next to each other and run at dean like they're jousting. dean falls trying not to get run over, into cas who is ofc an Angelic Tank and doesn't even flinch when he catches dean. cue the most flustered man in existence in front of the knock-off cereal brands bc my god he never learned to emotionally regulate.

-you would think sam and dean would be the ones arguing about healthy vs tasty food. wrong. sam knows his brother is a stubborn ass and just sneaks healthy food into the cart. (he has a system. he also has a farmer's market he runs off to once in a while.) dean and CAS on the other hand are bickering in every. single. aisle about every. single. item. cas is trying to make sure heart disease doesn't kill the man who refused to kill God. dean is trying to exercise his new found free will. this is flirting for them.

-jack finds an employee restocking an aisle and strikes up a conversation with them. this of course leads to him helping restock a whole section of the aisle because "of course i helped them! i wasn't doing anything else!" eventually they end up seated on the floor criss cross applesauce talking about the DEEPEST MOST RANDOM SHIT. anyways jack likes them so much they win the lottery the next day.

-cas wanders into the freezers because it's "refreshing." dean only realizes this when he pulls a a carton of milk out of the fridge and sees cas staring back at him. he ALMOST pulls out his gun.

-obligatory "sam gets hit on by an older woman" thing but he is ENGAGED and flashes his engagement ring (eileen proposed to him because fuck gender roles because i said so. he cried. dean will deny it but he cried when eileen asked him for sam's hand. gd now i wanna write that. fuck.) anyways this does not stop the older woman and sam sighs. cas rescues him.

-cas accidentally leaves the store with his coat loaded with random stuff. dean sighs and concludes that stealing from a chain grocery store is not the worst thing they've ever done.

-cas sees that the last thing of an item dean wanted sitting in an unattended cart and...takes it out. and gets accosted by a person because yeah that's their cart but cas sacrificed heaven and his life and his wings for humanity (read: singular human but still) and thinks he can have the last jar of strawberry jam. dean hears them from 2 aisles over and sighs.

okay now. if this gets to 100 notes ill write+post a full fic to ao3

[demonboi96]

DP x DC fanfic prompt

Danny Phantom was never on the Justice Leagues radar, Amity was outside of all of their individual areas and never became a big enough threat or nuisance to catch the attention of the League.

That changes pretty quickly changes with the arrival of Undergrowth when a large chunk of the midwest is starting to get over run by an unnatural and quite powerful wave of vines the league was having a tough time just containing it from spreading, not to mention even attempt to stop it at it's source. Only for a seemingly magic ice to spread from said source and freeze all the vines in place.

After a couple weeks of reseach and investigative journalism the League was able to identify the person at the center of the take over attempt. One Sam Manson.

And whatever will Sam do now that she is under the investigation and observation of the Justice League. And while her friends are also note worthy, the eco protestor that worked with a supernatural plant monster is the most concerning indiviual in all of Amity in their opinion.

[write-or-run]

Danny Phantom in YJ but its ALL of team phantom

so this idea assumes DP is set in the DC verse and Danny's identity is revealed to the town during Reign Storm. His parents accept him like in the series finale, and the town, grateful for being saved from Pariah Dark, has an unspoken rule not to sell out Danny's secret identity to outsiders (mainly the GIW).

All the Amity Park vigilantes are working together at this point, but the public dosent really know it. Now that they're no longer hunting their son's alter ego the Fenton parents continue doing their thing, but now they make gear specifically for their ghost son to use without it backfiring on him (mostly). Jazz gets some of the ghosts to do interviews and eventually branches out into ghost psychology, something that her parents had neglected to study before now.

Danny, Sam, and Tucker continue ghost wrangling, but the supervision of the Fentons proves to be surprisingly helpful and the trio finds that they have more time to pursue other things (space, eco-witchcraft, and tech respectively). Tucker and Sam's parents are on the fence about their friendship with Danny. Angela and Maurice Foley are talked down from their worries after Tucker points out that the dangerous ghost stuff will happen regardless, so he might as well have the local vigilante on speed dial. Jeremy and Pamela Manson are harder to convince. They're used to having to pick their battles when it comes to Sam's goth, ultra recyclo vegetarian lifestyle, but on this they're not budging. They try to restrict Sam's contact with her friends and even go so far as to get a restraining order. Sam is increasingly fed up with their controlling behavior and, inspired by the Infi-Map, Sam breaks into the ghost zone in search of an artifact that would give her power so that she would never be trapped. Obviously Danny goes in after her, but then Sam's parents storm the Fenton house to take back their daughter and accidentally fall into the ghost portal, so Tucker takes the Specter Speeder and goes in after them. By the time the Fenton Parents return home everyone is back and the Manson's have given in to Sam's determination.

Valerie Gray initially continues to operate on her own. She maintains a frenemy status with Team Phantom due to her mixed feelings on Danny's civilian and ghostly personas, between that and the revelation of Vlad's villainous career Valerie's worldview is really shaken. She throws herself into vigilantism and hers dad gets really concerned when Valerie starts running herself ragged. In a last ditch effort to make her stop Damon Grey goes to the towns ghost hunting experts and begs them for an intervention. The Fenton parents agree and the three of them sit down with her for a talk about safe ghost hunting practices. This fails to stop her, but the Fentons refuse to give up on the 'Junior Ghost Hunter' and start inviting themselves on her patrols .Things come to a head when Dark Danny travels back in time to ensure his creation. Seeing how desperate Danny is to avoid becoming evil, and fighting alongside the Fentons convinces Valerie that its okay to count on others and slow down and take care of herself. (and also the Fentons are low-key inescapable)

Pariah Dark's incursion through Amity Park was the last straw needed for the Infinity Realms to start really breaking into reality. There was already some leakage (see lazarus pits) but this was the last straw for a problem that has been brewing for thousands of years now. Life in Amity Park continues normally, because to them ghost stuff is normal, but for the rest of the world its a different matter.

The Justice League is going around dealing with the sudden influx of supernatural nonsense. The ghost attacks range from minor nuisance to city-wide threat. The magic leaugers are trying to find the source, but it's Batman who identifies Amity Park as 'Ground Zero' for ghostly nonsense.

also something something Amanda Waller and the GIW either team up or become rivals.

I'm literally writing this while waiting to board my flight so I'll try and flesh out this AU later

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

I feel I’m VERY late to the party with the mecha AU considering how bone deep Pacific Rim runs within me but I’m chomping at the bit. Gnawing at it. I LOVE YOU ALL. I’ve reactivated my tumblr for this. Good god. @keferon my leige. I'm meant to be SLEEPING.

Anyway, I’m a general nuisance, I wont be following much of the pre-established lore too closely because of who I am as a person, bone app the teeth.

TexAid for the soul is more potent than Chicken soup.

First Aid wakes up in an ice cold sweat.

It’s not the first time. He’d lost count, actually – it seemed that every morning was the same now. He’d wake up, he’d shudder, he’d carefully extract himself from his damp-with-sweat duvet, he’d shower, and then he’d pretend that everything was perfectly fine and normal.

His function first and foremost was one of a medic. He trained to work with live patients. His expertise was with the living, not the cold stares of the dead.

But lately, all he’d been dealing with were corpses, and it all came down to one reason.

Vortex.

Superstition wasn’t something that he bought into, but the theory on base was that the mech was haunted. At the start, he didn’t believe it – mechanics were plagued with stray code, oddly executed scripts. There was nothing supernatural about it. All of the pilots said that they felt another presence within their mechs with them – there wasn’t anything special about Vortex’s AI. If one wanted to look at it that way, all of their mechs were haunted.

But Vortex was different. Of course he fucking was, why wouldn’t he be. No, no, nothing was allowed to be normal. Ever. Firstly, there was the staring. The mechs weren’t meant to stare, but whenever he went close to Vortex, he could feel his piercing gaze against him. It wasn’t normal. They should have been offline without any human input, but Vortex stayed stubbornly awake and studied his every move. Sometimes he’d swear he could hear his internals humming, the rumble of moving parts, his plating trembling and straining against the dock as he tried to move. If someone got too close to him, he’d hear the hum of weapons systems warming up. It was part of their onboarding process that they were warned against approaching him, now. He’d cut them down without a second thought.

There was also the small fact that he had a tendency to kill his pilots. And it wasn’t even an exaggeration – their means of slaughter always came from within. The cameras that filled the insides didn’t show any breaches, no weapons were brought on board, the vital signs monitors from the pilots and their own helm-mounted cameras showed no foul play of an external parties part. No. It was… Vortex. The mech showed his displeasure in a shower of blood and moving parts – and that was if he was being nice. If they weren’t power washing the remains of a digestive tract from his floor, they were manoeuvring a live body that acted like a dead weight, the pilot a stuttering mess, mentally shattered and broken. They’d never managed to get any of them back into active duty – a lot of them First Aid had no idea what had happened to them. They were simply shipped off somewhere, never to be heard of or seen from again. The worst part of it was that they were all missing fingers, as if they’d been cleaved right off by sharp metal as they reached out for something.

An alarm ripped through the base, and he gagged on his morning coffee. He knew what that meant – deployment. And with deployment came another victim, courtesy of Vortex, and all that horrid stench and morbid fascination that sent his spine tingling and brain firing to the point of insanity that paired so closely with it.

Ambulon frowned at him. “Jittery this morning, Aid.”

“I just know I’ll be on Vortex duty again.” He groaned.

Ambulon patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. “Don’t let it get to you, Aid. Pharma only does it because he trusts you.”

Yeah, right. It’s so I haven’t got an excuse to be by the morgue.

You steal one Quintesson body…

He briefly remembered the smell of the grave dirt as he’d re-interred them into the ground instead of the stone cold morgue, and quickly smelled his coffee instead.

The deployment seemed to last an age. First Aid managed to get through all of his deskwork before they returned, and Vortex staggered into his bay. First Aid was waiting patiently by the gate as the docking station clasped around him, holding him in place as cables came down from the ceiling to plug into him.

“How many bets this guys dead?” Someone behind him asked, elbowing the one stood next to him. First Aid ignored them, focusing intently on the mech.

He could see blood behind the glass. It was leaking out down the side – they were more than dead. They’d been eviscerated.

The visor lifted with a loud hiss, and First Aid took a deep breath. He held it so he didn’t have to inhale the initial stench – that part was always the worst, having been left to fester within him – and carefully studied the scene before him.

Organs hung down from the ceiling. Scraps of fabric hung limply from the still locked harness.

“What did he do to them?” First Aid quietly asked himself as he stepped forwards with a bucket.

There was a rule - you never got inside Vortex on your own. First Aid followed it religiously, and he could hear someone behind him, and so he felt perfectly comfortable in getting inside.

Only the visor snapped shut with a sickening crack as their leg was cleaved clean through, the scream barely muffled by the glass.

“No!” First Aid flew to the glass of the visor, pounding against it. “Are you okay?!”

What a stupid question that had been. Of course he wasn’t okay. The smell in the air burned at his throat and turned his stomach, and he looked down at the dismembered leg.

He couldn’t breathe. Or he was breathing too much? He didn’t know, but his chest ached and his head spun and he felt like ice had been injected straight into his veins, every hair stood on end as panic gripped him. It took every ounce of self control he had to not scream from terror when he heard pistons loudly slam into place, firmly locking the visor.

Oh, god, have mercy.

Emergency exits. These things had them, right? He’d had to pull a barely conscious pilot from one once – he’d gotten trapped in it in a malfunctioned ejection sequence. The button would be big and bright red, surely – and with a protective cover so they didn’t smack it by mistake in the middle of a fight and end up launched into the face of a Quintesson. His eyes scanned wildly, breath catching in his chest as he tried to suck in air that didn’t make him want to vomit, hands hovering over the dash. Mental images of the pilots missing their fingers played in his head like an omen.

There. Bright red. The words were worn off, the plastic scratched. The metal around it was worn and faded from use, and the plastic cover was long gone.

Blood crusted it. He smacked it anyway.

Nothing.

He looked back to where it should have been, hyperventilating. What did that mean? The techs had never found anything to be wrong with it before. Everything was functioning as normal – it was why Vortex was still even allowed to be operated. So why didn’t the emergency escape open?

Red light flooded the cockpit. His teeth chattered together as he slowly turned to look at the display that had lit up, white text running across it.

[LEAVING SO SOON?]

“I’m just a medic.” First Aid pathetically said. He almost bit his tongue.

[TAKE A SEAT]

Tears prickled his eyes as he unbuckled the harness and sat down. He tried to ignore the wet squelch as he sat in what remained of the previous human who sat there.

“What do you need from me?” He tried to sound strong as he asked.

The screen remained blank. The lights slowly dimmed, leaving him in the dark with only the sound of Vortex’s hot systems for company. He tried to calm his breathing, timing it to the rhythmic thunk of a nearby fuel pump, and wrung his fingers together.

It would be okay. It would be okay. Everything was going to be okay-

The chair suddenly flew backwards, and First Aid shrieked. His throat felt raw with how hard he’d screamed, clinging on tightly to whatever he could get his hands on. He studiously kept his limbs away from the console – he had a theory on how they’d lost their digits, and he was not keen on finding out if it was true. The chair snapped back upright again, and he whimpered, tears pooling in his eyes and his bottom lip trembling. The mech shuddered, a grinding sound rumbling through the cockpit and rattling his bones.

[PLUG IN] the screen instructed. A cable fell from the ceiling.

Helmet. He needed a helmet. They had the required port for that cable. He scanned the floor, ignoring the rising nausea as he searched for the helmet from the previous pilot.

There. Behind the chair. He picked it up, and had to look away when he realised the head was still inside. He shook it out, humming loudly to block out the sound of it hitting the floor, and kept his eyes closed as he put it on and ignored how much it stank of organic metal. He reached up for the cable, and gently guided it to the port-

Agony. Burning agony. His back arched as he screamed, hands clutching the helmet as if willing it to stay on despite how hard his legs kicked and thrashed. Electricity coursed straight through him, setting him aflame as his brain tried to catch up with his body.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

First Aid gnashed his teeth together as he fought with his conflicting emotions. He wanted to know why. Why Vortex had trapped him in there, why he had gone to this length to do this to him, why him. But he also wanted to run, to run so far away that he was nothing more than a distant memory. He didn’t want to know why Vortex had taken such an interest in him.

But oh, oh he did. He did want to know what he’d done to catch the AI’s attention.

The pain slowly subsided, the fried nerves numbing to the raw energy that charged through them, and he cracked his eyes open.

[GOOD BOY <3]

“Oh, god, I think I broke something.” First Aid whimpered. He suddenly understood just why so many pilots came to them with nerve damage, with extensive burns, and why most of their heads were metal. The connection was. Intense.

“Don’t be such a pussy.” A voice spoke directly into his head. First Aid gasped, sitting up straighter. It was strangely human, yet equally as mechanical.

“What-!”

“I just want to talk, but it’s so irritating to have to wait for you to read the screen. Removing the barriers is so much easier, isn’t it? Now, to business...”

First Aid gasped and whined as he felt pressure in his head, white not points of pain slowly pressing through his brain. His eyesight flickered and faded in and out, his sight shifting from the inside of the cockpit to the chaos right outside – chaos that he couldn’t even hear – and he was glad to see that the man who had been right behind him was receiving medical attention. What a relief. Humour that wasn’t his and that he didn’t recognise pulled at his lips, and he felt a strong urge to smile so wide that his lips split and cracked.

The pressure on his head increased, and he felt his eyes cross, reality slowly slipping through his fingers like thick slime. Red dripped from his nose. Where was he, again? Why was this happening to him? What was even happening to him- Awareness snapped back to him in time with a loud bang on the glass. He heard his name, muffled. Someone was calling to him. He should go to them, right? “Don’t move, I haven’t finished looking at you yet.” First Aid felt phantom sensations of ice cold hands pressing against his skin, a shudder running up his spine. He felt a prickle run down his arm, chasing the feeling of the tips of someone’s fingers running down the bare skin. Obediently, he held still despite how curious he was to go and look. “I can tell you like the good stuff.” An invisible hand patted his cheek and the mech shuddered, loud and clunking. “God, I’m so lucky I found you.” “Found me?” His chest felt weird. His everything felt weird. It was difficult to keep his eyes open. “I’ve been watching you. On the cameras, when you’re in the hangar with me, your files. Fascinating. How wonderful you are to me.” “That’s a bit creepy. You could have asked first.” “I don’t like being told no.” “I would have liked it more if I’d known it was happening.” Why was he so readily admitting this? Where were his carefully constructed walls and defences, keeping the abnormality at bay? He felt like he was an open book and Vortex was just turning to the pages he wanted to read. “Maybe I’d have done something if I knew I had an audience.” The mech shuddered again, harder this time.

“Come on, baby, talk to me wont you? I’ve been so lonely.”

“Maybe if you stopped killing your pilots you wouldn’t struggle so much with that.” He gritted out. Fuck, everything hurt.

“You’ve got a bit of a mouth on you, don’t you.” A sound that felt like anger rumbled through him. “I like it.”

“Can I go now?” He felt woozy. Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong, his ears felt wet and his face felt wet and he could taste copper-

As if on cue, there was a loud bang on the visor – someone was pounding it with their fist. A shared stab of annoyance flashed through them.

“Question first. How did it feel to have a Quintesson in your bare hands?”

“How did you know about that?”

“Come on, don’t be shy, you know I’ve seen everything.” He crooned. “Tell me. I’m so desperate to know. I know you liked it – I can feel it.” It felt as if he had someone’s arms wrapped around him, their mouth right by his ear. If he closed his eyes and focused, he could feel their warm breath ghosting over it.

“It felt fucking amazing.” He thought back to it. The warmth of the body – an infant, tiny in comparison to the adults that dwarfed their houses. How thick their blood was, how it dripped down through his hands. The burn of the smell, mineral rich and glowing bright blue.

“You fucking tease.”

“You cut through them every day.” First Aid argued. “What’s so special about that?”

“You can really feel it. I’ve got metal between me and my prey.”

The banging was louder, and First Aid’s vision shifted to be through Vortex’s. There was a big group of them now, he had an audience.

“I should go.”

“You’ll be back, honey.”

First Aid ripped the helmet off, and nausea hit him like a truck as he felt a sharp wrench in his head. He loudly gagged, folding in half, and pressed a fist to his mouth to keep himself from spilling his guts into the cockpit. Vortex was certain to kill him if he made a mess. Sucking in a deep breath, he staggered over to the glass and gently placed his hand against it. It felt like half of his consciousness was somewhere else, somewhere he couldn’t reach.

“Please?” He was starting to feel disorientated, the sudden disengaging scrambling his brain. What memories were his, or the previous pilots? Pain suddenly flashed through him and he screamed, his limbs going numb. He felt warm liquid slowly run down his suit, red blooming amongst the white, bone wrenching from bone-

[LATER, DARLING <3]

Vortex’s visor finally opened, laugher echoing in First Aids head, and he fell out face-first onto the catwalk. He was gasping for breath as he scrambled away, shaking and trembling and swallowing back vomit. His hands flew over his body, checking for injures, for limbs he was certain were missing – intact. He was completely intact. His team had their arms around him and were pulling him away faster, leaving a trail of blood smeared after him – was that his? Or was that the pilots? - and were shouting. All of it was just noise. Pure noise.

Giddiness bubbled up in his chest, and he laughed. It started quietly, a little chuckle. Disbelief at the situation, he thought. Pure, utter relief that he was alive. The cannibal mech had eaten him, but here he was – spat out whole and unharmed. His next laugh was a little louder this time, and Ambulon paused, taking notice. First Aid didn’t see him any more, his whole vision taken up by Vortex and the loud snap of his visor clamping back down into place, a hiss as the mechanism locked it back down. He could have sworn he was smiling, but it was ridiculous – the mech didn’t even have a mouth.

He didn’t realise he was still laughing – and hard – until his stomach began to hurt and he felt light headed. Gasping for breath, he let himself fall back onto the floor, staring blindly up at the ceiling. He could see the red lights of Vortex’s visor reflected on the metal there.

“Felix?” The voice of his mentor pierced through his peals of laugher. First Aid looked up and saw Ratchet running towards him, face twisted in agony. He felt himself start to laugh again, and he had to fight to not start punching himself in the stomach to get himself to fucking stop it. It wasn’t funny. None of this was funny. Why was he laughing.

“Is he hurt? Why is he bleeding?” Ratchet demanded as he knelt down next to him. Ambulons response was inaudible, First Aids ears ringing. He felt something dribble from his mouth, and from the acidic taste in the back of his throat he assumed that he’d finally thrown up. He didn’t remember turning – his airway was clear. Two hands gently cupped his face, forcing him to look at someone.

Ratchet.

“Can you hear me?” He gently asked, tension clear in his voice. First Aid could, but he didn’t know how to respond. He slowly blinked, hands reaching up to clasp at his wrists with trembling hands. The adrenaline was burning off, replacing itself with a leaden heaviness that threatened to drown him. Slowly, he nodded.

Get me away from that mech, he tried to say. They get it and I hate that we understand each other.

Ratchet seemed to hear him. “Help me move him.” He was looking at someone else, but First Aid didn’t want to look away from his face. He committed every detail to memory, every line, every grey hair, every follicle and aged scar and flush of colour. It felt like he was seeing him for the very first time.

The world spun and his stomach clenched as he was lifted unceremoniously onto a stretcher, and he took one last glimpse of Vortex before the oxygen mask was fitted over his face and he couldn’t see anything any more.

09090909

It was highly inadvisable.

But he was doing it anyway.

That taste he’d got of Vortex was like a breath of fresh air to him – he hadn’t realised how stifling the company on base was until he’d met him. Ratchet would be so disappointed in him. Pharma would hang him by his guts. Ultra Magnus would try and make it so he never saw the light of day again.

One moment of feeling his teeth at his throat and he was addicted. He wanted him. He wanted physical scars he could touch and remind himself that it hadn’t been a dream, it was real. Carefully sneaking through the base, First Aid crouched and peered around corners, internally humming the Mission Impossible theme. It felt ridiculous, but if he didn’t distract himself he’d make himself vomit from laughing too much again. He had found a random face mask and slapped it on, hoping that obscuring his identity a little would help him get into character.

They hadn’t found a new pilot for Vortex yet – they still went through the usual procedure of finding one with the right personality and skill set, of testing how well the AI meshed with the mind of the pilot outside of the mech before allowing them to go inside. They had a few candidates, but now it was a question of ‘are they more compatible with other bots?’ and ‘how expendable are they really?’ before they stuck them inside of him.

Like lambs for slaughter. They knew they were going to die – but what else could they do? Vortex was their strongest mech. If he went down, their whole operation would crumble with him. Mechs were expensive and difficult to make, the AI’s complicated and prone to disaster.

Pharma didn’t take his eyes off of him for two whole weeks. He’d fallen out of the mech looking like the pilots whose brains had melted under the pressure, his arm marked with a burn that followed the path of a nerve, mapping it onto his skin. Pharma had stared at it, long and hard, brain ticking over. He wasn’t to go near Vortex again. Not for a while, until they figured out why he’d decided to kidnap him, and why he’d decided to spit him back out. They knew why he’d mangled the other medic. He thought it was fun. He’d said so himself, writing messages in the morning memo. They still hadn’t figured out how he was doing it, but if you were early enough in the day you’d see it before they’d caught it. But First Aid didn’t do too well in following instructions, in listening to orders. The Infant he’d plucked from the formaldehyde to get a better look at was evidence enough of that. The fact he was scrambling to get back inside of Vortex right now was yet another reason why First Aid was to be kept under lock and key - god, if they knew anything about him they’d never let him see the light of day again.

The catwalk that lead out to the mechs was a stones throw away. A guard stood watch, hands firmly on their gun.

God damn it.

First Aid rocked on his feet, wondering how he’d get him to move, when he suddenly felt a prickle on the back of his neck as if he were being watched. He shuddered and whipped his head around.

Nobody. Alone. No eerie glow of a camera – not that there were any over on this side of the hall – and no shadowy figures. He held his breath and strained his ears – all he heard was the cough from the guard and their sigh of boredom. He slowly looked back to the guard, and a faint red glow caught his eye.

Vortex’s visor was on. He was watching.

The sound of something falling to the floor caught the guards attention. He quickly turned and ran out onto the catwalk, looking down at the floor. He quickly looked back up at Vortex and scowled.

“I’m not stupid, Vortex. I’m not going down and getting that.”

Vortex did not respond. The guard tutted and turned on his heel.

Something else fell to the floor, a little louder this time.

The guard threw his head back with a sigh.

“You are the worst.”

He marched off, out of sight, and First Aid saw his window of opportunity. He quickly slipped out, thankful for his socks muffling the sound of his steps, and hid behind the terminal the guard was stationed at before he turned back around and walked over to the terminal.

“Yeah, yeah.” He was speaking to someone on the phone, drumming his fingers on the terminal. “It’s Vortex again. I know, I won’t get close – yeah. He’s dropped two this time.” He paused for a moment, listening to what the person on the other end had to say, before making a sound of disgust. “Go and check? I am not getting close to him!”

First Aid could hear a raised voice on the other side, and strained to see if he recognised it. Before he could pin a face to the voice, the guard sighed loudly. “Fine. I’ll go look. You’ve got my will there, right? Take yourself off of it.”

The guard didn’t look back at the terminal as he walked to the stairs and descended down them. First Aid glanced between the stairs and the catwalk, and quickly crawled over. Peering over the side to see where the guard was, he gained an uncharacteristic burst of bravery before he sprinted towards where Vortex was, visor open and waiting for him.

“Can I?” He asked in a hushed whisper. Vortex didn’t respond. He gingerly approached, noticing that every single camera inside his cockpit was trained onto him. He swallowed nervously, and clambered in.

He should have been used to climbing inside of Vortex. He’d done it enough times. Maybe it was because he wasn’t wearing any of his protective gear? Not his uniform, or his helmet, or even his gloves. Just himself and his pyjama shorts, his t-shirt, and his socks with little bears on them.

Mmm. First impressions. Wonderful.

He should have gotten changed first.

[TAKE A SEAT] lit up the screen.

He slipped into the seat obediently, taking care to not touch the controls. He coyly waved at the camera.

“Did I wake you?”

[YOU DIDN’T. I LIKE YOUR SOCKS]

The bears stared back at him. First Aid tried not to think about the rumbling he now recognised as laughter that rolled through the cockpit.

“Thanks.” He replied, red tingeing his cheeks.

[THAT’S A GOOD LOOK ON YOU]

He pressed his legs more tightly together. “The socks?”

[NO, YOU’RE GOING VERY RED]

[MAYBE I SHOULD CALL YOU LITTLE RED INSTEAD]

The helmet dropped from the ceiling, firmly attached to the cable that would connect organic to mechanical.

[I WANT YOU]

[<3]

First aid scrambled with the harness, clipping himself in place, before putting on the helmet. It burned just as badly as the first time, and he saw as the nerves in his arms glowed with the energy of it – without the proper implants, there was nowhere for the current to go but him.

He whined, squirming in the seat. He ground his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut, counting down from ten and losing his place three times before the connection settled. Vortex was a heavy and oppressive presence in his mind, and he chewed his cheek as he cracked an eye open.

[LET ME TAKE ANOTHER LOOK AT YOU]

The warning wasn’t even a verbal one. He read helplessly as he felt cold hands clasp him once more. Digital fingers made of 1’s and 0’s probed his brain, and First Aid arched in the seat, teeth clenching down over a loud moan of pain. Neurons fired agonisingly and his hands scrambled at the harness, the tips of his fingers raw and torn and bleeding against the rough fabric. Memories were brought to the surface unbidden, dragged out by artificial means, and others flooded in to take their place. He inhaled sharply, eyes going wide as the realisation hit him. Vortex was trying to show him something. He wasn’t a ghost. He wasn’t even an AI.

He’d been entombed in it. In the mech. Vortex had been a real, breathing human being, mocked in a sham trial in the name of obtaining more pilots. Rich men had paid him to do terrible things, and he had taken the entirety of the blame. Hundreds of thousands of pounds of funds, countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears – all for one mech. A prototype, at that.

First Aid blinked as a bright red screen flashed up, text displayed across it. He squinted and rubbed his eyes, grimacing at the drag of sore and exposed flesh against the rough material of his face mask, and blinked.

[LOCKED IN]

“W… what do you mean locked in?” First Aid hesitantly asked. Like… literally, he was locked in? He knew that. He was connected to Vortex’s nervous system – he could feel that there were bolts in place keeping the cockpit well and truly locked down like a fortress, impenetrable except to the override codes the high command kept locked in a vault in their office or the request of the pilot. He felt amusement push at the edge of his awareness, a shudder of a laugh running through the mech, and he clarified.

“I know your dirt, and now you know mine. Do you think high command are going to let you go peacefully?”

Ah. A threat. Of course. Worried he’d run? He wasn’t going to. He was fascinated by this mech – the joy of being caught in his mechanisms was sure to sing in his ears, the pure delight of watching him carefully pick apart his prey like a hawk dismantled a rabbit was like a chorus of cherubs to him. And Vortex knew it, he knew it and he loved it- he was certain of it, the way his mind melded with his, pushing against him and caressing him, a warm blanket around his psyche.

“I’m not going to leave you.” First Aid took a deep breath, the unsettling stench of bleach and cooked meat and rotting oranges filling his lungs. “No, I’m fascinated by you.”

He tensed, eyes briefly widening as he felt a grin that wasn’t his tugging at the corners of his lips, threatening to split his face in two.

“Happy about that?”

“Extremely.” He purred. “I’ve seen what your hands have done, what they’re capable of. I think we’d make a great team.”

“What if I refuse?”

Images flashed in front of his eyes. Bone fragments scattered around the cockpit, blood and guts and gore hanging obscenely from the ceiling. Blood ran thickly on the walls, the smell foul and rotten. First Aid wretched.

“You’ll kill me?” He hated the excitement that bled into his voice, how eager he was to feel the mechanism close down around him, to feel his metal deep inside of him, for his last thought to be about his touch. “It’s a shame you can only do that once, you know. It’s so exciting, all the different ways you could do it to me. You could make me completely unrecognisable, identified by DNA alone. Or maybe flood the cockpit with gas, slowly suffocating me before I realised what was happening.” He bit his bottom lip. “I wish I knew what it all felt like.”

A new image, one of gears and cogs deep inside of him. All sharp angles and straight edges. The presence was probing inside of him, trying to figure out his reactions. He pressed his hand to his mouth and gasped as his teeth pierced his bottom lip without him realising it. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and another. Vortex probed again impatiently. Respond, damn it.

He looked up at the camera, glad that his mask hid his face, the excitement glowing on his cheeks. “I’ll show you.” His voice was breathless. “And if your use for me runs out, give me a little warning before I’m a permanent feature, please?”

“I wont let you run away from me.”

First Aid swallowed hard at the burn of yearning in his chest. “You’d catch me if I tried.”

“Damn fucking right I would.”

He watched the energy sing in his nerves, the pain spreading down his limbs. His digits were starting to go numb. How much longer could he hold out? He never wanted to leave. He felt flayed open and alive. Squirming, screaming, and alive. Red dripped down and stained his pyjama shirt. Damn it. He liked this pair.

“How do you control yourself? You want what I want, you wish you could do it. So why don’t you?”

“I’m a pacifist.”

“Are you? Or is that just what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?”

First Aid whimpered as the pages in his mind flicked, a burning sensation flaring in his arms. He watched the skin there turn red, the connection starting to be too much. His nose felt wet as he thought of it, as the memories Vortex was looking at came to the forefront of his mind. He liked surgery. He liked anatomy. He liked the cadavers and how they felt under his hands, picking them apart and pulling on tendons and ligaments to move them like puppets. Even earlier, his first pet. A hamster. He had told his parents that he’d buried it in the garden all by himself, and they had praised him for being such a grown up young boy, when really he had picked it apart like he had practised on his teddy bears and then blamed on the dog before shoving it into a hole in the ground to hide the evidence before anyone had seen what he was doing.

Vortex chuckled.

“Oh, let me show you how exciting a Quintesson can be. Little Hamphrey hasn’t got anything on them.”

[skay-ali]

the witch's revenge

idea for Halloween month, because I don't know how to continue my other story.

For as long as you could remember, you lived in a small town, everyone knew each other, not a single neighbor passed up a good gossip to share, in a few days the whole town knew what was happening with someone.

Or at least that's what they thought, they never knew what you and your aunts were hiding.

Every night they went out to the forest to dance around a campfire and the songs they recited.

The little hexes they cast on the citizens, when they became a nuisance.

The supernatural events that occurred when you were still learning some spells.

They never found out you were a witch.

It was a good thing, it allowed you to treat the town as your little playground for your childhood pranks or your lessons as a witch, that was until you got tired and decided to leave.

It was your time to seek your independence, your aunts did not accept your wish well, but with great regret they had to say goodbye and let you find your own path. Whether it's joining a coven or becoming an independent witch.

You knew that your beloved aunts would miss you, you were the only thing they had from their sister and they were the only thing you had since you were born.

They raised you your whole life, they guided you on your path as a witch until they no longer had anything to teach you.

Regarding your mother, she had disappeared a few days after you were born, your aunts confessed that it was her punishment, for having broken her witch's pact with the coven she belonged to, all for mixing with a human and allowing her blood to be stained with her offspring. , that coven he joined despised humans.

For your birth she had to pay, see her again and save her from her punishment, it was part of your reason for leaving town.

The only thing you knew about your father was that he had never seen your mother as more than an adventure, he disappeared when he had the opportunity, your aunts looked for him as the first option to take care of you, but upon seeing his refusal to know more about your mother, the He made it known that no fool would want to know about your existence.

You ended up leaving the town and joining the coven of witches that your mother belonged to. It was difficult to adapt to it. They didn't see you favorably when they saw that you were half a witch and the daughter of a human, but they had to accept it due to the decrease in witches in In the present, many were hunted and others decided to abandon witchcraft and integrate with humans.

You learned some spells, along with meeting two young witches your age, they were the first witch friends you managed to make, you were a bit eccentric in your town which prevented the children from becoming your friends, most of them avoided you.

With the time you spent with this group you realized that they were very different from your aunts, or their known witches, they had something dark inside them, they were evil, they had no remorse about hurting the weak, they only caused destruction and suffering. Not even your little pranks in town were similar, nor were the spells your aunts cast. The evil of this coven was on another level.

Upon discovering that your mother was not in the coven, you decided to kill all the witches, you waited until they were weak and unable to defend themselves, you killed each one of them, without mercy you ended their existence, after all the torment What they put innocent souls through, they deserved it. 

It was good that you formed friendships with the two girls your age, they were also part of the massacre, taking revenge on the group of witches that hurt them, it was good that they still did not get the evil from that group.

When you confronted the leaders, while they begged for mercy, they spit out thousands of their cruel misdeeds hoping to give you the information you wanted to not die, you were able to discover the whereabouts of your mother, they had locked her in the underworld with the demons, they used her as a sacrifice to become more powerful.

That dark night there were no survivors of the coven, all the witches of this group needed to be exterminated, so that their legacy of evil and destruction would end.

Some time after living different adventures, you ended up constantly visiting some cities.

You managed to interact with wealthy and famous people, who ruled different cities, you formed a new life, one that would allow you to go unnoticed while you carried out your next plan.

You had found a way to see your mother again, but you only had one chance to achieve it, you had to calculate your movements well to achieve your goal.

You just had to take care of yourself, there were some small annoyances you had to deal with, people who could endanger your plan, the superheroes, not just the justice league, but also the young league and the titans, you could say all the heroes.

You ended up at a super gala where celebrities from different places gathered, all because some relics from the medieval era were going to be exhibited, all insignificant except the red orb, the centerpiece, which a witch created with the aim of extracting and storing power. for some complex spells. You needed it, it was the main part to achieve everything you wanted, without it everything was useless.

You walked hand in hand with a millionaire, who introduced you to his acquaintances as his goddaughter, he had demanded that, since you did not accept him introducing you as his daughter, you still did not understand why this man insisted on that title, much worse in his interest in adopting you.

The famous millionaire lex luthor was a man whom you helped with one of your spells when he was recovering from an injury, it seems that this made him interested in you, he saw what you were capable of and took you as his protégé at first, You knew about his megalomaniac plans, it could be said that you gave him help in his plans or so the man liked to believe, the truth is that his feelings of greatness, revenge and pride gave you a lot of energy for your spells that's why you spent your time with him. him, that and that you felt that he fulfilled the role of father that you never had, the man tried very hard to be a father figure, yet you did not understand his reasons.

You separated from the man when he got distracted in a conversation with other millionaires.

It was time to look for new victims, the best thing about these elitist people was their strong feelings of hedonism, greed, pride, envy, hatred and evil.

You could already taste that energy.

Until you bumped into someone when you were distracted by your excitement.

"uhh.. I'm sorry I didn't mean to" you apologize quickly.

"It's okay, it was an accident" you heard it said, it was a woman's voice, it had a gentle touch.

When you looked at the person you collided with, you found a woman, her smile was the first thing that caught your attention, it was just like your mother's, you had seen her in an old photo that your aunts kept.

"Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you," a woman greeted as she also observed you.

His hair was brown, straight and long, his hazel eyes had that light, which said he was a person with a bubbly, enthusiastic personality. You recognized her.

"...Uh yeah same thing" you were unsure about this conversation. You knew you were in danger if you talked to this woman.

"Aren't you the famous lady that millionaire Lex Luthor is introducing to everyone?" the woman asked excitedly upon recognizing you.

"If I am ____ and you are a reporter," you said without encouragement, "Luisa Lane known for getting the best news and who I was warned to stay away from," you hesitated when speaking.

You recognized her, she was Luisa Lane, a great reporter from the Daily Planet, you liked watching the news, much more so the women's section was very interesting to you, but you wouldn't let your guard down because of that, much worse confessing to her that you like her work.

"Oh come on, I'm not dangerous," I joke with a smile.

  "I'm an enthusiastic reporter looking for good news," she pointed out childishly, her lack of concern and childish action brought a smile to her face.

"If that's why you are a danger to me, I would trust myself and possibly end up in one of your stories" you followed the woman's game, you left your plans for another time, it was fun to talk to the woman.

"Don't think that, I just want to get to know you better" Luisa really meant it, the way you spoke to her, along with your peaceful and happy personality, caught her attention, it was no longer just discovering why you appeared out of nowhere and how You achieved the high position you have among the rich and famous, something about her made him want to know more about you, your tastes, what you hate, your thoughts, in his view you were just a little girl who was very adorable and made him awaken his maternal instincts.

"We shouldn't be talking you know."

"No one cares that we exchange words with others, they don't necessarily have to find out," he said in a low voice as if he were keeping a secret.

After a tug-of-war with the reporter, you ended up burning with her power of convincing.

"Tell me how do you and the millionaire from the Lex companies know each other?" I speak in a professional manner. 

"That sounds like an interview, you said we'd just talk" you pointed out the promise the woman was breaking.

"Does it sound like that? I'm sorry, it's just that they are actually very curious and I'm so used to my job that I can't leave this behavior behind" the woman tried to calm you down before you wanted to leave.

You spent some time with the woman, talking about different things, of course you had to make up some stories so as not to raise suspicions about who you really were. All the random things they talked about like their favorite food, the trips you took, your taste in fashion or what you did for fun, were like the conversations you had with your aunts, but it felt deeper, it was like you always wanted to talk to them, your mother.

But when you saw two tall figures approaching the reporter and you, your alerts went off, they were the two people you should definitely avoid, Lex warned you that they were dangerous, especially if you had evil plans, but he never wanted to say more. .

That's why when you saw them greet Luisa, you quickly turned away, you fled from that place, you'd better look for where the relics were.

When Luisa realized your absence, she saw how you had already walked away from her, you were now talking to a couple of anxious people, who spoke very animatedly with you, she could see how the lady squeezed your cheek with affection and how her husband smiled for his wife's actions.

It made her sad to see that, because you had to leave and much worse talk to other people, she wanted to introduce you to her husband, she wanted to gain your trust more, she wanted to form a friendship and maybe later, for you to become more familiar with her and her family.

It can't be possible, you could barely leave a conversation and you enter a new one, ahhh how did you become so popular, you blamed yourself for your singing spell, which took away people's stress, bad thoughts and nightmares, that gave them a new breath to the people from whom you extracted bad energy, as they always returned to the same thing of having bad energy, they became addicted to turning to you using your singing spell to relieve them.

You waited patiently until your plan to steal the sphere came into action.

Although you expected it, you were still surprised by the appearance of some villains who came in to assault the party guests. You followed the orders they shouted, in a few minutes a hero would surely appear to save the day, enough time for someone to sneak up and steal the orb "catwoman" or Aunt Selina as she wanted you to call her.

You just let the big act continue, holding onto your 'godfather's arm, the scary girl act working well for you. 

You looked at the ceiling from time to time, trying to see if your jewel thief had appeared, when you noticed her signal, you let shadows slowly appear throughout the room, in an easy and practical spell, little by little everything was plunged into a fog. black that prevented the view of all those present. 

When the heroes, or rather the little henchmen of Batman and Superman appeared, the phase of your plan came to an end, you no longer needed to stay in this place.

"I want to go home" you said to the man who held your hand so as not to lose sight of you.

"Of course, I think this place is no longer suitable for us to stay," he nodded and took you out of the living room.

You saw the female reporter out of the corner of your eye, you would miss her, it was fun talking, you raised your hands and waved them, saying goodbye to the woman.

"Hey Bruce."

"Who" was upset that his friend interrupted his attention to how his children handled the villain situation.

"Don't you think that girl looks a little familiar" he pointed to the woman who was saying goodbye to his wife.

The man scowled at him for interrupting his thoughts with something non-trivial.

Halloween special, I was a little inspired, of course it doesn't have much terror, I think it's more because of the witch.

Clark already raised doubts about Reader's appearance, he looks a lot like someone he knows. I imagine a situation where the reader comes to project her family into superfamily. instead of his real family of heroes.

[cursedvida]

I just wrote a new oneshot. This one its ok for general audiences lol Just Noa thinking about Mae. Well, overthinking to be honest. Hope you like it. !

CONQUERORS

Humans were conquerors, advancing and claiming everything they found without asking for permission or forgiveness. He wonders if that latent instinct will emerge from the ostracism of centuries of isolation, emerging with a supernatural force that sweeps everything away. He watches her in the solitude of her exile, surviving in a world where she feels out of place, not quite knowing where she belongs now, collecting pieces from the ruins of her fallen empire that might give some meaning to her existence. Noa observes her, trying to hide his nervousness and insecurity, and wonders when what he always saw as a pesky nuisance turned into a being powerful enough to conquer the skies.

[bouncy-dog-funeral]

Stiles Stilinski and how teen wolf fails his character and relationships

TW: mentions of charecters traumas, disibilitys not being taken seriously, toxic relationships, one sided attraction, and teen wolf hate cuz as much as I love some of the charecters… the show is kinda bad (it’s my special interest b4 I get hate)

ALSO!!!

I am just an autistic guy who’s been hyper fixated on stiles as a character for years. I am not telling you how to feel about the show or him, I’m just expressing how I feel through a long (and I mean it this is long so strap in… or don’t… I don’t control you) tumbler rant. I have not finished the show but I have done a lot of research (about episodes and seasons that I have not seen) but I’m just human. If I miss something or don’t get something right, you can just tell me!!

Stiles stilinski as a character, while not a revolution to tv, was a pretty iconic character. A show about werewolves and the supernatural was absolutely side stepped by the human of the series. From the moment he’s on screen, he brings a fun vibe and some pretty funny jokes but you’re not here to listen to me glaze a white guy from an early 2000s show. Too much of that on here any way so let’s get to the real meat and potato’s!

Stiles was failed by teen wolf. They failed to give him relationships (and I mean platonic and romantic relationships) that were reciprocated. His relationship with Scott is ok at best. In the first season stiles goes out of his way for Scott to help him find out what’s wrong with him and it’s seemingly the only reason he’s there other then to get Scott to go in the woods and to show that Scott isn’t friendless and what does Scott do? Kinda just ignore him to hang out with a girl HE JUST MET. This isn’t a one time thing either. Stiles goes out of his way for Scott 99% of the time. He’s loyal and honestly a really good friend. Scott does not meet him there unfortunately. This is not to say that Scott never helps stiles out or never shows care for him, he just kinda always puts his issues first. I think a famous example is season 5 episode 9. NOW BEFORE YOU SCOTT SYMPATHIZERS BOO ME I WOULD LIKE TO EXPLAIN MY POINT. Now Scott and Stiles have both gone through some traumatizing shit that no one, especially high schoolers but I can only give so much leniency. Scott is supposed to be a leader/alpha and although he’s bound to make mistakes, a good leader listens. He never really listens to stiles in this argument. He got told one story from Theo and just runs with it. He has this problem either way black and white thinking when everyone in this series is a person (werewolf’s and other supernatural creatures included) and being a person comes with not being perfectly good. Scott has this awful superiority complex when it comes to doing what he thinks is morally right. Scott through out the series proves that he is not as loyal to stiles is to him.

I’d also like to go over his relationship with Lydia cuz good god man. I don’t hate Lydia. I think she’s a great character that if not written in the early 2000s could really have potential but they make her mean to stiles (as most charecters are) and show no interest in stiles even as a nuisance and expect me to care about them as a couple. Now you could say the same thing about sterek (stiles x Derek) and you might even be typing up a comment now. Let me stop you. I think there is a key diffrance. We are supposed to root for stiles and Lydia. We are supposed to want them together when Lydia in all honesty is not intrested in him. It’s not a mutual arguing or back and forth. Stiles is deeply in love with some one who ignored his existence. As a afab person I feel bad for Lydia a little. Having the attention of a man that you don’t like all that much while you have a partner (Jackson in season 1 which he’s not a good partner but she’s still with someone) should get on my nerves and also kinda make me nervous. This is not me saying stiles is a creep or anything it’s just me highlighting the relationship that they share is kinda one sided. Now this is just personal preference and you might really like that dynamic but I don’t really want to root for a couple where it’s just pretty girl is there and she has some nerd who wants to be with her and she eventually gets with him cuz yay straight people. I know they grow and eventually Lydia is in love with him but I just can’t get behind it. It’s just nothing. The fact the he (stiles) yells at her at the school dance (season 1 episode 11) to get her to dance with him after she rejected the offer twice is weird!!! The whole speech is nice guy behavior on stiles part and it makes him seem down right disrespectful. I don’t care for the whole “no means I’m playing hard to get” idea. It makes stiles look like a dick, puts Lydia in the position where if she doesn’t say yes the audience will hate her, and it doesn’t progress the relationship in a healthy way. I think they would be really cute friends and you can even keep the “stiles has a crush on her” narrative and just make it to where he comes to an understanding that she has said no and they become friends. God knows we are lacking good platonic male/female relationships in media.

Now onto stiles and his disability. When I was in first obsessing over stiles in middle school or high school I was ecstatic to learn that stiles had adhd. I have been diagnosed with adhd since I was in elementary school. I was always an outcast cuz of it so to see a character, a fan fav at that, I was so happy. Getting any disability rep (especially from the mid 2000s) is crazy rare so I was happy to see it. Unfortunately in an interview Dylan o’brian (stiles actor) said that it was a joke. That even tho that in the series stiles says that he takes Adderall (a drug that treats adhd) he’s just like that. This was incredibly heart breaking to hear. Jeff Davis (creator of teen wolf) said that stiles had adhd later on Twitter but this isn’t a real relief to hear cuz either they wrote a “joke” that stiles might have adhd therefore dangling rep infront of disabled people’s faces while also having plausible deniability about having any rep in the show at all OR they wrote it in and just kinda ditched it at one point. They use derogatory terms for adhd to describe stiles like spaz just for him to be a nerotypical charecter??? Yeahhhhhh not a huge fan. If they actually wrote him to have adhd (which btw in my experience is like one of the most “accepted” disibiltys to portray in media so it wouldn’t even be taking a huge risk to give stiles adhd) then that would explain his behaviors, why he takes Adderall, why people other him when he seemingly does everything right. It was only ever a joke to the writers and I think unfortunately the actors. It made it to where other fans of the show can shut down the idea that stiles has adhd cuz “they don’t ever directly say it. It’s frustrating and overall makes me so sad.

Next his trauma. They put this man through a lot and just gloss over it. They do this with most of the charecters. Huge traumatic incadent then boom Scott saves the day we’re all fine!!! (Can you tell who my least fav charecter is through this rant?) it’s just annoying. Stiles was litterly possessed leaving him a broken man but it’s kinda just… there? No real ptsd. Hell he doesn’t even really have to deal with anything. They briefly go over that his mom died and kinda just became a shell of a person and that made his dad an alcoholic. It just happens. None of that affects stiles outside of that story line. Was it too much to write ptsd? Idk it just seems that anytime they have to write a charecter that isn’t a ambiguously white or white nerotypical untraumatized “normal” person, they fall flat *cough* BOYD *cough cough* DANNY *cough* what was that? Who said that? Any way it’s just weird and upsetting.

All of this to say…. I think teen wolf had so much potential and so many good ideas that just… didn’t make it. They failed stiles stilinski, not only that! They failed all of their character’s but I’m not crazy Coocoo about their character’s and it 1:38 in the morning so I’ll leave it with stiles. If you disagree with me that’s so fine, I’d love to have a conversation about your opinions! Just from my knowledge and experience, I feel like they could have done so much better for stiles

(Like make him a bisexual neurodivergent icon but whatever)

Have a lovely day! Thank you for listening. If you ever want to talk about teen wolf, my dms are always open and I’m crazy.