#there's just a LOT of side-eyeing. why does this old ass ghoul know so much about fev. why is this guy fluent in latin. etc etc

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Hey I love your blog! If it isn’t too much trouble, could you do one of the companions reacting to Sole getting an unsolicited dick pic?

FO4 Companions React to Sole Receiving an Unsolicited Dick Pic

So I know the ask said one of the companions, but I just did 'em all cuz I got carried away (as I always seem to). This was definitely an interesting one to think about, and suuuuper fun to write. Thanks for the ask!

I ended up doing a little scenario at the top that'll apply to all of the reactions, and just kind of give context for the fateful event to take place (since phones/the internet aren't really a canon element in FO, I put this scenario together instead.)

Given the nature of this ask, there's a just bit of NSFW under the cut!

Sole had woken up like any other day. Heading down the stairs of their Diamond City home to make breakfast, trying to be quiet in order to keep from disturbing their companion in the other room. However, as they passed their front door, they noticed something peeking out of the mail slot.

The paper isn't meant to come out until tomorrow...

Curious, Sole reached for the little white square of photo paper, and noticed some writing in the corner. There was an address and the words, "if you like what you see, meet me here tonight," accompanied by a little arrow pointing to flip the photo over. Their intrigue got the better of them, and Sole did as the writing suggested, turning it over for a brief second before immediately regretting it. They recoiled at the phallic image, their surprise evident in the small yelp they uttered in response to the sight before them.

They heard their companion stir from the other room, and then their footsteps sounded from behind as they approached questioningly.

"What have you got there?" They asked.

"Oh, it's nothing," Sole said, turning to face them, "just some mail, is all." Sole's words dripped with distaste, and yet... they felt an overwhelming need to share their unsightly discovery with the person in front of them.

"Wanna see?" They asked, mercilessly turning the picture so their companion could clearly make out the offensive image.

Cait:

*scoffs*

"What, they think that's somethin' te brag about? The damn thing's so wee, I almost couldn't make it out." She'd say with a smile, offering up her hand so she could take the picture and tear it in half. Cait effectively would make the decision for her companion in regards to the comment on the back of the photo. She knows this type of man, and she'd be sure that Sole wouldn't be meeting the asshole anywhere tonight. However, should she be able to sneak away while Sole is sleeping... Cait might just pay a visit to the specified location, where she'd surely give that asshole a piece of her mind, and at least one taste of her fist.

Curie:

Her eyebrows would furrow, and the synth would cock her head to the side in her confusion. Being locked away in a vault with three men for so many years, acting as their doctor, meant she had seen her fair share of the male sex organ. But now, Curie was confused, why did this man feel the need to send Sole a photograph of his penis? Was there something wrong with it? Did he want them to examine it? Sole was not a doctor...

"Why 'ave you received zhis, madame/monsieur? What does zhis man want from you?"

Once Sole explained, Curie would be quite upset by the concept.

"But... you did not ask for zhis, did not want it, and yet, he sent it anyway. Why would you want to meet someone like zhat? It seems very rude to me." She's still confused about it, and may ask a few more questions. Has this happened to Sole before? Does it happen often? Does anyone actually like to see such things when they are unprompted like this? If not, then why do these men continue to do it?

The scientist just wants answers.

Danse:

The soldier would physically recoil at the sight of the photograph, eyebrows raised high as he took in the image, before jerking his head and eyes away from Sole and the picture altogether.

"That-- that is highly inappropriate and an overwhelmingly vile display." He would say once he recovered from his initial shock, still refusing to look back towards Sole, "I suggest you dispose of that filth immediately. Why anyone would reveal themselves in such an unceremonious fashion is beyond me. You would do well to forget such graphic imagery. I know that I will certainly try."

He wouldn't even entertain the idea that Sole would go through with meeting the man behind the picture, but in the off chance that they decided to tell him they wanted to, Danse would spend the remainder of the day convincing them otherwise. He would almost be tempted to go to the location himself in order to lecture the man for his crude and inexcusable behavior, and blatant disrespect to his companion, but in the end, he decides that the man is not worth his time.

Deacon:

Ginger eyebrows would raise slightly over the frames of the glasses for the briefest of moments before he recovered his cool demeanor.

"Ah shoot, did the postman just put it right back into the mail slot? Didn't mean for you to see that, my bad. Here, I'll just deliver it myself."

The sarcasm was evident in his voice as he strode forward and plucked the photo from Sole's hand, examining it for just a moment, and grimacing a bit at the sight.

"Man, Dr. Rich Cockwood does not photograph well. I swear, it's bigger in person." He'd wink at them before glancing down at the picture again, scrutinizing blue eyes pausing to peruse the words on the back as he folded the paper up to put into his pocket. He'd quickly change the subject, trying to keep Sole's mind off the whole thing as he devised a way to sneak out that night and get some intel on the asshole who decided it was a wise idea to put Sole in this position.

Hancock:

*Squints*

"Oh shit. Looks like you've got an admirer there, Sole. " In his sleepy state, it took Hancock a minute to figure out what he was even looking at. Upon realizing that it was, in fact, what he thought it had been, he takes the picture from Sole's grasp and flips it around to glance at the back.

"Look at that, you've even got a date tonight. Must be somewhere romantic, I can tell this guy's old school." He nodded, flipping the photo over to glance once again at the offensive imagery on the front. "Yeah, real traditional, I'd say. Hmm... Mind if I tag along? Could be fun." There was a certain sort of glint in the ghoul's eye that made Sole's spine tingle.

Perhaps neither of us should go... Sole thought, noticing how Hancock's other hand toyed absentmindedly with his combat knife as he furrowed his brows at the photo one last time, before shoving the paper into the pocket of his coat. There was a certain sort of intent behind his actions that made Sole re-think even showing him the image in the first place. Hancock had killed people over less; that, Sole knew for sure.

MacCready:

"Ahh! What the heck are you doing?! I don't need to see that!" He'd squeeze his eyes shut just as soon as he was able to make out the photo, shoving his hands in front of him as though they would be able to push the image out of his mind.

"It's too early for this, what the heck is that guy's problem?" MacCready shuddered as he pulled his hands slowly from where they covered his eyes, glancing quickly at Sole before lowering them down completely, a relieved expression on his face as realized the picture was no longer in his line of sight. Noting his dramatic reaction, Sole considered toying with the mercenary a bit. They asked him what was wrong with the image, stating that perhaps they would pay this man a visit tonight. It had been so long since they had been out on a date, might as well go for it, right?

MacCready's eyes would simultaneously furrow, and widen at their words as he stuttered, finally finding his voice after a moment of shocked, choked silence.

"What?!" He exclaimed, "You're not seriously thinking of going, are you? That guy seems like such an ass-- Well, he just-- I mean..." He took a breath, and Sole had to bite their lip to hold back their grin. "Look, not that it's really any of my business or anything, but... don't you think you could do better than that guy? Like... a lot better?"

Sole couldn't hold back their grin any longer, but MacCready wouldn't meet their gaze. Instead he looked down at the floor, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand, a nearly unnoticeable blush spreading over his cheeks.

"That guy just seems like a real jerk, and you? Well... Yeah, you deserve better than that, I think." He finished rather awkwardly, finally looking up to meet Sole's gaze before returning their coy smile.

Nick:

The synth would a have a brief moment of raised eyebrows as he took in the details of the photograph, and then the inevitable scowl of disappointment would spread across his face.

"You know, you'd think this guy would understand that no one in their right mind wants to see that particular... angle. You don't think that's his good side, do ya?" Sole would smile a bit at that, and as the synth turned to walk away from the offensive image, they told him about the writing on the back.

"Hey now, wait a minute. You're not thinking of paying this guy a visit, are ya? If so, that's a pretty poor decision on your part, I think."

Sole would shake their head, telling Nick not to worry as he fixed his inquiring yellow gaze on them. He nodded in response, seeming satisfied by their answer. In the next moment, a thought seemed to claim his attention.

"Hmm... I think I might just know the perp, actually. Ellie's got a few reports back at the office mentioning some similar events. Guess it's possibly one of the guards on night duty who goes around with these to see if he gets any takers."

Sole almost spoke up, but as they opened their mouth, Nick's words seemed to take their idea straight from their head. "On second thought..." He said, "You got any plans for this evening?"

Piper:

"Ahh! Blue! Why would you show me that!?" She'd physically cover her eyes with her hands, taking a few steps back and away from the picture for good measure.

"Look, I don't care what you do with it," she'd tell them, "just don't let me see it again!"

Sole would thankfully oblige, but before disposing of the image, they showed Piper the writing on the back. At the sight of the man's suggestion, Piper snatched the photo from Sole's hand, glaring at it furiously.

"Ohhhh no he doesn't. If he's sent crap like this to anybody else, I'm going to make sure no one falls for this."

And Piper kept her word, as the next morning's addition of Publik Occurrences contained a small piece written on exactly this subject, titled: To the Asshole who sent the Sad Little Picture to a Disgusted Citizen; No One Wants to See That! Sincerely, Everyone who has.

Preston:

"O-- oh! Um, that's-- okay. That's just wrong. Do you want me to get rid of it for you?"

Preston's face would wrinkle up in his clear distaste before bringing a a hand up to shield his eyes. When Sole had lowered the picture, he removed his hand, and looked them in the eye, refusing to pay the photo any more attention, but extending his hand out to take it from them so he could dispose of it properly.

"Are you... okay? I can't believe how rude some people are. Who would want to see that?" He'd flash a sympathetic smile at them, as he folded up the photo and prepared to throw it away. He didn't read the back himself, but if they told him about the words that were written there, he wouldn't even entertain the idea of Sole going, just shaking his head in disappointment at the man's poor and rude way of trying in vain to woo his General.

"Some people... The nerve. If you don't mind me saying, General, you deserve much better than that anyway."

X6-88:

His eyes would be locked to Sole's, but as they presented the photo to him, his gaze would fall to the image, and an ever so slight furrowing of his brows would take place above his silver eyes. A brief moment would pass, and X6's gaze would be back on his companion's face.

"Ma'am/ sir, why did you feel the need to show me this?" He's also quite confused, this was not a common occurrence in the Institute, and once Sole gave him an explanation, his expression would remain blank. For the most part, anyway. A small huff of laughter would escape him, prompting Sole to be the one giving him the questioning look now.

"If this filthy wastelander believes he can disrespect the future director of the Institute without facing consequences, he is sorely mistaken." He said, his gaze unbroken as he made Sole this promise, "Don't worry, I will take care of this filth at the specified meeting time and location. You will not hear from him again."

He doesn't necessarily intend to kill the man for his unseemly behavior; X6 is a courser after all, and he knew this man would be scared shitless if X6 were to so much as look at him the wrong way, but should the man make any... poor decisions in response to the courser's confrontation, well... certainly X6 can't be held responsible for the behavior, or the fate, of a mere stranger now, could he? Especially after his heinous actions.

[adrian-the-lonely-writer]

Transitions

A fluffy 'Dean WinchesterXTrans!Male' Reader one-shot where you had come out to Dean, and Dean decided he's going to do everything he can to support you.

“So,” Dean began. His heart was pounding. He rather be facing any number of ghosts and ghouls to avoid fucking this part up. Hell, he’d even take a few demons over this. Anything over these tense emotional moments. Still, he was glued to the bed, hand holding yours. He loved you. He wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of helping you.

“Y-yeah?” You stumbled over your words. You had no idea how your boyfriend was going to handle the news. Tears were threatening to fall over your cheeks as you kept your eyes glued to the floor.

Dean swallowed. Dammit, his brother mentioned something like this in the past. Why couldn’t he remember now? “Well in that case, I suppose we better get you some comfier clothes. C’mon.” He stood up, offering his hand to you. Looking up, you saw that same smile dance across his lips, the same smile you fell in love with. “Wouldn’t want my boyfriend to be uncomfortable.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you jumped into his arms, relief and love washing over you. Dean just chuckled, quietly as he shifted to wrap his arms around you, squeezing you against him. “Thanks Dean…Thank you so much.”

“Of course. You have a different name you like to be called now?”

“Y/N now- I uh, kinda picked it out when I realized I just-”

“Y/N is perfect babe.” His lips left a light little peck at your nose. “C’mon. Sammy’s with Bobby looking for another job, let’s take the day to get you feeling as good as possible, hm? I just had that great poker payout-”

“I thought that was for silver bullets-”

“Pshh. I can win another game or too.” Dean went to smile, but it quickly drooped into a frown. “Your clothes...do they make you feel-” He tried to find the right word.

“Dysphoric? Well I mean a bit. I didn’t exactly have time to choose great clothes when I ran off with you Dean.” Before you could even finish your sentence, Dean was digging through his duffle.

“I was going to drop them off somewhere, they feel a little small.” Dean grinned, poking his head back up. In his hands were an AC/DC shirt and an old pair of jeans. He even pulled out his spare hunting boots. “Might not be the most practical all the time, but we’ll get you some stuff today.”

You tried not to cry once again.

Few minutes later, you found yourself wrapped up in your boyfriend's clothes, in the passenger seat of the car. AC/DC rang out through the speakers. You couldn’t help but smile.

“You...really don’t mind Dean?”

“Mind? Why the hell would I mind?”

“Well you were into me as a-”

“I am into you, period.” Dean smiled a little. “Masculine, feminine, It makes no difference to me. You are still you. So, clothes we’re doing. Not half assed Walmart clothes either, we’re gonna get you some good hunting gear.” You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that. “Masculine fake IDs from now on, easy enough. Anything else you need?”

“At the moment, I’m not sure...I kinda like what Sam does with his hair so I don’t think I’ll cut it off yet. It isn’t as long as his at the moment anyway.” You giggled at the scrunch in Dean’s nose at the mention of his brother.

“Cute guy with a ponytail never hurts either. Ah. Here’s the shop.”

“Dean this is a mall-”

“Yeah, sporting goods, including guns, bullets, as well as various clothing stores to get you what you need. Plus crowds to blend into. Malls are great Y/N.” He turned into the parking lot, picking a spot somewhere in the middle. “Plus, the impala doesn’t stick out too much here.”

Dean slipped out of his side, opening the door for you before you were even unbuckled. His calloused hand still felt tender as it grasped yours tightly, pulling you towards the store.

Your boyfriend was right after all. The crowds were seamless and the selection would be much greater.

“I’m thinking, we hit the sporting goods store, get some food and supplies. Take our time with it. Then just meet up with Sam and Bobby for the job, sound good Y/N?”

“Sounds perfect Dean.” Your smile was glued to your face as you leaned against his arm walking into the shop Dean had picked. “Is this where you got all your flannels and things?”

“Most of em, yeah. Why? You like that one?” He winked as he saw your cheeks turn a little pink. Sure, you loved the flannel. It made you feel more you, it also smelled like the man you loved more than anything.

“Well it’s nice and warm and-” You tripped over your words again. “Just really nice hunting clothes ya know? Like durable enough you have some protection, it’s also warm enough for nights but I can always open it ya know.”

“Great. So a couple flannels. Some jeans that won’t trip you up. Shirts.” Dean guided you to the clothing area of the store, whipping out his cellphone.

“Dean? Something the matter?” He doesn’t often look at his screen with that much concentration.

“Nope. I was just looking at a size chart.” He matched his screen to a couple of the tags. “These your colors?” He held out some forest green flannel and a black shirt.

“To start with, yeah! Although lighter colors are still nice. I don’t want anything thinking I’m your little brother if I match your style.”

“My style is functional and timeless. Plus, if I had a nickel for everyone who thought Sam and I should-” He scowled as you laughed. You couldn’t help but pick up those books when you saw them. Plus, as prank wars broke out it definitely gave you an upper hand.

“Alright, I concede your style is wonderful Dean.”

“Damn right it is.” He smiled a little. “But I get it, c’mon. Let’s walk around and see what catches your eye.”

The two of you scoured the store from top to bottom. Dean’s arms quickly became laden with fabric as you both approached the fitting rooms.

“Find everything you need sir, and-?” The guy in charge of the rooms spoke.

“Sir.” You introjected. Your heart rate spiked a little. Dean’s hand rested on your shoulder as he nodded to the cashier, as if confirming what you said.

“Of course, right this way. Here is your room, sir.” Without batting an eye the cashier escorted you back to try on your new wardrobe.

“Give 'em hell babe!” Dean called after you, taking his seat. He fiddled with his phone. Sam had finally convinced him to upgrade, and this one had a camera on it.

Quickly, pulse racing, you put on the first outfit of clothes, and slipped outside to model for Dean. Your nerves subsided when met with that goofy grin of his, and you couldn’t help but match it.

“You look amazing.”

“I feel amazing.”

“Wanna try more?” Dean snapped a photo. “That’s gonna be my new cell wallpaper.” You stuck your tongue out to him, a look he cheekily returned.

You went through this a few more times. Different mixed and matched outfits and hunting gear. Dean flirting with you every time you slipped into his sight. Soon you had a week's worth of clothes, with some extras to wear during a wash. Eventually you made it towards the food court, carrying the bags. You both went immediately to the burger stand and sat down.

“Fucck~” Dean’s eyes were closed in bliss. “I forgot how amazing these burgers were.”

“God we ate at gas stations so much I had forgotten food could be juicy.” You were devouring your burger as ravenous as Dean was. Oblivious to the look he was giving you.

Dean just smiled, chewing as he looked at you. It had only been a few months since you were traveling with him. Demon blooded kid like Sammy, you wanted to be able to help. Truthfully you were thankful they accepted.

Dean sometimes kicks himself at night for almost saying no. He had fallen for you, hard, the first time you rode in the back of the car. The way your eyes lit up as his own music started to play. The way you got along with Sam. He had fallen hard. You were perfect in his eyes now as you were then.

“Dean?...” Your voice was quiet, head against the window. After eating Dean had loaded you and your new things into the impala before starting to make your guy’s way to Bobby's place.

The excitement of the day had driven your eyelids to a close by this point. The soft rumblings of the engine were lulling you to sleep. Dean’s hand found yours once more, with a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah babe?”

“I love you Dean…”

“I love you too Y/N.” His words were the last things you heard before finally succumbing to sleep.

Dean drove on, hand never leaving yours. He had found the best boyfriend in the world, and he intended to keep things that way.

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

what did our ghoulies do for the clergy before they became band ghouls and why were they picked out?

Ooooooh, love this!! Love getting to explore different clergy roles! I love getting to play with the origins of Era IV!

Since I also make a LOT of references to my ideas of leader ghouls, I'm gonna go ahead and link that headcanon here to avoid confusion! --> [Link]

Era IV Jobs Before the Ghost Project

Aether: Aether was summoned when the ministry decided to start training successor ghouls to the current ghoul leaders. Air had finally stepped down as Beta ghoul, and the ministry was afraid others would do the same. Ather was summoned specially to become the next Omega ghoul. While Aether has his own powers of healing that took over as his main duties, he mainly shadowed the head quintessence ghoul. This included a lot of traveling, learning about Earth and human culture, and working with many different types of ghouls. There was also a lot of personal assistance to the Emeritus line, as aether ghoul healing is more effective for demon blood than normal human medicine.

When Omega was on his tours, Aether took care of his business in his stead to test how close he was to being ready. Aether was never originally meant to take part in the Ghost project until a few albums ahead. But with Omega’s sudden departure and being needed back in the Clergy, Aether was once again tested by being a band substitute. Luckily, he was a natural and has been proving himself as the next head ghoul! Handling both responsibilities and the pressure of being the Omega Ghoul.

Cumulus: Cumulus has been around for a few decades and has served enthusiastically. Her first decade was as an assistant to Papa I- her summoner. Namely as his ritual assistant and with his paperwork. She has always had a good eye for detail and organization, with a queenly air of authority about her. But Papa believes in letting his ghouls flourish to their strong suits. Until Copia’s ascension, Cumulus has been the lively and loyal personal ghoul to Sister Imperator. Serving as everything from bodyguard, personal confidant, and even enforcer to the Mother Superior. Cumulus was the very first selected for the job of band ghoul when it was Copia’s turn to head the Ghost project.

Imperator wanted a ghoul who was smart, capable, and with a good grasp of leadership to help supervise the other ghouls. Cumulus was also vouched for by Air. Her and Cirrus were both personally trained by the older ghoul when he was looking for a successor for the Beta ghoul position. While neither were chosen for that particular duty, Cumulus is happy to be a part of the band. She still keeps in touch with Imperator and sometimes acts as though she is Copia’s manager. If something goes wrong or needs to be done, Cumulus is the first to know.

Cirrus: Cirrus has gone back and forth between two duties. Serving the current Imperator and studying under the former Beta ghoul, Air. Cirrus is a tough cookie and has been a ghoulish enforcer for many abbies. Essentially keeping ghouls and siblings in line when it comes to fights or rule breaking. There are always ghouls who make sure the will of the clergy is followed and those who commit crimes are punished. This was her preferred job, rather than work with Air. Who tended to find stuffy, traditional research more important. Cirrus, as calm as she is, prefers hands on work. She’s also worked security detail for all of the Papas but most importantly, Grand Papa Nihil. Cirrus is a long time bodyguard (and baby sitter) for the Grandpapa and Sister Imperator.

Cirrus was recommended by both Cumulus and Air- since they were both practically raised by Air to be potential leader ghouls. Nihil was particularly sad to see Cirrus disappear from his entourage, but agreed she would be a wonderful fit. Also Nihil and Imperator can agreed that Cirrus keeps Copia in line by her sheer intimidating presence and powerful aura. Cirrus would be lying if she said she didn’t also enjoy the chance to do something more fun and get away from the clergy for a bit!

Mountain: Although Mountain was summoned by Papa II, he was never strictly a ghoul for the Emeritus. Personally summoned ghouls tend to be bodyguards or close entourage for their Papal summoners. For a couple of decades Mountain was an effective and reliable body guard for Papa II. But Papa eventually realized his ghoul’s talents were being wasted. Stone ghouls have been shown to have natural strength beyond most ghouls and a good eye for architecture. Mountain has been responsible for helping build new cathedrals, quarters, and even clearing land. His level headedness and bluntness have also been excellent when working with Papa II, who has supervised many of these new buildings.

Mountain being assigned to go with Copia was actually a sort of ‘good faith loan’ from Papa II. Don’t get me wrong, Papa II does NOT like Copia. He finds him opportunistic and a usurping leech… However, Copia IS chosen by Lucifer. Papa II cares about his ministry MORE than he hates Copia. Since he hasn’t had Mountain as a bodyguard for years he decides to recommend him. After all, it also looks good on him for being generous enough to support the newest singer of the band. The Ministry was happy, mainly to let the Cardinal practice working with ghouls of different types and skill sets to delegate. On tour he was accepted and chosen for both his natural talents but to help balance out all of the incredibly strong personalities of the current ghouls.

Rain: Rain was a very behind the scenes ghoul, and rarely worked in the public congregation. He was the archivist assistant to the current head water ghoul, Delta. Delta is one of the oldest serving ghouls who now takes care of the Ministry’s protected collections of records. Rain has happily kept a quiet existence processing old and new registrations for the entire ministry. At one point Rain had studied directly under Delta with Water and Mist- all powerful water ghouls who are being trained for greater works. Rain loved playing music but never considered himself one to be ever picked for anything but reorganizing entire archives and dusting off old books.

Rain was recommended by Mist after her short stint with the Ghost project and Papa III. While she wanted to go on tour, she was needed elsewhere to train. She could vouch for Rain’s hard work and need to open up and embrace his potential. Copia was happy to take the water ghoul, as was shown to have indelible talent and an agreeable personality. The touring has definitely made Rain want to be more active in the ministry and with his fellow ghouls.

Swiss: Swiss was actually pretty high ranked before he became a band ghoul! While not part of the leader ghouls for the entire ministry, Swiss was the top ghoul in one of the main cathedrals outside of the head abbey. This meant he directed, advocated, and watched over all of the ghouls a part of the cathedral. Making sure all duties were done and all ghouls were taken care of. Swiss is a pretty strong ghoul in his own right. While he is fire he was born from two mixed ghouls of different elements. So he is well versed in different elemental energies and knowledge. His easy going nature and quick wit makes him a favorite among siblings and ghouls alike. Higher Clergy also worked with him to make accommodations and holidays for the ghouls.

Swiss was hand picked by Copia who worked with him pre Ghost project. Copia has always valued Swiss’s hard work and ability to get along with everyone he met. Swiss was agreed by Imperator and the ministry to be a great ghoul. Not just in vocals but bringing everyone together and interacting with the fans and staff. Swiss accepted the position with glee. He loves doing ceremonies at his home abbey, and a Ritual is nothing different- just bigger! Plus, Swiss will never turn down a chance to sing.

Ember: Ember has been strong but an entire pain in the ass of the Ministry for a LONG time. There have been many times he was almost sent back to Hell because he was difficult to control. Ember has calmed down in recent years, but he can still be a bit of a thorn in everyone's side. But he has so much potential within the Ministry, he’s too valuable of an asset. At first he was summoned as the potential candidate to be the next Alpha ghoul, for when Alpha eventually steps down. But to help him adjust to the responsibilities he had been shipped to many places with many duties. He’s been everything from a guard, to ritual assistant, to attack dog.

Eventually he found a spot with Papa III right before he went on tour as his bodyguard. Their energies actually worked very well together and he was one of the few before Copia who was able to give him the right outlets he needed. Ember was hand chosen to be a bassist by Papa III when Alpha had to return with Omega to the Ministry. Ember had originally asked to be guitarist, but the Ministry was interested in testing Ifrit to be the next Alpha ghoul. Ember was just happy to play but was absolutely thrilled when Copia asked for him to play head guitar.

[artificialqueens]

Like You Mean It (Taywhora) - Holtzmanns

read on ao3 | word count: 2930

Tayce is not sure when A’whora put her number down as her emergency contact, but if she’s still kicking, she’s gonna kill her for it.

It’s just appendicitis. That’s it. A’whora’s fine, the nurse on the phone had even said that they got to it before it burst, and now the only issue that A’whora still has left is her penchant for cheesy jokes. She’s okay. So why are Tayce’s palms feeling this clammy as she pushes past the crowds milling about in the hospital reception?

In which anaesthesia makes A'whora brave enough for the both of them.

A/N: Well hello! Haven’t ventured past my branjie bubble for a long while, though these two have absolutely captured my heart. Figured a nice little one shot would be a good place to start. Thank you Writ for being the best and betaing, and Pop for helping my Canadian ass with lingo. Title is from Mean It by Cash Cash & Wrabel. Enjoy and definitely let me know what you think!

Tayce is not sure when A’whora put her number down as her emergency contact, but if she’s still kicking, she’s gonna kill her for it.

It’s just appendicitis. That’s it. A’whora’s fine, the nurse on the phone had even said that they got to it before it burst, and now the only issue that A’whora has left is her penchant for cheesy jokes. She’s okay. So why are Tayce’s palms feeling this clammy as she pushes past the crowds milling about in the hospital reception?

The day surgery floor is a little run down, the No Phones, Please sign on the wall straight out of the 1990s with pictures of old brick phones with antennas sticking out of the top. The beds are separated with curtains rather than rooms, and Tayce is about to ask a nurse with glasses balanced on the tip of her nose about A’whora, before a piping voice at the far end of the ward answers the question for her.

“James. Jimmy. Jimbo. Is orange juice really the only option? You haven’t got blackcurrant or grape or anything like that? Are you sure this is room service?”

“This isn’t room service, ma’am.”

Tayce has to hold back a laugh at the sight of a truly stricken A’whora and her thoroughly bemused nurse with a capri sun in hand. A’whora looks as if she’s trying to come up with a response, her mouth open and her eyes slightly squinted, and Tayce can almost see the cogs turning in her brain. Tayce pushes the curtain around her back, the sound causing A’whora’s head to turn towards her almost sluggishly, her face lighting up in a loopy grin.

“Tayce! What are you doing here? You got a room at this hotel, too?”

Tayce snorts, coming around the side of the bed. Admittedly, the sight of the wires and IVs makes her heart beat a bit faster, a reminder that a few hours ago A’whora was knocked out in surgery with her side cut open.

But she’s okay now. That’s what matters.

“S’not a hotel, you idiot. You went and blew your guts up,” Tayce grins, one that turns into a snicker when A’whora’s brow furrows and her mouth drops open.

“What’d I do that for?”

Tayce pulls up a chair beside the bed. “You were saying last week that you were bored. Decided to go rogue and make something exciting happen, did you?”

“Doesn’t feel too exciting. Jiminy over here only has a capri sun, and we both know it tastes like piss,” A’whora pouts, leaning her head back against her pillow, and Tayce can’t help but shoot an apologetic look towards the nurse.

“Be nice to the man, Rory, he’s taking care of you. I’ll grab a coke from the concourse for you later.”

A’whora’s nose wrinkles, her lips pursing together. “Can’t you get me a beer instead?”

“Quite picky for someone stuck in a hospital bed in a backless gown with your arse out,” Tayce says, raising an eyebrow, but A’whora looks like she hasn’t even heard her, from the way her eyes are scanning Tayce’s features.

“Tayce?”

“Yes?”

“You’re pretty.”

A’whora lets out a giggle, and the dopey grin on her face lets Tayce know that it’s all the pain meds, really, making her say something like that. She pushes down the way her heart flips over in her chest a little bit, because A’whora really doesn’t need to know how she has her wrapped around her finger without being aware of it.

Maybe flat-sharing with her mate that she’d hooked up with as a fresher hasn’t been the smartest of Tayce’s decisions. She’s good at compartmentalising, she knows it, having stayed friends with a few of her exes because she’s good at letting go, at leaving no hard feelings behind.

But there’s something about A’whora that’s kept Tayce from being able to do the same thing with her. Maybe it’s because Tayce knows what she looks like in comfy pyjamas and a top knot on her head, maybe it’s because A’whora loves making pancakes on the weekend and always makes a stack for Tayce, too. A’whora always knows when she’s annoyed by something, and isn’t afraid of prodding her until she opens up. Yeah, it’s a bit much to have someone insistently poking at her shoulder until she talks about her feelings instead of sulking about it quietly, but it’s A’whora. It means A’whora cares.

She always has.

But Tayce has perfected the art of hiding her feelings behind a mask of cool indifference and her sense of humour. She’s always the one sitting on A’whora’s bed and giving her opinions on her outfit ideas before a date, always the one ready with ice cream and a bottle of wine when A’whora comes home grumbling about how she’s never going to find the right one. Tayce is there, always there, even when A’whora laments about how she wants someone who cares for her, someone who loves her for who she is, someone who really sees her, and she has to stop herself from giving in and telling A’whora to see who’s right in front of her.

Tayce may like her best friend, but her best friend doesn’t need to know that.

But right now, A’whora’s higher than a kite and gazing at her with a sense of awe in her eyes and it’s a bit disconcerting, really, because Tayce isn’t used to having that look directed at her. It’s unfiltered, as if A’whora is pushing past the curtains that Tayce likes to keep closed to see what she’s truly feeling.

A’whora’s dreamy laugh is enough to let Tayce know that she really doesn’t have much to worry about, in terms of A’whora noticing anything. “Really pretty. A princess. Princess Tayce.”  

Good lord.

“Does that make you a knight, then?” Tayce asks, even though she’s usually the one to make sure they get home safely on nights out when they’re drunk off their tits, the one who scowls at men who won’t leave A’whora alone.

“I’ll protect ya.” A’whora points at her and her movements are sluggish, her eyes slipping closed as she yawns, and Tayce has to ignore the way it makes her heart clench.

Her flatmate’s too damn cute for her own good.

Tayce’s chair creaks as she leans back, watching the way A’whora’s breaths even out and her movements begin to still. She pulls out her phone, and the flurry of texts coming through the group chat is not a surprise in the least.

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: bet they’re shagging in the on-call rooms by now

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: grey’s anatomy style

Ellie no Diamonds: not when a’whora’s sides are split in two ‘cause of surgery  

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: tayce already split her in two

Tayce snorts, shaking her head. Lawrence never fails to take any opportunity to rip the piss out of them.

Tayce-lor Swift: I can read, u ghoul

Bim Bons Bouls: didn’t u once say u got held back in reception

Bim Bons Bouls: all at 4 years old

Tayce-lor Swift: someone had to bully the little demons in my class

Tayce-lor Swift: they deserved it so I did a good deed really

Ellie no Diamonds: that’s nice and all but is a’whora still alive or

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: we interrupted their sweet reunion ells, have a little respect

Tayce-lor Swift: oh piss off

Tayce-lor Swift: she’s high off her tits and fast asleep

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: was the strap that good

Tayce-lor Swift: lawrence next time it’s on sight

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: u wish

Ellie no Diamonds: oh thank goodness she’s ok

Bims Bons Bouls: facetime us later when she wakes up I want to see drugged up a’whora

Lawrence of Glasgow-ia: as if we don’t witness that every saturday night

Bims Bons Bouls: u have a point  

Tayce shuts her phone when the conversation lulls, shoving it back in her pocket in favour of glancing at A’whora again. She looks smaller when she’s asleep like this, surrounded by wires and a monitor hanging above them in the corner. The sight makes Tayce swallow hard, because, theoretically, she knows A’whora is okay. She’ll be fine with some ice lollies and some bed rest, but if she hadn’t had surgery in time? Things could have ended very differently.

Tayce doesn’t want to think about that.

It’s a lot easier to protect A’whora when Tayce is in control of the situations around them. Times like where she watches A’whora’s drink from the corner of her eye, to make sure no one around them has the audacity to try anything stupid, or when she gets A’whora into pyjamas and wipes off her makeup after nights out before they’re out cold in one of their beds. A’whora’s more than capable of holding her own, Tayce knows that. She’s not small or weak and she’s ready to shout at whoever even tries to look at her the wrong way, but it just means that Tayce has to keep an eye out for her so that it stays like that.

Times like this, though, Tayce feels helpless. She’s not Cherry, out there saving lives with the NHS and she can’t do anything for A’whora at a time like this, either, not when A’whora needs time and healing and sleep. She wishes that bundling up A’whora in a blanket would be enough to fix her, the way that it is when A’whora’s nursing yet another ruined Tinder date over some ice cream with her at three in the morning.

“Tayce?”

A’whora’s stirring beside her, a little furrow between her brows that Tayce wants to smooth out for her.

“Yes, baby?”

“Why don’t you like me?” A’whora’s bottom lip is pushing out just a smidge, but enough that Tayce wants to run a hand through her hair, calm her down from what her anesthesia addled brain is making her experience.

“What are you on about? ‘Course I like you, you’re my best mate, you goon,” Tayce murmurs, reaching for A’whora’s hand and rubbing her thumb along the crease of her palm, as if it’ll calm the sudden hitch in A’whora’s breath.

“No, no, I…you know what I mean,” A’whora’s gaze drops, a sigh on her lips. “Forget it.”

Maybe there’s a chance that A’whora won’t remember this anyway, when she’s properly woken up and out of the hospital. Maybe whatever Tayce lets herself say right now won’t matter at all, because the consequences of her actions will be wiped clean when A’whora’s anaesthesia has worn off.

Maybe the risk of falling off the cliff that they’re dangling from is a little bit smaller than it normally is.

So Tayce steels herself, pushes the soles of her feet into the ground. “Not ‘forget it’. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You should have kissed me that next morning. I was waiting for it.” For someone on painkillers, A’whora looks surprisingly lucid, her gaze enough to lock Tayce in, keep her from looking away.

“When?” It’s a useless question, because Tayce already knows the answer.

When they’d hooked up during freshers week, Tayce had left A’whora’s flat as soon as she woke up, because she’d just been another one night stand. Back when Tayce had no idea that A’whora would become one of her friends just a few weeks later, her closest friend a few months after that.

They’ve never really talked about it, keeping it an elephant in the room - or rather, in the flat that they share now - because they’ve had other hookups and girlfriends and they’re just mates, nothing more. Mates who have stuck around for much longer than any other partners.

It’s all hearsay at this point, unspoken words between them that Tayce has been thinking and she knows A’whora has been, too. It’s been easier not to, and to just let things play out because even though the sense of longing has coated Tayce’s heart for years at this point, talking is too much. Talking takes the coating and hardens it, making it impossible to free herself from if she needs to.

“Do y’know why none of my dates ever work out?” A’whora’s let her earlier question go, and Tayce wants to thank her for it.

“Why’s that?”

“They’re not you.”

Shit.

“Could’ve saved yourself some time and asked me out instead, then,” Tayce keeps her voice light, as if her stomach isn’t turning, as if her feet aren’t tapping on the ground because of the electric current running through her veins.

A’whora’s face doesn’t break into a smile, despite Tayce’s lighthearted tone. “Would you have said yes, though? Or brushed it off and taken it as a joke?”

“Who’s to say, really?”

“You’re an idiot,” A’whora rolls her eyes, and really, Tayce can’t fault her for it.

She’s not wrong. Not when A’whora’s capable of tying Tayce’s words into a knot of terribly worded explanations and attempts at jokes to hide the fact that her heart is pounding in her chest, that they’re walking on a tightrope so thin they could fall off any moment.

But Tayce still has reassurance of one fact, the most important of them all, and she clings to it as she says it out loud.

“And yet, you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“For what it’s worth, I do love you, too.” Tayce mumbles under her breath, because she’s dug herself into enough of a hole at this point.

May as well bury herself in it.

“Christ, take me out to dinner first, at least,” A’whora scoffs, but she’s smiling, the kind that reaches her eyes and is filled with mischief.

“Oh, so now you’re finding it funny?” Tayce grins, shaking her head, and sure, she’s still a little sweaty and she’s aged approximately ten years from the conversation, but part of her feels a bit lighter too.

A bit more hopeful.

Because maybe, just maybe, the two of them can have a chance at something. That is, if A’whora wakes up and remembers everything.

“Tayce! Get in here!”

Tayce pops her head into A’whora’s room, frowns when she sees her standing in front of her wardrobe. “Aren’t you supposed to be on bedrest for another day? What’re you doing up?”

A’whora scoffs, waving a hand. “I’m fine. You need to help me with picking out a dress, c’mere.”

“A dress for what? You’re not leaving the house ‘til that incision is healed, young lady,” Tayce tuts, and she has to ignore the fact that she sounds just like her own mum.

A’whora shoots her a look. “Are you daft? Have you forgotten already? You’re taking me out this weekend.”

“This weekend?” Tayce can’t help the fact that her voice comes out in a bit of a squeak, because she doesn’t remember deciding on a date and time but…

It means A’whora hasn’t forgotten.

Tayce hasn’t pushed her since coming home from the hospital, focusing on giving her the chance to heal and feel a little better rather than approaching the issue. Yeah, maybe she’s guilty of falling back into the same pattern that’s gotten the two of them here in the first place, but she’s wanted to give A’whora the chance to broach the subject before pushing it onto her.

A’whora shrugs. “Work something out. I’m expecting my socks to be knocked right off with you.”

“Kinky,” Tayce gets out, but she can feel the way her face is breaking out into a smile, threads of excitement and promise and the chance to maybe not fuck it up again.

“I’ll help you pick something out once I’ve decided where we’re going. For now, it’s back to bed with you,” Tayce grins, pointing at A’whora’s rumpled sheets.

They can work this out. They can go through the shams of going on a date like normal people and as if they’re not already half in love with each other. Maybe Tayce can kiss her again.

Christ. It’s as if she’s a fifteen year old again with absolutely no game to speak of. Frankly embarrassing.

But A’whora doesn’t seem to mind, from the way her eyes are gleaming. “I’ll climb in if you join me.”

Tayce snorts but walks around to the other side of the bed nonetheless, the side that’s become hers from all the Netflix and late night chats and so called platonic snuggles. “No funny business, though. You have to heal first.”

A’whora climbs under the covers, and her slight wince as she lays down makes Tayce’s chest tighten. Despite her big talk, she’s still not fully better just yet.

“Serious business only, got it. Now come and snuggle me, isn’t that supposed to speed up recovery?”

“I don’t think medical advice from Grey’s Anatomy is exactly sound.”

“And yet, you’re under the covers, too,” Awhora mumbles, letting out a yawn.

She snuggles into Tayce’s side and Tayce lets her, running her fingers up and down A’whora’s back in the way she knows never fails to lull her to sleep when she’s tired.

They’ll work it out. Whatever this is. They will, because the other option is letting the words hang in the air unspoken and Tayce isn’t sure she can go back to that.

So she’ll kiss A’whora good morning, or evening, rather, once she wakes up from her nap. She’ll take her out this weekend, something not too strenuous because she still needs to rest. They can have another go at their freshers one night stand with years and years of friendship and context and caring for each other.

After this long, Tayce is ready for it.

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

how about companions (+sturges) reacting to a sole who gets injured? :))

(Love that you requested to add sturges, hope you enjoy!)

Cait:

"Ya just had to go off and act the fool eh? What did I tell ye about that? Did you want to become super mutant puppy chow?"

Though she may sound rough at first, it comes from a place of true concern. Damn those green skinned freaks, especially their hounds. Had you just been a second quicker with your trigger finger, maybe you wouldn’t have the perfect outline of a mutant hound’s teeth imprinted into your thigh. It didn’t matter now though, no, what mattered to her now was making sure to get you some place safe enough for her to pour out her trusty flask of whisky onto your wounds and duct tape it up.

It would have to do for now..

Curie:

"Oh mon dieu..well, at least this is what I specialize in madame/monsieur."

Honestly this is best case scenario! She is equipped with a vast medical knowledge and proper instruments so..be it a simple scrape or broken bones, she’ll have you feeling like new!

Danse:

"Listen to me soldier, I need you to remain perfectly still for me. I know it hurts but just..stay calm."

In your line of work, getting messed up was well..let’s just say it’s an occupational hazard. Danse knew this quite well, but it still didn’t stop him from paling when he realized just how beat up you were after a straggler ghoul threw itself at you.

Once the firefight was done and he could properly asses you, he’d suck in a sharp breath, hesitantly stripping any necessary layers before doing his next to put into action what little field medicine he could remember from boot camp.

Probably not as good as going to a doctor...but he made it to where you wouldn’t bleed out.

Deacon:

"Oh..does your arm usually resemble jelly? I'm ju- just playing, oh..oh god."

Like always, deacon would use his humor as his go to..even when he felt like he was going to throw up when he heard the sick “crack” of your arm as you fell right down on it.

Whenever you got back to hq, he’d be certain to bug Carrington and Tinker Tom until you were feeling better.

Gage:

"I'll give ya a reason to cry if you don't shush it boss...now, do you need me to carry you back?"

Running around in Dry Rock Gulch probably wasnt the best idea you ever had, especially becoming apparent when you took a hard fall after tripping over one of the cut out props. No big deal right? Wrong. The minute you tried to stand you found yourself yelping in pain as a hot stinging sensation seized your ankle.

Rolling his eyes, Gage initially thought you were just being over dramatic but he soon realized he was wrong when he saw how much your ankle began to swell. He’d feel pretty bad for being so rough with you but he’d make up for it, making good on his word by literally carrying you piggy back style to properly address your injuries within the comfort of your “home” in fizztop.

Hancock:

"Now that doesn't look too good. Uh..here just sit down right there and wait. Mmh, now would you like to hit that jet I was offering? Too soon? Sorry..."

Fights and the resulting injuries were not something he ever backed down from. Lord knows he isn’t the squeamish type. That’s probably why you were just as surprised as him when his eyes went wide and he had to take a couple steps back..that is until you looked down and saw the rather deep gash into your mid section..heh, must be the shock keeping you from feeling it.

Regardless he would actually be flipping out, trying to play it cool by offering the chems when really he was having a meltdown on the inside.

Macready:

"Just hold still boss and..try not to look?"

He physically grimaced when he heard your body “plop” forcefully into the wall, the raider responsible for the force soon finding themselves without a jaw as you pulled the trigger against their chin with your own pained scream.

However it was when you helplessly whimpered, your arm hanging unnaturally at your side..he knew he had to help. As such, he’s seen this before thankfully, so he’d put you up against the wall before roughly putting your shoulder back in it’s place....desperately trying to not flinch when he heard your cries.

Damn.

Maxson:

"Sentinel? Oh..oh crap...Well don't just stand there, Knight! Someone go get Captain Cade immediately!"

Everything has seemed just fine. For purely official reasons, you were giving him a run down report of the recent mission, ignoring the less than subtle way his eyes lingered on the blossoming purple hue on your head during the entire time. The vertibird ride back up to the prydwen was awful..during the fight with the “muties” you lead your team through, one managed to hit you hard enough to shatter the glass visor on your helmet. Sure it hurt, there wasn’t anyway it wouldn’t..expect this injury was unique because well...for one you heard church bells in your head and could barely form an intelligible sentence without saying “uuuhhh” or pausing.

However even Arthur couldn’t help but break his professional exterior when his precious high ranking officer crumpled down to their knees right in front of him, your team hurriedly scrambling to get you up to the bay clinic, Elder Maxson right there beside you.

Nick:

"Wow..um, this would be a whole lot easier if you were made of steel and bolts. Never mind that, just hold tight, I'll have Ellie send for doctor Sun."

True to his word, he’d send his nice secretary out to fetch the doctor, taking matters into his own hands when he deemed it was taking too long. With a soft sigh he’d try to hide what little annoyance he felt..damnit he told you to be more careful..no matter what though he couldn’t stay too mad. So with a concentrated gaze, he’d carefully tend to your wounds- making Doctor Sun quite pissed when he finally reached the agency.

Old Longfellow:

"Told ya so....seriously though, you've got to be more careful cap'n. Now, bottoms up."

Had you done anything else he might’ve felt a little bad for laughing as hard as he did. He told you to be careful, you swinging that hammer around so carelessly. Just like he expected, you may have gotten a little too overzealous when you nailed down the board’s frame together, not moving your thumb out of the way before BAM!

With a pouty scoff you’d admit that yes, he was right, and after a smug smirk he’d pour you a nice stiff drink to full the pain.

Piper:

"Oh damnit, you uh..you're looking a little weird there. Hey, why don't we just sit down hm?"

If anyone would’ve gotten word of it, they would’ve thought it was hilarious. “The big, bad, fearsome sole survivor! Faints from stubbing their toe.” That would be one hell of an article, people around the commonwealth would eat it up. She wouldn’t dare do that to you though..no matter how silly it was. I mean, she’s seen you get shot and not break so much as a sweat but....you literally crumpled when you stubbed your baby toe?

After she got over the shameful laughter she tried desperately to keep in, she’d scramble to go pick you back up-leaving you to wonder why and how you ended up in piper’s bed back at the “publick occurrence”.

Preston:

"General, I mean, (y/n)..is there anything I can do for you? Name it and I'll do it."

He knew something was terrible wrong when you can stumbling back to the castle, your right arm clutching the left with a terrible pained expression on your face. After further investigation and your sheepish confession of just what had happened..he felt god awful.

If only he had been there to help you.

Nonetheless he’d make up for it now. His first mode of action was to personally escort you to get you looked at, after that he’d be there at your every beck and call.

Sturges:

"This is sorta what I meant when I told you people weren't as easy to fix...heh, not funny. Don't worry, I'll make sure to take care of ya."

It was a miracle you were even able to make it back to Sanctuary..well, it was a miracle and Preston’s assistance to be exact. As much as it pissed you off, instead of such a grave injury being because of some grand battle, you stupid power armor malfunctioned. One minute you were walking around, testing out the new modifications you made to the leg structures until next thing you know, your left leg’s frame failed and seized up. Usually such a thing wouldn’t have been a problem but, you were still walking when it did

With a sickening *snap* you felt such great pain that the ground beneath you began to sway, suddenly finding yourself unable to move without screaming.

Just as you felt you were going to lose all consciousness, Preston himself pried you from your armor and carried you back home where you were immediately posted up with a certain someone at your side.

Sturges, oh sweet, sweet Sturges.

Despite what many would assume, he’s pretty damn good at catering to you. Even if you practically shooed him away at times, he’d be right there to do his best to help you rewrap your bandages and lighten the mood some. Heck, he’ll even find someway to fix you up some crutches and a wheelchair for easier transportation.

X6-88:

"Just relax ma'am/sir, I'll be certain to have you properly tended to shortly."

In the wasteland it was painfully common to end up being shot. Matter of fact, it’s somewhat of a “christening” of the commonwealth. Well maybe not, either way it was just a way of life at this point.

So it wasn’t exactly shock inducing whenever X6 saw your bleeding shoulder, however he was still damn concerned. As such, he ever so calmly removed your jacket while you weren’t paying attention- receiving a startled gasp in return..as well as a pained grimace that made him flinch. With a sigh he’d shake his head, reassuring you before looking up and requesting teleportation back to the institue where he’d personally escort you to the nearest medical personnel.

[regrettablewritings]

Modern!Jaskier x Reader Ship Meme

Prompts taken from this ship meme

Which one texts like a straight white boy?: Of course it would have to be our resident white boy. It isn’t even that he necessarily means to, there’s just an embarrassing amount of overlap between the messages a straight white boy tends to text, and those of your rising star boyfriend. You’d look more into it if it weren’t for the fact that you know there’s no actual malice in it, and because it’s just so sad that it’s funny. If one were to go into the photos saved on your phone, they would’ve surely come upon an entire album of screenshots you’d taken over the years, from when Jaskier would be on tour without you to when he’d just be resting at home while you were out at work. Things like: “Wat r u up to 2nit, cutie? ;)” “I’m probably just gonna play whatever’s on my Watch Later backlog on youtube until I conk out.” “Wild!!! anyway wat would u do if i was there rn~?” Or “Do u miss me? :(” “Of course I do ya dingus!” “Ok....Can we do a quickie over videochat?” “Jas i’m at the store.” “The point still stands.” Or “Watcha thinkin bout? ;)” “About how The Great Gatsby becoming public domain means there’s nothing stopping anyone from making a drag show interpretation called The Gay Dragsby.” “Aaww w/o me? ;)” “...” “WAIT NO I THOUGT YOU’D SAY YOU WERE THINKING ABOUT ME SHIT NO.” “BUT ACTUALLY DO GO ON IM KINDA INTERESTD.” If it were anybody else, you would’ve blocked them. But this wasn’t anybody else. It was your Jaskier: Your foolhardy, constantly horny, but never-short-of-loving Jaskier. And besides, not for nothing, at least they were something you could get a laugh out of.

Which one cried during a fucking Disney movie?: Once again, Jaskier is the guilty party. It’s no secret that he’s the more emotional of the two of you -- he wore his investment in Titanic with pride, after all. But it is a secret that the particular Disney movie to make him cry was Hercules of all things! Not Bambi, not The Lion King, not even Beauty and the Beast, but goddamn Hercules! (On another note, he also cried to Coco. But that barely counts: Literally everyone and their mother has cried during Coco. The only difference here was that Jaskier could relate to being a young man so in love with music while coming from a family that discouraged the pursuit of it.) This isn’t a knock on anyone who enjoys the movie, mind you, but let’s be honest: Out of the Disney animated canon, Hercules isn’t exactly the most . . . emotionally cathartic or heart-string-plucking of the bunch. But just because it didn’t go out of its way to create a crying frenzy doesn’t mean that it’s lacking in some humanity. It is, after all, still a Disney film. The problem is, Jaskier can’t even quite express why it made him cry the night you both decided to watch it. Maybe it had something to do with a young man most people took as a joke trying to achieve greatness? And to be fair, “Go the Distance (Reprise)” and “A Star is Born” differently when you’ve done some growing . . .

Who put a goddamned fork in the microwave?: It only happened once, but you’d never let him live it down. You like to joke that you’d left him to his own devices for just fifteen minutes so that you could take a shower -- of which was completely true -- and that was all he needed for things to go downhill. Nobody wants to think they’d be in the wrong for trusting a 20-something year-old to not be his usually somewhat distractable self. But that particular day, said 20-something year-old decided to occupy that little spot of time to himself with TV and a plate of leftovers. And normally this would’ve been fine and dandy. But normally, Jaskier would’ve just waited for the food to heat before searching for something to watch. It shouldn’t have been too big of an issue that it went the other way around that day, but apparently it was. As much as he wanted to (which honestly wasn’t by much), Jaskier just couldn’t tear his eyes away from the images flashing on the TV. The baby blues were set on the screen the entire while -- up until he heard a faint popping. Followed by a sound he normally only heard in a cheesy sci-fi movie. The problem was, he wasn’t watching anything even remotely science-fiction-y . . . All you were doing when you exited the bathroom was going to grab your lotion. That was literally all you had any expectations for. What you hadn’t expected to come upon was your boyfriend, hollering and diving over the sofa in order to scramble into the kitchen and stop that strange, not-good-sounding sound. Suffice to say, you had to put your shower on hold; it simply had to wait for you to finish fussing, then again for you to finish laughing your ass off. And again because if you entered the shower still laughing, you’d probably slip and break your head open and then Jaskier would have to deal with another possible emergency caused by himself.

Who does the silly hands-over-the-eyes “Guess who?” thing?: You can both be guilty of it, but Jaskier without a doubt does it more. Sometimes he’ll emerge from “his cave” (aka the little nook in the apartment where he likes to mess around and write lyrics or arrangements) on a break and catch an unsuspecting you sitting on the couch or at the dinner table. Other times, it could just be when he comes back from running some errands or doing a quick interview at the local radio station. You don’t mind it much . . . Especially since you can get a rise out of him by purposefully guessing the wrong person. (“Hmmm . . . Could it be . . . my mail-order husband? Boy, that was quick. And all the way from Russia, too . . .” “Uh, no.” “The milkman, finally accepting my invitation to commence a torrid love affair?” “Okay, you know damn well -- ” “Or better yet: My hopes and dreams have manifested, oh, Waluigi, could it really and truly be you!?” “What in the absolute fuck --”)

Who puts their cold hands/feet on their partner?: Because it’s usually himself who presents as being the more mischievous of the two, and because he tends to run the warmest, it always shocks Jaskier when you decide to play dirty and put your cold limbs all over him. Is it childish? Yes. But are his reactions to the sudden feeling of icy flesh hilarious? Also yes. You love to creep up on him when he’s tuning his guitar or scribbling down lyrics, or just minding his own damn business by trying to actually turn in relatively early for once. You love even more to watch him jolt and release the most high-pitched yip a man of his build could ever even joke about making. You’ll still be laughing about it as he scowls at you, cursing your “ghoul hands” and demanding to know if he’s dating a corpse at this point. Of course, no matter how peeved he might be, you can always count on one other thing from his dramatic reactions: Him huffily grabbing your hands into his own and rubbing them warm, or him forcing a park of fuzzy socks on your feet. And just for extra measure, you can be sure that he’ll spend the rest of the night holding you close or cuddling you -- “For exchanging bodily heat purposes,” he will always reason.

Who had that embarrassing reality TV marathon?: You both are guilty of it, actually. The question should really be, who is the least shameful about it. As with most things regarding a lack of shame, it was, of course, our dear Jaskier. Being a musician with a growing following, the little attention whore just can’t miss out on an opportunity to show himself off to his awaiting public. A rising star with relatability and a taste for trash? People eat that shit up! So you’ve learned to be less surprised every time he decides to liveblog himself watching things like Love Island or any of the 90-Day Fiancee spin-offs. In fact, in more recent times, you’ve come to join in with him, adding your own corresponding Tweets and commentary. Though don’t be too shocked once he starts holding polls and letting the public decide what show the two of you should watch next.

Who laughs more during sex?: You do, completely through Jaskier’s own efforts. Jaskier’s always had a pretty lax view of sex. This didn’t change when he met you, of course, but how he specifically portrayed that laxness did undergo some metamorphosis. Before, the entertainer was much more intent on his bedroom experiences being a display of power and an ability to please. Something dramatic and to be taken seriously. He still sees the importance of satisfaction in the bedroom, mind you, but with you, he can’t help but feel more . . . comfortable. With you, it’s a little more okay if he accidentally makes a dumb noise that in no way can be salvaged as sexy. With you, it’s a little more okay if he struggles to get his or your pants off, or if he struggles with removing your bra. And with you, he’s come to find that he’s a lot more okay with sharing a giggle or being a little more loose about things. It’s fine if your fingers tickle him or if he struggles to think of something proper dirty. But it’s even more fine if you think something he says or does makes you laugh, but not in a way that discredits his efforts. When you laugh, it shows that you’re comfortable with him. Comfortable enough to be with him, and be truly vulnerable. So do forgive him if he can’t help but run his fingers up your sides in a tickling fashion, or sloppily string together an innuendo. He simply loves how golden your laughter sounds, even in the throes of passion, intermingled with sweet whimpers and pleas of his name. How the heave of your chest and rippling of your tummy bumpily sync in with the rhythm of his thrusts . . . He just wants to see your smile, your genuine mirth, and bask in it with you. Besides, it serves as excellent song inspiration for him . . .

Who is the little spoon?: It depends on the sway of the day, really. As a whole, you both take turns without much thought simply because you tend to just fall into your positions. Some days, you just happen to lay into him in a way that makes you the little spoon. Other days, he conks out next to you in a manner that most could consider would make you the big spoon (or jet pack). Neither side really fights how it plays out unless one or the other may feel small and vulnerable, or just plain tired and in need of comfort. You often find yourself playing the role of the more dominating position during those first few days after Jaskier returning home from either a quick tour, or after finishing a long week of hours upon hours in the studio, or whatever kind of press-related nonsense his management team told him he needed to do. For as much as your boyfriend loved the spotlight, the truth was he was still quite capable of burning out and needing time to himself. Or, at the very least, just time with you. Even if that means he’s asleep for most of it, with you clinging to his back as he drifts off into a much-needed sleep. He makes sure to return it tenfold when you need just the same. Sure, your occupation may not be of the same nature as his own, but that didn’t mean you were in any less need of his cuddling. In fact, with him being gone as often as he was, Jaskier couldn’t help but feel almost guilty for not always being able to provide you with the basic comforts of being a constantly present boyfriend. Hence why the moment he would see your fatigued body crossing the threshold of your apartment, he would be all over you, ushering you into a quick shower, followed by a quick and simple dinner or snack, and capped off with him cuddling about you from behind. It didn’t matter if you’d come home right in the middle of a writing frenzy, or even if he’d been in the middle of searching for a breakthrough with an arrangement -- for as vain and bullheaded as Jaskier could be, he knew he owed you at least this much. You already put up with so much of his nonsense; this was quite literally the least he could do, both for you and for himself. Besides, he who was he to fight against the feeling of you wiggling closer into his hold, to deny himself the sound of your soft breathing as you lay yourself vulnerable to him? The fact of the matter is that he simply isn’t. He couldn’t be. Maybe in the beginning when things were still so unsteady and uncertain, but never now, when things had become so . . . well, what he could only describe as being “the both of you”. The both of you, molded and entwined, never wanting to let go. Never planning on it, either.

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXI

January 5, 2278.

Fifteen minutes past midnight, we went home. After cleaning up and sharing a dinner of noodles and beer, Percy didn’t waste any time counting all the ammo she saved for emergencies, while I tended to our weapons and gear. Around three in the morning, I was ready to retire, but Percy’s still slouched over the workbench, recycling old microfusion cells as she sipped on scotch, straight from the bottle.

“Percy,” I call her attention, placing a hand at her shoulder.

“Oh!”

I must’ve interrupted her.

“What do you need, big guy?”

“I suggest that you get some rest. Long day tomorrow.”

“Mhmm. Just a few more minutes,” she replies, back still turned against me.

I was ready to get to my room, but then Percy leans her head against my chest. “Charon, what if I die from this?”

My throat tightens at the thought, and I place both hands on her shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “You’re not going to. I’m here to ensure that.”

“Thanks. But let’s say I do. What will happen to you, when your contract holder dies?”

I pause. I let my hands fall to my side. My friend turns around and looks up to me, her glasses cloudy from the cold.

I’m debating myself on whether this should be her business or not. I’ve seen parts of her that shouldn’t be for my eyes. Percy had let me see her at her most vulnerable moments, while she only shows her can-do attitude to everyone else. And yet, she knows so little about me. I think I’m being unfair.

Dammit. This is what I fucking get for letting what I feel about my employers get to me, regardless whether it’s positive or not.

I shouldn’t be divulging information to my employers more than what’s necessary, but when I look at my friend before me, I feel an urge to share the parts of myself I couldn’t even confront.

“Back then, the death of whoever held it meant failure to obey the standing order to protect that person, and would result in my termination as well. But something has changed along the way. The day the bombs fell, we were ordered to hold our contracts, and wait until someone comes to claim it. They never came.”

Percy nods her head, motioning me to continue. I start to pace around, struggling to remember the details after that.

“I… I wandered aimlessly for I don’t know how long. I was dying, lost in a desert when a group of survivors found me. They found my contract, and when I came to, the conditioning kicked in. I will serve them, and will continue to do so until I fail. When I do, the order to hold my contract until someone claims it takes effect again.”

Her brows knitted together, mouth curled into a frown. There’s a sadness in her eyes. She’s pitying me again.

Not pity. I don’t need that.

“You don’t need to pity me,” I said, and her eyes grew wide in surprise.

“I’m not- I don’t pity you, Charon. I’m just trying to imagine what you’ve gone through, and I can’t fathom how terrible that must be.”

“It’s better that you don’t.”

Arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and I freeze in my tracks. Percy’s soft and warm, and she presses against my back. I can feel the tightness in my chest melting away.

“I want to understand you better,” she whispers.

I should be keeping my distance after our talk about our professional relationship in Doc Barrows’ clinic. Instead, I turn around and pull her in an embrace, pressing her face against my chest as gently as possible. I’m not a gentle person, but for this angel, I can try.

Damn, can we stay like this forever?

“Let’s get some rest,” I tell her, and let her go, dragging my feet to my quarters.

“Do you want to sleep next to me again?” Percy asks.

I felt my heart starting to race.

For someone who said that I shouldn’t act on what I feel for her, she’s giving me a lot of mixed signals. I don’t know what to do with them. What does she even want?

One day I’ll get the courage to ask her that to her face, but for now, I just shook my head.

“I wish to be alone with my thoughts,” I tell her, and she nods.

She smiles, but the slump in her shoulders tells me about her dejection.

“Okay. Offer still stands. Good night.”

I couldn’t sleep after that.

Lying on a mattress wasn’t as comforting as it used to be. Or maybe it’s because there isn’t the warm weight of another person next to me.

Fuck.

I’ve gone soft.

I heard a soft sigh through the thin walls of the house, and I was ready to get up and comfort Percy, thinking she was crying again. But I heard her keen and moan, and I lay like a rock in my spot.

Like I said, the walls are thin. This isn’t the first time I can hear her touching herself. I understand that she has her needs; the skin mags she looks out for says enough. It’s not my business.

I’d be lying if I said that the sounds she makes didn’t fuel my imagination for months.

Tossing and turning, I took a ratty blanket and pulled it over my head, intending to block the noise out, and screwed my eyes shut. I hate this feeling. I’ve never felt it before I met this woman. All this… longing.

My eyes shot open when I heard her sigh my name.

So that confirms it.

But, why me?

The previous employers that had used me for pleasure are the unsavory, depraved types. They would never look me in the eye. They’d say degrading shit. They never said my name.

Percy is not one of those. She’s the fucking “Wasteland Avenger” or “Wasteland Angel” or “Savior of the Wastes” or whatever damn epithet people want to give her. People look up to her.

For those reasons, hearing her moan my name feels forbidden.

Her invitation to sleep next to her is becoming more tempting. I know it’s not an invitation to be intimate with her, but the past few weeks have been shit. I want something to go right just for damn once.

I heard her gasp my name again and I took it as my cue.

My feet took me to her room as fast as it could. It was dark, save for the sliver of moonlight that seeped through the roof.

“Percy, you called for me?” I ask her.

I hear frantic shifting of fabric, clattering, and her PipBoy light goes off.

“Charon! I uh… um, I thought you were already asleep I- did you…”

I take cautious steps towards the bed, and sit on the edge, the rickety frame creaking under my weight.

“How much did you hear?” she asks me, near whispering.

“Everything,” I said, telling her the truth.

“Wait, all this time you’ve been hearing me- oh God.”

“Yes,” I murmured. “I didn’t mean to. The walls are thin.”

Percy rubs her face, then she squints, reaching for her glasses. She takes a long, hard look at me. Neither of us are breaking the silence; this angel is within my reach and yet she feels so distant.

Finally, she speaks up. “God, this is awkward. Can we pretend none of this ever happened?”

I gulped. I don’t want to.

“No,” I assert, looking her in the eye and holding her gaze. My friend tears her eyes away from me and rubs the back of her neck.

“I guess there’s no point hiding it. I think you’re attractive, Charon.”

My breath hitches at my throat and it comes out as a disbelieving laugh. “Crazy smoothskin.”

Percy chuckles at my remark. 

“What now?” she asks me.

My eyes flick to her lips, to her pale throat, down to the her nipples poking from under her shirt. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to ask her to join me in acting on the dirtiest thoughts I had for her, but the rational part of my mind holds.

“How long?” I dared to ask her.

“I’m not sure. I know I felt something the first time I bumped into you in Underworld. But I haven’t really thought about it until around November. What about you? When did it start?”

“When you walked into Underworld with that stupidly tight stealth armor. I couldn’t stop staring at your ass.”

Percy snorted. “Really?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at myself quietly too.

“What the hell did you find attractive about me?” I ask her, still in disbelief at my damn luck.

“Well… there’s just something about the way you carry yourself I guess?”

I raise a brow in response.

“Your bone structure. You look strong and steady and I like that.”

Now I’m tilting my head and smirking.

“And you’re gruff and scary and intimidating and I find it hot,” she blurts out.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “So you find any tall, scary ghoul you find intimidating hot?”

“God, no. Just you. Always been you.”

The sincerity of her words is too much.

All those months of letting me act on my own accord is starting to kick in. I reach for her face, my rough, radiation-damaged fingers caressing her soft cheek, and she leans into the touch. I dared to press my thumb against her bottom lip, savoring its texture, imagining what it would feel against mine. As gently as I could, I tilt her head, pressed my cheek against her neck, and took a deep breath as her small hands flew to my shoulders, squeezing and kneading the tense muscles.

I press my mouth against her neck and she pushes me away.

“Stop. We should stop. You and I both know acting on what we feel now would screw things up,” she interrupts, somber.

I exhaled sharply, nodding and keeping my distance. “Fine. Then please stop giving me hope.”

“What?”

“This. Touching me, asking me to sleep next to you… I’m starting to think you’re leading me on.”

Percy scoffs at my accusation, crossing her arms.

“I’m not!” Percy exclaims. “I’m just saying that it isn’t a possibility now. Right now, I’m your doctor and employer. It would make our relationship unequal.”

“And I am centuries older than you,” I hissed back at her. “There are people who would consider that astoundingly unequal too.”

“Then that makes it twice as wrong! This isn’t multiplication where you take two negatives and it becomes a positive.”

“I have no idea what the hell you just said,” I snarled. “But what I know is I want you. So don’t give me hope unless you’re going to follow through. Please.”

Percy went quiet, still as a statue where she sits. With wide eyes, she gazes into mine.

“Say that again?” she demands.

“Say what again?”

“You said, ‘I want you’. You… you rarely tell me what you want.”

Oh.

“God, Charon I want you too…” Percy starts, moving to the edge of the bed to sit next to me.

“Fuck whatever the hell people say, you should know by now that I’ll defend you against all the fucking ghoul bigots in the world,” she continues, leaning her head against my bare shoulder.

“Weeks ago I would’ve agreed to this, but things have gotten too crazy. From your contract, to dad dying, to getting jumped by those Talon mercs, to the shit we’re planning for Paradise Falls, to Project fucking Purity… There's too much going on. I don’t want to compromise our objectives because of what I feel.”

“I understand.” My heart’s going to fucking burst from my chest.

“I’m not going to be upset if you don’t want to do this anymore when it’s all over. But, please, could we wait?”

I’d wait forever for her, if I can. I’ve waited two centuries for someone like her without even knowing that I needed it. I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is plain lust or something more, but I need her.

“Yes.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to ruin what I have with you now.”

“What do we have now, Percy?” I ask her.

“I’m not sure. But I told you that I want to be your partner, right? Let’s work on that.”

Grunting in response, I slouch, resting my elbows on my knees. After a few moments, I turned to her again.

“May I still sleep next to you?”

My partner laughs softly, and moves back to her spot on the bed. Her small hand pats the mattress, on the empty space next to her.

“Of course.”

Back turned from each other, she falls asleep first. I could tell from her soft snores.

An hour later, I still couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about the things she said.

I lie facing the door out of habit. During the training I was forced to take part in, it was drilled in our heads, making us better prepared for intruders and ambushes. 

Close to sleep, I was alerted by a soft whimper coming from her.

When I turned to look at her, her brows are furrowed and her eyes are screwed shut.

“No,” she murmurs, and I listen closely. “Get away from him… Don’t hurt Charon.”

She’s having a nightmare. About me getting hurt.

Grumbling, I shifted my body so that her back was pressed to my chest, and I draped an arm around her.

“Shh. I’m here, and we’re okay,” I whisper.

Percy’s whimpers die down to sighs, and we remain like that for more than a few minutes. I felt dirty, watching her sleep, but seeing her strained face relax eases my nerves.

At some point, I fell asleep. It was a dreamless one.

The next morning, I woke up slowly, eyes adjusting to the brighter rays that came through the cracks on the roof.

A leg is draped over my hip, her face pressed against my chest, and an arm around my waist.

To my surprise, Percy is still asleep next to me. It’s a rare occurence for me to rise earlier than she does.

I look at her PipBoy in the open drawer next to us. Ten fifty two in the morning.

We were supposed to be up by nine.

My hand on her shoulder, I give her a shake. “Percy, wake up.”

My friend stirs awake, stretching her limbs. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost eleven.”

Percy practically jumps out of bed.

“Oh fuck! C’mon, let’s get ready.”

I went to my room. I put on the black shirt Percy gave me, the sleeves already torn away, and proceeded to put on the rest of my armor. As I was walking through the door, I saw the ushanka on the bed side table, and grabbed that too.

Time to talk to Church.

[themanicgalaxy]

SPN 4X19 Jump the Shark

Oh hey is this the illegitimate brother plotline

boy I love me some sweet sweet ANGST

whelp she's fucking dead

picture of JOHN?

Sam's peacefully brushing his teeth and Dean's Not a Morning Person

boy he's having a bad morning

to be fair, living out of the car is kinda not fun either

"I'm his son" Dean: I'm gonna fUCKING KIL-

he's..premed?

they're going to ruin his life too aren't they, Aren't The-

Dean is taking this really well

I mean he did get the brunt of John's Issues, so I get it, yike

ASDFPIHP them discussing their dad's ~sex life~ is very funny though

Dean was...preteen? when this kid was born? Sam was under ten definitely

Dean Please

No that's your Actual Brother guys PLEASE

hunting accident "ah fair enough"

"who is a nuclear family these days" FEELS SO LOADED

Dean...Dean please don't fUCKING KILL HIM DEAN

THE IMPALA NOOO

"he took you to a baseball game" IDSFHAPF

He's Trying not to CRY OH MY GOD NO WAIT

Sam resonates with the away from college thing oh NO

Dean is trying SO HARD not to snap

at least he's...trying..to keep adam out

corpse snatching => HEY LOOK IT's THE BONE STEALING WIT-

I think I need to stop being online jesus christ

the [both sigh] was so good

well...that's a lot of blood

How the hell do you break it to your illegitimate brother that you're ~technically Wanted by the FBI

at least he's not an idiot

HE'S SO MUCH YOUNGER THAN THEY ARE

I mean obligatory dead mom

"do i get a say in this?" "NO!"

no..no SAM DEAN HAS A POINT

Middle sibling + younger sibling gang up on elder

"have u thought about eternity" "bro i've literally been to hell Idk what to tell u"

Dean doing it solo but Sad is...:(

Oh he worked the old case, that's neat

"so it's over for you" welllllll

OO THE TRUCK SHOT WAS COOL

dean + long dark coat truthing tonight HE LOOKS G O O D

it wants revenge

YOU FUCKERS AND YOUR REVENGE BELA WAS R I G H T

and Adam Instantly wants revenge, you sir are definitely a Winchester

"it's life" WELL IT SHOULDn'T BE

the stupid isolationism I hate it

NO GO CONNECT WITH PEOPLE KRIPKE WHY

Sam's becoming his dad, and Dean isn't

...SAM WHAT THE FUCK

DAD MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT DO RIGHT BY YOU

HIS GODDAMN GRIEF SPIRAL GOT BOTH OF YOU

LET HIM BE NORMAL! HAPPY! IT IS TOO LATE FOR YOU RIGHT NOW(NOT ALWAYS)(Also very close to the thing with zachariah in placement(eye emojis) BUT LEAVE HIM ALONE!

I do appreciate Dean Eldest Sibling'ed it up even if he didn't like the kid/was jealous. Goddammit I wish we got connection in this stupid show

I was expecting a jump scare but somehow the squish is worse

sOn oF aBitcH

Ah FUCK NOT ADAM TOO

I do like the little angel Icon though, that's what's Dean's way out

Ghouls is a racist term?what????

no john winchester was 100% a monster

ah it was their father

yada yada father killing circle idk

YAY! DEAN'S INGENUITY IS BACK!

Ghoul!mom is really really good. I liked Scared Adam better though

the slicing sam scene is BRUTAL jesus christ

So...John got his own son killed in the end...

SERIOUSLY HE WAS TERRIBLE

Dean JESUS CHRIST

awww caring Dean is nice

AWW HUNTER'S FUNERAL

"Adam's in a better place" :(

Dean tried to fit himself into the Dad box, Sam's actually him

"you take it any way you want" oh for FUC- HE- I-

he looked so Sad, so like...he's stopped idolizing him

jesus christ.

boy there's gonna be overlap ok here we go.

1. poor dean. Ok couple things: 1) he elder sibling'ed it SO HARd! he didn't even like Adam, but he still tried to keep him safe(I think). he gave him a hunter's funeral! I just. It was nice to see. It was also INCREDIBLY painful to hear the realization of "you were always like dad, I never could be" and the fact that he didn't even see it as a good thing anymore? fUCK man, that huRT me. Dean tried so hard to be something he wasn't, he got probably the brunt of the abuse(because he didn't measure up to that metric like Sam always would), and in the end all it got him was...just. so much pain. Like it felt like John left his Broken children behind to get a new one, and just turned them into his quest for revenge. It was SO So fucked

Hey actually speaking of

2. AM I SUPPOSED TO LIKE BEING A HUNTER/JOHN? WHAT HTE FUCK?

YALL ALREADY MARTYRED HIM BUT UR MAKING HIM WORSE?

LIKE ok listen. John's kinda set up as the ideal of hunting. They martyred him! And I was halfway sold provided they didn't mention him again. Then! he did this thing where he abandoned his kids, seeing them only as tools to fulfill his quest for revenge, literally broke them(that too late thing+zachariah saying "it's in your blood" when really it was just trained from a young age), got a NEW family he treated a lot better. I just. I have...NO idea how I'm supposed to see him as a good guy here. Maybe I just kin Dean, or his plight is WAY more sympathetic(it is, Sam is kinda pissing me off), but John's just...coming off worse and worse and they KEEP doing it!

Also! this whole cycle of revenge thing! about how if you keep taking an eye for an eye, everyone ends up blind! they barely escaped this time, and I think this was the second revenge plot that I can think of with MONSTERS alone! it was a BIG theme! Like!! hunting sucks! revenge makes you end up in worse places! it's like this one episode was made to show how SHIT hunting was!

wait who wrote this

Dabb+lofflin. The hunting sucks always comes from-

this GODDAMN INCONSISTE-

3. Fuck John Winchester

4. Individualism. Ok this is a big one. Alongside the whole revenge plot thing(which is BIG, and a hunting sucks), this one drove home the sheer individuality of hunting. But while some of the writers see that as Badass, this one made it seem lonely, and painful. Like the flip side to American Individualism is American Chronic Loneliness. I know this one was used to process the ennui of the post recession/post 9/11 time, and it's doing very well for that, but it kinda ends up like this show is EVERYONE'S therapy all at once! the gang's all here! and we're gonna traumatize you in the process as well.

EDIT: and yeah yeah yada yada american individualism is King and then so is it’s accompanying loneliness in the post 9/11 post war in iraq post recession world(we were not having fun in 08/09)

and I get that this show is the writer’s therapy and whatever

(I just thing this is phrased better)

5. bring him back. Connect! Look. I know it breaks the core ethos of this episode. But having Weird Esoteric Hunter siblings would have been SO FUNNY!

give me more sibling content! Sam+Adam teaming up against the Eldest Sibling Dean WAS SO FUNNY! I WANT MORE OF THAT

6. SAM WHAT THE FU-. Look. I hate John. I very much hate John. They set up the Sam/Dean dichotomy in regards to John first episode, and Sam acting more like an ass+like his dad is. Not making me like him. Also I feel like this was written to sympathize with Dean. Which makes the finale even more ironic, I feel.

7. Listen. Listen. One of you has to keep track of continuity. Like I know this becomes a WAY bigger problem later in the series, but if a certain writer wants to process/examine a certain part of the Life/Story(and they should, they set up a lot of interesting stuff), they have to keep track! Because then the show becomes everything all at once.

Like this show has ALREADY started feeling like fanfic of itself, where it just kinda does whatever it wants with its own concepts. And the concepts are GREAT! but you can TELL how inconsistent it is, even in the kripke era

like it ends up being Study of X, Riff on X! and I think that's where the inconsistency comes from. It's also why it's so fucking Excellent in places.

whelp this was a lot holy hell.

OH AND ONE MORE THING!

Bela didn't fit the narrative. That's why they didn't like her. I said at the beginning that an Int'l art thief does NOT fit the vibe of "grungy Angsty American Midwestern gothic" and I was right. With the lucifer story and the vibe she didn't fit, and so they just killed her as foreshadowing, and only used her like that. God I wish they'd riffed on her, especially because her callouts were all completely correct

we're Bela Salting again

listen she was preppy Jack Sparrow with some spiritualism, how dare you tell me not to like her.

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Good morning fuckers, I wrote over 2k words in twenty-four hours (and a good portion of that at ass o’clock in the morning because I was up with cats).

Title: will you drive me back/can you take me home

Wordcount: 2427

Summary: When a run goes south, Party Poison gets stuck out in Zone Five with Cherri Cola. This leads to some interesting conversations, mainly involving Kobra Kid and a lack of emotional intelligence.

Warnings: There is some very lightly implied past sexual harassment (it's only one line, but I figured I'd warn for it). Also the usual amount of swearing.

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

Party Poison did not like being here. 

Here, being, of course, a dusty road in the middle of Zone 5, where they were currently standing, in the middle of the fucking night, watching Cherri Cola fiddle with the engine of his truck. They found the Zone poet annoying at best, and they certainly didn’t trust him, so it had taken quite a bit of convincing for them to come on this run in the first place. Just a short run with Cola, Poison. It will be easy, just a tiny trip to pick up some supplies. Cherri just needs a companion. It’s safer together, Poison. That’s what Dr. Death Defying had said back at the radio station as he talked Poison into this fucking train wreck.

The run had turned out to be neither short nor easy, filled with disasters from beginning to end. First, they had been attacked along the way, and then the neutral who had promised the supplies had attempted to backstab them. After a lot of negotiation and some mild threatening from Poison, they had been given the supplies. After that, plus fighting off a rather bold (and stupid) killjoy who tried to take their stuff (and managed to get Party’s jacket covered in fucking slime), they had finally been able to get back on the road...only for Cola’s stupid fucking truck to break down. So now Poison was stuck in Zone Five with a broken down truck and no jacket at one in the fucking morning, what was supposed to be a simple afternoon supply run having turned into a many hour slog. Frankly, they were getting pretty tired of it.

“Hey, Pepsi, any luck with the truck?”

Cherri Cola raised his head from where he was fiddling with the hood. Even in the moonlight, Poison could tell that his hair was a mess and his cheek was streaked with motor oil, disheveled as ever. “Not a bit, I’m afraid.”

“Fuck,” Poison swore. “Just what we need.”

“There is some good news, though,” Cola continued. “I think I know what’s wrong, I just don’t have the tools to fix it on me.”

“Well that’s not very helpful then.”

The other didn’t reply, busy rooting around in the glove compartment. After a minute or so, he looked up again. “Nope, not here.”

This night just got better and better. “Fuck. So now what?” 

Cherri Cola was fiddling with a handheld radio now. “Newsie isn’t far from here right now, I’m going to radio her and ask her to bring over the tools we need. Hello?”

“Cola? You good?” NewsAGoGo’s staticky voice crackled from the radio.

“Party Poison and I are stuck out in Zone Five, the truck broke down. Can you bring the full toolkit?”

There was a moment of silence from the other side, followed by “Damnit, Cola, tonight was my night off.” Poison heard a faint sigh. “Radio me your location and I’ll be there in twenty.”

They tuned Cola out as he gave Newsie the details, staring out at the desert night. Ghoul and Jet were bound to be worried if Poison didn’t get home soon. Whether Kobra would be worried was a toss-up; if he was, he certainly wouldn’t bother to tell Poison. Either way, they were supposed to be home three hours ago. Ghoul and Jet were probably already worried, come to think of it. Well, they would just have to suck it up and deal with it, since Poison had to suck it up and deal with being stuck with Cherri Cola.

Speaking of Cherri Cola, he had come over to tap them on the shoulder. “Hey, Poison, Newsie’s on her way. It’ll probably be a half hour or so, though, do you want to get back in the truck?”

Why was he so insufferably nice? “I’m fine.”

“You sure? It is pretty chilly out here, and your jacket is covered in slime, I don’t want to be bringing you back to your crew like ‘hey, Poison nearly froze to death’.” They swore Cola was grinning, although it was hard to tell in the dark.

“Fine, you’re going to be insufferable if I don’t.” 

“I’m fairly sure you already thought I was insufferable,” Cherri Cola said with a laugh, hopping back into the driver’s seat as Poison reluctantly followed him.

“Yeah, I do.”

The Zone poet glanced over at them. “I’ve always been a little curious about that- why do you hate me so much?” 

“Just curious?”

“Well, a bit hurt, yeah, but I’m hated by a surprising number of people. You get used to it.”

“I don’t see why anyone would ever hate you,” Poison snorted. “Perfect poet Cherri Cola, nicest person in the Zones.” They might have been revealing a little bit too much, but fuck it all. They were tired and done with everyone’s shit.

“But you still hate me, so I can’t be perfect.” His voice held a hint of a smile, but he dropped that as he went on. “I’m not infallible, Poison. I’m human, and I’ve done a lot of things I’m not so proud of.”

Poison actually bothered to turn and look at him this time, taking in his face in the moonlight. “You? Not proud of yourself?”

“Not everyone has your confidence.” Cola’s mouth twisted into a wry smile as he turned to face Poison. “And I have a feeling your confidence is more of a very good shield.”

They jerked away from that kind gaze. “Shut up, Pepsi.”

“As you wish.”

The silence of the desert invaded the car for a few moments more before “I always forget no one gets that reference.”

“What?” Poison eyed him suspiciously.

“It’s from an old movie D and I like; I’ve gotten in the habit of saying that instead of just ‘yes’ to a request.”

“Oh.”

“So really, I’m curious. Why do you hate me?”

“Don’t hate you, just don’t trust you,” Poison muttered. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled.

“Because of my past?” Cola’s eyes seemed infinitely old in that moment, shadowed by things no killjoy should have had to live through. “I won’t blame you if the answer is yes, you know. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I don’t know shit about your past. I don’t trust you because of how much you hang around my brother.”

Cherri Cola looked more startled than anything. “Kobra? He’s a good kid.”

“So you should stay away from him, then,” Poison snapped. The peace of the desert at night was nowhere near a suitable backdrop for their anger, burning and burning in contrast to the gentle desert sky. Stupid fucking Cherri Cola and his stupid fucking gentle eyes and the stupid fucking way Kobra trusted him, practically more than Kobra trusted Poison, it seemed.

To their surprise (and irritation), Cola didn’t even seem angry. “I don’t mean to hurt your brother in the slightest. He’s just a kid who could use a friend. Reminds me a bit of myself at that age, actually. Although you do even more.”

If you had asked Party Poison at age twelve where they thought they would end up, ‘sitting in a broken-down truck in the desert listening to Cherri Cola say that they reminded him of himself’ would not have been on the list. “You really don’t want to hurt him?”

“No, of course not! Kobra is a very kind person, and I don’t want to hurt anyone if I can avoid it.” 

They scanned his face and decided he seemed sincere. Cherri Cola was many things, but a good liar he was not. “Kobes got pushed around a lot back in the city. Harassed by older kids, older people. There’s always some creepy guy who hangs around the young, handsome trans dude.”

Cola’s face was nothing short of horrified. “Destroya, no, Poison. I’ve been there, I’ve been that young trans dude. If Kobra is uncomfortable with me around, I’ll leave him alone. Is- is it okay? Has Kobra asked you to talk to me about this?”

Poison was forced to admit he hadn’t. “No, I just worry about him.” Cola’s words caught up to them. “Wait, you’re a trans guy?”

Cola cracked a small smile. “What part of my personality made you think I was cis?”

“Now that I think about it, none of it.”

“Oh, good, I would hate for that to happen again.” 

They glared at him, but they had to admit it was a little bit funny. “You’re pretty fucking bad at acting cis, but you had me fooled.”

“Ah, I’m so clever and trickster-y.”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

Cola shrugged. “I don’t have to use real words as long as people know what I mean. But back to our original topic, is there any other reason you don’t like me hanging out with your brother?” 

Yes. “No. Just worry about how much time he spends with you.” 

“I promise I’m not that bad of an influence.” Cola’s teasing grin dropped away again as he glanced over. “I think you worry he doesn’t want to spend time with you, but that’s not true. He does, and he cares. He’s just bad at saying it, and so are you.”

“Fuck. Off,” Poison growled. Why did he always have to hit touchy subjects like that?

Cola shrugged again. “Just saying what I’ve noticed.” 

They would have gotten further pissed at him, but a cold gust of wind swept through the car, cooling their anger and making them shiver. They desperately wished their jacket didn’t have to be sitting in the back, covered in some sort of chemical-smelling slime from their run-in with that rude killjoy who turned out to be somewhat of a scientist. He had been not only a ‘scientist’ (really, a bomb maker with some chemistry knowledge) but a dick as well. Poison really wasn’t happy that Cola has stopped them from punching his face in, and especially so now that they didn’t have their jacket.

Speaking of Cola, a hand passed in front of their vision, holding a familiar green jacket, and they figured they better actually listen to what he was saying.

“-not cold anyways, and your brother would kill me if I brought back popsicle Poison instead of Party Poison.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. Take the jacket.”

Poison groaned and took it, finding it warm and quite a bit too large for them. “How fucking tall are you?”

“Hmm. Five foot nine, or about that, I’d guess? I think that was what it was, anyways.” 

“Have I mentioned that I hate you?”

“Twice already.”

Poison glared at him again, still shivering a little, but just then, Newsie’s motorcycle pulled up with a roar of engines, nearly blinding them both with the headlights. NewsAGoGo themself leaned over to yell up at the truck.

“Hey, Cola, fucker, brought your toolkit!”

“Thanks, Newsie,” Cola called back. He turned to Poison. “Seems like you won’t be stuck with me much longer, which I figure you’ll appreciate. I am insufferable, after all.”

Poison huffed a sigh. “You’re a bastard, Pepsi, you know that, right?”

“Love you too, Party Poison.”

- 

By the time Party Poison arrived home that night, it was probably around two am. Cherri Cola had driven them back to the diner, insisting that it was only fair after putting them through that terrible run. Poison could have pointed out that it was actually Dr. D who sent them with him, but it was easier to just let Cola have his way. Besides the fact that they didn’t know how they would have gotten back to the diner without his help, given that Jet had dropped them off at Dr. D’s radio station that afternoon. 

The diner was silent as they walked in, but to their surprise, Kobra Kid was awake and sitting at one of the tables. 

“Hey, Pois.”

“Hey, fuckface. What are you doing up?” They kept their voice low as so not to wake up Fun Ghoul, who was snoozing in a different booth. Xe was curled up tightly- remarkably like a cat, actually.

“Waiting for you, dumbass.” Kobra didn’t look up at them, absorbed in whatever he was working on.

Poison’s throat felt strangely tight. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I would have been fine if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, well I wanted to know you were safe. Jet did too, but I made him sleep.”

They blinked a few times, trying to ignore the burning in their throat. It must have been the dust that was making their eyes water. “Well, I’m safe and fine. Didn’t appreciate being stuck with Cola, but he’s not that insufferable.”

Kobra snorted. “Why the change of heart?” 

“Talked to him a bit,” Poison shrugged. “Still insufferably nice and a bit of a pushover, but there are worse things to be than nice.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my sibling?” Kobra actually looked up this time, not waiting for a response before he muttered “Thanks, Pois.”

“Of course, fuckface.” Poison headed towards the back of the diner, where they knew Jet would be firmly passed out on their bed, but they paused to pull Kobra into a hug first. “I love you, you bastard. Even if I don’t say it.”

“What are you, sentimental?” Kobra didn’t pull away, despite his harsh words, and Poison could hear what he didn’t (and wouldn’t) say as he threw his arms around them in return. “Also, why are you wearing Cola’s jacket?”

“Fuck, I’ll need to give that back to him tomorrow. Was cold out there, and mine is covered in slime- and in the back of Cola’s truck. Fuck.”

“You’re an airhead.”

“Fuck you.”

"Fuck you too."

Despite that, Poison didn’t pull away and neither did Kobra, until eventually they did have to let go because Poison was starting to yawn.

But when they got up, Kobra followed them to the back of the diner, pausing in front of the door to his little room. “Night, Poison.”

They shot him a tiny, tired smile. “Night, Kobra.”

Their room was dark and quiet, and for once the presence across the hall felt like warmth and security as opposed to a reminder of one more way they had failed. Poison climbed into the bed, snuggling up against Jet Star, who stirred briefly before falling back asleep. They didn’t bother to take off Cola’s jacket; it was cold in here, alright? But Jet was warm, even if the desert night was freezing, so it was only a few minutes before Poison’s exhausted eyes slid shut.

[clankitsfanfiction]

Say My Name, a Hancock x F!SS Soulmates Oneshot

Summary: On that day, Nora died in the vault, but Sol was born.

And Sol, it seemed, had a soulmate. Because when she left that wretched vault, determination and agony clear on her face, she glanced at her covered wrist and paused for a second. She knew it sometimes happened, a person getting a new soulmate when their previous died, and part of her hoped it hadn’t. Part of her hoped that Nate Pewtersmith was still there written in Nate’s print handwriting, and part of her hoped it wasn’t. Swallowing, she slowly pulled back the sleeve of her left arm until she could see what name was written there.

(read this on Archive of Our Own here or below the cut)

Nora threw up as she crawled out of the cryogenic chamber. Nate is dead, and her baby is gone. Shaun’s gone. She’s the only one left. She’s the sole survivor.

On that day, Nora died in the vault, but Sol was born.

And Sol, it seemed, had a soulmate. Because when she left that wretched vault, determination and agony clear on her face, she glanced at her covered wrist and paused for a second. She knew it sometimes happened, a person getting a new soulmate when their previous died, and part of her hoped it hadn’t. Part of her hoped that Nate Pewtersmith was still there written in Nate’s print handwriting, and part of her hoped it wasn’t. Swallowing, she slowly pulled back the sleeve of her left arm until she could see what name was written there.

In the exact same spot where Nate’s name was, there’s now John McDonough written in shaky handwriting that looks like a nine-year-old wrote it. Sol didn’t say anything. Nora might’ve screamed, might’ve cried out into the sky, might’ve even cursed her soulmate and cursed the world for doing this to her. But Sol doesn’t do anything except roll the sleeve back down and march on. There had always been a small chance of meeting your soulmate in her time, and she was lucky enough to to be one of the few who met their soulmate. Surely there was no chance she would be that lucky again.

“And where is your better half?” Codsworth asks, and Sol doesn’t know what to say. Should she say he’s gone? Should she roll up her sleeve and show him the new name? Her mouth is dry, and she takes a couple moments to think of a response.

“He’s… in a better place now.”

The reporter outside of Diamond City has a girl’s name on her wrist. She only glimpses it as she’s shouting into the intercom, and it’s surprising enough that she’s not wearing a wristband to keep the name hidden, but more surprising that it’s a girl. Sure, males got male names and girls got girl names on the wrists, but everyone wore bracelets and it was one of the taboos society just ignored. Sol glances at the guards standing watch, because anyone can see the name if they look, but none of them seem to care, except a couple of them are looking at the reporter with amused expressions. It seems society has finally moved on from something that shouldn’t have even been an issue in the first place.

Sol nearly freaks where she hears that the mayor of Diamond City is Mayor McDonough, but as soon as Sol asks what his first name is and he tells her, she calms down a bit. After all, this man clearly isn’t her soulmate, and anyways, McDonough sounds like a common name. There’s probably lots of people with that last name.

When Sol finally meets Nick and realizes that he’s a robot, she doesn’t really mind. After all, Codsworth is a robot too. But Nick looks… different. Like a human. Does that mean he has a soulmate? After they’ve both introduced themselves, Sol hesitates for a second before speaking her mind. Sure, there’s no name on his wrist, but on his left one most of the fake skin has peeled off.

“Nick… do you have a soulmate? Or did you?”

Nick looked straight ahead as he answered her question. “No. I’m not human, after all. But the guy I’m based off of had one.” He either doesn’t know or doesn’t want her to know the person's name, because he doesn’t say anything after that until they come across Skinny Malone.

When Sol and Nick step into Goodneighbor, she isn’t too surprised when some ass comes up and starts to badger her. What she is surprised to see, however, is that the man’s left wrist is bare. When a person’s soulmate dies, the name is still there, but it’s faded. Instead of being in an inky black, the name would be in a light grey, a constant reminder of how the person they were destined for is gone. Not that there isn’t couples who are happy and love each other but aren’t soul mates, of course. At least that was how it was in the past. People in those relationships often said, “Life is too short to wait around for a person you might never meet.” And Nora understood that, and so does Sol. But this man before her has no name at all. Apparently, this man has no soul mate, unless the nature of the names on people’s wrists have changed and that’s how they look if your soulmate is dead. Sol will have to ask Nick about that…

And then the ghoul walks up. Sol only knows what a ghoul is because of the feral ones her and Nick have seen, and Sol isn’t that surprised when he stabs the man who was hounding her to death. After all, in a couple of minutes she might’ve done the same, except probably with a gun instead. The long frock coat he wears covers up whatever name is on his wrist, but Sol doesn’t care. Nora was never one to pry about who someone’s soulmate was, and neither is Sol. Even though no one now seems to care if you know who their soulmate is, Sol is still cautious and keeps her sleeves rolled down at all times.

After going through Kellogg’s memories, and seeing Nick speak in his voice, Sol tells Nick she needs a little time to herself. And even though it’s true, she stills feels bad when she sees the hurt in his synthetic eyes. She hangs around Goodneighbor a bit longer, chatting it up with the store owner Daisy who says nah, Finn had never had a name as long as she’s known him. And yes, ghouls can have soulmate names, why wouldn’t they be able to? Sure, they look a little funny, but they are still there.

Sol doesn’t really like Bobbi No-Nose, but she offers Sol good money, so Sol goes along with the whole thing until they finally reach the store room and Sol finds out that it’s not the storeroom of Diamond City, but the one belong to Mayor Hancock. There’s no way Sol is going to get on his bad side, simply because she made a mistake of who to join up with. So she hides until the firefight is over, firing a couple shots at Bobbi before Fahrenheit tells her to go talk to Hancock. So she does.

And when Hancock asks to come along, at first she’s going to say no. He seems a bit too dangerous for her liking, and she isn’t sure traveling with someone of his status will help her rebuild the Commonwealth. But then she sees the gleam in his eye, and the way he’s looking hopefully at her, and there’s nothing to say but yes.

It’s several weeks later, and Sol cannot believe that she even considered not letting Hancock join her. Well, now it’s John, and Sol had to smile when she heard that his first name was the same one as her soulmate's, because Sol would be lying if she said she didn’t like him. Sure, they became friends quickly, but over time her thoughts turned a bit more to the romantic side as they laughed together and cleaned up the Commonwealth.

It’s a week after Sol has realized just how much she likes John, and they’re both drunk off their asses in some old pre war house in Sanctuary. Everyone has turned in for the night, even Danse, the paranoid man he is. And before Sol can stop herself, she blurts out a question that she’s sure she shouldn’t ask. “What’s the name of your soulmate?” Because even with all the time they’ve been spending together, his long coat sleeves had shielded whatever name is there from her sight.

John sighs, the happy grin that had been on his face several moments earlier sliding off. “Suppose I should’ve suspected you would’ve been curious…” he paused to stare at the near empty bottle of beer in his hands. “And it’s fine that you’re asking. The name I’ve been ‘blessed’ with is Nora.”

Sol’s heart stops. “Last name?”

“Young. Nora Young.” He says the name with distaste, before shaking his head and scowling at himself. “I don’t mean to sound so distasteful, it’s just that the whole soulmate thing? Seems like a bunch of baloney to me. If you like someone, you should just tell ‘em. Don’t let a name on a wrist stop you.”

“John, what’s your real last name?”

Frowning, he looks at her with a puzzled expression on his face. “Now how’d you know my last name wasn’t Hancock? Sure, there would be no way in hell someone would be named that, but still…” Sol expected him to connect the dots, but he’s still just frowning at her. Apparently, drunk John cannot solve a puzzle to save his life.

Sol clears her throat, unsure of how to say what’s to follow, so instead she takes the bottle of beer out of John’s hand and drains the last couple of mouthfuls left in it. Setting the bottle down, she opens her mouth to speak. “Sol isn’t my birth name.” His eyes widen in surprise, and Sol thinks that there might be a glimmer of hope in there, but she isn’t sure, so she continues. “It was Nora. Nora Young.”

There’s a couple beats of silence in which Sol is sure her heart is going to pound out of her chest, because John is still just staring at her and isn’t say anything. Then, finally, he opens his mouth, and Sol leans forward from across the small table in between them, desperate to hear what he has to say.

And as he kisses her, she relaxes, and she can feel some part of her finally letting go. Sure, she loved Nate, and she still loves him, but he’s gone, and life changes. Life happens, no matter how many times you wish it didn’t. Nate would want her to be happy.

And, for the first time in a long time, she really truly is.

[wetookanoath]

Supernatural Season 6 | The Haunting of Loey Lane.

Shane and his Shaggy cosplay are everything I need to know to be asured this episode will be iconic. And look a thim go. I love him.

I am way too distracted by Ryan’s buttons being open, I’m sorry, I cannot fuction now.

“Oh, no voice this time?” Okay, but Shane’s smile is... fjnfiwsmdikr. Why is this man like this? Anyway... Ryan’s laugh and the way he just, turns on Host Mood again, holy shit.

The way Ryan is narrating this episode is even more precious when you look at the credits and see that he himself wrote this episode. “From guru to booru”, I fucking hate you, Shane. Ryan’s face, tho. That look between done and fond, same.

“I was very respectful”, honey you were high in medicine, shut up.

Weekend At Ghoul HQ, starring Ryan Bergara and real size doll Shane. “I believe you believe” it’s the creepiest shit, stop that.

Growing up in a haunted farmhouse? Same. Oh gosh, jokes aside, I’m gonna say this right now... I’m not going to discuss in public whatever I believe in what may happen in this episode or not. I’ve been realizing slowly that I don’t feel comfortable talking about these things online because believing has a lot to do with faith to me, and faith is part of my life in a way that is too important to me. That said, watch me make fun of my own faith all the time and discuss whatever else you guys wanna talk about with me regarding the show, the boys, etc.

Loey saying she has never been scared of ghosts it’s exactly how I feel about the paranormal and the supernatural in general. I mean, I don’t claim having any kinds of powers or touch, or what have you. But god, I would be so happy and enchanted by seeing a supernatural being right in front of me. And whatever may scare me sometime, it’s always human doing, it’s always natural, tangible, there. And even then, I do like being scared. So there’s that, I guess.

“Are we Bruce Willis in this situation?” how the hell did that came from what they were talking about, lmao. Another Willis mention this season, Mr. Die Hard will end up becoming part of the inside jokes in this fandom at some point.

“I love a little stirring” Shane looks so excited about doing Some Bullshit in this episode, and I saw how chaotic he was in his solo, I can’t wait to see it by myself. LMAO, this bit is both funny and kind of adorable. Also, witches AU.

“Why would you come to us uf you want us to fix it?” An excellent question I don’t understand either, to be honest. The show is not about actually hunting enthities or debunking shit, so this is... come on. I think we know what it is, lmao. But it’s fine, I like this House Call shit.

No ofense, but using a 100 hundred years old Ouija board as a decoration is like a horror movie plot where white people are white people about it. I love it.

*Rubs eyes and sighs deeply*

... What is Shane doing with his tongue? I, I, I don’t like that... Not a fan... Put that tongue back in your mouth, Shane. I don’t like this bit.

Shane calling Ryan a, like, passionate paranormal investigator and the bitch immediatelly saying he is insane is my aesthetic and also yet again, a great summary of the show.

“This is the part where you learn how truly boring it is to be a ghost hunter”, lmao. Talking about these parts, I love the colors we get from the cameras each time, I can’t wait to make the edit for this episode.

Oh man, it must be something to see these two grown ass men saying and doing stupid shit to get ghosts to listen to them and do something But also, Shane slowly walking towards Ryan to film a super close-up of his eyes, OKAY. They are so stupid.

That... that is a werid thing, Shane is right. Oh man, this is giving me flashbacks to that serial killer dude in The X Files that was obssessed with women’s hair/cleaning them up for burials. 

Okay, that thing Shane just did with his mouth knocked me out for a bit. Imma head out. “That sounds demonic”, this better not be the season’s demon investigation. And oh look, what’s a supernatural season without Shane giving hints of him being a demon? It makes it funnier how he never really talks about it anywhere. Like he obviously knows aboutt he fandom’s joke, and I’m sure he keeps doing shit like this to feed it, but it all becomes even better when he just... never says shit about it. It’s always Ryan the one who answers when asked about it.

Cats do tend to get spook at everything and look up for no reason at all, every time my cats do that and one of nieces or nephew is around and asks about it, I always go “oh, he is just seeing the ghost that lives here” and then their mothers want to kill me.

Yeah, you don’t... do that. Horror movie 101. Don’t ever give permission to shit to enter. “Hey, can I come in?” “No, bitch, go away” is always the answer lol.

Guuurrrrllll...

This bitch ass thingy in her home really is there because of her. If there’s something in there, it’s not the place, it’s her. Also bitch ass demons as always listening to Shane is everything.

I.. like how Shane looks in that blue lighting. “Oh, you know what? Not bad, not bad”, why is he like this. 

Ryan’s metaphores are excellent, imagine him giving talks to his future children by using weird ass metaphore and the kids just... staring at him. 

“I’ll take you home with me, I don’t care” LMAO, imagine this idiot walking into his apartment, “Hey Sara? I got a demon, can we keep him?” “No” “Too late, I told him he is staying!”

“Assert my dominance” the smile? Awwww. The awkward moves of his hand, fjnvidnfir, Ryan is so fucking cute, makes me cry.

... What is Shane doing? I love how they just leave Shane’s whatever there while Ryan talks to Loey, fkjdniednfirnfgirt. Do that more often. Love that hair, also. Long hair is the best hair.

Shane literally saying he will use all the power he has gotten by defeating demons it’s such a powerful prompt. He is giving us the power to create shit, use it well, demon Shane writers and fanartists. “Alakazam! Big bang boom, hope you like hell, you loser.”, I fucking love this dork.

“What does that mean? You guys have inside jokes?” “Yeah, we bonded” JFNIERDNFIRF SHANE.

Loey is me and Shane is my brother, this is how we usually talk when one of us is saying some bullshit kfdndiofmkirg

“What’s your name? Come on, what’s your name? I know that gives away your power”, Ryan out there getting advice on demon hunting by The Conjuring 2 is the biggest mood. No, but for real-- there’s actually plenty of myths and cultures that believe the way to defeat some sort of evil is by knowing its name. It’s really interesting, the kind of power we really do give to names.

Not really a fan of this. Man, I really hope this is not the season’s demon investigation.

Ryan Steven Bergara Stop Saying You Are Annoying Or Ugly Or Whatever Negative Shit You Are Always Saying About Yourself Challenge.

This is such a “So... you come here often?” type of situation, djnfisndief, I love this. And we are back at the ‘I hate Shane’ bit again, I really stan a twelve years old. The fond voice with which Shane says “I mean, you are having fun”, awwwwwww. Cuties.

Shane looks hella cute doing his fornite dance, I hate him.

Did that shit just laugh after scaring this poor woman? JFNFIENFIERNIGF

Christ almighty, Ryan looks so fucking small at Shane’s side, what the hell? Also, this is so... damn adorable. Shane trying to teach Ryan how to do the dance, it’s hella cute. Oooohhmmmygoodddddd, I’mmmmm meltinnngggggggggg... Ryan’s little dance, djnfienf he is such a bad dancer, I love him so much.

This poor woman is having a breakdown in there and these two bitches are just being... whatever the hell they are doing, lmao. “You are suggesting a ghost farted in my face?” “Yeah” AHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Ryan suggesting the demon is asking her out for a drink and looking at Shane while doing so, jfniednfir what the fuck is that. This demon suitor just doesn’t know how to ask her out on a date, lmao.

“Our job here is done!” and Loey’s reaction, dkjnfeinfir same.

Get haunted for the aesthetic, why not? Interesting episode.

[razzmataz-z]

Danger Days - Killjoy OC Template

i actually found this one on deviantart and thought why not lol so all credit goes to the creator(s) for this. if you want, add your oc below!!

--

BASICS

Real Name: Unknown (they've never told anyone, and they'd like to forget their past)

Killjoy Name: Razzmatazz

Nickname(s): Razz, Razzy

Age: They say that they stopped counting at 11 (which was years ago) but they look fairly young (so 19 y/oish)

Birthday: Unknown (once again, they'd like to forget it all)

Gender: They believe that gender is a scam created by BLI

Nationality: They're from Bat City but they have a hint of a southern accent in their voice

--

APPEARANCE

Hair Color: Bright, dyed red

Hair Length/Style: Medium length and wavy

Eye Color: Golden brown

Skin Tone: White, but a little bit more tan than most people

Height: 5'5"

Weight: Around 120lbs

Outfits: Typically fishnets, red leather shorts, red leather cropped jacket, black accessories, black armbands, black combat boots with red laces

Special Possessions: A hidden locket that only they know about (with a pic of Razz with the Fab Four and the Girl on one side and a pic of Razz’s old killjoy crew on the other). Also patches of her old crew's jackets from when they died, Killer King's rings, a pair of roller skates Show Pony gave away, patches from the Fab Four's outfits (jackets and pants) and a matching bracelet with the Girl.

Dominant Hand: Left (but they're ambidextrous)

Scar(s): They have a lot of scars on their shoulder blades for unknown reasons and some scars on their legs from falling/getting shot

Tattoo(s): A semicolon on their middle finger (left side) and a set of simple angel wings with a halo on their right/front hip

Piercing(s): All across both ears, both sides of their nose (but they only wear a ring on one side at a time), right side eyebrow, belly button

--

PERSONALITY

Basic Personality: Since the Fab Four died, they have distanced themself from other Killjoys. They're very reserved and tend to work alone. Before though, they were basically a live version of what light would be.

Likes: Getting into fights, the Girl, Making BLI mad, helping helpless animals

Dislikes: Val Velocity, BLI, Korse

Strengths: They tend to use their guns the most (they always carry at least two), but keep a knife on their thigh and are trained fairly well in self defense with fists

Weaknesses: Their past

Fears: Losing the Girl (because they promised Poison that they'd protect her with their life just hours before Poison died), butterflies, water, and looking weak/having a weakness (though they'd never admit any of those except maybe the firs

What Side Are They On?: The Killjoys (and very occasionally neutral, but really only neutral when Val is fighting so they can be an ass to him)

BACKSTORY

Background: Childhood and early teen years is mostly unknown (they've done almost everything they can to forget about it). Most of their past is forgotten, almost forgotten, or in the process of trying to be forgotten. Nobody exept for Razz and the Fab Four know about Razz’s history. The Girl will get occasional glimpses, but she still doesn't know as much as she'd like to.

Best Memory: Sitting in the Diner with the Fab Four, laughing about something stupid that Ghoul said (or walking past Poison's room, singing the Girl to sleep after she had a nightmare only for them to fall asleep right after).

Worst Memory: When news spread that the Fab Four died, and Razz knew they could have done more to help (they still blame themself for it).

--

FAMILY

Parents: All they remember is a woman with blonde hair. Even then, she's very fuzzy.

Sibling(s): Two brothers - the younger one returned to Bat City and the older one died helping Razz escape

Grandparents: Deceased, as far as Razz knows

Relative(s): Razz only slightly remembers hearing things about their cousins, but they don't know when and what cousins are.

Pet(s): They remember having a golden retriever, and will foster animals until they are nursed back to health. Other than that, they have a black cat that will visit them frequently, but Razz says they are just friends.

--

FRIENDS AND ENEMIES

Friends: The Girl, Mad Gear and Missile Kid

Best Friend(s): Previously the Fab Four, but now only Show Pony

Acquaintances: Vamos and Vaya, Dr. D, Tommy Chow Mein

Rivals: Val Velocity (staggers between rival and enemy), most droids

Enemies: Korse, Dracs, The Director

--

LOVER AND LOVER INFO

Sexual Orientation: They believe that like gender, sexuality is a BLI scam and does not exist

Crush/Lover: Previously crushing on Party Poison, and even before that on Killer King (a part of Red's old crew who has died)

Why Do They Like This Person?:

Poison - Red likes Poison's leadership skills and selflessness. Although Poison can be a bit of an ass at times, Razz has always strived to be like them, and will always protect their memory/reputation.

King - King was a mystery to Razz and everyone who knew the two. Red didn't know what they saw in him. Maybe it was the recklessness and humor. Or the idiocy. (Neon would always tell Razz that "opposites attract" as a reason to explain it)

How Did They Meet?: They met though Dr. D, when Razz was one of the new DJs (Red had also been helping take care of the Girl for a while, so that helped bring everyone closer).

How Serious is the Relationship?:

Poison - Not serious at all. For all Razz knows, Party thought of them as an adoptive sibling and nothing more.

King - More serious than Poison (though Razz never admitted it). They'd have romantic night walks, stargazing 'dates', Drac hunting 'dates' and fiery makeout sessions

--

EXTRAS

Other Information: Razz calls people "darlin'" because of (their southern accent mixed with) Freddie Mercury, their biggest role model. They also swear a lot and have a trust issues (along with anxiety, depression, extremely mild schizophrenia, PTSD and ADD). Razz also loves the idea of the Greek God, Hades, for reasons unknown.

Quotes: "Fuck you", "Move", "Make me", *whispering* "Bitch", *shouting* "Bitch!", "Bastard", "Jackass", "Don't repeat that outloud" (always directed at the girl when they swear), "Fuuuucckkkkkkkkkkkkkkk", "I'd rather die", "Ain't this the dream?", "See ya in Hell", "HOLY SHIT!!"

--

RELATIONSHIPS WITH ORIGINAL KILLJOYS

Party Poison -

Are They Friends, Enemies, or Something Different?: Razz had a major crush on Poison, but they'd never tell. They always wanted something more, but the closest they got to that was Poison kissing them on a cheek before going to rescue the Girl.

How Did They Meet/Have They Met?: See 'lover and lover info'

Do They See Each Other Often?: Very. When Razz wasn't living in their abandoned "home", they'd stay at the Diner

-

Fun Ghoul -

Are They Friends, Enemies, or Something Different?: Friends

How Did They Meet/Have They Met?: Poison brought Razz and the Girl to the Diner because Razz wouldn't leave the Girl's side.

Do They See Each Other Often?: See notes on Party Poison (but Razz wouldn't see Ghoul as much as Poison)

-

Kobra Kid -

Are They Friends, Enemies, or Something Different?: Best friends

How Did They Meet/Have They Met?: Kobra went with Poison to Dr. D's to get the Girl

Do They See Each Other Often?: Very. A tiny bit more than Razz would see Poison.

-

Jet Star -

Are They Friends, Enemies, or Something Different?: Friends

How Did They Meet/Have They Met?: Same as Ghoul

Do They See Each Other Often?: Same as Ghoul

-

Dr. Death Defying -

Are They Friends, Enemies, or Something Different?: Acquaintances (but Dr. D insists that they're friends)

How Did They Meet/Have They Met?: Show Pony stormed into Dr. D's office and spilled the news about the Girl, and the killjoy that shot everyone who tried to take the Girl while screaming death threats and profanities. Dr. D took an interest immediately.

Do They See Each Other Often?: Not very, but Razz will always come to check in on stuff. Show Pony will also bring them around if they've been away for too long (while ignoring Red's protests and threats)

-

Show Pony -

Are They Friends, Enemies, or Something Different?: Best friends. Ever since the Fab Four died, Show Pony and Razz are inseparable. They help each other out.

How Did They Meet/Have They Met?: Show Pony was there when Razz was threatening the killjoys, and thought it was oddly attractive (though they've always stayed as just friends). Pony was basically the only one Razz would talk to (other than the Fab Four).

Do They See Each Other Often?: Kind of. Razz keeps to themself most of the time, but Show Pony will drop in frequently to say hi or steal something (or to take Razz into town/a concert)

-

Motorbaby (The Girl) -

Are They Friends, Enemies, or Something Different?: Close friends. Razz is like an adoptive parent figure to the Girl

How Did They Meet/Have They Met?: Razz found the girl alone and afraid. Then, Razz didn't have much (other than their killjoy gang)

Do They See Each Other Often?: Yeah. Razz checks up on the Girl way too often. They're very overprotective and constantly worrying about the Girl's health and wellbeing

-

Korse (And Others From BL/Ind) -

Are They Friends, Enemies, or Something Different?: Enemies without a doubt

How Did They Meet/Have They Met?: Razz used to make a tradition of causing trouble in the City, and Korse has met them on many occasions

Do They See Each Other Often?: Not anymore. Korse had a huge bounty over Razz's head but nobody dares to double cross them. Korse remembers Razz very clearly, and Razz is out for revenge for their friends.

--

ADDITIONAL CHARACTERS

Val Velocity-

Are They Friends, Enemies, or Something Different?: Basically enemies. If Val wasn't a killjoy, Razz promises that they would have ghosted him by now

How Did They Meet/Have They Met?: Razz found Val talking shit about Party Poison so they decided to give him a piece of their mind (besides Show Pony's attempted warnings)

Do They See Each Other Often?: Not totally. But when they do, it doesn't end well.

-

Killer King (OC) -

Are They Friends, Enemies, or Something Different?: Friends with benefits, you could say?

How Did They Meet/Have They Met?: King knew his way around the Zones when Razz didn't, so naturally he decided to help them

Do They See Each Other Often?: Very. They used to live together

-

Radio Riot (OC) -

Are They Friends, Enemies, or Something Different?: Friends. Riot was the newest addition to the crew but they taught Razz so many new things.

How Did They Meet/Have They Met?: Razz was walking out of a bar with the rest of their crew when Riot almost hit them with a motorcycle

Do They See Each Other Often?: Yes. Riot moved in with the Crew and helped teach them basic self defense

-

Neon Grace (OC) -

Are They Friends, Enemies, or Something Different?: Best of friends.

How Did They Meet/Have They Met?: Neon finally tracked down King (a relative, the two claimed) and Razz was by his side durning that time

Do They See Each Other Often?: Yes. Neon lived with the crew as well.

-

Candy Corn (OC) -

Are They Friends, Enemies, or Something Different?: Friends

How Did They Meet/Have They Met?: Candy was Neon Grace's love at first sight

Do They See Each Other Often?: Yes. Candy taught Razz how to shoot a gun

[rebelminxy]

Save the Apologies Part 2

Pairing: John Winchester x Reader (post)

Warning: None really except some angst.

A/N: Since many asked for this, FINALLY here is part 2 of Save the Apologies. I hope you enjoy it!! And yes, I am sort of ending this with the possibility of there being a final part three BUT that will only happen if you guys want it to happen. So let me know!

Seven Years Later

“Darlings, it’s time to go! We don’t want to be late on the first day of school!”

“Coming Mommy!”

          (Y/N) turned at the sound of running footsteps coming down the stairs. She smiled when she saw her adorable twin girls standing at the end of the stairs, ready in their uniforms and backpack in hand. The surprised look on their face left her chuckling as she handed them a cupcake each.

“Did you really think I would send you to school without a happy birthday cuppy cake?”

“Thank you Mommy!” they both exclaimed in joy in unison. 

“Let’s blow out the candle now, girls,” (Y/N) giggled as she guided the girls to the kitchen island, both girls climbing up on the high stools.

“Happy birthday to you,” (Y/N) began to sing while clapping along. “ Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday Mary and Karen, happy birthday to you!”

          The twins blew out their candles and cheered along with their mom, grabbing their cupcakes and chowing down on them. (Y/N) felt the joy in her heart that her precious girls were turning seven. Seven years of dedication and struggle, making sure her girls would never fall into the dark life of monsters and ghouls like she had. Seven years of bliss to know that her girls were happy and safe. As the girls finished their cupcakes, the doorbell rang. (Y/N) went on high alert, not expecting company. She shushed the girls and went over to the door, noticing that it was just Bobby standing outside. 

“Wasn’t expecting you so early today,” (Y/N) greeted him as she opened the door.

“And miss the girls' birthday, no can do sweetheart,” he replied with a big smile.

          Bobby kissed (Y/N) on the forehead before getting attacked by the twins. He picked both of them up and wished them a happy birthday. Before (Y/N) could rush them out the door to catch the school bus, Bobby gave both girls a gold pendant necklace with their names inscribed into it. They happily wore their gold chains and ran off, screaming with excitement. (Y/N) and Bobby watched as the girls caught up to their bus and climbed on, a normal school day like always.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t see the anti possession mark on the back of those chains?”

          (Y/N) turned and glared at Bobby before stepping back inside the house, Bobby shutting the door behind him.

“I want to protect these girls just as much as you do, and this is my way of doing it,” Bobby explained.

“Cough it up, old man,” (Y/N) demanded. “You always arrive for dinner on their birthday, never early and this is the first time you even bring that type of stuff into my home. Just because I now live a normal, quiet life doesn’t mean I haven’t forgotten my past.”

“Like I said I only want to protect…”

“Bobby, I love you like a father and I know when you’re covering up for something, so what is it?”

          Bobby sighed heavily, his gaze dropping down to his feet.

“John knows.”

“How?” (Y/N) whispered, the fear etched in her voice.

“Some demon henchmen John was dealing with, he told him how they had been watching you these past two years and were debating on how to kill you and the girls.”

“Fuck me,” (Y/N) groaned out, rubbing her face with her hands. “Fucking demons! What did you say to John?”

“I couldn’t lie to the man when he came demanding to know the truth, (Y/N/N), you know how he gets when he’s angry.”

          (Y/N) turned around and moved to sit on the stairs, her emotions running wild. 

“He wants to meet them,” Bobby continued. “He wants to meet his little…”

“They aren’t his and never will be!” (Y/N) exclaimed in anger. “They are mine and mine alone! He will never be their father because all he does is run away! I won’t have them get emotionally attached to then see him walk out that door and never come back, all because he got issues!”

“I know, (Y/N), you think I didn’t explain to him about that? I told him it would be best he never got to see them, but…”

“But what Bobby?”

“He is coming this way, should arrive in a couple of hours since he is parting ways with Dean from a hunt they just finished up North.”

“Fuck this shit, Bobby why?” (Y/N) begged. “Why now?”

“Told him I would come first to warn you, and that it would be best he gets here before the girls get home from school.”

          (Y/N) got up from the stairs, pacing back and forth as her mind reeled over the fact that the man she tried to get over, the man that held her heart and broke it into a million pieces, was coming that same day to meet his daughters. Anger rose through her, causing her to grab one of the flower vases she had on a side table. She threw the vase at the wall, the porcelain item breaking into shards, each piece dropping onto the floor. (Y/N) breathed heavily, trying her best to control her rage. She looked over at Bobby and shook her head.

“His ass better get here soon because I got a few rules to lay down before he meets MY girls.”

========== 

          The loud knock at the door startled (Y/N), but she quickly got hold of her nerves as she walked over towards the door. She opened the door to see John standing there, a little older than she remembered but still the man she fell in love with. She stood her ground as he looked her up and down.

“Didn’t peg you for a dress type,” he muttered.

          (Y/N) looked down at herself, forgetting that she was wearing a casual white and navy blue striped sleeveless dress with an A-line neck cut. The dress reached right below her knees and she wore tan suede laced up heels. She curled her hair that morning into loose waves, a style she loved ever since she decided to grow her hair out.

“Couldn’t wear dresses hunting, and I had to go to work today but called in sick. Haven’t had a chance to get changed.”

“Look nice on ya,” John commented. “So, gonna let me in and see them?”

“First off, they are not here, they are in school. And second, you come into my house you go by my rules, understand Winchester?”

“Damn, haven’t had a woman talk to me that way in a long time, makes me miss those old days,” John chuckled as he pushed (Y/N) aside, entering her home.

“We aren’t here to reminisce about old times, Winchester. We are here to make a few things clear now that YOUR past is following MY girls.”

“They are mine to ya know, does take two to tango.”

“They will never be yours, you got that old man!”

          (Y/N) stalked over to John, standing in front of him seething with anger. John faced her, his eyes demanding to be in charge but (Y/N) stood her ground. 

“I have protected them for the past seven years. I gave them the life they deserve, away from the blood and gore. I made sure they would never know the nightmares we lived. And not once have I needed their father. Bobby has been the stable man in their lives and they don’t need a man like you that runs away the moment things get out of control. They need stability and they have it here, without you.”

“You never even gave me the chance to be their father,” John began, his voice rising.

“I didn’t need to because you made it clear the last time we saw each other that you didn’t have room in your heart for me. So why would you make it for them? Your obsession with that demon is what’s got us in this mess and so help me God if one of my girls get hurt because of you, I will hunt you down and make sure you suffer!”

          (Y/N)’s face was red by the time she finished, staring up at John who had her locked in a gaze. After what felt like minutes, John backed off,  clearly admitting defeat.

“I know I’m not father of the year, but I could have at least come by and make sure you were doing alright with them. I imagine you had a lot of struggles being they’re twins.”

“I did what I could,” you replied back cautiously.

“So, suburban home with a front yard garden. Couldn’t help noticing the minivan.”

“I carpool the soccer team every other weekend.”

“Soccer team, eh,” John chuckled as he looked over to the glass cabinet that held all the girls' awards. “Smart girls. Honor roll, most books read, straight-A students. They are basically Sam in a nutshell when it comes to education.”

“I want to make sure they don’t end up a drop out like their mother.”

“Well, so far you doing good. Whats this picture here?”

          (Y/N) got closer and noticed the picture he was pointing at. It made her smile with the memory.

“Their first recital. Mary was quick for the piano and after a few tries, Karen fell in love with the violin. Their teacher admires how quick they were to pick up the instruments and so far thinks if they continue with it, they could get a full ride to Julliard when they graduate high school.”

“Wait, you named one Mary?”

          (Y/N) looked up to see John looking down at her, his eyes watering up.

“John, after everything we’ve been through, no matter how I feel about you, these girls were a gift. They were the ones that kept me going, and I remember how you would always say that the memory of Mary is what kept you going, kept you fighting for her and your boys. So, I thought it would be appropriate to name one after her. Mary came first, then her sister.”

“And then she named the second one after my wife, even after I told her not to,” Bobby added as he strolled into the room. 

“I told you, it was either Karen or Billie and you didn’t want me naming my daughter what you considered a boy’s name. It’s gender-neutral.”

“And I still stick to what I said,” Bobby chuckled as he greeted John. “Good to see you, how’s Dean?”

“That boy is gonna get me in more trouble than it’s worth, but he’s fine, left to Mississippi for a hunt.”

“Gonna call him up later, see if he needs any help down there.”

“So,” (Y/N) interjected. “Everything set around the house?”

“Yeah, the house should be sealed so no demons can come in. With the necklaces I gave the girls, that should keep them safe while they’re in school.”

“What about (Y/N)? She needs protection,” John added.

“Way ahead of you,” (Y/N) stated as she lifted her dress up. 

          Right on her thigh was an anti possession tattoo inked into her skin, she dropped the hem of her dress and smiled at John.

“Got this a little after having the girls. I might have thought they were safe but still didn’t want to risk my body just in case. Sucks though since I can’t wear anything short now, but would rather show cleavage than some leg.”

          Bobby laughed at her statement, his laughter grew even more as John growled.

“Calm down mister,” (Y/N) poked at John. “You don’t own me and trust me, I don’t show skin on a first date.”

“You’ve dated?!”

“Oh lord, you are going to kill this man from pure jealousy, (Y/N/N),” Bobby cackled, turning around towards the kitchen. “Gonna need some water.”

          (Y/N) smiled at John before following Bobby, swaying her hips at the manas she walked away.

“Yes, I have had a couple of dates, but nothing serious. Can’t just bring anyone into my daughter's lives knowing it might not work out in the end.”

“Good, because I don’t want some random guy raising my girls.”

“I repeat, John, they aren’t yours. And I don’t want you telling them you’re their father.”

“I have the right to…” John bellowed but was interrupted.

“John, don’t you dare yell at her!” Bobby yelled. “She has gone tooth and nail to raise these girls right and yes, I understand you are their father. But put yourself in their shoes, coming home to meet a man saying that he is their father. And if you don’t plan on sticking around, then its best they don’t get their hearts broken.”

          John grunted, kicking the stool next to him. But he mumbled in agreement.

“I can introduce you as a friend,” (Y/N) began. “And yes, you can come and see them when you have the time. I won’t stop you there, but no hunting talk, no introducing them to this life and no taking them with you.” John began to say something but (Y/N) stopped him, lifting a hand up to his mouth. “I want you to grow a relationship with them now that you are here, but like Bobby said, I don’t want you to come around to then disappear. I would rather they stay with me at all times. You are welcome to stay here however long you want just to be with them. But it will happen here, only here, where they are safe.”

“Fine, but at least let me put more protection around the house and at least leave you with a few weapons just in case.”

“You think this girl hasn’t been ready?” Bobby asked with a chuckle.

          Bobby pressed a small button on the side of the kitchen island and a side door opened. There were various guns and knives hidden inside and a few things that only hunters kept depending on the monster. John’s eyes went wide as he looked between Bobby and (Y/N).

“You can take the girl out of hunting but you can’t take the hunting out the girl,” (Y/N) chuckled, shutting the small door.

========

          (Y/N) watched the wall clock, waiting for the girls to walk through the door. John had gone off with Bobby to move his truck from the front of the house. As the seconds ticked by, (Y/N) became a little more impatient. Earlier, she had planned on going to get the girls from school, but Bobby thought it best not to scare them with the sudden check out. The knocking on the door made (Y/N) jump from her chair in the kitchen and walked briskly over to the front door. She thought it might have been Bobby and John but instead saw Mary and Karen standing there with their old neighbor, Mister Arnold. He smiled at (Y/N) holding the girls by the shoulders.

“How’s it going (Y/N)? I was walking by when I saw the girls walking alone. Thought it was weird you didn’t go and pick them up from the school bus.”

          (Y/N) smiled back, the hairs on the back of her neck standing in alert. She looked down at her daughters, who were looking up at her with a slight fear in their eyes. Mary mouthed ‘Not him’, causing (Y/N)’s hunter flags jump high.

“Yeah, was a bit busy getting everything ready for the girls' birthday dinner. Family coming over to celebrate later. Mr. Arnold, didn’t you say last week you were moving with your kid and their family to Michigan?”

“Oh, I was but we decided to hold the move off and wait another week until my son and his wife gets settled into their new home. You know how couples get when moving, everything needs to be perfect.”

“Yeah, about that,” (Y/N) smirked at the old man. She grabbed her daughter's arms and pulled them into the house roughly, moving them to stand behind her. “Last I checked you had a daughter and her husband died recently in an accident, causing you to move in with her, a month ago.”

          The old man’s face lost its smile and he looked at her with pure anger.

“Nice try whoever you are.”

“You BITCH!” the old man roared, running at the door and instead of going through, he bounced off like an invisible shield was blocking the entrance. The old man got up and looked around the house, his eyes turning black.

“Demon,” (Y/N) whispered. She turned to her daughters and got down on her knees. “Mary, I need you to take Karen to your room and lock the door, ok. Promise me you won’t open it to anyone, you understand. Remember our secret knock?”

          Mary shook her head quickly as she grabbed Karen by the hand, who was already crying.

“Ok good, now go and you only open when I do the secret knock ok, only then. NOW RUN!”

          As Mary dragged her sister behind her up the stairs to their room, the old man screeched out in anger, black smoke rising from his gaping mouth. (Y/N) watched as the demon took its smoky form and hit the house repeatedly in different areas, finding a crack in the invisible shield. (Y/N) ran to the kitchen and opened her secret cabinet, pulling out the things she needed to handle demons. Once she was back at the front door, the demon was crawling back into Mr. Arnold’s body, the smoke disappearing as the old man got back up from where he tumbled down. Black eyes stared at (Y/N) and a cackle broke from the old man’s mouth.

“Looks like the little girl kept a few tricks up her sleeve.”

“What do you want?” (Y/N) yelled, holy water in hand. “I stopped hunting and have nothing to do with whatever you are looking for!”

“Oh, but you do! You have two little girls that Azazel wants.”

“I made no deal with a demon!”

“Don’t need to make one when they carry Winchester blood.”

“Get the fuck out of here we got nothing to do with Winchester!”

“Johnny boy won’t leave my master alone, so Azazel wants to even the playing field. Johnny stops following him and we will leave you and the girls alone. Now, be a good little girl and go get them so we don’t have to do this the hard way.”

“Fuck you!”

          (Y/N) ran to the back door suddenly, the demon following. Right when she reached the door, the demon appeared out of nowhere in front of her. She backed away quickly, staring at the possessed man. He laughed loudly as he raised his hands up, but nothing happened. He stopped laughing and looked around, confused by the lack of powers. When he finally looked at (Y/N), she stood there with a smirk.

“Told you to fuck off but you just wouldn’t listen.”

          Suddenly, John’s voice broke the silence, speaking in Latin as he chanted an exorcism. (Y/N) pointed above the door, causing the demon to look up at the porch ceiling to see a devil’s trap painted right above him. He looked terrified and in pain as John chanted.

“Next time you see Azazel, tell him my girls are off the Winchester menu. And if he tries to come near them, he is going to deal with one angry Momma Bear.”

          The demon screamed as the smoke began to pull out of Mr. Arnold’s body, going down into the ground and straight to Hell. Once it was over, Mr. Arnold slumped forward onto the back door. Bobby quickly ran over and picked up the old man. He said he would take the old man to the hospital and left. John came over and pulled (Y/N) into a tight hug, leaving her in shock.

“Where are the girls?” he asked.

“Upstairs, they are waiting for me,” (Y/N) muttered, moving from John’s embrace.

          She quickly ran up the stairs, John not far behind, and stood in front of the girls' bedroom door.

“Hey sweethearts, Mommy’s here. Are you in there?”

          Silence was her response, quickly remembering the rule she gave them. (Y/N) closed her hand into a fist and knocked on the door, twice then a pause, three more times then another pause, then five knocks and then moved the doorknob three times. After a few more seconds, (Y/N) could hear the lock switch and the door open a bit. Mary peeked through and looked up at (Y/N).

“Mommy?”

“Yes, baby, it’s me.”

          Mary swung the door open and ran into her mother’s embrace, Karen joining right behind. (Y/N) hugged her girls, thankful they were alright. She did her best not to cry but couldn’t help the smile etched on her face. They were safe and sound, just like they should be. The sound of John clearing his throat broke through the moment and (Y/N) looked over at him. He was standing there, hands in his pocket, nervously looking at the girls. The twins looked at him and smiled widely, breaking from (Y/N)’s arms and running towards him.

“Daddy!” they both screamed, hugging his legs.

          (Y/N) was shocked to hear the girls call him that, the shock reverberated in John’s face. He got down to his knees and pulled both girls into his arms, hugging them for the first time. He smiled as one tear broke free, falling down his cheek.

======

“Wait, so how do you girls know about him?” Bobby asked while everyone ate.

“Turns out the girls really got their Momma’s smart brain,” John chuckled as he poured more apple juice in Karen’s cup.

          Bobby looked at (Y/N) and John, confused by the response. As if Mary understood, she climbed down from her chair and went over to the kitchen island, pressing the button to reveal the secret cabinet. She looked at Bobby and smiled.

“Wait, she knew?” Bobby asked surprised.

“We were playing in the kitchen and sissy accidentally pressed the button. Once we found this, we started looking around the house for other secret doors,” Mary explained as she walked back to her chair.

“Yeah, then we found Mommy’s old diaries and inside one was a picture of her and Daddy,” Karen continued. “She had on the picture his name and after reading the diaries, sis figured that John might be our Daddy. Plus we kind of look like him.”

          Bobby burst out laughing at the explanation, causing (Y/N) to throw a napkin at his head.  

“Sorry, but your girls are too smart for their own good.”

“At least they are smart!” (Y/N) exclaimed in annoyance.

“Don’t worry Mommy, we know you only did it to protect us. But we do have questions.”

“Well, we can answer those questions later, Mary, because right now, it’s time for cake!”

          The girls screamed out in joy, climbing in their chairs to stand up, John moving to stand behind them as (Y/N) went to the kitchen to get the cake she had gone out to buy while John got to know the girls. It was a huge Minnie Mouse cake with two sevens on top so they could both blow out the candles. John, Bobby and (Y/N) sang them Happy Birthday, laughing and smiling as John dipped his finger at the edge of the cake and put frosting on both the girls' faces. It was one of the best nights of (Y/N)’s life, to see her girls happy with their father and uncle. Maybe things would work out well with John finally in their lives.

          John spent about a week with the girls after their birthday, enjoying his time with them. They were sad when he had to go, but he promised he would be back soon, keeping that promise thankfully. Each time he left, the girls would cry and beg for him not to leave, but as always, he would take a picture with them and promise them to be back soon so they could take another. Their bedroom wall grew with pictures of them with John, some of him leaving and some of him back with them. 

          For the next three years, John would never miss a holiday, a birthday, even important school events. He would tell the girls how one day, he hoped to introduce them to his sons, Sam and Dean, and how much they reminded him of his boys. The girls would beg their Mommy to get back with their Daddy, so the four of them could live together and even their brothers would join the family. But (Y/N) couldn’t, not after the heartbreak she went through. 

          Yes, she loved John dearly, but even still, her heart had never really healed from the pain he caused. And thankfully John respected her choice. He never pressured nor did he try to convince her to go back to him. He simply made it clear that he wanted a sort of friendship between them, for the girl’s sake, which was enough for (Y/N) to accept him in her heart as a friend and the father of her precious babies. 

          It had been three weeks since John last left, calling in to just say that he was with his sons and they had found a way to finally kill Azazel. Thankfully, no demons had come looking for (Y/N) and the girls, but that didn’t stop John on his vengeance hunt. 

“I promise to be back in time for their recital, even if I have to put this on pause,” he said when they spoke on the phone.

“Good, and remember, suit and tie. This is their entry for the private school next year for their scholarship and we have to look presentable.”

“Don’t worry, already got the suit at Bobby’s. See you in a few days.”

“See ya, John.”

“BYE DADDY WE MISS YOU!” the girls yelled out from the living room where they were watching tv.

“Tell them I miss them too,” John chuckled before hanging up.

          It was the day of the recital and (Y/N) was in panic mode because John never showed up. The girls had done their presentation and received a standing ovation. They were still backstage when (Y/N) walked out into the hall, mentally slapping herself for trusting John. He had done so well for the past three years, it broke her heart again that he failed all because of an obsession. She was pacing in the hall, mumbling in anger under her breath when she heard someone say her name. She looked up to see Bobby, dressed in a suit and two bouquets in hand. But the look on his face wasn’t of a happy man.

“Bobby, what are you doing here? If John sent you as a replacement, I swear…”

“John’s not coming, sweetheart,” he replied somberly.

“Why?” (Y/N) asked her breath hitching. “Did something happen? Did he find the demon? Are the boys ok?”

          (Y/N) rambled question after question, hoping Bobby would say something. Instead, he looked down to his feet, silent. (Y/N) stepped back, searching for the wall, imaging things she shouldn’t, hoping it was just one of John’s failed attempt of arrival and that she would see him in a few days, begging her and the girls forgiveness. But when Bobby looked back up at her, seeing how he fought to hold the tears, she knew what he was going to say. Before he could say a word, the one thing she thought of was how was she going to tell the girls.

“(Y/N), John’s dead.”

Tags:

@marihernanadez @midnightdream83 @1000roughdrafts @bobasheebaby  

[headoverhiddles]

Dante’s Inferno - Beetlejuice x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: Spending your undead life working at a brothel in the Neitherworld isn’t the worst. It gets even better when the ghost with the most pays you a visit at work.

Notes: This was supposed to be pure smut, but it got feelsy. Lol. It’s based on the scene where the brothel shows up in the movie! 

You wave goodbye to Marcel, the vampire you usually get on Tuesdays. He's a regular (nice man) but he's into biting. You don't mind-- thankfully though, your madam, Madam Bones, knows a bit of cosmetic witchcraft, to get you fixed up before the next client.

You've been working here at Dante's Inferno Room for years, ever since you came of age. It's a fun way to pay the bills, and the characters you meet along the way are well worth it. Most of them have had a lifetime of experience with women too, seeing as they're all dead, so the actual work isn't too bad either. Dante's is a highly exclusive club, that can only be conjured by few, and gossip floats around the Neitherworld establishment, as freely as a ghost who hadn't learned the gravity incantation.

Every girl in this place seemed to dream of the 'dead's most eligible bachelor'-- but nobody says his name, for some reason. It was a jinx, a curse or something to say it. You're curious just who the man behind the myth is.

You let Madam Bones heal your neck, and she checks the time on a watch with spinning hands.

"Elliot Mortescue will be here shortly," she announces to you, "He's requested you specifically." Elliot is a dead baron-- a bit of a stuffy ghoul, and you assume he wasn't that much more fun in life than he is in the bedroom dead. But, he pays well, and he's also a regular, so you don’t mind how he always asks for you. He says he likes your horns best. 

Elliot arrives, and you smile, beckoning with your signature plumping of your breasts and pouting. He smirks, taking off his top hat and stalking over to you, when you suddenly hear something outside.

About three of the girls are out on the verandas, luring someone in. The music of the place gets just a little bit louder, and you walk out past the less-than-pleased baron to see. 

Standing on the balcony, you look down, and see a man who accomplishes a near impossible feat-- makes you quiver. 

"It's him," your fellow dancer and coworker whispers, making sure her horns are brushed off, "It's--"

Another girl puts her hands over her mouth. She frowns, grows out her fangs, and snaps down. The second girl scowls, and shakes her hand.

"Don't say his name!"

"That's...?" you whisper, looking down.

"Uh huh," the second girl nods. "The ghost with the most. Any girl in here would just die for a night with him."

You see the ghost start to dance toward you, strange spikes protruding from his jacket. They disappear though, and you can hear the excited grunts coming from him as he slicks back his wild white hair. 

"Mm... ooh, yeah..." He shakes his hips as he finally enters, and he rubs his hands together. "Ah, ladies. Ladies! I'm feelin' a little... anxious, if ya know what I mean."

A bunch of the demon girls giggle, and some others roll their eyes, though not without a sideways glance. The ghost grabs his crotch, and nods. "Oof, uh huh! I'm definitely in need of a little love, girls. It's been too long. Years. Hundreds of years, ya don't know what it's like!"

"Ohhh," everyone fawns over him, and he makes a show of choosing a girl. You watch him closely as he looks around, narrowing your eyes. He looks... familiar.

"Mmm, you look like a freak! But you're real spooky, babe, maybe I should..." He trails off, and his eyes stop on you. “Ooh. Ooh, yeah.” He licks his lips, shooting you finger guns. "I have GOT to go with you, babes. Knocking me outta the park with that look, holy, is it blazing like the fiery pits of hell in here, or is it just me, huh?"

Everyone else moans and sighs that he picked you, muttering about how all of the best always choose you. You just take this ghost by the collar, leading him up to a luxury bedroom. Once you're inside, you grin, pushing him up against the door. 

“What would you like, and how would you like it?” you drawl. His eyes fly down to your breasts, and he palms himself. 

“Mmm... I could probably finish just watchin’ ya stand there, to be honest, babes...”

You pout, circling him and nudging him away from the door. “But you don’t want that. And I don’t want that. I want you to finish inside me.”

He groans, a sound that goes straight to your pussy. The more you look at him in the hellish candlelight, the more attractive he gets. Although... there’s something about him that’s oddly familiar.

“I know watcha mean,” he growls, looping his arm around your waist and dipping you back, “But it’d still be hot, wouldn’t it?”

You lick your lips. “Oh, yes. You, sitting on the edge of the bed...” you walk him over like a dog on a leash, and sit him down, smoothing your hands down his shoulders, “...watching as I put on a little show...” You start to strip, opening up your shirt to expose your bra. The ghost is practically salivating by now, but you put your foot up, keeping it on his chest. “Ah ah. You wanted to watch. So watch.”

You snap your panties against your ass, and unhook your bra, turning around and winking. He’s dying to see you from the front. You toss the garment back, and squeeze your ass for him, moaning softly, imagining it’s him. He curses under his breath, and you hear the telltale sound of him rubbing one off. You hold up a finger.

“You know the rules.”

He stops, and you finally turn, striding over to him. You get on top of him, straddling him, and barely touch his lips with yours. 

“Hooo,” the ghost sighs, “I am gonna need a good millennium to get over those tits, babe.” You kiss him gently on the nose, leading his hands up your torso. 

“Maybe more.” You squeeze your breasts with his hands, and he groans even louder. 

“Fuck. I wanna fuckin’ break this bed with you, babygirl,” he growls, teeth gnashing. He’s lost his playful side-- he wants you bad now. Arousal spreads through you as you drag down between his legs, kneeling. You quirk and eyebrow, and he licks his lips again, voice register dropping down to a regular tone. 

“Detours are fine too, however.” You take him out of his pants, and he gasps at the contact. “Fuckin’ yeah. C’moooon, baby. Give me summa that,” he cackles, resting his hands behind his head as he leans against some invisible force keeping him upright. You put your hand on his knee, and use the other to take his cock in your hand, sliding your wet mouth down over it. “Holy fuckin’ shit,” he murmurs, “Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about... this was worth the wait, you better believe it, mmmm!” 

You suck him until he’s clutching at the bed and knocking his hips up so fast you can’t breathe. You pop off, shooting him a dirty look, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Wassamatter? I facefuck you too rough?” He sets off cackling again, so you climb on top once more.

“Fuck me. Hard. Now.”

“Can’t disappoint the lady,” he smirks, and grabs you by the hips, flipping you over so he’s on top of you. You lean up to kiss him, but just as you do, you notice something. He does as well. He notices a small tattoo, right under your ear. His eyes widen, and yours do too. 

It all hits you too fast, like the car that hit you on the bridge. 

"Beetlejuice?" you murmur. He swallows, worry in his eyes. 

"Uh. Oops. She said it once, I can forgive it. Twice, well--"

"Beetlejuice," you clench your jaw, and he lets out a high pitched squeal. 

"Babes, wait--!" he blurts, and holds his hands up as he topples off the bed. You look over the edge, accusation in your eyes. 

“You better give me one good reason not to say it one more time and send your ass back to that model!” 

“I’ll, uh... give ya the best orgasm you’ve had in your whole undead existence?” A pillow hits him in the face, exploding with dust. He coughs. “Evidently, that was not a good reason.” 

“You LEFT me!” you shout. To hell with your job. To hell with the money you would’ve gotten for finishing him off-- you’re pissed. 

When you die, you forget things. You forget who you loved, who meant the most to you. You retain some of who you are, but not a lot sticks in the afterlife, here in the Neitherworld. The workers at the office see to that. 

But the cracks all seem to be getting bigger, letting little fragments through. You used to babysit for the Maitlands’ newborn. You were between jobs, and needed the money... you had known Barbara from saying hi at the local grocery mart, and after that, you had practically lived at their old house, as a live-in nanny. 

Until... 

You were in that accident. The car, the bridge, the river... you had drowned, you weren’t hit by a car. You were in the car! You had ended up here in the working class of the Neitherworld, and... well, you had no idea where the Maitlands ended up, after they also died in the same accident. As far as you know, their baby had been adopted by the family who moved in... though that was just a rumor from Juno. 

But Beetlejuice... you had met the ghost in the model, one night when you were lonely. Everyone else had been sleeping... he had found you, calling out softly for someone, and you had started some kind of strange affair. After a while, you started to develop feelings for him. Then he disappeared. 

“Hello?? Dead guy with a boner lyin’ on the ground!” Beetlejuice shouts, and you very nearly smother him with another pillow. He jumps up, covers his crotch, and sighs. “Look. (y/n). Before ya kill me again, I... I had to go!”

“Why?” 

“I just!” He clenches his jaw, shaking. “I can’t answer you! I can’t tell ya, alright?!”

“Why not?” 

“Babes...” He sighs, seeing there was no way of getting around this. “I started to... feel stuff for you. I couldn’t stay, cause you were alive! You couldn’t fall in love with a dead guy. Young hot thing like you... much rather pay to bang demon chicks for the rest of eternity.” He realizes the irony of this, and looks you over, cringing. “How the hell did you become a demon?!”

“Probably by fucking a ghost,” you growl, walking him up against the wall with a finger pointed at his neck. He manages a nervous smile. 

“Touche.” He sighs again, brushing hair out of your face. You find yourself leaning into the touch. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry! I am. I’m just a mess. Alright? I’m a dirty mess who knows I fuck up so bad all the time that I don’t deserve a... perfect girl like you.” 

You look into his eyes, and smirk. “You want me to start playing the violin?” 

He starts to smile, then laughs. You laugh as well, and his usual pizazz is back. He wraps his arms tight around you, then starts mouthing kisses up your neck. You moan, remembering how many times sex had been initiated like this. Your pussy is responding to the memories coming back as well-- with every touch from Beetlejuice, you remember one more little thing he used to do in bed to drive you wild. 

You both fall to the floor, fuck the bed, and you get on top of him, lowering yourself onto his cock. You lean forward so your breasts are in his face, and he lets out an excited holler. 

“Yeeeah!!” He buries his face in your breasts, motor boating. “I’ve always wanted to do that.” He licks your nipples, sucking them into his mouth and grazing them with his teeth. You can’t get over his horny, salacious expression, like he wants you so bad, he needs you, he can’t get enough. You rock down, biting your lip, and he grabs your horns, holding on for the ride as you both move in time with one another, as if no time had gone by at all. 

“Baby, baby,” he moans, “Ya gotta forgive me. I’m so fucking horny for you, I gotta come.”

“Come inside me, Beetlejuice.” Just then, in a flash of light, you both appear somewhere else. You look around, and he starts to laugh his ass off. “What?” you mutter, frowning at the plastic graveyard behind you. 

“Ya said my name the third time!” he snorts. You turn to see his grave, and a couple of model houses. You laugh as well, and lean down, slamming your lips into his hard. He groans, hands going to your hips, and he gropes you as he pants your name and comes. He thrusts his hips up hard, and you gasp too, coming just as hard as he does. 

You roll off, laying back on the uncomfortable plastic turf. “Well. You owe me my day’s wages.”

He smirks, ogling down your naked body and feeling a hand down it. “Happy to pay up. Just lemme pop down to my humble abode...” You roll over closer to him, cuddling into his arm as he brushes his nose against yours. “Wanna stay for awhile? Hope you like Italian.” 

You hear a soft male voice. “What’s...?” You look up to see two people towering over you-- a familiar couple. “(y/n)! It’s been... years!” 

“Barb? Adam?” you shriek, and Beej snaps his fingers fast, getting a dress on you. It’s two sizes too small, hugging you way too tight, but he just shrugs with a nasty smirk. The two ghosts above you look at each other, to you, then to Beetlejuice. 

“Please tell me you didn’t corrupt our innocent babysitter, you horrible banshee,” Barbara snaps. Beej just grins in smug satisfaction, zipping himself up. 

“Actually, Bab-- (y/n) corrupted me.” Shrieking laughter echoes through the model, as the ghostly couple shake their heads at what their afterlife had become. 

[lildevyl]

I’m Taking A Break

Hey Everyone in the JSE/Markiplier/Sanders Sides Community,

I’ve been thinking long and hard on this and I still don’t know how to word this.  I’ve been sitting on this for almost a week now, and I still have no idea if what I’m about to say is a good thing or not.  I’ve been in the Markiplier Community for about two years now and I’ve been in the JSE Community for about a year now.  And the one thing that I notice, no matter how bad things get, no matter how much discourse or toxicity come into play in the Community.  Many of us, still help each other out, we still have each other’s backs, a lot of us (myself included)  keep “their inboxes open” for those who need or want to rant/rave/talk or just need a sounding board.

So, here goes  .   .   .

I’m going to be taking a break.  I don’t know for how long, but I need to step back from Tumblr, Discord, basically from the fandoms in general.  I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I will be back!  

If you’re wondering why, please read the reasons under the cut. It was really hard for me to write all this so, please, don’t be too hard on me. But when I do officially, come back, I’ll be spamming my blog with WIPs and a ton of Memes and/or reblogs.  But yeah, I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm going to be gone for a while.

I’ll see all of ya, during Winter Break (January) or Spring or Summer Break!  Please, try not let anyone get any of ya down.

TW:  Depression (I think), Mention of Depression like systems, Mention of Lost of a Loved One, Mention of Suicidal Thoughts, putting everything out there.

(Reasons are under the cut)

I’m going to try to write this and not break down, no promises though.  Where do I start?

For those of you who don’t know me or just started following me, this is going to be so hard for me to write.  And literally just put myself out there but from what I’ve seen with so many people in these Communities, maybe it’s a good thing to let people know what’s been going on with me.  Some of you may have noticed, especially with my writing, that I’m not doing well.  And I haven’t been doing well for a long ass time!  Actually, it’s about two years now, that I haven’t been doing well, mentally.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me or what’s going on me!  I can go days, weeks even and still be my usual sarcastic, sassy, witty, bad jokes/puns gal (and yes some days are better than others). But then, there are days where I just want to crawl up in bawl and just, bawl my eyes out.  I don’t know how to explain this without sounding crazy, but it’s like having two people telling ya two different things!

One person is telling ya that you’re nothing, that you’ll never be anything, you’re work is nothing, that you getting a degree is completely pointless since you’ll never stand out, you’re just average that’s all you’ll ever be!  You just have mediocre talent, that’s all you’ll ever be is mediocre.  Look around you, this is what you’ll be doing for the rest of your life.  Retail, and never moving forward! 

Then the other person will be telling you to not listen to that voice and all you have to do is just smile.  Pretend that everything's alright!  We can’t let people know that we’re hurting.  If they know that then all they’ll do is just pity us. We have to be the strong, independent, “I got this,” woman.  What will that think if they saw that we not that?

I know it sounds weird and maybe there is something wrong with me, but yeah.   And there have been days where it has gotten extremely bad.  And when I mean bad, I mean bad!  Sometimes, I know what will trigger it and I try to so hard to avoid that at all cost.  Hell, I can’t even watch Doki Doki without skipping so many parts, and one of Sean’s videos last month I had to skip to the end b/c of the warning at the beginning.  And when this happens I try to so hard either ignore the Intrusive Thoughts that’s been plaguing me (unfortunately this doesn’t make the problem go away nor does it help at all!).  And I also try to block them, push them so far back in the back of my mind but the more I try to do that the more, the Intrusive Thoughts keeps popping up (and I don’t mean Remus Sanders form Sanders Sides either!).  And when I can’t ignore it or block or get them out of my head, I tend to lash out on people.  If I have done that to anyone reading this, I am so sorry!

But it also, has gotten so bad with these thoughts that at one point.  I literally wondered, “Would anyone noticed?”  If I stopped posting all together and never made another post ever!  Would anyone noticed?  If I literally never showed up at work ever again!  Would anyone noticed?  If you’re wondering where this is going, or have figured it out.  Yeah, I had thought about it or even wondered about suicide.  When that happened I knew that I needed help, it’s just that I’ve been so ashamed!  Ashamed that I’m not “Normal.”  That I’m battling with myself and don’t even know what the hell is wrong with me?!  That “Normal” people don’t have constant mood swings when there not on their period.  That “Normal” people don’t fucking start crying for no reason!  I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I need to seek help to figure it out.  I did group therapy before but it was, “It sounds like you have this.  It might be this.  It sounds like you might have this and my (insert family/co-worker/partner here) had it and this what they did.”  And it would work for a while but then it would stop working after a while and then I’m back at square one.

The other big reason why I need to take a break is because recently I lost my Grandpa.  He was 84 years old when he passed away.  We had his funeral last week and it still hitting me hard.  I know this would be the last thing that he ever wanted me to do would be sitting here bawling my eyes out.  He would want to celebrate and share stories about the life he had.  I know he’s with Grandma, but it still hurts!

Right now, I’m looking for a therapist.  If anyone has any recommendations, I’ll be more then grateful to try them!  But I’m not going to be on Tumblr, Discord, or any other Social Media for a while now.  All of this on top school (I’m going to pass that damn class!) and working at a job that I am absolutely starting to hate right now!  Yeah, I need to get my shit together!  And when I do come back, I’ll be posting again.

Oh, and HAPPY WRITING!  HAPPY THEORIZING!  HAPPY CREATING!!!

And as always, I’ll see all of ya guys, gals, demons, ghouls and Fiends, in the next post.  C’ya!

[ghostbandxyou]

Weird little things they love about you. This is gonna get pretty NSFW so be warned.

Nihil-

How your body is still in its prime he's a little jealous, to be honest, but watching you move reminds him of the good old days.

Your energy, seeing you get excited about little things brightens his day.

 I know he probably can't see well but I think he can see how bright and full of life your eyes are.

Papa i-

It sounds weird but he loves watching you get dressed and not in a sexual way.

He finds it cute and immensely entertaining when you shimmy into skinny jeans he tries to try not to laugh while you try to balance on one foot while sliding your shoes on. 

The way you hold hair ties between your teeth while fixing your hair (if it's long enough.)And How your fingers look buttoning your shirts.

He knows it's kinda weird but he doesn't care, plus the blush you get when you catch him staring is irresistible to him.

Papa ii (Slightly NSFW)-

Your voice it's surprising because he's a very stern and silent guy who can stop anyone in their tracks with a look.

He likes listening to you talk could be about anything he often finds himself subconsciously listening into phone calls you're having. He can't help it your voice is just so….you!

This does include dirty talk he's a total dom but he loves hearing you tell him all the dirty things you want him to do to you.  

At first, you think he's so quiet on dates because you're talking too much but he assures you it's the opposite actually and tries to describe why he finds it so fascinating

Papa iii (NSFW)-

How sensitive/ ticklish you are

The boy is a tease, Once he figures out easily reactive you are you are done for. He will constantly tease you by ghosting his fingers over your skin while reaching for things during the day making the hairs on your arms stick up.

During church dinners, he will run a single finger up your and down thigh making you squirm in your seat.

Cardinal Copia-

Watching you read.

He loves watching your expressions change. How your forehead scrunches up when you don't understand something,  your small smile when something good happens, the way your eyes widen when you read a plot twist.

how your lips move as if you were reading out loud, or when you do whisper the words to yourself.

He adores how engrossed in books you get and finds it strangely adorable to watch you react to words on a page.

Era 3 ghouls:

Omega-

Glasses, he thinks you look super cute wearing them.

If you wore contacts when you met him he will probably be confused but oddly even more attracted to you?

He calls you a sexy librarian which makes you roll your eyes.

He enjoys your Velma moments when you lose your glasses or can’t see. He can't help but laugh. 

Alpha (NSFW)-

(This is a long one) It sounds weird but he loves how you walk. he's almost hypnotized by you when you walk by.

the bounce in your step when your happy or the quick pace you set when you're busy. He actually likes how you walk slightly faster than him.

He thinks your ass looks bomb and tends to rest his hand on it while walking with you, making you roll your eyes and swat him away. 

loves how your hips sway, you found that if you want his attention all you have to do is walk past him swinging your hips, he will immediately get up from what he's doing or dismiss himself from a conversation to get to you.

When you work out he tends to get distracted by how the muscles in your legs flex while running.

Bonus (He's a big fan of you in shorts or skirts.)

Era 4 ghouls:

Aether-

How you look in the morning.

The lazy half smile you give him in the morning when you've just woken up.

How your hair gets all messy he thinks it’s adorable. If your a person who stretches in the morning you can bet he is watching.

Your groggy voice telling him to fuck off if he tries to wake you too early. He even sorta likes your morning breath

Dewdrop -

Watching you put on makeup

He doesn't understand why you paint your face he thinks you're just as pretty without it.

When you first took of your make up in front of him, his eyes got super wide and he sniffed you cautiously..yep still you.

Now he enjoys watching you as he calls it “paint yourself” he finds it fascinating. He believes there must be some magic involved.  

Don't even think about painting his face if you even suggest it he's gone hiding in some close

Swiss (SUPER NSFW)-

He's obsessed with your nails how they look, the way they feel on his skin, how they clack against your phone when your texting.

It is a bit of a sex thing for him. (And I see Swiss as a switch so be warned) He loves the feeling of your nails digging into his skin as he's fucking you especially if you draw blood knowing he's marked as yours.

If you're going down on him he requests that you use your hands to the scrape of your nails around his cock adding to the pleasure of you sucking him off. If he's impatient or feeling more dominant he will grab your head and thrust into your mouth using your mouth as his own personal fuck toy causing you to grab his ass digging your nails into him to hold on.

He loves When you wrap your hands around his throat tilting his head back so he's staring into your lust filled gaze and the marks that it leaves behind.

Rain-

Rain loves how gentle you are, he can be pretty timid sometimes but you always make him feel safe and loved.

He first noticed when he watched you hold one of the clergy's new babies, the way you cradled it in your arms softly, yet still protecting the infant from the world. The smile you had while the baby held on to your pinky with its little fist.

Now he sees it in you all the time. When you helped a duckling who fell into a fountain at the church. How gently you brush and braid the ghouletts hair while hanging out. 

The soft knock you do before entering his chambers so not to startle him.

Mountain (NSFWish)-

Tattoos freckles birthmarks etc.. (I feel like all ghouls would have them. Their tattoos correspond to their elements. I got this idea from @ghostheadcanons)

If you have tattoos he wants to know all about them what they mean, Stories behind them if you have plans for more.

Freckles and birthmarks fascinate him it's hard for him to grasp that they aren't tattoos because he thinks they look so perfect on you.

 When he sees you naked for the first time he spends the night worshiping your body, kissing and caressing every mark

Tall Ghoulett-

She loves how into things you get. Like how you come running into her chambers just to tell her a new season of the show you watch together is starting next month!

When you tell her all the lore and characters in your favorite game your eyes light up and you flail your hands around wildly trying to convey the story.

If you make fan art or write fan fiction she wants to see it. She loves your art and/or writing style.

If you show her fan art/ fan fiction of the band she gets all blushy and shy.

Plus you introduced her to a bunch of movies, books, shows etc...

Smol Ghoulett (Kinda NSFW)-

She loves how the tips of your ears turn red when you blush.

She playfully teases you a lot to make you blush. Nothing hurtful or mean she mostly just makes innuendos or whispers naughty things in your ear.

like if your cooking dinner she will come up behind you and whisper “I’m gonna mash your potatoes.” then pulls away smiling while you are blushing up a storm.

So some of these are kinda lame I started running out of ideas but others I spent a lot of time on (Swiss) let me know what you think! 

(quick note  this is a side blog so any questions can be sent to my main http://xx-motionless-in-reverse-xx.tumblr.com/ )