#and there is no remedying that because my dad is dead

[lexirosewrites]

hi, I’m LexiRoseWrites

(pfp made by @/itcanbepalped)

☆ you can call me Lexi or Lex

☆ 28, nonbinary, bisexual, autistic, and a nurse

☆ they/he/she, but they/he preferred— gendered terms of any sort are fine with me!

☆ twitter/X: @LexiRoseWrites1

☆ my inbox is open and you’re welcome to ask me anything or send me a request! (I will delete hate/bullying sent, so don’t bother)

☆ please ask before writing about one of my posts! I am not a prompt generator, so make sure you ask first!!

☆ this is an 18+ blog because while I write lots of steddie and specifically omegaverse content, occasionally you’ll find NSFW things or a dead dove here (always heavily tagged) because I’m apparently the big scary proshipper you’ve been warned about

☆ blog navigation: #my fics, #my asks, #wip Wednesday, #throwback Thursday fics, #spreadsheet Saturday, #slick Sunday

↓ masterlist of ficlets and fics below the cut ↓

TUMBLR FICLETS

Steddie:

☆ Amnesia ☆ Card Games ☆ Dinner Reservations ☆ Handcuffs ☆ Lingerie ☆ Not Dating ☆ Serial Killer Soulmates: part 1 | part 2 ☆ Steve Accidentally Summons a Demon: part 1 | part 2 ☆ Steve Isn’t Coping ☆ Transfem Stevie ☆

Omegaverse Steddie:

☆ 24-Hour Diner: part 1 | part 2 ☆ Alpha-for-Hire Eddie ☆ Autistic Omega Steve ☆ Baby Mine ☆ Birthday Massage ☆ Bitchy Omega Steve / Lovesick Alpha Eddie: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ☆ Camboy Steve ☆ Everyone is a Beta ☆ Expectations ☆ Fake Dating Fertility Clinic ☆ Fate Binds Us ☆ Hairdresser Steve/Rockstar Eddie ☆ Health Class ☆ Hellfire Cult ☆ I didn’t know we were dating: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ☆ Infertility ☆ Kas Eddie ☆ Losing Control ☆ Nestless Omega Steve ☆ Older Steve/Younger Eddie ☆ Oral Coach Steve ☆ Pathetic Omega Steve ☆ Platonic Stobin ☆ Popstar Steve/Director Eddie ☆ Scent Blockers ☆ Speak Now ☆ Steve Gets A Puppy ☆ Such A Good Boy ☆ The Bachelor ☆ The Best Present ☆ The Reunion ☆ Time Loop ☆ Unknowingly Claimed ☆ Wealthy Steve/Busker Eddie ☆

General Omegaverse:

☆ Alpha/Omega Voices ☆ Basic Guide to Omegaverse Terms ☆ Bite Lore ☆ Rejection Sickness ☆ Scruffing ☆

AO3 FICS

All of my fics are steddie unless otherwise stated, mostly explicit and omegaverse, but check actual tags before reading anything please!

☆ Current WIPs ☆

A Million Dreams: A/B/O, circus AU, 2/4 chapters, 10k

Scatter The Ashes: A/B/O, mafia AU, sequel to Watch It All Burn, 4/16 chapters, 18k

Waking Up In Vegas: A/B/O, accidental mating, rockstar Eddie, 5/15 chapters, 33k

☆ Unfinished (Series) ☆

Going For The Gold: A/B/O, ice skater Steve/hockey player Eddie, 18k

Jailbirds Can’t Fly: A/B/O, dead dove, prison AU, bitching, 12k

Keep It On Campus: A/B/O, college AU, 22k

Lucky Number 666: A/B/O, mafia AU, single parent Steve, 3k

My Heart’s Been Borrowed and Yours Has Been Blue: A/B/O, divorced kindergarten teacher Steve/tattoo artist Eddie, 25k

The Bunny and The Wolf: A/B/O, mafia AU, 154k

☆ Complete ☆

A Prince and His Pauper: A/B/O, medieval/royalty AU, stuttering Steve, 100k

All I Want For Christmas Is You: A/B/O, Christmas fic, 6k

And The Sun Will Rise: A/B/O, zombie apocalypse AU, 41k

Bandaids (And Other Home Remedies): A/B/O, pediatric nurse Steve/single dad Eddie, 87k

Bleeding Heart: A/B/O, vampire Eddie/human Steve, 21k

Business Before Pleasure: A/B/O, Buckingham, Office AU, 16k

Exigency Contact: A/B/O, threesome, Steddie/Stargyle/Steddigyle, rockstar Eddie, 10k

Five Years: amnesia, 1k

Fragile (Handle With Care): A/B/O, soulmates, rockstar Eddie, 117k

He’s So Mean: A/B/O, high school AU, 3k

Let Me Be Your (Teddy Bear): A/B/O, bitching, 11k

Mad World: trans male Eddie, childhood friends, 3k

More of You to Love: A/B/O, chubby Steve, 4k

Never Be Alone Again: A/B/O, dead dove, stalker Eddie, 3k

Oblivious: t4t, mutual pining, 3k

On A Different Page: A/B/O, didn’t know they were dating, 7k

Online, Offline (Out of My Mind): A/B/O, soulmates, online dating, actor Steve/mechanic Eddie, 41k

Screaming Your Name In The Dark: A/B/O, dead dove, Kas Eddie, alternating past/present timelines, 27k

Tell Me About It, Stud: A/B/O, studding, 7k

The Rings Stay On: cis female Steve, 4k

The Start of Something Perfect: A/B/O, soulmates, 2k

The Stutter and The Freak: stuttering Steve, 14k

Touch Me: A/B/O, omega/omega, therapist Eddie/touch-repulsed Steve, 12k

Unholy Matrimony: demon Eddie/human Steve, 5k

Unsafe Bet: A/B/O, high school AU, dating as a prank, 65k

#pinned post

[meatonfork]

How do you think 141 would take care of grim if they got sick? And would grim take care of the team when they got sick? Price probably has a really loud dad sneeze :o

I really love your writing but make sure you don't burn out from working so hard!! <3

Sick Days

————————————————————————————————————————

pairings: platonic 141 x grim

warnings: none i believe

summary: hc's of grim taking care of the boys and vice versa when sick

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

Ghost

when grim is sick

he isn't outward with his affection, he never really is

will sneak into grim's room to place food on their desk or nightstand while they're sleeping

if the sickness requires medicine, bet your ass he's sneaking that shit in there too

will lightly pet their hair out of their face

pulls the blankets up when they almost fall off the bed

if grim is super sick, they will require cuddles and ghost will hesitantly oblige

holds their hair back as they throw up

grim notices everything he does

just because they're sick doesn't mean they're incompetent or unaware

when ghost is sick

is aware he isn't the most affectionate

they try to reciprocate the silent gestures back because they know he'll appreciate it more than outward caring

will let him use their favorite blanket

is very surprised when he let's grim turn on a movie and cuddle with him

if he throws up, grim will wait patiently in his room until he's done so they can shove water down his throat

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

Soap

when grim is sick

he will make fun of them

"well, why'd you get sick in the first place, dummy?"

"fuck off soap."

even if grim doesn't want them (which is rare), he will force cuddles

gets everything they ask for, but makes it seem like such a draining task

cringes when grim throws up.

will not look them in the eye while helping them

throws a rag at them so they can clean them-self

when soap is sick

a whiny baby

thinks it's the end of the fucking world

grim gets so fed up, but is patient

when soap is sick, he gets really sweaty, so grim is very reluctant in sick soap cuddles

ends up covered in his snot tissues and almost throws up

pets his hair because he falls asleep faster

makes sure there is a bowl by his bed at all times in case he throws up again

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

Gaz

when grim is sick

grim has him wrapped around their little finger

does everything they ask- no hesitation

"yes, grim. yes." salutes as he rushes off to get water

makes sure their bed is the comfiest thing they will ever lay on

fluffs the pillows

washes the blankets

crowds them with stuffed animals

puts on their favorite movie and sleeps with them

when grim throws up, gaz is right next to them

holding their hair, rubbing circles in their back, and whispering reassuring words in their ears

if grim is too tired to get up from the floor, he will carry them back to bed

when gaz is sick

gaz has grim wrapped around his finger

gives him the best treatment because he does the same to them

"yes, gaz. yes." salutes as they rush off to get new socks

gives him the best cuddles he's ever received

he is putty in their hands

when gaz throws up, grim almost cries because they feel so bad for him

helps him back to bed and lets him just put his dead weight on them

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

Price

when grim is sick

full dad mode

takes temperature every 30 minutes

forces medicine down

will help grim into a cold shower when their temperature is way too high

chicken noodle and crackers is all he will feed them

"it's the best remedy, kid. let me do my job."

will cuddle, but not for long

when grim throws up, he is totally unfazed and has a towel ready to clean off their face for them

helps grim change clothes

when price is sick

he is also a baby who whines

grim also only gives him chicken noodle and crackers

"it's the best remedy, cap."

he does not appreciate being mocked like this

when price throws up, they clean up his beard and mustache but almost vomits them-self

but, they care too much to not do it

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

a/n : thank you for reading!! <3

#grim au #john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soap cod #ghost #john price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #cod #cod mw2 imagine #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #mw2 #141 x reader #task force 141 #kyle gaz garrick x reader

[chiikasevennn]

Ok now I'm kinda creeped out.

Warning: Miguel being deemed as a crazy guy like really crazy, doppelganger things, Miguel's replacing his variant to be w his desired happiness exploration

-

Okay, but isn't really insane for miguel to replace himself who was from another dimension as he tried to achieve the life he had always wanted?

I'm sorry y'all if I ever ruin your perspective of Miguel just wanting to have a good life in a good way(im sure not everyone thinks this way and im super interested in seeing oneshots or fics abt miguel being batshit insane), but wouldn't our Miguel O'hara need to hide his variant's dead body so that he would be able to replace him "properly" and so that nobody would know the truth about him taking over someone's life who was from another universe?

Like??? Isn't that just??? Crazy hot, a man desperate to live a life he'd never had, was willing to do all that. I'm sure that if his variant's friends and relatives knew that the Miguel of their world died, they would know, right?? Otherwise if they didn't and Miguel came in and just "replaced" himself, everyone would question him, be suspicious of him, especially Gabriella, so wouldn't it be necessary to properly hide or dispose of Gabriella's real dad's body so that our Miguel could have the life he'd always wanted?

LMAO THIS IS WHY HE'S MENTALLY INSANE IN MY HEADCANONS THAT I CREATED IN MY HEAD. If he wanted to be crazy, he would. Furthermore, it was incredibly irrational for Miguel to shower affection and provide care for a child that he was never responsible for and never was supposed to be responsible for. What? solely because Gabriella was the ideal remedy for his own deeply troubled state of mind?

Hehehehehehhehehehe this is why i love yandere! Miguel 🥺🥺 PEOPLE NEED TO MAKE HORROR FANFICS OF HIM UGHHHHHHHH I'm like 50/50 when it comes to him

#atsv #spider-man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse fanart #thoughts #tw #beware #Miguel o'hara #Miguel o'hara x reader #spider man 2099 #muscle man having beef w a 15 y/o #canon event obsessed #spider-man #miguel o'hara smut #kinda dark #ok this is dark #yandere miguel #yandere miguel o'hara

[kairiscorner]

my fics masterlist

(earlier fics)

i made this because the first masterlist couldn't fit them all LMAO, anyway, i hope y'all like these :DD make sure to reblog them if you did, that means a lot to me !!

miguel raises his voice at a fem!filo!reader and sees a light

he's called kuya hobie (hobie x filipino reader)

miles catches you in the zone

watching howl's moving castle with noir

pav x tomboy fem!reader

kissing miggy to calm him down

noir's birthday surprise (domestic noir x reader)

oblivious reader x spider noir

when you can't keep your promises (noir x reader angst)

making him a flower crown (noir x florist!reader, technically part 3.......?)

miguel catching you playing with the miggy doll

just one kiss, that's all (1610 miles x reader)

drunk miguel x filipina reader

hobie x gn!spiderperson reader

miles 42 practicing rizzing you up

noir x criminal reader (part 2)

miles x reader (before school starts)

he keeps remembering (angsty miguel drabble)

making miggy dance the wet the bed dance trend

we're truly, utterly, pretty much just friends (1610 miles x reader)

1610 miles x reader with bunny teeth

miguel x grumpy reader (part 3)

noir x assassin reader

being shipped with each other (noir x reader)

something's crawling at the dead of night (stalker!miguel x reader)

miggy telling you you're beautiful for the first time

spider noir meets spider barbie

finding pink clothes for miggy to wear to the barbie movie

dancing in the rain (gwen stacy x reader)

you break the news to miguel

miles 1610 x multilingual reader

miles holds your hand while riding a rollercoaster

will you still love him when he's no longer young and beautiful? (drunk!noir x reader)

miles meets noir in his dad era

spider barbie kicks ass (spider noir x spider barbie!reader)

pool day with noir and the family (domestic noir x reader)

noir gets tangled up, now spider barbie has to help

gwen stacy x fem!reader on her period

the remedy to all my ailments (spider noir x reader angst)

miles x filipino!reader with their chismosa't chismong kapatids

miguel o'hara x harley quinn!reader

if i can't have you (soccer captain!miguel o'hara x reader)

hobie x gn!spider person!reader

spider noir defending spider barbie from creeps

whatever else you guys request ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯(send me a req thru my asks !!)

#atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv imagines #miguel o'hara x reader #spider noir x reader #hobie brown x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #gwen stacy x reader #spidersona

[banamine-bananime]

one thing that always perplexes me is how often i see takes on tucker where the work positions him as a great dad*, fluent in sangheili language and culture, and most of all, a great diplomat.

i'm not here to yuck anyone's yum and i, too, am absolutely transfixed and enraptured by this man's oscillation between "my one purpose in life is to constantly test the human limits of Annoyingness" and "sudden, shocking extreme competence with no warning" like a little Newton's cradle. like, i just spent 7000 words indulging myself in thinking about a version of tucker that listens a lot more to the "do whatever you gotta to protect the people you love and do what you think is right regardless of what people think" cartoon angel on his shoulder and less to the "that sounds hard i just wanna mouth off, jerk off, fuck off, and negg church" devil. i cannot throw stones and clearly i think that's a fun and valid interpretation of how his character could evolve. but evolve is the keyword there and it baffles me when this gets treated as the fact of how he immediately snapped into being as soon as he had junior, you know?

like. obviously tucker ended up doing some massively impressive shit as an ambassador in sandtrap. but that's because he wasn't being an ambassador, he was being The Final Girl in il/ct's slasher flick. getting trapped in a beseiged temple is, traghilariously, the best thing that could have happened for him in terms of being good at that job. if tucker were a pathfinder character he would have 18s in "dealing with your life suddenly being taken over by ancient alien religion bullshit", "surviving crazy shit through sheer spite and the adrenaline rush of pissing off whatever asshole has made it their life's mission to kill you this time", and "being the only person who knows what fucked up shit is going on while the rest of the bgc ignore you". he would have a 2 in "saying things that make people want to kill you LESS". de-escalation is not in this man's skillset. he cannot even handle being normal about human women. appreciating the intricacies of sangheili culture and politics, human culture and politics, and sangheili-human relations?

Tucker: People learn English all the time, it aren't that hard.

Church: Maybe you should try learning his language.

Tucker: Fuck that, we got here first, and that makes this a colony. Those're the rules, dude. Earth colony, Earth language.

Church: Tucker there's thousands of languages spoken on Earth.

Tucker: Hyeah, but only one that kicks ass. And that's the one we're teaching. English 101, remedial kick-ass.

i know this is pre-junior and doubtlessly, he is more interested in this stuff after junior (because junior's life does depend on sangheili politics and human-alien relations) and MUST be less dense about it after HAVING to do it as a job. like by osmosis at the very least something must have permeated his brain. but the gap between this^ and "knowledgeable enough to be an asset in this career, one people need at least one relevant degree for" is, uh, bigger than a few months between leaving blood gulch and being sent out to the field

sometimes i think about what a fucking trip it would be to be on the UNSC diplomatic team with tucker LMAO can you imagine how unpopular he must have been. a bunch of polisci and IR nerds like fists clenched shaking like leaves trying to restrain the urge to give this guy a swirlie because he cannot stop sounding like a fucking family guy episode while you're trying to, like, convince the warrior queen of some isolated Sangheili heretical sect to ally with the Swords of Sangheilios and the species they've been dead set on annihlating for decades. and also you know he's only an ambassador as like the weirdest most fucked up variation of a nepo baby. nepo forced interspecies religious incubator. the token chestburster virgin mary hire. the simultaneous Hatred for this guy making your job hell, the impotent rage of knowing that it is, actually, important that he be there for Symbolic reasons, and feeling sympathetic to him. you know part of why he's Like This is literally just because he's 20 and should be at the club but has had the year from hell and didn't ask for this. it's easy to forget that because he doesn't complain about any of the actually bad things that happened and just rolls with whatever crazy shit comes his way. complaining is reserved for being an annoying little bitch about petty shit.

ANYWAYS i'm not saying stop having fun with very competent versions of tucker. we're all just here to have fun. i just like what a weird combo of competent and disaster he is, as i interpret him, and i, personally, am incapable of interpreting him as being actually very good at his job as ambassador

*the only two options are not "bad dad" and "great dad". having an alien parasite non-consensually implanted in you by a manipulative fraudster to force his own involvement in a prophecy - oh and also their species is trying to exterminate yours - and going, "well, this baby didn't choose this, they're just a baby, and you know what? my baby. i love this baby unreservedly and unconditionally, fuck you." shows a capacity for love and forgiveness that's frankly fucking insane, both in the good-impressive way and the what-is-going-on-in-your-brain-and-how-did-this-kind-of-decision-making-not-get-you-killed-yet way. and tucker very clearly loves junior a lot and does his best - which, i want to reiterate, is absolutely wild considering the circumstances - but he wasn't ready for a kid, is bad at accepting responsibility especially for others, and the way that Things Never Stop Happening in his life mean he is really not very present. and it's not JUST because of things happening outside of his control - there were periods after season 8 and after season 13 he probably could have permanently reunited with junior and didn't.

#rvb #rvb tucker #lavernius tucker #fuck it we tagging this. look at my post boy. #tucker #alexa send post

[twogyuu]

rating how svt would take care of their s/o when they're sick

pairings: svt x gn!reader

genre: fluff/comfort, crack

warnings: mentions of vomiting/fainting, mentions of food, inaccurate vague medical advice

WC: 928

a/n: because im sick and eating cheeze-its for my first meal at 4pm today 😀 I'm not funny when I'm unwell sorry-

. . . .

seungcheol - 10/10

He has 7+ years of taking care of 12 other boys under his belt - I think this is self-explanatory.

Has a first aid kit with a thermometer ready in the bathroom.

Knows where the nearest 24-hour-drugstore is so he can get you all the right medicines at 3AM.

jeonghan - 8/10

Will think you're joking at first, but when you finally vomit, he's like 😮😰

Tucks you into bed and stays by your side all night. Rubs your cheek every so often to make sure you're not dead.

-2 because he can't cook well and his pride is getting in the way of contacting Mingyu to make you soup. You might throw up for other reasons other than being ill . . .

joshua 8.5/10

Definitely notices from the moment you woke up that something is not right.

He asks if you're okay, but you brush it off saying it was just a cold.

Out of respect, he let's you be, but watches you carefully.

Catches you when you faint overexerting yourself doing laundry. Scolds you for trying to hide your illness and tells you it's okay to rest and be taken care of if you need it.

Unfortunately, tries to soothe you to sleep with Sunday Morning. (But it's Monday and the sun is shining.)

. . . .

Soonyoung - 6/10

Oh sweet, sweet, sweet Kwon Soonyoung 😅

Truly cares and is worried to the core, but he doesn't know what to do other than let you rest.

Will pace the apartment trying to come up with something. Wants to google "how to take care of your sick partner" but technology is his biggest enemy.

Will eventually call Jihoon for help, but his friend is like "What? Why are you calling me? Ask Seokmin?" so he does and eventually gets the help he needs.

Jun - 1000/10

HE! IS! SO! CAPABLE!

Goes full-on mom mode the minute you tell him you're not feeling well.

Wraps you up like a burrito and tells you to stay put while he gets you medicine and checks your temp.

Amidst all that, somehow manages to make you soup and call your doctor for an appt tomorrow just to make sure it's nothing serious.

wonwoo - 7/10

I'm not sure why but he gives me strict dad vibes.

Scolds you for not wearing your coat 3.5 days ago when you start sniffling and coughing.

Forces you to rest and tells you he will take care of you, but from a distance - he can't get sick either. Who else would take care of you?

Knows how to order in a mean bowl of soup.

jihoon - 4/10

🧍‍♂️

😶

😰

**speed dials mingyu**

. . . .

minghao - 6/10

Sick? There's a tea for that 😎

Meditation can also be helpful 😀

When he opens his eyes, he finds you snoring against the arm of the couch and sighs heavily.

Mildly annoyed, but throws a blanket over you nonetheless.

mingyu - 140000^9 / 10

Thermometer? Check. Tylenol? Check. Alka-seltzer? Check. Pedialyte? Check. Sprite bc you can't tolerate the taste of alka-seltzer and Pedialyte? Check and check.

Has silk pajamas set out for you and newly washed sheets ready for you to rest in.

Already has the kitchen brewing and planning three small meals for the day. You're sick, but you gotta eat - even if you need it just to throw it up.

seokmin - 9/10

Panicc button personified.

Ready to call an ambulance to take you to the hospital to be checked up ASAP, but after much insistence you reassure him it's nothing serious.

Will take the day off of work to attend to all your needs.

Record time of 5.763 seconds to reach you every time you call for something from bed - otherwise, can be found in the kitchen cooking dinner and on his laptop looking up home remedies.

. . . .

seungkwan - 7/10

A worried bean :(

He's a little more reasonable than Seokmin - took you to urgent care instead.

When the doctor told him it was probably just a GI bug and you needed to rest and keep hydrated, he went to the local 7/11 and bought a liter of water for you to drink.

Scolds you when you don't want any because you're nauseous, but let's you be nonetheless.

Later that night will come apologize and tell you he's just really worried.

vernon - 2/10

ILY my dude, but he's so used to being taken care of, he doesn't know how to take care of you 😭😂😅

You would like throw up and he'd be like "oh no 😶" in the most monotonous voice ever.

Don't get him wrong! He's worried and he wants to help, but he's not sure how.

He **does** know how to make (burnt) toast w/jam though 🤗

Will do everything you ask. He can do it - he just needs step-by-step instructions.

His saving grace is that he'd be unfazed by how gross you can be when you're sick. You'd be like "I'm sorry you had to see that," and he'd wipe you're face and be like, "It's fine - you're sick and you can't help it."

chan - 3/10

"STAY HERE! LEMME GO CALL MY GRANDMA FOR HELP!"

Unfortunately, stays on the line with her for an hour.

You already went to and from the drugstore to get your medicines and are just resting now.

Still a sweet kid and asks if you need anything every now and then.

Cuddles :'))))

#seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen headcanons #seventeen imagines

[bcbdrums]

Top 10 Soul Eater episodes?

As in, favorite episodes?? Or best episodes??

I'll do...favorites I guess? If that's even possible my gosh... I'm hard-pressed at this point to find any I don't like, and others are like...yes this one and this one and this one and this one.... Like the whole underground battle series of like seven??? Is just one giant episode to me, lol.

ANYWAY.... FAVORITE Top Ten episodes, listed in airing order not a ranking cuz that's impossible, lol.

Now, to absolutely no one's surprise...

These are all Stein and/or Spirit feature episodes. Except maybe two. Here we gooooo!

Episode 4: "Engage the Witch Hunter! A Remedial Lesson in the Graveyard?"

Why a fave? Okay well first of all...we get to see the four main characters fighting together against an enemy. The episode starts with the feeling of...okay, here we go... Like setting the tone of the anime after the concept and chars have been introduced. Gonna be a monster of the week thing, fighting new enemies and collecting souls. Like Digimon but not you know?

So we see awesome techniques from both Maka and Black Star and Sid as a char is super creative, so it's all that stuff to start with. And then...then we start to get that tiny bit of backstory at the end about Spirit and Stein and it's like, wait say what now?? The red-head is more than a comic drunk deadbeat dad? So then...

Episode 5: "Shape of the Soul – Enter the Ultimate Meister, Stein?"

Yeah okay... I mean. Obviously. We see Stein and it's like whoa that design is creepy this guy is creepy and then we hear Spirit blubbering drunkenly about the past and it's like creepy and oh snap I am now sympathetic to Spirit and there is a far deeper backstory going on here with these adults cuz we had the privilege of seeing Sid alive before you know and suddenly he's dead in the prior ep so mystery and...yeah. And then it's very much presented as wow...Stein is...unbeatable. They're doomed. And that twist ending I was just as much huh??? as Soul was and I just. Got captivated by the backstory.

Episode 7: "Black-blooded Terror – There's a Weapon inside Crona?"

More Spirit and Stein stuff. I swear that hospital scene was my favorite scene in the entire show for the longest time. It's hilarious, I still crack up watching it. The toes thing is just... And that way too long dramatic pause and camera pull before he reveals the divorce, and Stein freaking already knows and just...yeah I'm getting giddy thinking about it. But ALSO it's like, okay...now we've departed from the casual anime silliness. We skipped the 30+ eps of growth like Digimon and went straight to the big major character issue. Which you know, makes sense the further into the anime we go for this anime. But...yeah. It gets. Real. Not kids anymore. Crona with Ragnarok are hilarious I love them, and Crona is highkey relatable; Crona is every teenager to exist ever. But yeah then Soul's sacrifice, for Maka... It's just...wow. Yeah it got real.

Episode 8: "The Witch Medusa – Bearer of the Great Terrible Soul?"

Truthfully, probably my favorite episode as things stand right now. My mind may change later. Why? Because obviously...Spirit and Stein get to fight together. We get to see what the future is... It's like seeing the past in Star Wars, the very beginning of Ep. 1 you know where we see Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan fight and it's like...yessss this is how things are supposed to be in a world that isn't broken. Seeing Stein and Spirit fight together like that is just... Yeah my heart is pounding thinking about how insanely awesome that is. Also Stein is hot. Plus more of that...not kids anymore. Maka's pure terror at sensing Medusa's soul, seeing her...seeing what a real witch is. Like yeah kid the little kishin egg monsters and magical cats you've been playing with are nothing. Maka realizes the world of meisters and weapons she's in is quite a bit different than her experience so far. And can we talk about how Maka wasn't going to leave Soul's side??? Was just gonna take the hit and die right beside him, because he died for her??? MY HEART! Also Stein is hot yes I know I said it already it bears repeating and man that...seriousness...the way Stein looks at Medusa, the way the witch knows who they are which in itself shows a greater threat... That utter gravity that falls over that moment at the end there, after Stein blocks her attack and it's like....oh snap. Now what? Not to mention all the new tiny details we get about soul resonance and the possibilities and how a weapon can take on features of their meister in the special attacks! (Spirit takes on stitches here on the witch hunter blade, and in the last episodes he takes on Lord Death's skull face on the kishin hunter blade. That's so cool...) Okay I have to stop. I could go on. Like I said...favorite episode as things stand right now.

Episode 13: "The Man with the Magic Eye – Soul and Maka's Diverging Soul Wavelength?"

This one surprised me because initially I didn't care for it. I don't care for Free's design, shark!wolf just doesn't appeal to me. But over time this really grew on me. The writing is excellent and soooooo many major things happen. We get the first bit of touching on the morality issue, like, is DWMA really the correct moral power? Free says something about it and then it becomes a bigger theme going forward. We get the beginning of the black blood effects and the battle against/with it and the start of what all that means... The start of the "acceptance" theme even if it isn't named. We hear Soul's piano for the first time even though it isn't named as such until Brew. We get to see Soul and Maka both so confused but both so dedicated to each other, and the maturing starting to happen, that needs to still happen... It's a huge ep for their relationship. And also...Eruka. I love Eruka. All things Eruka. Any episode with Eruka is a delight. But yeah this episode is just SO deep and excellent, it needs more love. (Also in the candle room fight if you listen close we hear that Spirit has an outy belly button and I'm just alksjdahkjghsd how silly.)

Episode 14: "The Super Written Exam – Heart-Pounding, Reeling, and Restless. You're Kidding!?"

Ehhh heheheh...heheh... Pure absurdity. Pure comedic awesomeness. Everything about this episode. I love things where many characters are featured in more than a cameo and get real attention. We see more of all their homes, more of what they do and who they are when not in battle... Spirit being an absolute fool... That hilarious buildup timer to the end of the exam... Blair ruining what should have been something GOOD agh silly cat I'm still annoyed, lol. I'm not gonna say much here since I said so much about the last episode but man, yeah. Just pure comedy gold, I never ever tire of this episode. "Giraffe, giraffe~" Heheheh.

Episode 23: "Dead or Alive – In the Rift between Revival and Dazzlement?"

Okay like I said before... The entire underground battle, starting with the anniversary party, I consider one giant episode. I name all of those as favorites. I selected this one for here because it's where we get some of Stein's backstory I think? Flashback to he and Spirit as young teens, and we learn where Stein's mental state really is. We get to see more of his and Spirit's dynamic, how they work together both successfully and less successfully... Many headcanons borne of this battle in this episode. My gosh I just...can't put it into words in any brief way. I could write an epic length post breaking down nearly every line, look, gesture... And is this also the episode where the kishin emerges and my gosh if that isn't the creepiest most suspenseful moment I've ever seen. Also, we see more of Eruka! I adore her. And Free. But yeah whole episode... Fantastic.

Episode 25: "The Death Scythes Convene – Stop Dad's Staff Reassignment!?"

And this episode...also silly and ridiculous, but awesome because we get to see a little more of the "adult" side of the DWMA and how things operate. Comedically yes, cuz Soul Eater is a comedy, but still there's quite a bit of seriousness too. Stein's madness as a plot point... But my gosh... Marie, Azusa... Justin... The dynamic between all the adults. I would give ANYTHING for a prequel anime where we get to see all these complete idiots in the academy and how it all went down between them. And my gosh we've had plenty backstory teased already with Stein's experiments against Spirit, Sid and baby Black Star... Seeing the adults as kids would be the perfect "reboot" series for me. Plus that basketball ending, bringing it all full-circle in terms of...okay, here we are again, and here we go again... Onto the next phase of the show/of our lives. It's a fantastic turning-point episode and I never tire of it.

Episode 31: "Drying Happiness! Whose Tears Sparkle in the Moonlight?"

This one...so much happens here. We get delightful glimpses of normal life, we get the reminder that Soul plays piano which becomes important quite soon... We get the comedy of Spirit having to parrot Lord Death to Justin because they just won't make the kid take out his earbuds! We get a moment of Crona and Ragnarok actually getting along and having a normal conversation and ohhh myyyy gosshhhhhh I wish we'd had more of that in the show. I adore Ragnarok. But then...ugh. The saga of pain that begins. You get everyone reaching out, you get to see Crona happy... Marie after wandering around lost, saying if there's ever anything you need... Later inviting Crona to her home... Only to be betrayed. And the absolute skill and execution of the writing as they make us believe for a moment that Marie is okay in returning the pen...and then it's revealed that Crona put a snake in the coffee. Just. Oh man. Ugh the pain. Whyyyy Crona whyyy when you had the entire academy to back you up, everyone on your side, full protection from friends, from a death scythe who trusted you to invite to her home, from Lord Death who gave you a second chance... But you still betrayed them all. And then of course, that little snake then is the catalyst for SO much of what happens in the next episodes... Big deal. This ep is so huge. So many different feels...

Episode 40: "The Cards Are Cut – Medusa Surrenders to the DWMA?"

Spirit feature, Spirit feature! I like getting to see a little more of Spirit's responsibilities other than hovering at Lord Death's shoulder waiting 800 years bound to Death City what the heck his poor death scythes for battles that will never come. I know logically he has other jobs as the death scythe, but it's nice to see him doing some of it and more of his relationship with Lord Death (those two raised their children side by side I mean come on there's so much comedic opportunity here). Also the sheer TENSION in the episode from the fact it's Medusa, and Maka's reaction, and Stein's reaction, and then the deal at the end... It's like...okay this is a serious tone-shift and no clue now what is coming. It's a lot of weight all at once leaving me feel like I'm in a whirlwind and kicks off the final arcs of the show and...yeah. This is a good one.

Also hey guess what!

Turning this ask into a tag game! So...what are your top ten favorite episodes??

@midnightcaptions @memethebum @chickycherrycola @blackbloodteeth @mellancholy-morose @beeejayy (that's right Sunny start interacting with fandom LOL) @takeyourcyanide @cannibal-nightmares

AND...anybody else who wants to take this on! Have fun!

And BONUS... Any and all episodes with Excalibur are awesome and if you don't love him you are wrong. That's okay you're allowed to be, you do you. 😘

#soul eater #maka albarn #soul evans #soul eater evans #franken stein #spirit albarn #excalibur #crona #marie mjolnir #sid barett #sid barrett #lord death #shinigami #stein #spirit #death scythe #free #eruka #medusa #medusa gorgon #crona gorgon #ragnarok #justin law #azusa yumi #black star #death the kid #dtk #black*star #liz thompson #patty thompson

[icarusignite]

Hey! I don't know if this is the proper format (still kind of new here) but I'm sending in this prompt for an Alfred × Reader fic. There's this idea for him that was stuck in my head a couple months ago. So…

It's set either S2 or S3 but it fits better in S3 or the break between 2 and 3. Alfred is really ill which isn't unusual for him, but this time he's taking a lot longer for him to heal and he's deteriorating more seriously than he normally would.

People in court start looking around for new healers and remedies. Alfred is also kind of desperate because he doesn't want to die before England is complete or Edward is ready to take over.

Reader, who is a healer, comes to court with the intention of helping Alfred. She's neither Dane nor Saxon, if you're comfortable with it she could be of Asian or African origin/descent (eg Father Benedict in S5). She's either Muslim or Christian, either way she's well read and a bit of a scholar (if you've seen Vikings: Valhalla S2, there's a female character that might ring a bell). She's also able to reassure him, like Iseult, that she's treating him with nature's bounty and nothing sinister.

Because she's a scholar (also maybe a Christian), Alfred is comfortable that she's not practicing witchcraft so this helps him accept her more easily. It also helps them bond and they become really close friends over the course of the months she spends treating him. They have fun banter and he's able to feel like Alfred, the man around her instead of King Alfred. Then he realizes that he has feelings for her.

At this point it could go any way really. Does Aelswith factor into it much or not? Does reader reciprocate his feelings or not? If she does, would she be comfortable giving into them and being a mistress? Is Aelswith even in the picture or is this a slight AU? Do they have a sad, happy or bittersweet ending? Idk

For extra spice, Reader could also be good friends with Uhtred or Finan which makes Alfred a little jealous but also sad because he thinks that she'd probably prefer the charming, handsome, potentially single, strapping man to whatever measly affection he could offer her.

Ideally, it would be fluff or smut but whatever you're comfortable writing is fine! Sorry if this is too long but I wanted to be as clear as possible 😅. I also understand if this is too much for a oneshot and you forego the idea entirely

Alfred the great x POC! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Heyy, so sorry this took literally eons to finally write. Thank you for your lovely request and also thank u for your patience <3 Hope you enjoy what I've done with your idea, and dw this will have another part where I'll explore their chemistry more. I watched a bunch of Alfred edits to get in the mood and ngl I'm lowkey in love with him now lmfao. 

Disclaimer: there might be some (a lot) historical discrepancies because I didn't line up the dates exactly but I did find out that the Golden Age of Islam overlapped significantly with the dates that the last kingdom spans so the reader is a prominent scholar from Baghdad. Also, Aelswith is dead (I'm sorry T_T) cuz I don't love a cheating trope even when it is sort of historically accurate. So we have single dad Alfred lol. 

The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

Entering King Alfred's throne room, your senses were immediately awakened by the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and scents of Wessex. The room itself was a stark contrast to the opulent palaces and grand courts of Baghdad that you were accustomed to. The room was spacious, yet its decoration was surprisingly humble and simple, adorned with rough-hewn wooden beams and modest tapestries that depicted various scenes of English myths and prominent events. With a flash of triumph, you found that you recognized some of them from your studies of the English culture. A faint scent of burning wood from the hearth permeated the air with an earthy aroma.

You observed the nobles in attendance, or the ealdormen as they were called here, their attire markedly different from the splendid silks and jewels of Baghdad's court. Here, the people wore simpler garments made of sturdy wool and linen, in the dark colours of the earth as opposed to the the vibrant clothing the people of your home favoured.

Your gaze then turned to the throne itself. It was a robust wooden chair, its design austere yet imposing, lacking the grandeur of the magnificent thrones you had imagined English kings liked to occupy. King Alfred's regal figure atop the throne created a dignified presence. His clothing, matched the style of his ealdormen, long simple robes of a dull grey. The seat next to him was empty and you briefly wondered about his family. The chronicles you had read stated that a king's wife usually took her place beside him when he held court, but you did not know much of Alfred's wife.

Your fingers itched for your writing instruments, yearning to document all your observations and the happenings of the court. You seldom went anywhere without them, but now they remained tucked away in your satchel as you waited for the king to acknowledge your presence. You knew he had seen you enter, his eyes briefly meeting yours, even as he conversed with his ealdormen. Eventually, your thoughts began to wander and you couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between the scorching heat of Baghdad and the chilly bite of autumn in Wessex. your flowing linen tunic and trousers, so comfortable in the sweltering desert of your homeland, felt inadequate against the cold English air that seeped through the cracks in the stone walls.

You discreetly rubbed your tingling fingertips together, trying to generate some warmth, as the fire blazing at the hearth did little to banish the chill that had settled in your bones. Your longing for the warmth of the caliphate's sun was keenly felt in this unfamiliar and frigid environment.

Impatience welled up within you as you glanced around the chamber, noting the courtiers' stoic expressions and hushed conversations. The king's deliberations seemed to stretch on endlessly, and you found yourself yearning for the moment when you could finally present your credentials and seek the audience you had travelled so far to obtain.

King Alfred's voice finally called out your name, his voice echoing through the chamber.

"Esteemed lady, I welcome you to the court of Wessex."

The ealdormen, accustomed to the formalities of their court, were taken aback when you did not bow or curtsy as was expected. Instead, you offered a polite smile and tipped your head in a gesture of respect.

A murmur of surprise and disapproval rippled through the assembled courtiers. Some whispered that your behaviour was disrespectful, a breach of protocol. They exchanged curious glances, wondering how their king would react to this departure from tradition.

However, King Alfred took no offence. With a gracious nod, he signalled for you to speak.

"Thank you, your grace. It is an honour to be here."

Your accent was soft, lending your words a foreign intonation, and each syllable was carefully enunciated. You had spent months learning the language, and you weren't about to embarrass yourself now by messing up your pronunciation.

"I extend my deepest gratitude to you for undertaking such a long and arduous journey at my request. I hope the discomfort of the voyage did not prove too taxing."

"Your Majesty," you replied, "it was a journey of great honour for me, and I hope to make myself useful here."

King Alfred nodded appreciatively and then turned to a servant standing nearby.

"Please, ensure that the lady is provided with comfortable quarters and all the amenities she may require during your stay in Wessex."

The servant bowed in acknowledgment and stepped forward to escort you to your residence within the royal palace. You thanked the king once more for his hospitality and assistance before following the servant out of the chamber.

As you left the throne room, your observant nature couldn't help but take note of King Alfred's condition. Despite his attempt to appear at ease in his chair, you had perceived the subtle signs of discomfort. His favouring of his left side, indicating pain or injury to his right, and the unusually pallid complexion for an Englishman raised concerns in your scholarly mind. That was your purpose, after all, to try to diagnose and hopefully cure the ailing monarch.

Just when you were gone, the noblemen of King Alfred's court wasted no time in flocking around him, their curiosity piqued by the arrival of the enigmatic woman. They bombarded the king with questions and voiced their concerns about the unfamiliar customs you had displayed.

One nobleman, his voice dripping with skepticism, remarked, "Your Majesty, did you see that? She didn't bow or curtsy as she should have! It's as if she has no respect for you."

Another, eyeing your unusual attire and complexion, chimed in, "And her clothing, Your Grace! It's unlike anything I've ever seen in Wessex. She's clearly not from anywhere near England. What could she possibly want here?"

The murmurs of disapproval and suspicion spread among the courtiers, as they exchanged perplexed glances. To them, your arrival was an anomaly, and your behaviour had raised eyebrows and questions.

King Alfred, his countenance calm and measured, raised a hand to quell the growing unease.

"I understand your concerns, but there is nothing to worry about" he began, addressing their concerns. "The lady you have just met is a prominent figure from Baghdad. She has travelled from a distant land to be here and she is not here to defy our traditions or customs. She is a scholar seeking to further her studies in Wessex. Her journey to our land is a great honour, as it reflects the recognition of the importance of our own intellectual pursuits."

His tone left no room for further skepticism. He also did not mention the other reason you were there, as he did not wish to reveal the truth of his declining health. As the nobles filtered out of the room, somewhat still unsatisfied by his answer, Alfred couldn't help but remain still, his mind going over the recent developments. When he had first written to the Abbasid Caliphate to request that he be allowed to host a medical scholar at his court, he had to admit he was not expecting a woman, and certainly not one so beautiful.

The next day, Alfred summoned you to his private chambers for a consultation regarding his health. As you entered the room, he couldn't help but notice the change in your attire. Gone was the flowing linen tunic and trousers, replaced by a sturdier, more practical woollen English dress. The deep blue gauzy veil, however, was still draped around your head and flowed down your back.

The English clothing seemed to complement you, accentuating your elegance in a way that was both unexpected and captivating. The king, not for the first time, found himself admiring you, though he kept such thoughts to himself, mindful of the formal context of your meeting.

You, ever the professional scholar, maintained a polite and formal distance as you began your examination of the king. You inquired about his symptoms, listening attentively to his description of the pain and discomfort he had been experiencing. Your deep knowledge and keen medical insight were evident as you asked probing questions and conducted a thorough assessment.

After a careful evaluation, you began to discuss your observations and your initial diagnosis with the king. You explained your thoughts on the potential causes of his discomfort and suggested a course of treatment. King Alfred was grateful for your expertise, and couldn't help but be struck by your intellect. He had a thirst for knowledge himself and he appreciated the quality in others when he saw it. In you he recognized a passion for learning and documentation, one he held himself as well. After the medical examination, he extended an invitation to you to remain in his chambers and share a cup of tea. Initially hesitant, you eventually agreed, recognizing the value of the opportunity to engage in conversation with the English monarch.

Seated in the warmth of the chamber, Alfred began to share with you the rich history of England, its struggles, its triumphs, and its cultural tapestry. He spoke of the challenges of the Anglo-Saxon period, the battles against the Danes, and the enduring spirit of the English people. As he narrated the history of his land, Alfred couldn't help but notice how your eyes lit up with a deep fascination, even though you attempted to contain your enthusiasm. Your questions flowed naturally as you probed deeper into the history and culture of Wessex. You asked about the Anglo-Saxon kings, the legends and folklore, and the development of the English language.

You kept diligent notes in your little notebook, your hand swiftly capturing every detail of the conversation. Your keen intellect and insatiable thirst for knowledge were evident, and your genuine interest in Alfred's words warmed his heart. It had been quite a while since anyone had paid such rapt attention to what he was saying, and he found himself rejuvenated by your exchange.

As a lull settled over your conversation, Alfred's curiosity got the better of him. With a twinkle in his eye, he leaned forward and said, "My lady, I must admit, I'm quite curious about the contents of that notebook of yours. What sort of information have you been documenting to take back to your homeland?"

You smiled, your demeanour more relaxed than when you had first come in, "Your Majesty, you need not worry. I promise you, I haven't written that the English are fire-breathing trolls."

Alfred felt a grin tug at his lips, but he suppressed the urge, keeping his hands folded placidly over his stomach.

"Well, you know, if we English could breathe fire, we might have an easier time dealing with our enemies!"

"There is a trick that performers back home use, to give the illusion of breathing fire. The science behind it is quite fascinating. Perhaps I shall explain it to you sometime."

"Ah yes my lady, you have filled your book with our tales, but have yet to share yours. Do you have any secrets from the East that you'd like to share with us humble English folk?"

You couldn't help but smirk at his words, "I'm afraid some secrets are best left in the lands where they belong, your grace. We wouldn't want you to start brewing Persian tea incorrectly, now would we?"

"I doubt it can compete with our tried and trusted English tea."

"You only think that way because you haven't tried Persian tea yet. Trust me, once you have, there's no going back."

"I suppose you make a fair point! Although, I must admit, the thought of trying to decipher the intricacies of Arabic calligraphy is rather tempting."

You paused, your light-hearted nature urging you to make another joke but you strictly reminded yourself that you were in the presence of a king. It would do you no good to offend him with an ill-timed statement. You were already apprehensive about your earlier comment about the Persian tea, although you were grateful that he chose not to see it as a slight. As if sensing your hesitation, Alfred sat up in bed and leaned forward.

"You are free to speak my lady, do not hold yourself back on my account," he reassured with a wave of his hand.

Still, you settled for a polite smile, "I was just going to remark on the difficulty of calligraphy but I am certain that if anyone would be able to master it, it'd be you, Your Majesty."

A small furrow appeared between Alfred's brows as if that wasn't the answer he expected from you. He could see you pulling away, going back to your polite, almost cold professionalism. Eventually, he nodded thoughtfully at you.

"I would be ever so grateful if you could perhaps show me the technique someday, my lady."

You breathed a sigh of relief and nodded with a small smile.

"Now, about that notebook, if you would allow me to take a look?"

"Ah yes, of course," you handed over the small leatherbound journal to him quickly without further complaints. "But I must warn you, my handwriting isn't at its most legible."

Alfred accepted the notebook with a nod of appreciation. As he leafed through its pages, his eyes quickly fell upon your meticulously written notes. Your thoughts were inscribed in your native language and although he did not understand the words, your elegant looping script impressed him.

He raised an eyebrow and turned toward you expectantly, pointing toward a specific passage, "And what does this say right here?"

"It is a description of the English weather, your grace."

Alfred leaned closer, his finger tracing the inked lines on the page.

"Ah yes, English weather. It was raining when you first arrived, wasn't it? What do you think of our English rain then, my lady? I've heard it has a certain charm."

"Well, I believe your rain can be quite persuasive. It insists that one should stay indoors and read a good book."

Alfred's lips twitched again, fighting back a smile. It seemed that the new scholar shared his interests as well.

"A wise perspective, indeed. Perhaps our English rain is simply encouraging a literary lifestyle."

"Yes, your grace."

"My lady" he continued, a note of genuine admiration in his voice, "I must tell you, your handwriting is truly exquisite. Tell me, just how many languages have you learned."

You felt a blush creep into your cheeks at his compliment. There was something sincere in his eyes as he waited for your answer, looking at you like your accomplishments were the greatest thing in the world. You opened your mouth to respond but then a loud knock sounded on the door and a priest entered.

"Yes, Father Beocca," Alfred seemed irritated at the interruption.

Father Beocca's eyes glanced from you to the king, and despite the fact that you were sitting in a chair quite some distance away from him, you felt a strange flash of awkward embarrassment run through you.

"My king, Uhtred is here to see you," the priest finally stated.

Alfred sighed and turned toward you with an apologetic smile, "Shall we continue our conversation another time then, my lady? It seems that I am needed elsewhere."

"Yes, of course, your grace."

You quickly took your leave then, choosing to take one of your books and go read in the garden. You had just settled yourself into a comfortable nook when loud boisterous laughter caught your attention. Turning your gaze towards the source of the commotion, you spotted three men, two of whom were dressed in the attire of warriors. Their boisterous behaviour was evident as they playfully teased and shoved the third man, who was clad in robes that resembled those of Father Beocca. However, a leather breastplate adorned his monk's attire, hinting at a surprising duality of roles – priest and fighter.

The two warriors were engaged in a lively exchange with the monk, their laughter echoing through the garden. You couldn't help but smile as you watched the scene unfold. Their camaraderie and jesting reminded you of the Caliph's sons back home, when your father would take you to visit the palace.

One of the warriors, a bearded man with broad shoulders and a hearty laugh, clapped the monk on the back.

"Come now, Osferth," he said between chuckles, "surely your devotion to the Lord could use a bit of levity now and then."

The monk, Osferth, grinned in response, "Aye Finan, it is said that laughter is the best medicine, is it not?"

The other warrior, a lean and quick-witted fellow, joined in with a jest, "Well, if that's the case, Osferth, then Finan here will live to be a hundred and you shall die tomorrow!"

Osferth elbowed the tall man in the ribs, "Not before I knock some sense into you Sihtric."

Their jovial banter and good-natured teasing continued, creating a lively atmosphere in the serene garden. You couldn't help but be amused by their antics and the familiarity of their interactions, watching them for quite some time.

The trio of men eventually noticed your presence, and with their laughter dying down, they made their way over to you. As they approached, their expressions revealed a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

The broad-shouldered warrior, Finan, whose eyes twinkled with mischief, was the first to speak. "Well, what have we here?" he said with a grin. "A traveller from foreign shores, I presume?"

"Yes, I am from Baghdad, my lord."

The warrior, clearly taken with you, couldn't resist a flirtatious remark.

"Lady, I must say, you are a wondrous addition to our English garden."

You snorted at his attempt at flirtation.

Meanwhile, the monk with the leather breastplate maintained a more respectful demeanour.

"Greetings, lady, I am Osferth," he said with a nod. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I ask what brings you to our humble Wessex?"

You found the monk's polite curiosity quite refreshing.

"Greetings to you too, Osferth. I've come to further my studies here. Wessex has much to offer in terms of knowledge and history, and I hope to make the most of it."

"Well, my lady, if ever you wish to explore our English shores, I'd be delighted to be your guide," it was Finan who spoke again and you could not help but laugh at his words.

"Thank you, kind sir. Your offer is most gracious."

“Call me Finan, my lady.”

Your change continued as they asked more about you and your hometown and you asked about theirs. You found out that they were a band of warriors who followed some fellow named Uhtred, the very same Uhtred who was currently speaking to King Alfred. As the conversation flowed, you discovered that you enjoyed speaking with these men. Their witty banter and friendly demeanour made you feel at ease, despite the foreignness of your surroundings. You shared stories of your travels, your scholarly pursuits, and the cultural nuances of your homeland. The men, in turn, regaled you with tales of their own adventures.

As you continued to engage in playful banter with the warriors, you remained oblivious to the presence of King Alfred and Uhtred, who had ventured outside and were observing the lively exchange.

Eventually, with a confident stride, Uhtred made his way toward your group to make his introduction and Father Beocca approached the king with his concerns.

"Your Majesty," he began cautiously, "I must admit, I have reservations about entrusting your treatment to a foreigner, especially one from so distant a land. We must be cautious of witchcraft and unfamiliar practices."

King Alfred turned to Father Beocca, his expression thoughtful but resolute, "Father Beocca, I understand your concerns, but the lady is no ordinary foreigner. She hails from Baghdad, a city known for its innovative medical advancements and a center of learning in the Islamic world. She comes as one of their finest scholars, sent by the Caliph himself."

"I see, your grace."

"I have read extensively about the great Islamic civilization, and its contributions to science, medicine, and philosophy. I believe we have much to learn from her, not only about medicine but also about fostering understanding and collaboration between our cultures. They have succeeded in uniting several lands under one caliphate, so perhaps we might learn how we may unite England as well."

Father Beocca, though still cautious, nodded in understanding, "Your Majesty, I trust your judgment. It is my fervent hope that the lady's presence here will indeed lead to beneficial knowledge and that she will uphold the values of wisdom and compassion."

"Thank you, Father Beocca. Let us have faith in this unique opportunity for cultural exchange and enlightenment. Her presence is a bridge between worlds, and I believe it is a path toward a brighter future for Wessex."

Over the course of the next few months, you became familiar with the routines of the Wessex palace. King Alfred allowed you to shadow him throughout his day, believing that you could provide valuable insights into his own activities. It was a decision that would lead to a profound connection between the two of you.

Every day, you diligently prepared poultices and medications for the king’s ailments, and often you’d recite the recipe to him and explain the purpose of each herb and plant that went into it. He found that he trusted you completely but he was still comforted by your transparency and the efforts you took to explain things to him. Sometimes he would insist on accompanying you on walks and you would point out the various native English plants and their counterparts back home. You also documented the king's activities and observations in your notebook. At times, he would request to see your notebook, often just to admire the beauty of your script. He marvelled at the graceful lines of your writing, and the intricate calligraphy that adorned the pages.

Your interactions went beyond the formalities of your initial meeting. King Alfred, always eager to learn, would occasionally ask you to translate certain passages from your native language and over time, your bond grew stronger. King Alfred began to look forward to each day, eager to see your bright and colourful veil, a striking contrast to your plain English gowns. He would wonder which hue you would choose, and it became a delightful anticipation in his daily routine.

Your conversations transcended the realm of duty and scholarly pursuits. The two of you shared your favourite books, discussing the nuances of various works and debating the merits of different translations. Your insights challenged Alfred's own understanding, and he cherished these moments of intellectual stimulation.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Alfred realized that you had become an important fixture in his life. your presence was a source of inspiration, a reminder of the power of knowledge, and a testament to the potential for understanding and collaboration between different cultures.

He found himself thinking of you when he was apart from you, reminiscing about how your eyes would dance with mirth as you argued with him about the inaccuracies of translated works, or how your laughter would fill the palace corridors. You had not only enriched his pursuit of knowledge but had also touched his heart, becoming a cherished friend and confidante in the process.

Alfred could still vividly recall the way you had looked at him with genuine wonder and appreciation when he had shown you his humble library. He knew that compared to the great libraries of Alexandria and Baghdad, his collection was modest, but you had delighted in it all the same. Your eyes, filled with curiosity and admiration, had swept over the numerous scrolls and manuscripts, taking in the wealth of knowledge contained within those walls.

In that moment, as you softly murmured your thanks, Alfred felt his breath catch. He was struck not only by the beauty of your physical presence but also by the grace with which you carried yourself and the genuine enthusiasm you displayed for learning. Your voice had a melodic quality that lingered in his memory. It was a voice that seemed to breathe life into the ancient texts that surrounded you and the king found himself quite enamoured with you. The two of you spent many a late night pouring over scrolls together, and although he always kept a respectful distance, Alfred found himself wanting to brush away the stray strands of hair that fell across your forehead, having escaped the tightly bound coil you usually kept your hair in.

Tonight was one such night as the dim light of the candle burned low, and after a lively discussion on herbal medicine, you had fallen asleep on one of the ancient manuscripts. Alfred, his mind still buzzing with the echoes of your conversation, fought against the pull of sleep. Instead, he watched you slumber, his heart filled with a mixture of admiration and tenderness.

In the soft candlelight of the library, you appeared even more enchanting. Your thick eyelashes brushed against your cheeks as you slept peacefully, your features serene. Your form rose and fell with each gentle breath, a rhythmic reminder of the tranquil cadence of sleep. Alfred couldn't help but be captivated by your beauty in this unburdened state. The play of shadows and light highlighted the delicate contours of your face, and the soft glow of the manuscripts around you lent an almost ethereal quality to the scene. You looked like a vision from a dream.

As he watched your slumber, a sudden, unexpected urge welled up within him. He was struck by the temptation to lean in and kiss you, but he quickly banished the traitorous thought. What an absurd thing for a king to do, to force his affections on a guest in his home. Especially when he had no way of knowing if you returned his feelings. He would have to content himself with the simple act of watching you sleep, his heart filled with a deep and unspoken longing.

He also found himself wondering if you were betrothed, for you couldn’t possibly be married and still be here. What man would not accompany you or let you out of his sight if you were his wife? Although you had discussed many things, you did not stray close to personal topics such as family. You were only a few years younger than him and surely you had to have someone in your life. And even if you didn’t, what could you possibly want with an ailing man like him when a woman as accomplished as you could have anyone in the world?

Such melancholy things plagued him as he eventually drifted asleep on the table across from you, his final thoughts fixating on what it might feel like to have your lips against his. 

#the last kingdom #uhtred #alfred the great #tlk alfred #alfred x reader #tlk uhtred #tlk x reader #tlk fanfic #tlk season 3 #alfred the great x reader #tlk alfred x reader #tlk sihtric #sihtric #tlk osferth #osferth x reader #sihtric x reader #uhtred x reader #finan x reader #tlk finan #tlk fandom #tlk x you #finan imagine #uhtred of bebbanburg #osferth imagine #ewan mitchell

[oncasette]

THE DEAD POETS. send in an au! for any character from this list (and/or a trope) & receive a drabble *does not have to be one of the tropes listed on my guide, however those are some of my favs

same anon from early today 🪐

let’s go with andrew neiman & guy falls first! trope

andrew would be the type to fall in love with someone and have no idea. he’d be absolutely head over heels and so absolutely oblivious to all of it before someone points it out to him. someone he’s not even close with. a barista or his dad or a grandma he meets at a shopping mall because he’s picking up something for you.

“your girlfriend sure is a lucky one,” the old woman would say, nodding down at the gift in his hands with a wink. it was something you’d mentioned wanting in passing one night, something you’d probably already forgot about, but it’d stuck with him. had ate away at his mind until he’d caved and driven twenty minutes out of his way to go pick it up.

“it’s not for my girlfriend,” he said, snapping slightly. he was cold and annoyed and all he really wanted to do was drive over to your place and take a nap on your couch.

“oh, just a special friend then,” she bristles. he nearly ignores the woman, nearly walks away towards the check out.

“yeah, sure. special friend,” he offers her one of those tight-lipped smiles. he can’t be too much of a dick, today. she was one of the few shoppers he’d run into that hadn’t made him want to blow his brains out.

“should get her some of that perfume over there, honey. maybe it’ll remedy that special friend status,” she says before she scuttles off with her basket of goodies that’s nearly overflowing onto the carpet of the department store.

yeah. maybe he should.

#r’s 19 #andrew neiman #andrew neiman x reader #whiplash #miles teller #miles teller x reader

[bored-writer101]

Sam Winchester X Reader|Supernatural Rewrite|1.Pilot

A/N: well, the time has finally come. i’m finally posting my supernatural rewrite😂 huge shoutout to @uncouth-the-fifth for inspiring me (she also has a supernatural rewrite that is absolutely phenomenal that you guys should definitely go check out). i’ve been trying to start a rewrite basically ever since i started writing fanfic for this show, but it has never worked out. but i’ve finally figured it out! (kinda lol, i’m doing my best😂😭). i hope you all enjoy! (i wrote this with female reader in mind but i use gender neutral pronouns) {also here’s a supernatural themed spotify playlist if y’all want a soundtrack while you listen <3}

Words: 13,673

Series Masterlist

(image from pinterest)

SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA | October 31st, 2005

"Dad? Are you okay? Dad, please wake up! Dad!"

You jolted upright in bed, panting as you tried to catch your breath and calm yourself down. You didn't get much of a chance to do that though. Your phone began to ring loudly from your bedside table, making you flinch. You reached out and fumbled around in the darkness for a few seconds before your fingers wrapped around the cold metal. You used your thumb to flip it open and held it up to your ear.

"Hello?" you could hear the shake in your own voice.

"Are you alright? Did I call at a bad time?" you immediately recognized the voice on the other end.

"I'm alright, Dean. I just had a nightmare, that's all."

"The usual one?"

"Mhm," you hummed in response.

"Well, we can do all our usual remedies after I pick you up," you could hear in his voice that he had a huge grin on his face.

"What? I thought you were in New Orleans?"

"I was. I had been waitin' on my dad, but he never showed. I haven't been able to get a hold of him for a few weeks," Dean told you.

"So? There were plenty of times that we weren't able to get a hold of him on a hunt when we were kids," you said, skeptical that John was truly missing.

John had always been one to drink a few too many in celebration of a hunt well done. You, Sam, and Dean would think something terrible had happened to him, but he would eventually stumble back in a few weeks later. The longest he had left the three of you alone was almost three months. Bobby stopped letting John take you on hunts after he found out about that.

"This is different. Somethin's happened, somethin' bad, if he's not dead already. I can feel it."

"Are you sure he's not just out on another bender?" you asked, disbelief evident in your tone.

"I'm sure, Y/N. I can explain more after I pick you up. Please, I need you to trust me on this," Dean pleaded through the phone.

You were hesitant to say yes. Usually you'd hop at the chance to go on a hunt with Dean, but this was different. You could hear in his voice that Dean believed that John was missing, and that he was worried. You trusted Dean, but you didn't trust his father. It could be another one of his 'hunter trials' to test if you were worthy to be hunters. He hadn't orchestrated one of those in a long time, but maybe that meant you were due for another one.

"Y/N? You still there?" Dean asked when you didn't respond.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm still here. Just thinkin'."

"Ya' really gotta think that hard about it?"

There was another moment of silence while you desperately tried and failed to find the words. You had so many thoughts swirling in your mind that you didn't even know where to start. Before you could complain that you had just woken up, Dean's voice was in your ear again.

"Come on, Y/N," he was not helping you think.

"Fine! I'll come with you," you relented, giving in to the sad puppy dog eyes you couldn't see, but you knew he was doing.

"Well, good... Because I'm only an hour and a half away," you heard him chuckle, and you decided you were going to smack him upside the head when he got here.

"And what were you gonna do if I said no?" you questioned.

"Kidnap you. Obviously."

"Like I'd let you."

"Whatever you say, kid," he said with a chuckle. "Just be packed and ready, alright?"

"Whatever you say, boss," you mocked him playfully, "See you when you get here."

"See you when I get there," he said, ignoring your teasing.

You heard the click of the call ending, then silence. You were frozen in place at first, and the memories of your nightmare came flooding back; your father's eyes closing and never opening again... You shook your head free of the image before finally dropping your hand holding the phone into your lap. The light from the still open screen hurt your eyes as they tried to adjust to the sudden light. You sat there for a few more seconds before pushing the covers off and forcing yourself out of bed. You got dressed in comfy clothes, knowing that you'd be spending a lot of time curled up in the passenger seat of the impala.

You tried to be quiet as you crept around the house, but you should have known better than to try and sneak around a hunter's home. You were leaned down in front of the open fridge, thinking of what to write on the 'see you later' note you were going to leave behind, when you heard someone clear their throat. You stood up straight and spun around quickly to face them. Bobby had his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you with a deep frown, and furrowed brows that made the creases in his forehead all too prominent.

"Good morning?" you said hesitantly.

"Where are you going?" Bobby asked; he had never been one for nuance.

"Um, out on a hunt," you told him with a little more confidence than before.

Even though you were twenty three, Bobby's gaze made you feel like you were sixteen again. It made you feel as if you were sneaking out to meet Sam and Dean for a late night joyride in whatever rust bucket that Dean had found(hot wired). You knew Bobby wasn't going to stop you from going, but you still didn't want to piss him off before you left. You weren't sure when you'd be back.

"Dean picking you up?" he asked, his tone a bit softer than before, but he was still frowning.

You nodded at his question, "he should be here soon."

"Alright, well, just promise me you'll be careful. And that you won't let Dean talk you into anything stupid," Bobby wagged his pointer finger at you as he said this.

"I'm always careful," you told him, even if that wasn't entirely truthful, but you'd say anything to reassure Bobby you'd be alright; the last thing you wanted him to do was worry his head off, "also I'm usually the one talking Dean out of doing anything stupid," this statement had a little more truth to it.

Bobby didn't look convinced. Not that he ever did, but you didn't want to leave him annoyed with you. You took a couple steps forward and wrapped your arms around him in a sudden hug. It didn't take long before Bobby hugged you back, squeezing you tight.

"I love you, dad. I'll be back before you know it."

Bobby sighed deeply, "I love you too, kiddo," he said before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Bobby wasn't your biological father, but he had stepped up and been your dad for over a decade. Any other day, he would have scolded you for calling him dad. He would tell you it isn't fair to your father, that you shouldn't try to forget or replace him. You always reassured him you would never forget though. What you don't tell him is that you'll never be able to forget the image of father dying in your arms as you beg for him to keep his eyes open. Before you could dwell on the dark memory for too long, you heard a short honk of a car horn outside. You pulled away and stood up straight in front of Bobby, raising a brow at him as if to silently ask, 'you gonna be alright?'

"Just go. Don't forget to call every once in a while so I know you're still alive" Bobby gestured toward the door.

"I will," you said as you walked to the front door, picking your duffel bag up off the floor, "bye, Bobby," you turned and waved to him with a smile, opting to not call him dad this time.

"Bye, Y/N," he waved back halfheartedly.

You turned back and headed out the front door, a rush of cold air biting at your exposed skin. If you were gone long enough, there would surely be a thick blanket of snow covering the junk yard by the time you got back. You noticed the impala in the driveway before looking up at the sky. You shut the door behind you as you admired the fiery shades of red and orange that were painted across the sky by the sunrise. You admired it for a moment before stepping down the porch steps. The gravel crunched under your boots as you walked over to the passenger side of the impala. You opened the back door and threw duffel bag in before getting into the passenger seat.

"Morning," you said to Dean once you had plopped down.

"Mornin'," he replied, wasting no time in pulling out of the driveway and back onto the road, gravel crunching loudly under the tires all the while, "I brought you some breakfast," he pointed to the fast food bag sitting on the seat next to you.

"Thanks," you mumbled as you grabbed the bag and pulled out the breakfast sandwich Dean had ordered for you.

You unwrapped your food and ate silently, the only sound coming from the Bob Seger tape that was playing softly through the speakers. You recognized the song to be Against The Wind. You thought back to the last time you saw Dean, and you realized it had been a few months. You kept in touch over the phone the best you could, but he had never been good at that, and you weren't much better. The last time you had seen him was about four months ago. You had gotten into a fight over John. Most of your fights revolved around him. It had been a simple misunderstanding during a hunt that made John flip his shit, and you were never one to take shit from him. Dean had barely made a move to defend you, and it hurt. He had apologized to you later, but it had been a Winchester style apology; a halfhearted one. You couldn't help but remember that fight now. Dean cleared his throat loudly, pulling you out of your thoughts. His thumbs drummed against the steering wheel has he hummed along to the music. You crumpled up the sandwich paper and threw it in the bag.

"So, we have a few stops to make," he told you with a grin, obviously trying to diffuse the building tension.

"Oh, yeah?" you replied, raising a questioning brow at him.

"Yeah, the first being a gas station. You can pick out some snacks for our drive."

"Good, because you always grab barbecue chips," you complained teasingly.

"What's wrong with a little BBQ?" he said, enunciating each letter in 'BBQ.'

"There's nothing necessarily wrong with barbecue, but eating them for every road trip can get a little boring."

"Fair enough. You still have to grab me a bag of them though."

"Yeah, will do."

Dean pulled off the main road and into the gas station parking lot. He pulled up to a gas pump and turned off the engine. He took out a few fives from his wallet and handed them to you. You said a quiet 'thanks' before you both climbed out of the impala.

"Don't forget my BBQ!" Dean called after you as you headed into the convenience store while he went to the gas pump.

It was only a few minutes before the two of you were back in your seats. You handed Dean his barbecue chips and a root beer before dropping your own snacks in your lap. Dean tore into his chips like a hungry bear, grabbing a handful and stuffing it into his mouth. You couldn't help but laugh at him as you opened your own snack.

"So, you gonna tell me why you think John is missing?" you asked, once he had chewed and swallowed.

"I know he's missing. He was hunting something that was killing men, and he left me a concerning voicemail that had some EVP," he explained, "I can let you listen to it when we get to our next destination," you furrowed your brows at his words, but you had a sudden realization.

"You wanna pick up Sam," you said simply.

Dean looked over at you with wide eyes, "how'd you know? You read my mind or somethin'?"

"We're gonna be in California, and we're gonna pass his place anyway. Just an educated guess," you shrugged, "also I'm not a mind reader, I'm a medium," you added.

"It's all the same to me," Dean said with a shrug as he started the impala and pulled out of the gas station; you decided not to lecture him on the differences between psychics and mediums.

"What if he says no?" you asked the question on both your minds after a few moments of silence.

Dean didn't respond, but you knew he had heard you. You looked over to see him expressionless, staring out at the open road.

"Dean?"

"You sure you're not a mind reader?" he tried to joke to change the subject, but you didn't laugh, and he frowned at your furrowed brows, "he won't. Dad's missing and we need his help. He has to say yes," you wondered how many time he had told himself that.

You were at an impasse, which frequently happened when you had to get in the middle of Winchester family drama. A part of you didn't want Sam to say yes. You knew he wanted to give up hunting for good, and you didn't blame him. You only wanted what was best for him, but there was another part of you that wanted him to say yes. You missed him every day. You tried to tell yourself you weren't pulling him all the way back into hunting, that you were just looking for John. A small voice in the back of your head knew better though. You knew this life loved to sink its claws in and never let go. Only a lucky few were able to fully detach themselves from the hunting lifestyle. Even then, it was impossible to scrub the stain of the hunting life off your hands. You weren't sure which answer you wanted Sam to give.

You and Dean sat in silence for awhile, both caught up in your own thoughts. You glanced over at Dean as the song that was playing came to an end. You took in Dean's tense posture, and how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. You recognized the beginning of Black Dog by Led Zeppelin playing quietly through the speakers, and you immediately reached out to turn it up. You were the only person Dean allowed to touch his radio. You rested your arm on the back of the seat and leaned your body into his side slightly.

"Hey hey mama said the way you move. Gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove," you sang along loudly into his ear.

You played the air guitar and you saw Dean glance at you from the corner of his eye. You could see him trying to hide his smirk.

"Ah, ah, child, way you shake that thang. Gonna make you burn gonna make you sting," you continued to sing along, gently nudging Dean's side with your elbow.

You saw him start to drum his thumbs against the steering wheel along to the beat as you continued to play air guitar.

"Hey hey baby when you walk that way. Watch your honey drip, can't keep away," you and Dean sang in unison.

You sang along to the rest of the song together. You occasionally played air guitar while Dean pretended to play the drums; you had to remind him to put his hands back on the wheel a few times. The song eventually came to an end, and the next song began playing. Dean reached out and turned it down slightly.

"I missed that," you said with a smile.

"Oh, don't get all sappy on me now," he said with a groan.

"What? No 'chick flick moments'?" you said sarcastically, making air quotes.

"Yeah, exactly. No chick flick moments," Dean repeated seriously.

"Whatever you say... Jackass," you said quietly with a smirk.

"Shithead," Dean was quick with his comeback, and he reached over to pinch your side, but you quickly swatted his hand away while laughing.

There wasn't much tension between you to begin with, but the little bit that had been there faded away with the end of the song. The rest of the long ride was filled with boring games of eye spy and spotting out of state license plates. You were glad to be in the impala with Dean again. You wished it was under better circumstances, but you were excited to see Sam again too.

PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA

The sun had long since set by the time you arrived at Sam's apartment building. You had your window rolled down, the humid California night air made your exposed skin feel sticky, but you enjoyed the breeze. Dean pulled into the parking lot and parked up close to the front door of the building. You both unbuckled your seatbelts, but he put his hand out to stop you from opening your door.

"I'll go get him," he said with a mischievous grin on his face, so you nodded and sat back in your seat, "I'll be quick," he said before hopping out of the impala.

You watched Dean creep up to the front door of the building before he slinked inside and out of view. You leaned out of your open window to take in a deep breath of fresh air. It wasn't a great time to be alone with your thoughts, since all you could think about was that you were seeing Sam again after two years. You had kept in touch over the phone, but it wasn't the same as meeting up in person. Living almost across the country from each made it hard to hang out. At least that's what you told yourself. Sam had asked you to come visit a few months ago, but you had declined. You didn't think you'd be able to face him alone.

You didn't have to be left alone for long though. Before you knew it, you could hear the distant sounds of the brothers bickering. You knew those sounds all too well. You could hear them arguing about something, but you couldn't make you any words. You were about to yell at them to come out when the door finally opened. Dean came out first, Sam following close behind. Sam was gesturing wildly with his arms as he spoke, and Dean rolled his eyes. You opened the door and stepped out of the impala, causing both of them to turn and look at you.

"Y/N?" Sam uttered the moment he saw you.

You smiled wide as you shut the passenger door and started walking towards him. It only took Sam a few strides to meet you in the middle with open arms. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight and almost lifting you up off the ground. You stood on your tip toes and hugged him back just as tight, cherishing your first hug after two years apart.

"It's so good to see you," Sam said before pulling away; his smile was gentle and sweet, and you forgot how much you had missed those dimples of his.

"I didn't get a hug when I picked you up," you heard Dean mumble from behind you.

You turned away from Sam to face him. He was stood there pouting slightly with his arms crossed over his chest. You shook your head with an amused smile.

"Oh, sorry Dean. Did you want a hug? I can give you one too," you said a bit teasingly, but only because no matter what answer he gave, you were hugging him.

"No, it's fine-" you had your arms wrapped around his middle before he could finish speaking.

You hugged him tight, and he wrapped his arms loosely around you. He gave you a quick squeeze before patting you softly on the back. You pulled away and he shook his head at you with a small smile before turning towards the trunk.

"Anyway," he mumbled before popping the trunk and lifting the spare tire hatch inside to reveal all his hunting equipment, "where the hell did I put that thing?" he said to himself as he rummaged around the trunk.

"So, when dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asked as he leaned against the side of the impala to watch Dean rifle through the disorganized mess.

"I was workin' my own gig. This voodoo thing down in New Orleans" Dean replied without looking up.

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" Sam asked, incredulously.

"I'm 26, dude," Dean deadpanned, and you laughed.

Sam looked over at you with raised brows, which made you laugh even harder, "shut up, both o' ya's. Alright, found it," Dean picked up a small manila folder and pulled a small stack of papers out.

"Dad was checking out this two lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy-" Dean handed Sam a piece of paper off the top of the stack; Sam took it and held it out for both of you to see, "they found his car but he'd vanished; completely M.I.A.," there was a photo of a middle aged man next to an article about his disappearance.

"Maybe he was kidnapped?" Sam suggested.

"Kidnapped by a ghost maybe," you joked as you nudged Sam with your elbow.

"Yeah, here's another one in April, another one in December '04, '03, '98, '92," Dean slid a paper off the stack for each year he said, "ten of 'em over the past twenty years," he reached out and snatched the paper from Sam's hand, throwing it back on the stack, "all men, all same 5 mile stretch of road. Started happening more and more, so dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough, and then I get this voicemail yesterday."

Dean reached out and grabbed a tape recorder from off the top of the mess. He pressed play and you could hear John's voice come through the speaker, but it was staticky and garbled.

"Dean.... something-starting to happen...-think it's serious... I need t-... figure out what's going on... Be very careful, Dean.... We're all in danger...," a chill went up your spine as you listened to the message.

"You know there's EVP on that?," Sam said the moment Dean pressed pause.

"Not bad, Sammy. Kind of like riding a bike, isn't it?" Dean said with an amused smirk, and Sam only shook his head at him.

You couldn't focus on their banter, because you knew what was coming next. You stared expectantly down at the tape recorder in Dean's hand. You saw him glance at you in your peripheral.

"You think you'll be able to get anything from a recording?" Dean asked. 

"I might get something, we'll just have to see," you replied with a shrug.

"Alright," Dean said before pressing play again.

"I can never go home..." a woman whispered through the static, and you felt another chill up your spine, but this time it was accompanied by a wave of grief and intense anger.

Your hands gripped the edge of the trunk so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Dean looked over at you expectantly but you shook your head at him.

"Nothing helpful," you muttered as you continued to shake your head back and forth, trying to shake away the invasive feelings.

"It's alright," Dean reached out and rubbed your back soothingly for a moment before tossing the tape recorder back into the trunk.

Sam quickly took Dean's place as he wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulders and rubbed your bicep gently. Dean closed the trunk and stood up tall. He looked up at Sam expectantly, who only sighed deeply. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your cheek.

"Alright. I'll go," Sam said finally, "I'll help you find him, but I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here," he let his arm fall from around your shoulders and you shivered at the loss of his warmth.

"What's first thing Monday?" Dean asked as Sam turned to head back to his apartment.

"I have an interview," Sam said simply as he turned back to look at Dean.

"What, a job interview? Skip it."

"It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate" Sam explained slowly.

"Law school?" Dean asked with a questioning smirk.

"We got a deal or not?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's question.

"Yeah, fine," Dean said after a moment of silence, and you noticed him clench his jaw in annoyance.

Sam nodded and turned to head back into his apartment building. Dean sat on the closed trunk and looked over at you with furrowed brows.

"Did you know about this law school thing?" he asked you.

"Yeah, I did," you told him, honestly.

"You guys talk regularly or something?" you heard a tinge of jealousy in his tone.

"Not all that regularly. We just update each other on major life events occasionally," that wasn't entirely true, but you'd rather not have to sit in a car with the brothers being silently angry at each other.

Dean didn't say anything else, instead he looked down at the ground and nudged a rock with his shoe. You knew Sam and Dean hadn't talked since Sam had left for college. Dean missed his little brother, and you didn't blame him. You just wanted to smack him upside the head for being so stubborn. He certainly wasn't the only Winchester you wanted to knock some sense into.

Sam came back down a few minutes later, emerging from the door of his apartment building carrying a duffel bag that mirrored your own. He tossed his in the trunk as you opened the door to the backseat. Dean furrowed his brows in confusion as he opened the drivers door.

"You don't want shotgun? You had it first, you're welcome to it."

"Nah, I'm alright. Sam always gets shotgun anyway," you said, and Sam shot you a grateful look.

You smiled back at him before getting into the backseat. You pushed your duffel bag to the floor, then you slid to sit in the middle seat, like you always did when it was the three of you. The brothers got into their respective seats before Dean started the impala.

"Alright, get comfortable kids," Dean said as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

A FEW MILES OUTSIDE JERICHO, CALIFORNIA

Your eyes fluttered open to the sound of a car door opening and closing. You blinked rapidly as you tried to let your eyes adjust to the sudden light. You lifted your head up off your makeshift pillow that you had made from your balled up jacket. You rubbed your sore neck as you cursed yourself for forgetting a spare blanket or pillow. You somehow always forgot to bring one.

You looked around at the scenery outside the impala. Not that there was much scenery to speak of. It was a clear day, no clouds to block the sun's warm rays. You turned to your left to see a rickety old convenience store, then turned to the right to see a couple gas pumps that looked like they had seen better days. Sam had his door propped open with his foot as he went through Dean's box of cassette tapes that sat on his lap. You could imagine the disgusted face he was making at all of Dean's classic rock tapes. The warm breeze felt refreshing as you worked on waking up.

"Hey," you heard Dean call out, and you turned to your right to see him through the window, "you want breakfast?" he asked Sam, holding up a few beef sticks and a bag of chips; your stomach growled as you saw the food in his hands.

"No, thanks," Sam said, shaking his head before going back to the box of tapes, "so, how'd you pay for that stuff? You and dad still running credit card scams?" Sam called out to Dean.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean replied as he placed the nozzle back in the gas pump.

"You guys probably shouldn't be talking so loud about hunting and credit card scams," you said, loud enough so Dean could hear from outside the car.

The drivers side door opened a moment later and Dean climbed inside, continuing to talk loudly, having not heard or cared about your advice. You looked around and realized there didn't seem to be anyone else at the gas station. You just hoped the clerk didn't hear Dean's noisy confession.

"Y'know, all we do is apply for the cards. It's not our fault they send 'em."

You rolled your eyes at him. He set a soda down in the cup holder, and you reached out and snatched a beef stick from his hand. Dean silently handed you a bottle of water that you hadn't even seen him holding. You took it gratefully before setting it down next to you so you could rip open the wrapper of the beef stick.

"What names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asked, a bit quieter, taking your advice as he swung his long legs back into the car and pulled the door shut.

"Uh, Burt Aframian. And his son Hector. Scored two cards out of the deal," Dean said as he turned the keys in the ignition.

"That sounds about right," Sam said before looking back down at the box of cassette tapes in his lap, "I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection," he said with a sigh.

"Why?" you almost laughed at how defensive Dean sounded.

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes. And two-" Sam paused, grabbing a cassette and holding it up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica?" he held up a cassette for each band he named, "it's the greatest hits of mullet rock," you were a little offended, considering the fact that you loved those bands too, but you knew Sam was only teasing Dean.

"House rules, Sammy," Dean grabbed the Metallica tape from Sam's hand, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole," you couldn't stop your laughter as Dean slotted the tape into the radio and pressed play.

Dean dropped the cassette case back in the box before he reached out and snatched the box from Sam. He tossed it back to you. You caught it with ease, setting it in the seat next to you. You smiled at the masking tape labels and crude handwriting on a majority of them. You spotted one that read 'Happy 21st B-Day D!' and it made you smile.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam started, ignoring your giggles as he turned to Dean, "it's Sam, okay?" he demanded, but in a gentle way that only he could manage.

The music had already began to play, Battery playing softly through the speakers. Dean reached out and slowly turned the knob to increase the volume. Dean raised his voice along with the music.

"Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud!" Dean said as he pulled out of the gas station and back onto the highway.

CENTENNIAL HIGHWAY, CALIFORNIA

Sam gave you the task of calling the hospital in the area for anyone matching John's description, while he called the morgue. It didn't take very long before you hung up the phone, having received the information you needed. You noticed a sign that read 'JERICHO 7' whiz by as Sam ended his call.

"Alright, so there's no one matching dad at the morgue."

"Or the hospital," you added.

"So that's something, I guess," Sam said.

You suddenly felt your chest tighten, and your heartbeat quickened as you seemed to be nearing a bridge. You could see it in the distance, and the only clouds in the sky covered the entire length of it. The dark clouds contrasted against the blue sky. You felt your heart drop at the sight of police cars parked near the bridge. Dean seemed to notice too as he glanced at Sam, then back at the road ahead. You could see a couple cops stood around a blue car that was parked sideways, blocking off the bridge.

"Check it out," Dean said as you neared the action.

Sam leaned forward with narrowed eyes to try to make out more details. As you got closer, it felt like a hand was being wrapped around your throat. You shivered despite the warm California air that was making you sweat. Dean pulled off on the side of the road a couple yards away from the bridge, and you were finally able to take a deep breath. There was a cloud of death that hung over that bridge.

You all sat there and watched for a few moments before Dean turned off the impala. Suddenly, he reached over and opened the glovebox. He grabbed out a small box full of fake ID cards that had his and John's pictures on them. You sighed and leaned back in your seat.

"They're gonna get suspicious if all three of us go up," you said as Dean rifled through the box.

"Then stay in the car," he answered quickly, not looking up.

"I have to get to the bridge to get anything."

"Then just go to the edge of the bridge and do your thing while Sam and I go talk to them," Dean said as he pulled out an ID from the pile before shoving the box back in the glovebox, "let's go," he said as he opened his door and climbed out of the impala.

Sam turned to you with his mouth hung open in surprise, "fake ID's? Really?" he asked, obviously annoyed with Dean.

"They're helpful," you said with a nod, "I don't like using them all that much, though," you added quickly when he shook his head disapprovingly. 

The air felt heavy as you stepped out of the impala. You couldn't pinpoint how many people had died on that bridge, but you knew it had to be many. At least one, by the looks of the empty car and confused looking cops. Sam's door shutting loudly made you force yourself to start walking. You and Sam caught up with Dean, and you took your usual place in-between the brothers, walking quickly to keep in stride with them.

"You guys find anything?" you heard a man on the right side of the bridge yell down to what you assumed were men combing the river.

"No! Nothing!" was the distant and echoed response.

Once you reached the beginning of the bridge, you slowed and departed from the brothers, heading to the left. Sam and Dean continued walking toward the blue car and the cops. You heard them begin talking with the officers, but their voices faded away as you neared the edge of the bridge. You reached out and placed your hands on the railing, using them to brace yourself as you leaned over to look down into the rushing river water.

A wave of anger washed over you, similar to the one you had felt before, when you listened to the EVP on John's voicemail. It was accompanied by a bitter sadness, and this time it was much more intense. It suddenly shifted into grief, then all you felt was cold, as if someone had dumped a bucket of the river water on your head. You shivered as a name appeared in your mind. You turned quickly to look for Sam and Dean, spotting them walking back toward the start of the bridge. You began to speed walk over to them. You watched Dean take step in front of Sam, and turned to face him as they stopped walking. They looked like they are arguing again. You shook your head as you stomped over.

"I need a pen," you demanded as you walked up to them.

"Woah, are you okay?" Sam said as he look at you, concern etched into his features.

"I'm fine, I just need a pen," you repeated, "I got a name."

"Y/N, you're crying," Sam said as he pulled his sleeve up over his thumb and wiped your left cheek while you reached up and wiped you right; sure enough there was a trail were tears had streamed down your face.

"I didn't even know I was. I don't think it was really me crying, anyway. She made me feel how she felt before she died, if that makes any sense," you rambled on as Sam wiped the rest of your tears away before taking a step back, and you didn't fail to notice the raised eyebrow look Dean gave you and Sam.

You were about to raise your hand to hit Dean on the arm, but you heard an authoritative voice come from your right that stopped you, "can I help you three?"

You turned to see the sheriff with two tall FBI agents standing behind him. All three of them stared down at you through their sunglasses. You typically didn't let cops rattle you, but the FBI were a different story. You did your best to stand up tall and stare them down right back. The sheriff looked the three of you over, his eyes landing on you.

"No, sir. We were just leaving," Dean told him.

The FBI agents didn't seem to have time for you, as they ignored Dean and walked around him, "Agent Mulder. Agent Scully," Dean joked as they passed him.

You wound back and slapped him in the arm. He laughed and rubbed his bicep as the three of you walked past the sheriff. You could feel his eyes on you as you left. Dean finally pulled out a pen and handed it to you as you walked back to the impala. You spread out your palm and wrote down the name you had been given earlier.

"Constance Welch," you said to them as you held your hand out for both of them to see.

"Who's that?" Dean asked.

"The girl who made me cry," you tried to make a joke out of it, but Sam's lips pressed into a thin line, and his brows furrowed; he never liked when the ghosts affected you like that, "I think she's the spirit that's killing the guys," you added, quickly.

"Well, we'll have to go dig up some more information. They mentioned something about the girlfriend of the kid who died. We can go talk to her and ask her a couple questions, try to figure out why he was killed," Dean explained as the three of you got into the impala.

"Are we gonna go wave fake badges in her face?" you asked, not sure if that was the best idea, "maybe Sam and I can talk to her while you go look up Constance," you suggested, and Dean glanced at you in the rearview mirror before nodding.

"Alright, fine. But I better not get stuck with the busywork next time," he said with a huff.

JERICHO, CALIFORNIA

The sidewalks were mostly empty as the impala slowly rolled down the main road of town. It was still fairly early in the day, but you expected more people to be out. It was the weekend after all. When you saw the sign above the closed movie theater, it made sense why the streets were mostly barren. 'EMERGENCY TOWN HALL MEETING; SUNDAY 8 PM; BE SAFE OUT THERE,' was the message to all the townsfolk.

"I'll bet you that's her," Dean nodded to a girl taping a pink paper on the brick wall just to the left of the theater.

Dean drove a few more feet before pulling up to the side of the road. You and Sam hopped out, and you leaned down to look at Dean through the open passenger door.

"I'll call you when we're done," you told him and he nodded.

You stood up straight and Sam shut his door. You turned and walked the few steps toward the girl. You tried not to seem too intimidating, but with Sam standing at 6'4, that was a bit of a challenge. You hoped his young face and signature puppy dog eyes would help your cause. She taped a missing poster to the wall that read 'MISSING TROY SQUIRE' underneath a smiling photo of Troy. You noticed the other missing posters that were hung up too, and you quickly realized they were all of the pervious victims you had seen in Dean's file.

"You must be Amy," you said as you approached her.

"Yeah," she replied flatly, not looking up as she secured the paper to the wall with another piece of tape.

"Yeah, Troy must have told you about us. I'm his aunt Y/N, and this is his uncle Sam," you explained to the girl with a smile.

"He never mentioned you to me," she said before turning and walking away, but you were quick to walk in stride with her.

"Well, that's Troy I guess," you said, adding in a fake chuckle, "we're not around much, we're up in Modesto."

"We're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around," Sam said as he took a step in front of her to stop her from walking any further.

Another girl came up to Amy, gently placing a hand on her arm, "hey, are you okay?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," Amy said with a nod, never taking her eyes off Sam.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?" he asked her, and she nodded.

Amy and her friend, who introduced herself as Rachel, led you down the street to a diner. It was mostly empty, other than an older couple sitting at a booth in the back right. You also noticed a seemingly bored waitress standing by the counter. She barely even noticed the four of you walk in, too busy looking down at her cellphone. Amy and Rachel slid into a booth in the far left of the diner. You and Sam slid into the side opposite them. Amy waved down the waitress and you and Sam ordered coffee, while the girls ordered sodas.

"What happened the night Troy disappeared?" you asked her gently.

"I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did," she told you, on the verge of tears.

"He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?" Sam asked.

"No. Nothing I can remember."

Amy fidgeted nervously with the charm of her necklace; it was a black pentagram. Sam took the words right out of your mouth before you could speak them.

"I like your necklace."

"Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents," She laughed, "with all that devil stuff."

You and Sam both chuckled. He glanced at you, and you shared a look of understanding.

"Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." Sam explained to Amy.

"Did Troy believe in or practice anything satanic? Or was the necklace just a harmless gift?" you asked her, trying to get any sort of lead.

"It was a just a gift. I think he ordered it off the internet," she told you with a shrug.

"Well, the way Troy disappeared, somethin's not right. If either of you know anything..." Sam trailed off.

Amy and Rachel slowly turned and looked at each other.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk," Rachel replied.

You and Sam spoke in tandem, "what do they talk about?" you'd be lying if you said you hadn't missed Sam always knowing what you were going to say.

Rachel paused, glancing over at Amy before she rested her elbows on the table and leaned in, speaking quietly, "It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago," the name Constance Welch flashed in your mind as Rachel spoke, "Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever," you glanced over at Sam who was listening intently.

"Well, let's hope it's just a legend, yeah? Thank you for answering our questions. If you think of anything else that could help," you paused as you grabbed a napkin from the holder and pulled out the pen that Dean had given you earlier, "don't be afraid to call," you wrote your phone number down on the napkin and handed it to her, smiling warmly.

"Thank you for your time," Sam said and you almost laughed at how diplomatic he sounded.

You and Sam slid out of the booth and headed for the front door. The bell above the door dinged as Sam opened it, letting you go through first. You noticed the sun starting to slowly slip below the horizon. The breeze didn't do much to cool you off, the humid air making your forehead slick with sweat. You used the back of your hand to wipe off as much moisture from your face as you could. You gestured for Sam to follow you as you started walking down the road toward the motel you had seen earlier. You pulled your cell phone out as you walked and flipped it open, quickly finding Dean's contact. You pressed call and brought the phone up to your ear. It rang twice before he picked up.

"You get anything?" he asked you eagerly.

You didn't think twice about his lack of greeting, instead you answered his question immediately, "you probably got more than we did. We got told a local legend of a woman who was murdered on Centennial, and her ghost hitchhikes and picks up poor suckers who never get seen again," you told him, but you had a feeling he was going to fill you in on the missing pieces.

"They almost got it right. Funny how much a story can change over twenty years" Dean said, more to himself than to you.

"Hold on," you said before pulling the phone away from your ear and putting him on speakerphone, "What actually happened?" you asked him.

"She committed suicide. Jumped off the bridge where they found that kids car."

"So it's gotta be her... Did it say why she did it?"

Dean sighed sadly, "the article said she left her kids in the bathtub and they drowned. She had called 911 but it had already been too late. They found her an hour later in the river."

"Geez, no wonder I felt so much grief," you muttered, more to yourself, but Sam heard it all too clearly, "did the article say where she's buried?" you asked, deciding to ignore the concerned look Sam was giving you.

"No, but it had her husbands name. Joseph Welch. If we find him I'm sure he can tell us where she's buried."

"Alright. It's getting late, though. We can meet at the motel we passed earlier and get a room for the night," you said, realizing how much your body was aching.

"Want me to head back and pick you guys up?"

"Nah, we're almost there. I can see it. Just meet us there."

"Will do. See you soon."

"See you soon," you echoed before closing your phone and shoving it back in your pocket.

There was a long pause before Sam spoke, "Are you feeling okay?"

Sam knew how drained you could feel after channeling a ghost like you did on the bridge, especially an extremely vengeful spirit like Constance. The more you thought about how exhausted you were, your limbs felt heavier.

"I'm alright, just tired," you told him, but you could see in his furrowed brow expression that he didn't believe you, "a few hours of sleep should fix me right up," you added, somewhat sarcastically.

You had just made it to the front office when you heard the all too familiar roar of the impala's engine. You turned to see Dean pull into the parking lot and park in the first parking spot he could find. He hopped out with a gloating smile, happy that he had uncovered more than the two of you. You wanted to remind him who got the name in the first place.

"Lets just get a room," you said before Dean could start gloating aloud.

The three of you walked into the office of the motel. An older looking gentleman was stood behind the counter with a polite smile. Dean pulled his fake credit card out of his wallet and dropped it down on the counter.

"One room, please," he told the clerk, his proud smile still spread wide across his face.

The man picked up the fake credit card, looking down at it before glancing up at Dean, "you guys having a reunion or something?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked him.

"I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month," Sam and Dean shared a look.

"Which room was it?" you asked sweetly, hoping the man didn't get too suspicious.

"Number one. I only remember because he was so damn adamant about having it," he told you as he ran Dean's credit card and handed it back along with your room key.

"Thank you," you said before practically dragging the brothers out of the office, "let's get settled into our room, then we can check out John's room in a little bit. That guy might be keeping an eye out."

Sam and Dean agreed. The three of you grabbed your bags from the impala before bringing them to your room. You waited for the sun to fully set before the three of you started getting impatient. You were the first one out the door, checking to make sure that the coast was clear before the brothers followed. You walked down to the door of room one, standing shoulder to shoulder with Dean, your backs to the door as Sam knelt down to pick the lock. It only took him about thirty seconds before you heard the lock click from behind you. You turned as Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's shoulder, yanking him back into the room. You stepped in quickly after. Sam shut the door behind you as your eyes scanned the room.

"Woah," you mumbled as you both looked around the room.

There were newspaper clippings, printed articles, and photos hung on almost every inch of the walls of the motel room. There are books and papers scattered across every surface. Dean flicked a lamp on, leaning down to sniff a discarded burger underneath the light. He recoiled in disgust.

"I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least," Dean observed.

"I think you're right," you replied as you walked to the far wall, making sure to step over the salt line that blocked the door.

Sam leaned down and poked at the salt on the floor, "salt, cats eye shells. He was worried, trying to keep something from coming in," he said as he stood up straight, before walking over to stand by Dean, "what have you got here?" Sam asked his brother, who was looking at a line of papers hung up on the wall.

"Centennial Highway victims," Dean replied, looking over the obituaries to make sure there weren't any he'd missed, "I don't get it. I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities," Sam crossed the room to stand next to you as Dean spoke, "there's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

You and Sam noticed the photos and papers hung on the wall in front of you, and it confirmed what you had already been suspicious of. Sam reached out and turned on the lamp in front of you.

"Dad figured it out," Sam said simply.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked as he turned.

"He found the same article we did. Constance Welch," Sam said, pointing at the article hung on the wall.

"She's a woman in white," you said when Dean's brows furrowed in confusion.

"You sly dogs," Dean said as he looked back at the articles of the missing men.

"The caption of the photo says Joseph Welch was thirty. The article dates to 1981, so he must be..." you paused, doing the math in your head, "sixty-four!" you said, hopeful.

"If he's still alive," Sam spoke what was on all your minds.

"We can worry about it tomorrow. I need at least a couple hours so I don't fall over," you said, a yawn enunciating your words.

"Didn't get enough beauty sleep in the car? You had the whole backseat to yourself," Dean teased as he walked to the door.

"That backseat is not as comfy for sleeping as you think it is," you protested as you stepped over the salt line.

"Better than nothing," Dean was just trying to piss you off, but unfortunately it was working.

"Well, no shit, jackass. But my neck is killing me and I'd love to sleep in a real bed," you pushed past Dean and out the door, checking to make sure no one was outside before leaving.

You got into the room first, taking your opportunity to enter the bathroom and have a quick shower before Dean used up all the hot water. You had the water running and the door closed when you heard Sam and Dean enter the room. You could heard Dean's muffled voice from the other side of the door You heard only a garbled mess of words until you heard your name. You quietly crept up to the bathroom door, pressing your ear up against it. Their voices were quieter now, but you were sure you had heard Dean say your name. You decided it probably wasn't best to ease drop. You couldn't hear what they were saying anyway. You gave up, stepping away from the door and continuing with your shower.

Dean was already passed out in one of the two king sized beds by the time you were out of the bathroom. You chuckled at his loud snoring as you stuffed your dirty clothes into your duffel bag. Sam was sat at the small table near the window, looking down at his phone. You stood awkwardly, wringing your hands as you contemplated what to say or do.

"The bathroom's free if you want to take a shower," you said finally.

Sam jumped slightly, looking a bit startled. He hadn't noticed you come out of the bathroom. Were you that sneaky or was he that distracted? You guessed it was a bit of both.

"Oh, thanks, but I'm good."

"Alright," you glanced at Dean, then back at Sam, "I don't think you'll want to share with him, so you can share with me," you felt your ears warming up but you did your best to ignore it.

"After having to sit in the front seat with him all day, I'd rather not have to deal with him hogging the covers all night. Thank you," Sam said gratefully, but he made no move to get into the bed, instead looking back down at his phone.

You nodded before walking over to the empty bed, laying on the right side. You left the side facing Dean's bed for Sam.

"Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

~~~~~~~~~

You're sat on the floor, your father's head in your lap. Your hands are slick with his blood as you hold the sides of his face.

"Dad? Are you okay? Dad, please wake up! Dad!"

You jolted awake, sitting up straight as you looked around your unfamiliar surroundings. Your eyes met Sam's as he stood next to the bed, his hand on your shoulder.

"Nightmare?" you can barely hear him over your heart pounding in your ears.

You nodded as you took in a shaky breath. Sam's hand moved to your back, rubbing in soft circles. It actually helped ground you, and you were able to catch your breath fairly quickly. Dean came out of the bathroom as Sam let his hand fall from your back.

"You okay?" he asked you and you nodded quickly.

"I'm just gonna get ready," you mumbled, feeling awkward having both of them looking at you worriedly.

You stood and walked over to your duffel bag, grabbing out a change of clothes and heading into the bathroom. You could hear Sam and Dean's hushed voices as you got dressed. They went silent a few moments before you exited the bathroom. Sam was sat on the bed as he listened to a voicemail from who you assumed to be Jessica. You watched Dean pull on his jacket.

"Hey, man, I'm starving. I'm gonna grab a little something to eat at that diner down the street. You want anything?" Dean asked Sam.

"No," he replied.

"Aframian's buying," Dean joked.

Sam only shook his head, and Dean sighed, turning to you.

"You hungry? Wanna go get some greasy diner food?" he asked enthusiastically.

"For breakfast? I'm hoping for some pancakes or something," you said as you looked around for your own jacket, "we'll see you in a bit, Sam," you stopped yourself from calling him 'Sammy,' but you can see in his eyes that he caught your almost slip up.

"Mhm," he hummed in response as you and Dean headed out the door.

You walked with Dean across the parking lot toward the impala. You looked to the right when you felt someone looking at you. You saw the motel clerk talking with a couple cops. The clerk pointed at you and Dean when he saw you.

"Shit," you muttered as you turned to face away from the cops.

Dean mirrored your movements, standing shoulder to shoulder with you as he pulled his phone out, "dude, five-o. Take off," you heard Dean say into the phone.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, "uh, they kinda spotted us. Go find Dad," Dean closed his phone and stuck it in his jacket pocket before the he spun around to face the cops, bumping your shoulder with his to make you turn around too.

"Problem, officers?" Dean said with a shit eating grin that you wanted to smack right off his face.

"Where's your partner?" the cop crossed his arms over his chest as he looked from Dean to you, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Partner? What, what partner?" Dean asked innocently.

The cop jerked his thumb toward your motel room, silently ordering his partner to search the room. He obeyed, walking to the door before opening it and going inside. You felt your palms begin to sweat as you watched him enter the room, worried that he would come back out with Sam in handcuffs. Your eyes darted back toward the cop standing in front of you. He stood still as a statue, staring you down. You did your best to stand your ground and try not seem a nervous as you were.

"So, fake U.S. Marshal, fake credit cards. You got anything that's real?" the cop asked Dean.

Dean paused, as if debating his response, "My boobs," he finally replied with a toothy grin that showed he was satisfied with his answer.

The cop shoved Dean's shoulder roughly, forcing him to turn around. He pressed his hand in between Dean's shoulder blades, slamming him down against the hood of the car with a thud while his other hand went to his belt to grab his cuffs.

"Turn around with your hands against the hood of the car, please," the cop ordered you through gritted teeth.

You did what he said, not wanting to piss him off anymore than Dean had already done. He cuffed Dean before cuffing you, pressing your cheek against the hood of the impala. You must have looked incredibly annoyed, because Dean's slightly amused smile quickly disappeared.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law," the cop read you your rights as you continued to glare at Dean.

You always hated dealing with the cops. Everytime Dean got the two of you arrested, you hated them even more. Cops didn't believe in monsters and ghosts, so they were always a hinderance, rather than a help. You had a funny feeling that this sheriff was going to get on your nerves. They had thrown you and Dean in separate interview rooms. The sheriff had asked your name and age, which you gave fake answers to both. He had left you to go interrogate Dean.

He was gone for a few minutes before he entered the room again. He was holding a file box full of papers and folders. You assumed they were the things that had been hung up on the walls of John's motel room. He dropped it onto the table before dropping down a notebook in front of you. You immediately recognized it, but you did your best to make sure your face didn't reflect that.

"So you want to give me your real name?" he asked as he leaned against the table.

"I already told you. It's Sandra Nugent," you reiterated to the sheriff, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

"You could be in a lot of trouble here, you know that? Unless you cooperate with me. If you tell me what your boyfriend and his partners have been doing, maybe I can help you out," you wanted to laugh at how desperate he sounded.

"You don't have any evidence on us," you replied stubbornly.

"Ya'll got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall. Along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. You and your buddy in there are officially suspects."

"Right, because when the first one went missing in '82, before I was even born," you deadpanned.

"I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing. So tell me... Y/N is it?" you must have looked surprised, because he opened John's notebook that was sat on the table and began flipping through it slowly, "I thought that might be your name. I got Dean's name fairly quickly, but yours I wasn't so sure about. See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out. I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy," he flipped through until he was almost at the end, stopping and leaning back so you could see the page he had flipped to, "but I found this, too."

You looked down at the page. It was mostly blank other than Deans name scrawled in John's handwriting, along with 35-111 underneath it. The message was circled hastily.

"No one is going anywhere until one of you can tell me what the hell that means," he tapped the message on the paper with his index finger.

"I don't know what it means. It looks like it might be a locker combo or something," you said with a shrug.

The sheriff was getting red faced, and you were sure Dean had told him the same things. This wasn't your first rodeo. Before he could question you any more, there was a knock at the door. It opened a second later. A young cop stuck his head into the room.

"We just got a 911, shots fired over at Whiteford Road," he told the sheriff.

"You have to go to the bathroom?" the Sheriff asked you.

"No," you replied.

"Good."

He promptly cuffed you to the table. You struggled against the cuffs slightly, the metal digging into the skin of your wrist. The sheriff left and shut the door behind him. Through the small window in the interrogation room door, you could see all the cops scrambling to leave. You looked around, trying to find a way out, when you noticed a paper clip sticking out of John's journal.

You reached out and grabbed it. You unbent it and used it to pick the lock on your handcuffs. You did your best to remember what Sam taught you, and soon you were free. You grabbed John's journal off the table and crept over to the door. You peered through the small window and waited until all the cops had cleared out before trying the door. It was surprisingly unlocked. You went to the interrogation room next door, opening it to reveal Dean handcuffed to the table.

"Well look at you, ya' little escape artist! How did you manage that?" Dean asked as you entered the room.

You held up the straightened paper clip for him to see before getting to work on unlocking his handcuffs. He laughed in amusement as you freed him.

"He made it pretty easy," you said with a shrug, handing him John's journal, "now come on, let's get outta here before they come back."

The two of you crept through the police station, careful not to let anyone see you. It seemed like they had all hands on deck though, because the place looked almost deserted. You managed to find your cell phones on the sheriff's desk. You were sure the receptionist would still be at the front desk, so you searched around for window or a back exit. You quickly found a window that let to the fire escape.

You unlocked it and pulled it open before climbing out onto the fire escape. You gestured for Dean to follow, and he did so without hesitation. Dean climbed down first before you climbed down after him. The two of you made sure the coast was clear of any cop cars before walking down the sidewalk, headed for the town exit. You weren't sure which way Sam had gone or where he was, but you needed to get the hell out of dodge before the cops found you again. The sidewalk ended at the exit of town, and Dean pulled his cellphone out to call Sam.

"Fake 911 phone call? I don't know, Sammy, that's pretty illegal," he said as he put it on speakerphone so you could hear Sam too.

"You're welcome," Sam's voice came through the shitty speaker of Deans phone.

"Listen, we gotta talk," Dean started, but Sam was quick to reply.

"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop," Sam explained.

"Sammy, would you shut up for a second?" Dean tried to stop his brother from speaking.

"I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet," Sam continued, ignoring Dean's words.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you! He's gone. Dad left Jericho."

"What? How do you know?"

"We've got his journal," you told him.

"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing," Sam said slowly.

"Yeah, well, he did this time," Dean said.

"What's it say?" Sam asked.

"The same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going."

"Coordinates," Sam said, immediately understanding what Dean meant, "Where to?"

"We aren't sure yet. We didn't have much time to look while we were running from the cops," you said, annoyance evident in your tone, but it was more directed at Dean.

"I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? What the hell is going on?"

You heard the screech of tires skidding on the road through the phone before a quiet thud.

"Sam? Sam!" Dean yelled into the phone frantically.

"Take me home," you heard Constance's soft voice come through the phone, and your hand flew up to clutch your head as the image of a house appeared in your mind.

"Y/N? What is it? Are you alright?" Dean stopped walking to put his hand on your shoulder.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight as you examined the house. It felt like a memory, but you knew you had never seen the house before. You quickly realized it had to be a memory from Constance. It must be her old house where Sam said she was buried.

"The house," you said, "We have to go to the house. That's where she's taking him," you said as you opened your eyes and lifted your head to look at Dean.

"We don't know where the house is!" he cried out, more in fear than in anger.

"I do. Follow me," you didn't elaborate and instead you turned and started jogging, knowing the house wasn't too far from you.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Dean asked as he easily caught up to jog next to you.

"I'm fine, but Sam isn't gonna be if we don't hurry up," you said before picking up the pace.

You and Dean were now running as fast as your legs could manage. You eventually cut through the tree line, coming out into a clearing. You could see the house in the distance, with the impala stopped out front. You could see Sam sitting in the front seat. As you got closer, you could see the ghostly figure above Sam. You quickly recognized the long wavy hair to belong to Constance.

"Cover your ears!" Dean shouted as you ran.

Your hands flew up to cover ears. You had been hunting with the Winchester brothers long enough to know that if one of them said to do something, you did it without question. You heard the muffled sound of a gun shot as you saw the front windows of the impala shatter. Constance disappeared for a moment before reappearing, turning to glare at the two of you. You felt your spine shudder in fear at the anger that radiated off her. Dean continued to shoot until she disappeared for good. You had just made it to the impala when you saw Sam sit up. He reached out and turned the keys in the ignition, making the car rumble to life.

"I'm taking you home," he said breathlessly before he pressed on the gas.

"Sam!" Dean yelled after him as the impala lurched forward and smashed through the front wall of the house with a loud crash.

You and Dean ran up the porch stairs and through the now giant hole in the side of the house. You stepped over the rubble and toward the impala that had stopped in the middle of what looked to be the remnants of a living room.

"Sam?" Dean called out as he ran to the passenger side of the car, "Sam! You okay?" Dean asked as he leaned in through the window.

"I think..." you heard Sam say from inside the car as you walked over.

"Can you move?" Dean asked as he tried to get the passenger door open.

"Yeah. Help me?"

Dean yanked the passenger door open before leaning inside the car and reaching out for Sam. He pulled him out and up onto his feet and brushed the dust off his shoulders.

"There you go," Dean said.

The three of you turned and saw Constance on the other side of the room, holding a large framed photo. She finally noticed you, glaring daggers as she threw the picture to the floor. It clattered loudly as the three of you stared dumbly. Suddenly, her hand lifted and she made a gesture that caused a dresser to slide across the room and pin you against the side of the impala. The wind got knocked out of you as you tried to push the dresser away, but there was an unseen force holding it in place. Sam and Dean were too stubborn to stop trying. Constance took a step forward, a look of malice in her eyes. You were anticipating her next move, when suddenly the lights flickered and buzzed. You watched Constance turn and walk to the base of the stairs that now had water pouring down them like a waterfall.

"You've come home to us, Mommy," you heard a boy and girl say in unison.

Suddenly, the spirits of Constance's children appeared behind her. They wrapped their arms around her in one final hug as the lights surged. You shielded your eyes as Constance screamed. You watched from under your forearm as the three of their spirits sunk slowly into the floor, disappearing and leaving only a puddle of water behind. Sam and Dean pushed the dresser over, and it clattered loudly to the floor. It kicked up a cloud of dust that made you cough. You walked over to examine the puddle, Sam and Dean close behind you. You all stared down at the floor in silence, trying to collect your thoughts. You were trying to brush off the residual rage that Constance had left behind.

"So this is where she drowned her kids," Dean said, breaking the silence.

"That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them," Sam confirmed.

"You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy," Dean clapped Sam on the chest where Constance had dug her fingers into his chest, presumably to rip out his heart; Sam laughed through the pain it caused him.

"Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

"I was just thinking the same thing," you added.

"Hey. Saved your ass," Dean said he walked over to the impala, leaning down to inspect the damage, "I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car?" he turned to point at Sam menacingly, "I'll kill you," Sam laughed as you gave Dean a 'what the fuck?' look.

"You literally shot the windows out! I doubt Sam did more damage than you did to your own car," you said as you walked over to stand next to Dean, noticing the busted out headlight.

Fortunately, the impala still ran. The front windows were shattered, and the right headlight needed replacing, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be fixed. She'd been through worse, is what Dean had said.

~~~~~~~~~

You were leaned over the backrest of Sam's seat, looking at the map he had sitting open in his lap. He was trying to find the location of the coordinates that John had left. It didn't take him long to circle a spot on the map.

"Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado," Sam said and Dean nodded.

"Sounds charming. How far?" Dean asked.

"About six hundred miles," Sam replied.

"Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by tonight!" Dean said excitedly.

"Dean, I, um..." Sam trailed off, and you sat back in your seat, knowing where this was going.

"You're not going," Dean said simply.

"The interview's tomorrow morning. I gotta be there."

"Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home."

You had the sudden realization that your bags were still in your motel room. It wasn't difficult to convince Dean to drive back to the motel. You and Sam managed to sneak in and grab your stuff without being spotted. Dean sped to the highway to make sure the cops didn't catch you again.

None of you spoke for the rest of the drive. It was only a few hours, and the sun had set by the time you had arrived at Sam's apartment complex. Dean stopped out front and Sam opened the door and got out, shutting it behind him. He turned to lean in through the window as you climbed over the backrest to sit in the front seat. Once you were sat, you looked over at Sam, noticing how close he was.

"Call me if you find him?" Sam asked, and Dean nodded, "And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" his eyes went from Dean to you, and you nodded with a smile.

"Yeah, all right," Dean replied, still frowning slightly.

Sam patted the door twice, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stood up straight. He turned around and started to walk away. Dean set his arm on the backrest behind you, leaning forward slightly to look out the passenger window.

"Sam?" Dean called out.

Sam looked over his shoulder, "yeah?"

"You know, we all made a hell of a team back there," he said with a smirk, glancing at you.

Sam nodded with a small smile before Dean turned back to look at the road as he pressed on the gas. You didn't dare turn to look, instead you tried to catch a glimpse of Sam in the crooked side mirror. You could see his tall figure looming in the shadows. There was a sense of foreboding that you couldn't shake as you drove away. You were only on the road for a few minutes. Sam's apartment building had just barely faded in the distance. You turned and saw Dean's furrowed brows as he glanced between his watch and the road.

"What?" you questioned him.

"I think my watch stopped working."

A wave of dread washed over you as your heart dropped into your stomach. It felt like every inch of your skin was covered in goosebumps. You swallowed hard around the lump rising in your throat.

"Dean, turn around and go back. Now," you said firmly.

Dean didn't have to be told twice. He immediately pulled a u-turn and headed back toward Sam's apartment. You could feel the evil radiating off the building even before you saw it come into view. Dean pressed down on the gas harder, going well above the speed limit. He pulled into the parking lot and skidded to a stop in front of the door. You both hopped out of the impala but he stopped you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," he said quickly before turning and running into the building.

You looked up to see flames and smoke emitting from an upstairs window. Your stomach churned as you pulled out your phone to call 911. You put the phone to your ear, and spoke to the operator about the fire, who told you they were sending a fire truck. You could hear the fire alarm going off before Sam and Dean even made it outside. Just as your chest was starting to ache with worry, you saw them emerge, Dean practically dragging Sam along. Sam fell into your waiting arms, and you used all your strength to keep him somewhat standing. He had wrapped his arms around you and had shoved his face into the crook of your neck. Dean stood a few feet away, coughing loudly. He put up his hand and made it into a faux phone, shaking it next to his ear with furrowed brows, silently asking if you had called the police. You nodded as you hugged Sam tightly, rubbing his back with one hand and petting his hair softly with the other.

The fire fighters didn't take long to get there. They managed to tame the flames fairly quickly, leaving most of the apartment complex intact. Sam had detached from you before they had arrived, wiping his eyes and sitting on the trunk of the impala. He didn't speak a word to you. Only when Sam was talking with the cops was when you got part of the story from Dean.

"She was... on the ceiling," he told you slowly.

"Like... Like how your mom died?" you asked gently.

Dean nodded and you felt your chest tighten as your heart rate quickened. You shook your head as you looked over to the building. Smoke was still billowing out into the night sky, blocking the few stars you could see from view. You and Dean were stood side by side at the back of the crowd of onlookers that had grown at the edge of the police tape. The red lights of the fire truck were still flashing, and they were starting to give you a headache. You turned away from the building to head back to the impala. Dean had pulled it off to the side of the road a few yards away. Sam was stood in front of the open trunk. You saw him loading a shotgun as you approached.

You didn't want to pity him, knowing it would only make him feel worse. When you saw the tear stains down his cheeks, you couldn't stop the sympathetic smile you gave him. He smiled weakly at you. Dean walked up next, giving Sam a look you couldn't place. You knew all the Winchester looks, but this one was foreign to you. Sam nodded at him before letting out shuddering breath, obviously knowing what his brother's look meant. You appreciated them getting along, but you didn't like to be excluded. Under different circumstances, you would have pestered them until they told you what telepathic messages they were sending each other. Instead, you stayed quiet, watching as Sam threw the now loaded shotgun into the trunk.

"We got work to do," he said before slamming the trunk shut.

#userbored-writer101 #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural season 1 #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #john winchester #bobby singer #supernatural rewrite #supernatural x reader rewrite #pilot #female reader #gender neutral pronouns

[antlerqueer]

More psychologists and psychiatrists *need* to watch Yellowjackets and analyze everything. I'm dead serious I need more professional doctors that will analyze all this fucked up show together with us the yellowjackets (btw why don't we have a fan fandom name for ourselves? Maybe because we're not 16 ) Now discuss

We kind of have a fandom name! The official TikTok has been saying the hive, but in the discord server I'm in we call ourselves the book club.

I would love to see queer psychologists/psychiatrists weigh in, especially women, but I'd be slightly wary mostly bc my thoughts on the institution are that it's an exploitative, bias-ridden educational system that unfortunately is only just now working on undoing the sexism/racism/ableism/classism/etc baked into it. (Gets off soapbox.)

But yeah! I talk about the show with my therapist and since I've been receiving professional mental health services since I was a kid (and at some point decided to take a couple of classes in college) I like to pretend I'm well-versed in enough to provide some insights with a critical enough lens. I think the way the show is handling trauma in women is honestly so incredible and unbelievably respectful given how traumatized women in media are almost instantly villainized by the narrative and audiences.

I am, of course, wary that the only women whose mental health issues exist beyond the trauma of The Wilderness and Misty's pre-crash bullying are women of color - that seems to be something the showrunners wrote unintentionally, then cast Lottie as a woc, and didnt revise post-casting. I hope they deal with these sensitively as it moves forward and we see more of the other girls, but since the surviving/named supporting cast is mostly woc (Gen, Crystal, Akilah, Mari compared with iirc just Melissa) I'm not entirely sure how they could remedy this. Natalie has pre-crash trauma that looks to have developed into PTSD and is an abuse survivor, so she's likely dealing with CPTSD but we don't see that much in her teen years storyline beyond substance abuse (which stopped in the forest) and the one flash of her dad as the plane was going down. We see Shauna grieving but it's only been two months - she's having a trauma response on top of the existing trauma of the wilderness. That's not mental illness (yet) that's just being constantly traumatized.

Misty is. Y'know. Misty.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets spoilers

[mantra4ia]

Excuse me while I go watch City: Primeval for the it's-Justified-time.

I love nearly everything about it:

"Tick tock goes the clock...there's no such thing as on time. You're either early or your late. And where you're going we're going to be early." I love that when we meet teenage Willa, and Raylan's getting her ice cream, it's hard to tell from the relationship dynamic whether he's off or on the clock— whether she's a marshall's daughter or his bounty—only to learn that he's hauling her off to a remedial behavior camp and that the answer is yes to both. 😅 Anyone else get a flashback vibe to Dewey Crowe?

White collar criminal..."what do you think he did to get in the book? Capitalism." The truth.

Doesn't hold back from pointing out the corruption in institutional law enforcement. Gives new meaning to "throw the book at 'em."

Court room: Raylan: "Pretty much" / Defendant: " ******* I wanted Chick-fil-A"

We love Wendell Robinson, "sometimes I guess it takes an angry white guy to catch an angry white guy."

"Even though my premium is up to date, I can't make a claim because what now? Because the police did it?" #white collar crime.

"there are things that I want to do with that book that have nothing to do with what's legal and everything, e-ver-y-thing to do with what's just. Can you understand?" That's funny, you have no idea.

Carolyn, my queen, you exude all the badass chemistry I could ever imagine. You had me at "The marshall isn't the one on trial / give me a minute and he will be." And then:

"Sir, please... don't move, don't say shit."

"Better now that my ****-heel partner is gone..."

(Sees purse, finds a bra) you can't be serious, is she here? Ma'am? This is not Tasha's size...I'm going to come over here and burn your closet. What I wouldn't pay to make you a memory."

"Raylan: How was it for you? / Carolyn: About what I expected."

"Raylan: I'm getting an x-ray with my dinner. / Carolyn: Maybe that's what you prefer...all by yourself power. In my life everyone has their foot on my neck to get what they want. **** them. **** them to be so small they abuse their power."

"I'm leaving. Lea-ving" / "In the eternal words of Ra: **** 'em"

"Carolyn: I got something you want / Raylan: That's fair to say"

About Detroit: "I haven't been here a week and the s*** I've seen gives me pause."

Marcus Sweety sass gives me life!

Sandy's Thai roommate needs her own Justified mini show. I'm convinced that Hina a crime lord's daughter or a marshall in the making. She made Albanian mobsters and their tooth extractors look like boy scouts and the only unbelievable premise of this sequel is that if Sandy wanted out of her toxic relationship with the Oklahoma madman, all she needed to do was stick Clement in a room with Hina. Fast forward to episode 8, conflict resolved.

Clement has some really chaotic Boyd Crowder vibes, second only to Boyd himself, and I can picture some of the lines that he has in this series as things that were on the cutting room floor from Justified. "Hun, do you what cut this is? (The Southern comfort steak). Ding ding ding, ready for double jeopardy. Now I ordered the steak black and blue. Do you know what black and blue means? (Rare) Oh no, ma'am. It does not mean rare, it means god**** bloody red. So here's what I want you to do, I want you to take this and throw it in the trash. Then I want you to get your chef have another steak, smack that over the fire, sing two verses of "Dead Leaves on the Dirty Ground," flip that sucker, sing the third verse, yank it off, plate it ... And if I don't hear it moo in pain then we're just going to start this all over again." I half expected him to start singing you'll never leave Harlan alive. #I'm a vegetarian, but if I wasn't before I would be now.

Willa's best line and her whole raison d'etre is giving Raylan a second chance at walking away and setting up her dad for love and a semi-normal life: "he's pretty nice for a white guy." From her first giggle at cat videos that led to contempt, she's pretty much his matchmaker and he's just handcuffed in the trunk for the ride along. "I'm not about to take care of you when you're old."

"What is a Garlick?!" The smatterings of comedic timing slaps.

"Raylan: I ain't gonna sleep at night this SOB wins. / Raymond: Look at you, still giving a ****...[Freddy Keck] I shot him. / He drew on you. / I don't know. / You don't know? / I think it was a church key./ He had a bottle opener. / I clean my fingers [with it] and I slept just like a baby." Ray and Raylan, while painfully on the nose as a metaphor, is stone cold accurate. What a screaming angriest-man-I-know look in the mirror — full circle from my Justified s1e1, complete with pissed off ex-wife the likes of which Winona would drink to. #"Mary Alice only speaks to me on pain of death."

Downsides:

The only thing missing from this series is Marshal Gutterson and Rachel Brooks, and Loretta McCready. Non-spoiler-spoilers ahead for those who haven't finished City Primeval: I'll let you speculate as to who's not missing...

The ending that leaves you wanting more! Willa: "I'd like too see where you're from." Take my money and give me a sequel to the sequel. Lord knows by that cliffhanger you're thinking about it.

#justified #justified: city primeval #fx: justified #raylan givens #timothy olyphant #jacob pitts #walton goggins #erica tazel #aunjanue ellis #carolyn wilder #willa givens #clement mansell #boyd crowder

[neverchecking]

All the found family, all the time. One of them accidentally calls Daruk 'Dad' and there's no turning back. Teba and Saki have Ultimate Parent energy and are somehow the only other people who can even slightly truly corral the Trio aside from Tia. (They share custody.) One big family.

I do like the idea of the Champions gaining their counterpart's memories as well (even if their's are slightly more... traumatising than the Sage's) so it is a bit of a struggle at first to separate Aaliyah and Sage from their past selves, but they've also been through this before. I think Champ would've been a lot more like Cal due to the pressure put on him, despite Tia's efforts to shield him from that. So while it would take them a little bit to adjust, it's also a quicker adjustment than one would assume. They still slip occasionally, but no more than they do with Champ or accidentally get Champ and Sage confused. I doubt there's any real hard feelings about it since they all know how confusing this is.

But also Daruk snuggling with Aaliyah like a particularly feral kitten trying to take chunks out of him while he thinks it's cute. Aaliyah is just straight up gnawing on him.

Even when Tia enlists his help to try and get her to slow down for five minutes Petal ffs you're 8 months pregnant!

Tia just plucking her feral idiots out of the air gives me life. She spent a lot of time being slung over shoulders now it's her turn to haul them off.

Only Aaliyah gets a little bit more leeway than the boys because she's the one who listens to all of Tia's bitching during teatime. It's gotten to the point Aaliyah started spiking her tea and Tia's not far behind.

("I just want to share some intimacy and closeness and get my back fucking blown out. Is that so much to ask?"

"Tia, I am begging you. Please stop talking about that asshole. I will hear anything else."

"Petal. Petal, I have plans for those scarves and Twi's pelt. I am going to make such a mess of those men. If I can still walk the day after my wedding, I've failed and will need to remedy it for the whole day."

"Tia. Please. How the fuck do you even know about this? You are so virginal and yet!"

"When my study isn't fucking occupied, I read."

"..."

"A lot.")

Tia just wants to get laid, but her three are so respectable and honorable and courteous. Can't they take at least a little bit of advantage? Just a smidgen? Anything?!

It's getting to the point Aaliyah wants Tia to get laid and Tia getting laid isn't something she wants to think about. The day one of them figures out how to make like 99% effective contraceptive tea is the day both of their problems are solved. (Look Tia deserves to have her back blown out. With the amount of bullshit she's been through, minimised or generally averted, she deserves this and so help her, Aaliyah if one of you intervenes, you're all dead to her.)

The biting thing becomes a massively running joke, especially after Tia breaks the streak. One that suddenly turns on them when Tia starts deliberately turning it into a "It has been x amount of days since Tia last gave a hickey to one of her suitors." which in turn Sage takes as a challenge and well, at least none of them are biting the general population any more. The jokes at the wedding get wild.

FNOFNF One of them accidentally dropping the 'D' word and the fam just never letting them forget it. Teba and Saki are the parents man. They're calling the four at like 3 A.M. being like "Where are you?"

"...Bed."

"Wanna try that again?"

"No."

They just have that sixth sense, ya know? HOGHG They have custody days <33

I feel kind of bad that the champs get the memories of like...dying. I doubt Sage and Aaliyah take it personally, but like...It does kind of put them off for a second. Like, they kind of have to take a moment and remind themselves its not on purpose. And it's probably a quicker adjustment like you said. They still slip, but it's momentary and quickly fixed.

I love the idea of people just confusing Champ and Sage until they do something so undeniably them that they're quickly reminded of whose who.

NOFNF Yeah Aaliyah is using the Gorons as a personal chew toy <3 bc they don't feel a thing. And the Zora chew them back >:( And the Rito's have feathers >:(( And the gerudo are all muscle >>:(((

Its a group effort to keep her off her feet at that point. Sage keeps them handcuffed <33

Tia being the buff baby <3 We love her. Dragging away the trio like its nothing.

Aaliyah is the favorite and they can't say anything about it so they just sit there like >:(

Aaliyah doesn't even hide it at one point and Tia just downs like three shots like its nothing. Then just spills her guts. At this point, Aaliyah knows the blond's fantasies better than her own..

("I just know he's a giver. I just know it."

"Tia, please. I don't care. At this point I'd be more willing to hear about Cece's Day."

"I'm telling you. I want to be carried in the day after my wedding day. Like just no usage of my legs. At all."

"I think I'd chew my own ears off rather than listen to this-"

"I mean absolutely just destroyed-"

"OKAY-"

"...You and Sage gonna have to run the kingdom for a day-"

"STOP TALKING-")

Tia fighting for her life fr- Like her boys aren't even holding her hand. They're sitting with enough room for Jesus Hylia in between them and her, hands in their laps. It drives her nuts. Like if she can just get them to brush up against her, she'd be okay for the night.

Aaliyah doesn't wanna think about anyone's sex like other than her own, and now she's being forced to. At this point, it's her life's mission to find a contraceptive. She does find a couple (Wild Carrot Seed, smartweed leaves, Rutin, etc.) and she nearly cries in relief. Its practically thrown in their faces before shes stomping off, yelling about how she doesn't wanna hear shit anymore. (That does not stop her from hearing all of the nitty gritty details, but after that point Aaliyah assumes it's fair game and is able to go into just as disgustingly intimate detail.) At that point, Aaliyah is helping to distract Sweetpea and Sage. Just dragging them off to some made up duty she pulls out of her ass.

The biting thing is their biggest inside joke. Until Tia turns it. Then it turns back into that when Sage turns it back on her. Aaliyah comes so close to buying a muzzle. The general public is relieved that their no longer at threat to being bitten, but everyone else who has to deal with these two are not happy >:(

FIFBF THEIR WEDDINGS (All three) WOULD BE SO MUCH FUN FHOFBF

#cinder rambles #switch au #with aaliyah and tia :)

[hecckyeah]

For the fanfic writer ask game:

10. How do you decide what to write?

Oh, that is a GOOD question.

Because to tell the truth, I have no idea. 9 times out of 10, I get slapped in the face by the ghosts of thousands of authors who have gone before me, passing along mysterious, otherworldly inspiration.

Okay, serious now. It totally depends. One time I watched a truly moving fan edit on the youtube and thought to myself . . . . I could write that. That's where Until the Night is Over came from.

Another time I seriously was reminiscing on this insane evening I spent square dancing and half-falling in love with my dance partner, and I thought, the dousy girlies would love this, and thus was born And I Dealt My Heart.

Then, I was watching the Obi-Wan series and got totally pranked by the creators into thinking, surely Cal Kestis must show up at some point. There's absolutely no way he wouldn't. And yeah, the showrunners are cowards and idiots, so I of course had to remedy that with Last Hope.

Basically, inspiration comes from anywhere and everywhere. One time I stared at the blue sky too long and felt a fic leak out my fingertips. Ice skating will often do that to me. Something about feeling totally free and unencumbered by everyday life. Or watching a show with a pairing that I thought got totally cheated by canon (ahem Rachel and Joey cough), or a random tumblr writing prompt, or a certain theme or motif I feel a certain way about (more often than not, it's found family), or space dads and their kids being way too adorable, or just needing a good dose of hurt/comfort because I need to remember that you can be okay again after a tragedy, or literally sometimes it's just something I laughed about and thought, I could build a fic around that.

Actually, speaking of taking inspiration from literally anything, my fic Are We Too Young For This? was inspired by that one line in Hamilton that goes, "And just like that, it's over. We tend to our wounded, we count our dead." Along with that one line from Softcore by The Neighborhood: "Are we too young for this? Feels like I can't move."

If I could explain more of where my inspiration comes from, maybe I'd be a better writer. Because very often my whole fic is based on a flash of something, some vibe or some lyric or some fleeting emotion that I can't pin down but is begging to come out in word form. But alas, I'm stuck with just trying to convey all that in just a mere few thousand words.

Anyway. There's your glimpse into my soul for the day :)

Thanks so much for the ask, my friend!! <3

---

questions for fic writers

#asks #writing #fanfiction

[cilginkasar31]

I know it's bad

DEAD SIZES

You cried so much that your eyes became red

"Y/n I'm so sorry"

With the reaction of sadness with anger

"Fuck you, Tate, you raped my mother and do you want me to forgive you"

"I wish I had told you my mom wasn't crazy ... That innocent woman is suffering"

Tate looked at you with her red eyes from crying

He said, "I didn't want to be like this"

You were so disgusted with him that if he had the opportunity, you would have stabbed many times

You slapped in your face and left the room quickly

I wish you hadn't drank those damn pills and killed yourself, you did all of them for a stupid child

You miss your mother and father, you were afraid of not being able to see them again

1-2 hours later, your father came and started tugging you

"Come on y/n we go here"

You looked at him with fearful eyes

"N-what is no, dad, I want to come with you but I can't"

"You do y/n come on"

You forced you in the car in the garden, you became in the house again when you left the garden

You were looking at the car crying

You felt very lonely

He said "don't cry baby"

You realized that you were tata, no matter how much you hate it, you feel so lonely

You were crying in Tate's arms

You wiped your tears with your hand and retreated

"Where are you going?"

You landed down without answering him, you just looked around and the sound of the car came and your father was sure that it was your father and your father came in and took his belongings

"Come on y/n"

"Daddy look, I'm dead okay?!"

"Stop passing me with me.

Your father was almost dragging you and finally you've managed to bite your father's arm and escape, while your father came after you, your mother started to come from the car and went to your mother's mother.

"Come on, I will call Vivien Ambulance"

Your father took your mother home and laid it on the bed and opened her phone.

He came to know what happened

"The only remedy is the help of the souls here

I had to choose this way because it was desperate ...

You ran and went to your mother, the souls there was helping to give birth to the mother ... Viven saw you with you

"Y/n .."

You looked at your mother by grinning

"My mom"

You took Vivien's hand

Your mother suddenly started to be pushed, the first child was about to be born, your father looked at Vivien with excited and fearful eyes

"Come on honey"

The first child was born, but they gave the child to Nora Montgomery in a dead way

Your mother was pushing for the other child, though hard, the child was born, but the mother's bleeding did not stop

"Mommy, if you can't stand it

let me go.

Your mother didn't understand what you said but

He understood the queues he would leave

"No honey stay with me"

"No, Mom, if you can't stand it, let it go"

Your mother's eyes were closed and she was with you no longer there was no lonelyness ...

Your father was looking at you, the eyes were crimsoned, you looked at your father for the last time and disappeared, all the souls had gone, your father was looking at your mother's dead body and crying

You were watching her with your father and watching her from behind

"He was a good father"

You hugged your mother

"Doesn't he see us?" Your mother said

"I don't know if we want to see"

"Oh, okay honey"

1-2 days passed by your father came home to collect the things he had been building plans to kill himself in his mind.

"Don't do this honey" was looking at the puzzled eyes

"I knew you were here"

"Do not do this for our child for us ...

I don't care who has a child, he says the same in y/n, just doing this "

"Y/n where?"

"I am here"

Your father hugged you and your mother and prepared to go "

He appeared in front of Hayden as he went down the stairs

"Oh honey, do you think you can go?"

"Leave us alone little bitch"

"This is valid for you honey"

You were trying to kill your father and you were trying to prevent them, but you were hung your father and pushed you down the stairs

You hurt a little bit but it was very short time

Your father came behind you and helped you get up and there was Constance behind you

"You found what you deserve, a bitch"

He was blowing his cigarette, your father was just looking at Canstance

But there was no baby after you went to the room, you managed to get the baby from Constance Hayden, you saw it ...

You were very happy now

Tate was watching you secretly, you were coming from ignoring him

...

You went to your mother and cried

"You are a strong girl y/n .."

"It doesn't work, the mother has a lot we live with it, but I hate it"

"Oww honey I understand you, you can give him a chance if you want"

"I don't know, mother, I won't do anything for now"

....

After 3 years

It had been 3 years after the break and someone had moved home, they had a son with you

You introduced him to him as a neighbor like a Tate, but they would never live in this house ...

#american horror story #evan peters x reader #tate longdon #tate x reader #kesfet #discover

[turtle-steverogers]

Mikey!! You said you wanted HCs? I got some. (I should really be going to bed, but oh well)

1. Steve loves closets. Any dark enclosed space, really, but closets are his favorite. It has something to do with the memory of hiding under his ma’s dresses when he was little. Now, whenever Bucky comes home and can’t find Steve anywhere else, he goes to their closet, where he can almost be guaranteed to find Steve behind their dress pants

2. When Steve’s by himself, he reverts to speaking in Irish. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it, it’s so natural. Bucky started learning the language through it

3. Bucky does the same thing with Yiddish

4. Steve refuses to be the little spoon. He tried once but felt so exposed he had to ask Bucky to switch

5. Steve likes Hanukkah more than he likes Christmas. It has nothing to do with the presents, though he likes the opportunity to give Bucky gifts. What Steve loves most is the lighting of the menorah and the celebration of light. He finds it beautiful. Plus, the way Bucky looks when lighting it, so confident and happy, doesn’t hurt either

6. Steve can’t cook for shit, but it doesn’t stop him from trying, especially because it usually means Bucky’s plastered to his side to make sure he doesn’t set the house on fire

7. Alpine never takes to Steve, but it doesn’t stop Steve from loving her

Okay, I should probably go to bed now. Hope you get some joy from these!

oh MAN I GOT JOY FROM ALL OF THESE!!! THANKYOU!!

Also on bad nights and during panic attacks, Steve tends to huddle into the closet, shaking as he presses his forearms or hands to his ears to block out the noise. When this happens, Bucky makes sure to keep the lights off when he goes in to find Steve, bringing ear plugs with him and helping Steve get them in his ears before wrapping his arms and squeezing tightly until Steve is breathing steadily again.

And Irish was never something Sarah really wanted Steve to advertise that he spoke due to the danger of advertising that they were Irish when he was younger, so he always jumps a little when someone walks in on him speaking it until one day Clint is like, "Yo, are you speaking Irish? That's so cool!" And Steve just smiles all small and pleased to himself and learns not to be ashamed of that part of him anymore.

Bucky barely notices he's doing it, but sometimes he becomes hyper aware of himself when he speaks Yiddish and it always sparks a certain, concentrated yearning for his ma that he remedies by journaling a little about her.

Ahh I love this!! I'm personally a fan of little spoon!steve so he can get all the squeezes, but I also love this because you're so right, he would feel so exposed. Really, his ideal position is facing Bucky and tangling their legs together.

Everything about this!!!! And one year he sketches Bucky lighting the Menorah from memory, capturing the pride and confidence and gentle expertise on his face from scratch and gifts it to Bucky that year. Bucky definitely cries and hangs it in his office.

PLEASE I LOVE THIS. Because Steve may not be the best cook, but he's so passionate and tries so hard to succeed in each of his recipes, and really, that's, like, 70% of it. Part of it is healing that younger part of himself who never had enough food to experiment with and developed a pretty bad relationship with food through different circumstances involving both poverty and his dad's abuses. So having this control and developing a love and appreciation for food through creation and passion is so good for him.

It's because they're too similar. And the kicker is, both Alpine and Steve love each other, you'll just never catch them dead admitting it. Tails flicking and chins turning up and glaring contests that have Bucky rolling his eyes and scooping up Alpine while simultaneously kissing Steve's chin. But when it comes down to it, they'd probably die for each other.

Thank you for these! I hope you have a good night, my friend!

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #mikey answers #mutuals <333 #mikey scream and cries and throws things