#my dad doesn’t bite his nails tho but I do

[doctorsiren]

Omg Edgeworth stimming appreciation, I hope on that train any day. I used to be very insecure about some of my stimming , came from teasing when I was younger, and literally I saw a recent post you made of I think it was Defenseworth stimming? And honestly it made me feel a bit better about it cuz like, comfort character doing the same thing I do? Now that’s frickin cool :3

YEAAHHH I already drew stimming Edgeworth, so here’s a Phoenix instead :3

His nails are probably so destroyed (he just like me fr)

#doctorsiren #ace attorney #phoenix wright #ace attorney fanart #digital art #my art #procreate #doodle #it’s the ADHD #one of my dad’s habits (he has ADHD) is chewing gum and picking at his nails and I think yeah Nick would do those things too #my dad doesn’t bite his nails tho but I do #ALSO IM REALLY GLAD MY ART COULD HELP YOU 🥺😭

[princessbrunette]

rafe with crybaby reader cause my heart 😍 shes real nervous to leave his room when she’s over even tho they’ve been together for ages but he’s tapping her butt and telling her to be a big girl and to do what she wants. so she goes to get water and little miss clumsy drops something and it breaks. maybe wards been having a bad week or smth so he comes out of his study and yells a little and she just cries her eyes out. rafe would loose his shit I know it ‼️

goddddd this !!!! i relate to this so hard bc i am a huge cry baby :( i don’t think ward would yell but i think he’d be an asshole in his own intimidating, highkey terrifying way.

you cringe as the glass shatters, eyes instantly welling up as you gasp — wanting to slap yourself. you’re a guest in the cameron’s home and you’re already messing things up and breaking things, how ungrateful could you be? almost instantly you hear quick and heavy footsteps, not rafes— no, he didn’t walk like that, you knew what his footsteps sounded like. this was ward.

he stands in the doorway, mouth agape a little, just staring at you like ‘seriously?’ and you wanna sink into the ground.

“i’m so sorry, mr cameron it was totally an accident. i’ll— i’ll buy a new—” you start, jumping into action by squatting and carefully trying to pick up the shards with your fingers. you knew it was dumb, but you panicked and wanted to make things right as quickly as possible.

“just— out of the way please. don’t touch it.” he holds up his hand, cutting you off making your mouth shut quickly. he used a very clipped tone with you, different from the usual welcoming and kind voice he spoke to you in. you stay quiet, stepping aside as you anxiously bite at your finger nail, watching him open a closet and pull out a broom.

you don’t know why, but even though you felt totally guilty you expected him to sweep it up— however he pins you with a stern gaze and holds the broom out. “c’mon, you’re gonna clean it up. okay?” his tone isn’t gentle, leaving no room for suggestion, more threatening if anything. you swallow, nodding frantically and take it from him, sweeping up.

he leans on the counter with his arms crossed watching you as you gather the shards. “you know, i welcomed you into my home sweetheart and this is just… you see how it might irritate me right? i’m not being unfair?” he tilts his head, gesturing that he wants you to look at him.

“no sir, i really really am sorry, i would never disrespec—” you will the tears to stay inside.

“its just… i’m having a rough day, i come home, i gotta listen to my son fucking you for what, an hour straight, with no regard for who might hear, and now i just wanna relax, and you’re smashing my good glasses in the kitchen. i don’t even really know why you were reaching for these glasses, honey, the regular glasses are right there like it’s common sense...” his voice doesn’t raise once, but your lip is wobbling, avoiding his eyes due to how stern and intimidating he was. you had no idea ward could be like this, he seemed so kind at first.

“respect is important, yeah? just try and remember.” he finishes up, running his hands under the tap before sparing you one last disapproving glance and walking to the kitchens exit. at once, rafe appears in the doorway in his sweatpants, coming to see what was taking so long. he glances at you with the broom, and then his dad, brows furrowing in confusion.

“whats going on?”

“just maybe teach your girlfriend some basic house training or respect rafe, i don’t know i’m tired…” he trails off, walking past his son back into the hallway. rafe is quick to react as usual, face screwing up in disgust and swivelling his whole body to follow his dad.

“excuse me? no, the fuck did you just say?” he asks, voice a little raised. you sigh, swiping your tears on the back of your wrists and pouring the shards into the bin before following.

“don’t make this a thing son, she broke my good glass so she’s cleaning it up, go to bed.” he waves him off but rafe storms infront of him.

“are you serious? she’s a guest in our home, what you — you’re always fuckin’ telling me to treat the guests with respect so what— the same doesn’t apply to my girl? fucking… apologise, now.” he demands, making his dad simply scoff. rafe didn’t didn’t like that. he stares him down, pushing his tongue into his cheek before flickering his eyes up at you. “go back to my room, baby i’ll be up soon. clearly i gotta have a conversation with my old man.” he drawls, eyes fixated back on his dads face, beaming with anger.

you do as he says, as always. the tears fall freely once you’re back in his room, sat on his bed, face in your hands sobbing and mewling. all you could do was curse yourself out internally. logically, you knew it was just a glass but it felt like a huge deal to you, never wanting to disrespect anyone let alone your boyfriends father. you hear the familiar footsteps of your boyfriend eventually, and you don’t even try to compose yourself— continuing to cry even when he opened the door and re entered.

he sighs, anger and sadness flooding him at the fact that his father had made his baby cry like this, so soon into knowing eachother. he watches you for a moment, trying to let the anger subside, itching his head before slowly coming to sit beside you on the edge of the bed.

“i’m really, really sorry about that baby.” his voice is a warm comfort, slightly soothing your hurt.

“how have i already messed up so bad? he hates me now.” you whine and he shushes you with a frown, wrapping a strong arm around you to tuck your head beneath his chin, cheek to his chest.

“hey, hey, shh. my dads just an asshole… but he doesn’t hate you. he’s just having a bad day and decided to take it out on you for whatever fuckin’ reason. you’re all good. it’s just a glass, right? means nothin’.”

“it didn’t seem like it meant nothing to him.” you pull away to look at him, eyes watery and puffy bottom lip pouted. he sighs once more, both hands rising to wipe his thumbs beneath your eyes, caressing your cheeks.

“and like i said, he’s just an asshole. don’t let him get to you baby. yeah?”

you sniffle. “yeah.”

“good, show me that smile, c’mon.” a hand drops down to your waist, digging his fingers in a little, threatening to tickle. you can’t help it, even just a threat of a smile on rafes lips makes you grin, which only mirrors in his expression. “there y’go. that’s my big girl.”

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron blurb

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Clone wars headcanons that took me forever to edit

I feel like my last couple of headcanons have been mushy so I’ve decided to write some shit Ahsoka and Anakin do that piss each other off 

Ahsoka bites the skin around her nails all the time and most of the time she won't stop till they’re bleeding 

Anakin’s tried literally everything in the book to get her to stop 

He tried putting spices on her hands forgetting that she likes spicy food, he’s tried painting her nails (like that’ll do anything) but she keeps picking the paint off, now he just uses the force to remove them from her mouth 

That’s gotten a few growls from her but at least it makes her aware she’s doing it but it doesn’t stop her from bitting them a couple of seconds later

Honestly he’s given up and just sits in silence while she complains about the pain

Anakin paces whenever he’s even slightly nervous and she can tell how nervous he is depending on how fast he moves 

If he’s just kinda anxious he moves pretty slow but if he’s like one shirt caught on a door handle away from a panic attack he’s teleporting 

When Padme told him he was gonna be a dad he was ecstatic for about 24 hours but after that some invisible timer went off in his head he booked it to Ahsoka’s house (she lives down the street cause of course she does)

Walked into her room and woke her poor sleepy butt up with all his pacing 

Girl swears to this day he broke the damn sound barrier with how fast he was moving 

She just wordlessly sat up and patted her bed cause she knew she wasn’t gonna get any sleep until he did 

She sat by him and listened as he rattled off all his worries and only really stepped in when the darker thoughts surfaced when it was all said and done she turned to him and said “Now let me kriffing sleep” 

Should he have probably left the room yeah but he got a total of 30 minutes of “sleep” that night so it’s not surprising that he knocked the fuck out of

Padme was a little bit alarmed to wake up without Anakin but was quickly soothed when she read Ahsoka’s message “Your nerf herders with me” 

She knew the pregnancy would dredge up some unhappy feelings and she also knew Anakin can’t think clearly if he doesn’t have Ahsoka to sort through the bullshit in his head 

She just got ready for brunch with her two favorite people and smiled cause she knew Obi-Wan and Rex would join them for dinner with or without an invitation 

When Anakin and Ahsoka were living together they would kick each other out of their own bathrooms 

Why? Well Ahsoka said Anakin’s had better lighting and water pressure and Anakin would do it to spite Ahsoka because he knew it would piss her off  

Slowly but surely their stuff gets moved into each other's bathrooms and it’s a weird amalgamation of crap 

Also when they were living together Anakin would ask Ahsoka if she was hungry before cooking and she’d often say no because she didn’t want to impose but his cooking always looked and smelled good 

So half the time girl would just end up eating some of his food when she thought he wasn’t looking 

At first he was like “Snips you said you weren’t hungry” to which she would respond “Yeah I wasn’t hungry then but I am now” after that he starts making more food on instinct cause damn that girl can eat 

Anakin gets back at her pretty easily tho by taking the first bite of her food whenever they go out to eat his excuse is that he’s “making sure it’s not poisoned” he never does this to Padme cause he respects her too damn much 

And he can’t use that trick on Obi-Wan and Rex cause the former taught him the trick and the latter has a bullshit detecter built-in 

Both Anakin and Ahsoka pull that trick on the twins tho (which gets them a quick scolding from Padme) 

Speaking of the twins it’s not surprising that as they grow up they realize that their auntie isn’t human so of course like any normal child they have questions and Anakin being the little shit that he is spots an opportunity for some laughs 

So he turns to the twins all serious-like and goes “Well my loves we actually found your auntie in a dumpster we have no idea where she came from” the twins are distraught and go to the nearest adult who just so happens to be their uncle Rex 

And Rex also being a little shit backs up Anakin’s story with so much sincerity that even Anakin believed it a little bit 

The twins being the angels they are apologize to their auntie for her terrible origin story with tears in their eyes and her reaction more than made up for the swift ass-kicking the boys got  

When Anakin was taller than Ahsoka he made her life hell by making fun of her every time something was even slightly out of her reach

He would make a big deal about grabbing it for her while commenting about how the temple’s architecture wasn’t made with the “young ones” in mind 

Obi-Wan has turned multiple blind eyes when Ahsoka socked the shit out of his arms when he tells one too many jokes some days

When she finally grows taller than him she makes the biggest deal about it and no one can blame her 

While Anakin is the pilot Ahsoka is easily the navigator she often jokes that Anakin wouldn’t find his way out of bed without help 

Which is funny cause he often acts like a herding dog with her putting his hand on her back or holding her arm to guide her 

But he’s wrong 9/10 times so it’s not uncommon to see Anakin guiding her in one direction and then see him get dragged in the opposite direction a couple of minutes later  

#star wars #the clone wars #star wars clone wars #star wars headcanons #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #padmé amidala #captain rex #luke skywalker #leia organa #ahsoka and anakin #snips and skyguy #disaster siblings #the padme bit was a little mushy #but everything else is based on true experiences #most of my sibling headcanons are #i just know they piss each other off #but like in a normal healthy sibling way #that last one is aimed at my sister #she's directionally challenged #she calls me vertically challenged #so we're even #I'm trying to get her to watch clone wars #which is an uphill battle #even tho she likes star wars

[uncouth-the-fifth]

Pythia, A Supernatural Rewrite. Dead in the Water, p.3

read it on ao3. masterlist.

words: 12,769

notes: howdy! sorry for the delay, i didn't want to rush this one and land you w an uggo chapter simply because i couldn't find inspiration. i did eventually tho! includes some cute researching, snow bonding, and hot chocolate <3 idk about you but it's still mf snowing where i live, so winter vibes ig.

LAKE MANITOC, WISCONSIN - NOV. 17th, early morning.

By the time Dean got back to the motel, it was three in the morning and snowing mercilessly.

None of you had any solid clue as to what Lucas’ drawing meant, but either way, the Carltons needed to be kept under a close eye. You took shifts watching them for the next few days. Sam took the first, you spent the following day listening to audiobooks in the Impala and squinting at the house, and Dean had the next night. It bored all three of you to tears—you hoped for the Carltons’ sake it stayed that way.

Between shifts, the research machine worked with more endurance than usual. This was now your third hunt together as a famil—a unit, and without John to shove everyone into order, you’d been a little worried that things might fall apart. As much as you loathed John, he kept you in line, no matter how many nails, stitches, and layers of glue it took. Sam had never been old enough to go hunting alone with you and Dean, so if he did it was under John’s supervision. For the first time, it was just the three of you.

Maybe it was insensitive, but you felt like you could breathe again.

It started snowing at around eight, which is when you traded places with Dean. Sitting in the Impala all day had numbed your ass and your brain, which Sam knew, and was ready for. He loved making lists, so you imagined the one he’d mentally prepared for your researching bash together: reheat her Chinese food, give her the comfiest chair next to me, leave the curtains open so she can watch the weather. Either you were predictable, or he knew you a little too well.

You claimed your seat next to him with a deep sigh, which sunk into a dry smile as Sam—like always—slid a pen in front of you to cross-analyze the vics. He didn’t look at you, but you could tell this is where Sam’s relationships thrived: in soft, productive silences. He would do his research and you would do yours, but when the reading got too rough and your remembered this spirit had killed real people, you could feel him there and he could feel you. When Sam’s thinking became especially sullen, you cheered him up by pretending to be his personal assistant. Mr. Winchester, you have a call on line two. It’s Andy again, about your meeting for this month’s monster-killing projections? And from behind his book, Sam would bite his lip and smirk, Tell him I’m busy. In fact, cancel all my meetings. I’m going on vacation.

But the general numbness that came with the hunt was just one thing. After sharing your emotions with Sam about the spat with Dean, you realized just how much he was burying. Sam really was Dean’s little brother, in all the ways that gutted you. Dean took all his fear about his dad and crammed it in a pine box, six feet under, just so his brother didn’t have to worry; and Sam raked all his grief into one pile, so you and Dean never saw it. He felt like the weak link. The least experienced hunter between the three of you, with few ways to help find John and fewer to avenge Jessica.

You made a list in your head for him, too. Make sure Sam’s sleeping. Make sure Sam knows we listen to him. Make sure Sam doesn’t eat himself alive over this.

Until midnight, you kept each other awake. You started smacking and pinching each other when one of you nodded off, which kept Sam tickle-vigilant and you hyper-aware of every tuggable strand of hair on your head. Eventually, Sam fell asleep with his cheek to a book and you didn’t have the heart to wake him. After checking in with Dean through a text, you tugged on Sam’s arm and sleepily he gave it to you to rest your head on.

You woke up a few hours later in amber lamplight, in bed, and tucked in. Your shit motel room apparently had shit heating to match, so Sam had put you to bed and had thrown his comforter over you for good measure. He was hunched over his laptop, clicking away when you jerked awake.

“Did I wake you?” Sam winced.

All you could do was shake your head and rub the seal of sleep from your eyes. Sam watched you from a safe distance, since you’d probably punched around a little while you were under. You crawled out and stood to meet him, and Sam, peculiarly, made an effort not to look at you.

“Up,” you said to him, taking his elbow.

“The Carltons are totally clean. I still can’t find a thing. We should—” Sam was saying, but you shook your head and gave his arm another tug.

You insisted. “Shh, we’ll have time later. Five-minute break.”

Sam tilted his head back to look at you, bangs splayed across his forehead and his under-eyes smeared with purple exhaustion. “Can’t sleep either?”

“Nightmare,” you explained to him, and without word, Sam hefted himself out of his chair and let you guide him toward the door. “It’s our first snow of the year, and we haven’t had one second to enjoy it. C’mere a minute. It’ll wake you up.”

Sluggish with sleep, you and Sam put on your coats and fumbled around for gloves and shoes. A rattle of icy air purged your room the second you opened the door, but you pushed past it to meet the darkness, which was blacker under the stark flurries. Though it was coming down fast, all was silent. Sam shut the door behind you, and the wind stole the sound. It was so dead quiet that you checked Sam’s mouth for movement, just in case he’d spoken and the strange atmosphere of the storm had kept the sound in his chest. The only light handling its own against the snow was the lamplight from your room. It poured sweetly on one side of Sam’s face, who emerged from his research daze blinking snowflakes out of his lashes.

He noticed you staring. Sam hesitated to speak, afraid to disturb the holy quiet. “Do you wanna talk about your nightmare?”

Standing there beside him on the stoop, you felt again like you’d been flattened to something solid. You could feel the bumpy surface of it under your nails, could feel the cold of it where the backs of your bare thighs and arms met it; your stomach pressed forward, like gravity was pulling it and you out of your own skin. A gross shock of ice-metal pain phantomed across your lower belly. All of the sensations were cold, yet you knew you were burning.

You covered your stomach where that pain had bloomed in your dream, and pretended Sam didn’t notice.

“Spiders,” you lied to him, and Sam spared some of his energy to snort at you.

With all the gentleness of a worshiper at an altar, you got comfortable on the stoop and gazed out at the yawning darkness, swirling with the movement of snow. If you looked hard enough you felt like you could see the wind instead of the flakes riding it, curling and ebbing in all directions like the limbs of a vast being. Sam paused behind you, endeared by your fascination for the scenery. When he fought his limbs long enough to join you sitting on the cement, he gave a dramatic shiver and inched closer to you. Sam sighed once. Then he sighed again, and a third time.

“Wimp,” you smirked, but you gave Sam your arm anyway—extra warm from sleep—and opened your hands to the sky. Tiny flakes peppered over your hands, dissolving instantly into the heat of your skin.

Sam did the same, and for a heart-bursting moment you thought he planned to reach out and take your hand in his. All thoughts of taking a break from research or calming your mind whipped out into the wind. Sam had long, handsome hands that gathered two times as many snowflakes as yours did. The flakes melted on his skin even faster than they did on yours, so you didn’t have to wonder what it would feel like to hold them. You knew they’d be encompassing and warm and familiar—

“Dean’s back early,” you blurted, and snapped the fist of your right hand, the one closest to Sam, instantly shut. Sam’s went limp into his lap.

A minute later, the Impala cut smoothly through the flakes, making them flutter around the car in one surging rush. Like a massive, unseen creature taking in a breath miles away. It seemed to emerge from nothing. You couldn’t make out Dean until the car was pulling into park, and even then you only saw his eyes illuminated strangely in the Impala’s headlights. Both you and Sam were too exhausted to stand when he evaporated out of the driver’s seat.

Dean snapped the driver’s door shut, rubbing his hands together. “Will Carlton’s dead,” he said, severely.

As one, you and Sam shot off the stoop. “No fucking way,” you said, as Sam shook his head in disbelief. “How? In the lake?”

“In his sink,” Dean grimaced.

You covered your mouth. The last time you’d seen Will… He’d been bent over his sink in the Carlton kitchen, head hanging, fingers digging into the counter’s edge. That had been days ago. And yet you could still chase the feeling that final look at him had given you, like all the world’s gravity dragging down a guillotine blade. Fever rolled in your stomach. What? The visions, the fainting, the nightmares—none of that was enough? Now you had death omens, too?

Your reaction must’ve been a little intense, considering Will was a stranger and combined, you, Sam, and Dean had probably watched hundreds of people die during the hunt. Your first instinct was to tell Dean about the feeling you’d had. A death omen? That was something he should know about. But you were startled out of your spiral by his hand on your shoulder, and found trepidation in his face instead of comfort.

“You good?” He asked, and now Sam was looking at you too.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, jolted by the sound of your own voice in the hollow blizzard. “Just—man. In his own sink?”

“One more reason we have for putting this spirit to rest,” Sam assured, and turned to his brother. “What happened?”

“I get the feeling the spirit knew we were watching the house.” Dean’s hand slipped off your shoulder, but he kept close to you, subconsciously putting you in the warm space between him and Sam. “I know m’ not the psychic one or anything, but the spirit didn’t lure Will out to the water, where I was watching—he killed him quietly, in the house. I’m sitting there and all of a sudden a shitload of cops pull up.”

“Bill found him?” You winced, and Dean nodded, his face as silent and telling as stained glass.

Sam worked his jaw in thought. “Civilians… they’d look at a guy drowned in his own sink, alone in a house but for his dad, n’ they’d think…”

“That Bill drowned his son himself,” you finished. How many people today, you wondered, had been jailed for something a monster had done?

“That’s what I thought too,” Dean explained, and shoved his hands in his pockets to warm them. “Figured’ they’d drag him out of the house in cuffs, since what else could they think. But nope.”

“There’s no way. They believe that someone had to drown Will, and if the only other person home is his mad-with-grief father, well. That’s probable cause for filicide. And they still didn’t arrest him?” Sam rubbed his jaw.

Dean pretended to shiver, or maybe it was a bit real, since the snow was starting to find its running legs. He notched a lazy grin. “You know I love it when you go all lawyer on me, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes. He looked to you for help, but admittedly, Dean had taken the words right out of your mouth. The phrase probably cause for filicide endearing you to a person probably let on just how messed up you were, but hey. Dean was smiling a little too. Law boy.

“Seriously.” Sam shouldered through all the fond looks being thrown at him, “Any reasonable cop would arrest Carlton, for sure. This has to be a cover-up.”

“You don’t think Sheriff Devins…?” You trailed off.

Dean hummed, eyebrows jumping. “He was there. First on the scene.”

“Then that’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Sam said, now surging with conviction, “Bill Carlton’s two children both die in water-related accidents all in one month. Instead of rightfully arresting him, Devins lets him get away with it. Why?”

“Because he knows it’s a spirit, not Bill,” you breathed, “they’re our spirit’s killers.”

“70-30 chance, I’m betting. Maybe they’re just old friends and that’s why Devins is getting him out of it, but… but…” Sam lapsed into such intense thought that he paced in a circle, drawing figure-eights in the snow with his boots. You and Dean shared a look—Sam’s nerdy old self still existed, then. He snapped his fingers. “Lucas’ Dad—he was Bill Carlton’s godson, and Devins’ son-in-law.”

“That sounds like it’s all clicking,” Dean decided. He sighed through his nose, which joined the fog of your warm breath in the icy air. “But that thirty percent—just in case, I say we keep looking for our spirit’s name before we go knocking any heads around.”

“I agree. But me and Sam’s research hasn’t turned up much,” you grumbled. Pausing, you tried to sort all the evidence out in your mind, flattening it all down like a piece of crumpled paper. Paper. Drawing paper. You made a grabby hand at Dean, “Hey, you still have that drawing Lucas gave you?”

“Yeah, of course.” Dean fished it out from his jacket, where it’d been neatly folded into quarters. He hesitated for a second to hand it over, which you would’ve teased him for, had your train of thought ever slowed down. “Uhm. If Lucas drew the Carlton house before Will died, you think…”

You caught the piece of paper between your thumb and forefinger. Then, you were out.

The icy familiarity of a vision swarmed over you, dragging you under black, artic currents. First you were in the water, which was so cold and all-encompassing that you could feel the tips of your limbs melting like ice. Your skin was almost too numb to feel the tickle of bubbles flooding out of your nose and mouth. Your last breath floated up and up, popping on the surface. Then, you were someone else. The suffocating feeling of drowning became the stifling feeling of sobbing. You were on a floating platform in the middle of the lake, clutching your knees to your chest and sobbing and sobbing and waiting for dad to resurface. Something had dragged him under. He never came back up. It dragged him down, and it dragged Sophie Carlton down, and it dragged a hundred other people into the depths with it. You saw Will Carlton at his sink, face seared against the drain like he could be pulled through it into the lake. You watched Bill Carlton from the water, waiting for a moment to strike. To them the water was cold, but to you it was a million times worse—the summer heat had died with you, so they’d die the same way. They all would. They all would.

“They all would,” you were saying.

Sam put his hand on your forehead. It was so warm on your freezing skin that it hurt, but you were too cold to resist. “They all will what? ____?”

“She’s coming out of it,” came Dean’s voice.

You blinked against the blazing lamplight, which Sam immediately spun around and turned off. Again, they’d maneuvered you under the covers, having shirked you of your cold boots and snow-dusted coat. Sam’s hand turned over, testing your forehead for a fever. His knuckles felt sinewy and calloused.

“She’s not too warm,” Sam judged. His brows were creased together. “You okay, hon’?”

“Ugh,” you said, and Sam sighed in relief, collapsing back.

Dean offered you a mug of something hot. Immediately, you sat up and took it into your hands, soaking in the heat burn as it melted your ice burn. Without looking, you slumped sideways against the headboard and took two huge gulps, and immediately regretted it. Irish coffee. “Jesus,” you gagged, eyes watering almost to tears, “warn a girl.”

“There’s like one shot in there. S’ more coffee than whiskey,” Dean scoffed, and gave you a hearty pat on the back.

To his credit, it did shock you awake, and you sat there for a moment shaking off the nasty taste. You flexed your hands in front of you and digested the vision, which was muggier and more confusing than usual. It all felt newborn and raw to you, similar to the first few visions you’d ever had. The images blended together in your mind, all of them walking on knobby lamb knees, fresh to the world and exposed.

“I think,” you coughed, “Lucas is a psychic.”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Unsure, but trying to help, Sam said, “...You did get a vision when you touched his drawing.”

“Yeah,” you passed the drink to him, “I think it showed me one of his visions. It didn’t feel… like my brain. It felt like his brain. I saw his dad pulled under the water… and the vision that probably made him draw the Carlton house in the first place.”

“Wait, wait,” Dean waved a frantic hand around the air, laughing breathlessly, “you think he’s drawing because he’s having visions?” He lost some of his humor, and stilled. “Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died.”

You paused, and wrung your hands in thought.

“...I got my Gift after my dad’s accident.”

Again, Sam and Dean stared at you. To be honest, they probably remembered your dad’s death better than you did. It’d been twelve years ago, making Dean a freshman at some random Colorado highschool and Sam a fifth grader. Your dad had always hunted with his “biker gang,” which was really just a group of his hunting buddies who appreciated a good motorcycle. You had a vague memory of waving goodbye to them as they’d poured out of the parking lot of your dad’s autoshop. The motors roared so loud, but you wanted to impress your dad by not covering your ears. Ray had been the caboose in a pack of seven men—seven—because he always had the backs of his hunting partners; he was famous for his reliability, and even hunters ten states over knew to call him when they needed help. Even Uncle Bobby asked him for help, that’s how good your dad was.

You don’t remember where you’d been. All you knew—when your mom had explained it to you, weeks later—was that one moment you’d been standing, and in the next you were bent over, wailing and clutching your stomach. Even she had been too scared to give you many details beyond that. You eventually got it out of Dean, who told you that Beth had found you like that after she’d had an episode of her own. She knew exactly what happened; at the same time, with miles and miles between your dad and you and Beth, the two of you had felt him die.

Dean said your dad and his entire gang—seven whole men, seven whole capable hunters—had been killed by a shapeshifter. You went into some kind of psychic coma as a result, and for weeks there was nothing any of them could do.

After that you could start to fill in your own memories. You remembered ten-year-old Sam reading books to you at your bedside, Dean spoon-feeding you soup, Bobby chasing them out of your room while you slept. Weirdly enough, you remembered John being there too. He and your mom talked for hours into the night. When you weren’t catatonic with grief you pestered her about it, and then Dean when she wouldn’t answer.

She wants to get the shifter back, was all he’d said, stiff-lipped and dull-eyed. Me and Sammy are gonna be here with you, though. We’re gonna be here s’ long as you need.

All the while, your Gift, freshly born, stretched its legs. Any time your mom or the boys tried to get you out of bed, you’d be dragged into nonsensical, prophetic dreams. The entirety of your life had been spent preparing for the moment you’d get your Gift. For every time you’d asked about what it would be like or how you’d get it, your mother had answered. It’ll be hard. But you’ll get through it, and we’ll all be here for you. That’s what she’d always said. She was lucky; she got her Gift in a hunting accident. Still, no explanation or example could’ve even hoped to prepare you. You couldn’t even touch a person without devouring every possible thing they could ever do with their life. Every dream they’d ever had. Every ending they could ever get.

This is why, during this time, you stuck most closely to Sam. Bobby had put a wet rag on your forehead and you’d been gutted by every brutal, flesh-tearing death he could possibly find on the hunt. Dean had tried to braid your hair, and just the brush of his hand to your skin had roared a blaring white light over all your senses, a light with a thousand eyes and lion’s heads and boar’s heads and wings. Both times had been so terrible and gruesome that your nose had bled and you'd blacked out. Your mom had tried to soothe you with her own Gift, but just looking at her provoked images of your dad’s death.

Sam’s was different. With him, there was no explosion of sensation or skin-shredding mental pain. Ten-year-old Sam, who shoved newspaper in his hand-me-down shoes to fit in them, had the scariest, most unnerving future. His was tangible; it wasn’t a blind, restless pile of pain or the indescribable. He’d pull your comforter up to your chin or pass you a glass of water, and when his knuckles would brush your cheek you’d have a vision of a Sam twice his age. Even older than Dean was now.

And he’d only say one word: yes.

You told yourself that it was a happy yes. A yes, I’ll marry you, or a yes, the baby’s born and healthy. But you knew Sam, and even if he was older and changed, you could recognize the pure, unshakeable terror in his voice. In that single yes. You got the feeling he was accepting something terrible—submitting to an incredible, unimaginable evil.

But his future was quiet, the whisper of a yielding man, so he was the only one who could come close enough to help you.

After years of telling silences and interrupted conversations, you had a guess as to why John was there. Your mother had wanted revenge, but she couldn’t get it herself while her daughter was undergoing severe mental torture. John’s whole life was hinged on killing what had killed a loved one. It was his job, in every sense of the word, and your mother had enough favors saved up to pay the fee.

The difference between you and the Winchesters was that your revenge had been so swift and so silent that all that was left for you was the grief; and for them, revenge was everything, so grief had no room left to live.

“We need to talk to Lucas again,” Dean decided.

“And Bill Carlton,” Sam agreed.

_

Seeing as Dean was making the best progress with Lucas, you and Sam left for the Carltons’ at sunrise. Few people had left their beds, so the only other vehicles on the road were snowplows, pushing the pristine sheets of powder into sludgy roadside banks. It was a gray and ugly snowing. You kind of liked it. Beyond the roads, fields of pure white remained untouched by humans. You drove the Chief a little slower than usual, for the sake of the slippery road and Sam’s sight-seeing. He was “riding bitch,” as Dean would say, and crouching closer to you on the bike to avoid the windchill. His helmet bumped against yours every once in a while, and eventually it got annoying enough that he gave up and kept them pressed together.

You were anxious about Bill Carlton; after both of his kids dying, and dying in ways connected to the lake, he had to have realized what was going on. Or at least a notion. You wished that when civilians like him—murderers or unlucky people or whoever—found out the truth about… what’s out there, that it was easier. Every time you’d had to give someone the speech, it’d been at the worst possible time, when their world had been wedged upside-down by something they couldn’t even quantify. You wanted it to be easy.

There’d been a time once when everybody knew about the supernatural. Maybe that’d been during the Medieval Ages and everything, but you got the feeling that if all this was commonplace, spirits, protection sigils and hunting, maybe everything would be easier. It would just be another one of those things that humans had domesticated, like electricity and food. One day, hunters could be as normal as exterminators or firemen. Maybe then, telling somebody you’re being haunted by the spirit you created would sound like your sink’s broken.

“You okay?” Sam asked. He pat your shoulder where it’d twisted into knots.

You drew the Chief to a stop in the Carltons’ gravel driveway, eyeing the snow-layered house. “Bad feeling,” you explained, and unsaddled your bike. “C’mon.”

Sam started up for the house. You hesitated, lingering at the sight of the lake through the trees.

The quiet of the early morning couldn’t hold a candle to the quiet of the lake; it’d be snuffed out. Something about the snow muffled every step, every breath, so even the ringing of your inner ear and the pulsing of your heart was silent. There was no wind. The Chief’s motor hushed. Sam was too far away to hear. And the lake was more than soundless—it sucked the sound out of the air, drawing it in and capturing it. You could see the water in the finest detail, twisting and writhing beneath the lake’s ice, pushing and pushing against the surface. A thick shield of white ice separated you and that water. Your nails suddenly itched, and something told you that the only way to satisfy that itch was to fall to your knees on the ice and dig. Dig until your nails were in shards and your fingers were bloody.

You forced yourself to turn around, where Sam was patiently allowing you to do your thing. The sight of his face seemed to flush some color back into the air. In a daze, you asked him, “How do your nails feel?”

Sam drew his hands from his pockets and shot you a curious look. “Uh…cold, like the rest of me. Why?”

You could see in your mind’s eye the water seeping up from the cracks in the ice, black blood oozing from a wound.

“Nothin’. The spirit. Let’s knock, huh?”

Sam tried the door. From what you could see through the frost on the windows, it was just as Dean had said. Devins and his men had cleaned the scene fast, too fast, so any sign of Will’s death in the kitchen was in the wind. Probably not in an evidence bag somewhere, either. Even the dinner you’d seen him prep in your vision—well, Lucas’s vision—had been trashed. You understood keeping things quiet not to start a panic, but Dean was right. A few hours and the crime scene was already wiped? Definitely a cover-up.

“Mr. Carlton!” Sam yelled. He gave the door a couple more bangs, growing increasingly urgent.

“I guess I wouldn’t want to be in the house where my son had just died, either,” you sighed, “but where could he have gone?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. He spied over his shoulder for onlookers, frowning. “But we should look here while we can. You don’t sense anybody in there?”

“Not a soul,” you shook your head. “Everything’s dead out here.”

With that, Sam reached into his coat and unfurled his lockpick. For a moment everything was fine. You slid in front of him in case someone were to walk up the wooded drive and discover you, but facing this way forced you to look out at the lake again. When seers talked about there being a veil between what was living and what was dead, it was more literal than most people expected; when you turned away from the lake, you could hear the jiggle of the lock and Sam’s soft breathing; when you faced it, the anxious, organic pound of your heart in your ears silenced and the world grayed.

You kept your eyes away from the lake, now conscious of its effect on you. There were little indents in the snowy branches where a bird had landed. Sam’s tracks in the snow closely followed yours, twisting in a circle around the bike and dancing up to the house.

“Wait,” you tapped Sam’s back, “Do you see those tracks? Under ours?”

Sam did. He shared a glance with you, and together you bolted down the porch toward them. “Fresh,” Sam cursed, pushing into a sprint, “and they lead to the dock. Shit.”

“There!”

You veered to a stop on the bank of the lake. The tracks circled the shore… made impressions on the snowy dock… tested the surface on shaking legs… and walked in a death march to the eye of Lake Manitoc.

Against the black outlines of the trees on the other side, you almost missed Bill Carlton. Still marching.

“Mr. Carlton!” You screamed. It ripped out of your ferociously, tearing the clinging silence away with it. “Come back! You have to come back! Carlton—!”

Sam’s eyes raked over the ice, chest heaving. Your yelling wasn’t working. He raised his boot to chase Carlton across the ice—you heaved him back by the sleeve, barking, “No! It’ll take you too!”

“We have to help him!” Sam’s voice broke.

“We—we—” you whirled around, pacing the edge of the bank, spitting snow and sludge up from your heels. Bill was still walking. “I-I can—”

You thought you knew why Bill wasn’t responding. That was the effect of the lake, of your spirit, right? It had warped Lucas’ mind and your mind and Sophie Carlton’s mind. Winter had come, yet Sophie had swam and you’d nearly joined her. It entered your thoughts and made you forget how cold the water was, promising, urging, knowing that you’d be safe with it in your lungs and your ears and your nose.

You’d barely heard Sam and Dean when under the spirit’s influence. But Bill… even so far away, you saw him look back. This was a choice.

The spirit had taken his children. If he gave it himself, too, then maybe all this would be over.

Under Bill’s feet, the white ice was cast in shadow. That shadow blistered through the surface, forcing itself through the cracks and oozing up from below. He ignored your screams and Sam’s. When the cracks were too long and the web on the ice was too large, Bill Carlton let the spider take him.

_

Dean felt like an asshole.

He’d managed to pry another drawing out of Lucas, successfully scaring the shit out of Andrea. Everything had started fine. Well, fine as in terrible, because terrible was Dean’s fine. You know, I, uh, I wanted to thank you for that last drawing. But the thing is, I need your help again, he’d said pathetically. Lucas had colored and colored, a million miles away from them. Dean saw now that he was drawing black spirals and red bicycles all the time—then cramming them into the trash, under his bed, and in the garbage disposal. Andrea hadn’t been happy. She’d been even less happy when Lucas had come out of his daze, chased Dean out to his car, and broke down in front of him.

Dean still couldn’t shake the feeling of Lucas clinging to his leg and sobbing. His eyes had been so big and round and hopeless, pleading with him in the only way he could. To do what, Dean wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he’d seen what these… powers did to people, and knew some poor kid from Wisconsin didn’t deserve to suffer with them.

He picked up Sam and ____ outside the police station. Driving up, for a second he thought Sam was actually going to let himself be angry about everything—but no, ____ was fuming behind him also, so something had happened. They both were trembelling in the cold. Dean cranked the heat, then watched them turn as one toward the sound of the incoming Impala.

“Why all the long faces?” Dean greeted, slowing the car to a stop.

The two lugged into Baby. Another time, Dean would’ve definitely nagged them for slamming the doors so hard. Sam jammed his legs into the footwell, scowling in earnest. “The spirit killed Bill Carlton, too. And there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it.”

Dean seeped into his seat, shaking his head. He gave the wheel a harsh thump. One spirit, and it had all three of them chasing their fuckin’ tails. “Damn it. Lured him out to the water?”

From the backseat, in the gentlest, least-angry voice she could manage, ____ said, “No. He went on his own.”

He studied her through the rear-view, where she’d already dragged the spare blanket up from the floor and pulled it over her lap. ____’s gaze drooped out the window, and she brooded there for a moment, exhausted to the bone. Her Gift had very obvious limits, but she never failed to ignore them (and Dean) when those limits were stressed. He felt useless asking her to nap or sleep in, since every time it did less and less—like rest wasn’t the problem. A part of him wished he’d never asked her to help him find John. A larger, more selfish part feared what would happen to her if she wasn’t where Dean could see her.

She felt Dean looking, but those intense space-girl eyes never turned to his. ____ rested her cheek on the spine of the front bench, sighing into the upholstery, and Dean wondered if she’d be bothered if he pat her hair. ____ looked like she needed it.

“We went in to report this to Devins, maybe get an idea about his culpability,” Sam nodded back at the police station. “The second we get there, he uncovers us. Said he wants all three of us to,” Sam snorted, “put this town in our rearview mirror and never darken his doorstep again.”

There was a whisper of old panic in his closed fists, and if Dean pried, he figured Sam was replaying their run-in(s) with CPS over in his head. He’d always hated getting caught. Sam reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, letting wary eyes settle on the station, like he could sense Devins watching them. Dean was sure he was. He kept this to himself.

“A little dramatic, if you ask me,” ____ murmured into the leather. “Darken his doorstep? He has to be involved with our spirit, he has to be.”

“We can’t just leave,” Sam grimaced—apparently impersonating government officials was on the table for him, but not being hunted by cops. “There are still so many people at risk.”

“Oh, yeah, leaving is out of the question,” Dean laughed mirthlessly. “Some pansy-ass pig with an uneven dye-job ain’t keepin’ me from workin’.” He glanced at Sam, then ____, and at least one of them hid a smile at his jab.

With a sigh, Dean unfolded Lucas’ new drawing from his inner jacket. It was of a plain white church—which only added to Dean’s heeby-jeebies—a quaint yellow house, and a boy with his bicycle. All in a child’s crude style. Like some kind of horror movie bullshit.

He hung an arm over the bench of the Impala, still feeling like a jerk, and laid a gentle hand on ____’s hair before he could convince himself not to. He couldn’t say how, but she brightened a little. The whole affection thing always worked on her more than it’d ever worked on him and Sam. Well, maybe just Dean. He could look at Sam and the idiot would call it babying, but ____ tenderly brushed the hair away from his eyes and both of them pretended that wasn’t weird at all. Nerds.

He offered the drawing to her. “Think you can do one more?”

“I can come back there, if you need me too,” Sam said, but ____ just shook her head.

She took in a cavernous breath, pried herself off the seat, and flexed her right hand like she was about to throw a mean-ass fastball. If the vision caught her off guard, it was a lot like getting a sledgehammer to the face. Most people fainted. But after a moment of gathering herself, all she needed to do was close her eyes and take the paper in her hand.

In darker moments, Dean wondered what she saw when she went into her visions. Was it flashes of pictures, or full-on movie-style flashbacks? Both? He got the impression that her nightmares were always first-person, so were these the same? The few times he ever allowed ____ into his head, he just thought about the flood of what he wanted to say and somehow she just kind of… knew. He hoped it wasn’t messier on her end.

Sam and Dean held their breath. All the sound seemed to be drained right out of the Impala, like it was possible to pump it out through the seams in the windows. Dean’s chest felt prickly, and he looked at Sam to see him anxiously rubbing the raw middle of his right hand.

____’s eyes fluttered open, and her pupils undilated to the size of lighter flames.

“9384 Briarwood Street. That’s this house that Lucas drew,” she said, cooly, “and—our spirit had a red bike when he went missing. Lucas saw a lot of that.” ____ waved a hand at the road ahead, a nervous smile in her eyes. “So. Shall we?”

_

Like always, the boys did the talking. Dean summoned the fog of natural expertise he kept in his back pocket, suspiciously good at being someone else, and Sam spoke surely, falling into the rhythm of his disguise and taking Mrs. Sweeney with him. She made the three of you tea. Unused to company, she squeezed the three of you onto a plastic floral couch. You sat down and breathed in the steam, scrutinizing the street outside as much as you soaked in the house.

There wasn’t much to sense. Mrs. Sweeney lived in a quaint yellow house just a stone’s throw from the town’s church, both buildings scrubbed with the same moss and seamed with the same grit. Sitting in Mrs. Sweeney’s house reminded you of the few times you’d ever been to church. Everything was warmer and cozier because of the influence of the cold, candlelight filled each dark corner, and somehow the cluttered space felt as expansive as a cathedral ceiling. Yet something heavy pressed on your back. Unfortunately, you knew what it was at a glance.

Peter Sweeney had gone missing thirty-five years ago. The police… I never had any idea what happened. He just disappeared, she’d said. Now you knew that wasn’t true.

Mrs. Sweeney had shown you pictures of Peter, bright-eyed and dimpled in his scouts uniform. She said he was shy, that he stood up for anyone despite his size, that he’d once replaced the cold silence of her house with the flutter of turned pages. He loved to read. He liked archeology, and he’d been trying to teach himself card tricks before he disappeared. Your heart always ached for the people you helped. But this time, Peter Sweeney’s death felt personal somehow.

You reached out with all your senses, but not much came through. There were other ways to dig into the soft impressions left in the air of Mrs. Sweeney’s house, but you doubted she’d let you meditate in a circle of candles on her kitchen tile or consult a crystal ball. Beyond the more literal sixth sense you had, a strong gut feeling told you that there wasn’t anything else to find here. You would be able to tell if he’d attached himself to any of his belongings when he died. And given your vision, you would bet money it was the red bicycle from Lucas’ drawings.

All you’d uncovered was a picture in Mrs. Sweeney’s photo albums. She’d immortalized so many of his pictures that you’d almost missed it, but Dean was sure—those two toothy, naive kids beside Peter at scout’s camp were Bill Carlton and Jake Devins. That was proof they knew the spirit when he was alive. Now, all three of you were certain it was them.

After you’d given Mrs. Sweeney your condolences, you and Sam waited on the sidewalk for Dean to pull around the car. It was hard not to think of that freckly little kid, so much like the man next to you, and wonder how he’d become the eye of black water churning in the lake. The card-trick-loving rascal Sweeney had described was somehow the murderous spirit of the water. You’d read hunter’s journals theorizing about what exactly made spirits so enraged in death. As a seer, you had a unique insight as to why, but the question had never fully been answered even for you. The distortion of the mind after death? The waiting, for the end or unfinished business? If the will for revenge was so strong that it kept spirits in the mortal world, then…

You thought about Peter’s dresser in Mrs. Sweeney’s house, its silk magician’s hat and faded yellow cards preserved by his mother. A cop car rolled passed on the street, and you spoke to Sam as you ducked behind Sweeney’s fence together.

“I remember how crazy you were about the whole sleight-of-hand thing. You remember any of your old magic tricks?”

“No,” Sam said, and your heart stopped.

In the corner of your eye, something shifted. You twitched to look, only to go still head-to-toe against your will, halfway through lifting your head. Sam had reached out to touch your face. His hand radiated heat against your cheek, and the split-second contact of his knuckle to your cheekbone tingled through your entire nervous system with embarrassing ease. A bolt of lightning through a spider’s web.

Sam flourished a quarter out from behind your ear. His smile was sly, and his eyes even more so. Trying to perk you up.

“Well,” he said, dropping the quarter into your palm, “maybe a little.”

Now, in the backseat of the Impala, your cheek was still tingling. Sam’s little magic trick had definitely not cheered you up. While he and Dean were crouched in the front seat and honed in on Sheriff Devin’s house through binoculars, you couldn’t think of anything else. The only thing left to do was find Peter’s bike and destroy it. You were supposed to be scanning the property for it in case Devins had buried it there, but your Gift derailed constantly to swirl around Sam, and refused to learn its lesson after the fifth time you’d dragged it back to the house. People could die, and your Gift was still a flock of thousand-eyed moths with a girlcrush. Ugh.

“Can you turn down the music?” You cleared your throat. It was already just a notch above silent, but you couldn’t hear yourself think.

Dean responded by never taking his eyes off the house, reaching for the volume dial, and gently winding it up. Aerosmith’s eerie opening guitar in Dream On crept into the circulated air of the backseat, adding to your unease. All three of you were fully dressed for a fight. The snow had stopped midday, leaving behind an entire town holding its breath. Most days the Impala felt safer than the Proctor House, but it too was under the pall of the lake tonight. All that lived on the street was Dean and Sam in front of you and the lamplight in Andrea’s window. Still, you felt like a damn creep.

Devins and Andrea were still awake in the house—and still very much in danger, along with a sleeping Lucas. Spirits claimed their patterns and stuck to them, so Peter would torture Devins the same way he’d tortured Carlton. His family would be taken first, making the killer broil in grief like Peter’s mother had. Then they’d drown, too. They all would, Peter had said.

Well, something that used to be Peter.

“Anything?” Dean tipped his head back toward you.

“It’d be easier if I was actually there,” you shook your head. “But I can feel the bike. It’s buried somewhere, I think.”

Sam frowned one side of his lip. “We’ll have to wait until they go to sleep—”

A panicked chuckle jumped out of Dean’s chest. “Orrr, right now,” he decided, and dropped his binoculars.

The driver’s side door of the Impala was ripped open, forced onto its springs. Dean barked in protest, outraged, and the sound had you out of the car and on your feet without a single thought. Sam’s boots scraped the asphalt just behind you. Dean hovered in place at the wheel, instantly annoyed—he hated when civilians intervened with a job, and he hated guns being shoved in his face even more.

Sheriff Devins may have had only one service pistol to point with, but his sweeping glare kept you and Sam pinned too.

“I gave you a chance to get out of here,” he snarled, his weapon arm certain and still, “you’ll regret not taking it.”

An icy wind fluttered under your jacket, prickling the hairs already on end at the base of your scalp. The moon was nowhere to be seen tonight, hiding from the cold, so Devins was a trembling silhouette against a void of blackness and innocent small town homes. The disc of faraway street on the horizon veered the same way in each direction, arching toward the lake. In the strange lightless night, it felt like even the houses were inclined toward it, everything within a mile radius spiraling into the water. You shifted on your feet, trying to regain your own ground and remind yourself what you were here for.

“Sheriff,” you and Sam warned in the same pleading voice. You felt Sam hesitate, gauging who would take the lead, and you willed him to do it with you. “We know about Peter. What he turned into, and what he did to Bill Carlton, ” you raised a shaky, open palm at the cop. “Let us help.”

“Your family is in danger,” Sam stressed, “Lucas and Andrea—”

Devins ignored you both. He didn’t look at you, but his terror and confusion steamed off him so powerfully that you could feel it without touching him. It was hard to make out his face in the dark, but you guess he was sneering at Dean, his face peculiarly frozen that way. Like if he shifted the wrong foot or blinked, you’d all know how he was really feeling. Too late for that.

“Get,” he hissed, “out of the car.”

Your gut twisted. After a heavy pause, Dean shuffled to the edge of the bench and stepped out. A flicker of something touched his face when he met your eye, and your stomach fell; Dean was gonna attack him. You prayed he just disarmed him, but Devins’ desperation made him dangerous—the guilt he’d been fostering his whole life had returned from the dead, killed his friend and dozens more innocent people. His past mistakes were literally coming back to haunt him. For fifty-something years, Devins had lived in a perfectly normal and reasonable world, and suddenly that was all being rearranged right in front of him. He didn’t just think the three of you were crazy. You saw it in the iron-wrought trembling of his aim. He thought he was crazy, too.

Sam raised his hands in surrender. “Put the gun down, Jake.”

“You’re under arrest. All damn three of you,” Sheriff Devins said. He didn’t have handcuffs on his belt, and didn’t make any move toward Dean, so you willed the two of them to stay that way.

“Peter’s bike.” You uttered, and Devin’s snapped to look at you, ugly recognition tensed in his shoulders—

Dean whirled around, whipped Devins’ wrist to the side, and ripped his pistol out of his grip. In less than a second it clattered to pieces on the street, and Dean’s snarl met Devin’s. “Don’t be stupid,” he barked, “we’re here to help you! Now listen to the girl, cause’ she might just save your ass.”

The three men turned their eyes on you, but everything you planned to say was dragged under the current.

Your knees buckled; icy water burned through your chest, bursting through every fissure in your lungs. Invisible nails punctured your arms and ribs, trying to drag you down. You stumbled back to catch yourself on the Impala, only for Sam to take you by the elbow and tether you upright against his chest, panicking through ten feet of black lake water. Your head swam.

“____? ____, what’s wrong?!”

“Andrea…!” You managed, but there was no need for another warning.

Lucas burst through the front doors and threw himself off the front porch, streaking toward the four of you at a crazed, sobbing stumble through the snow. His face was drained of all color, so he appeared like a ghastly death omen by the light of the house. He was doing something with his hands, signing something over and over—Devins whipped around to face him, “Lucas! Lucas, it’s okay—get, get back inside—”

He hurled himself around Dean’s arm, anchoring him down by a whole foot. Lucas couldn’t speak, so he shook Dean with all the same fervor a shout could give, barefoot and blue-limbed. Again, he signed. “Mom,” Sam translated. “Shit.”

“Your mom, Lucas? What happened?” Dean’s look pierced him, then you, and that was all it took. He took off for the house like a sniper’s bullet.

Andrea’s son led the way, Dean on his heels, and you, Sam and Devins in Dean’s dust. The bootprints of snow on the doorstep had turned to sludge. You bolted inside, up after Sam, and registered with horror that the dirt on his boots had softened into mud—that the stairs were slippery with water, soapy water—that the bath upstairs was roaring. Sam overcame the staircase four steps at a time, and you matched his with two. As soon as you flew up the top step, you almost collided with Lucas as he veered out of Dean’s way. The bathroom door took one slam of Dean’s shoulder, two, three, brown water gushing from its seams. Lucas clamored for hold of something, and you let that be your jacket as you hid his face in your mud-flecked shirt.

“Move!” Sam barked. As soon as Dean was aside, Sam bashed in the weak door by its knob, smashing it against the sink inside the bathroom.

Dean, Sam, and Devins disappeared inside. You cupped Lucas’ hair, securing him in a calm, assured bubble of warmth, willing him to tune out the rushing water and Devins’ yelling and Andrea’s panicked shrieking.

Lucas covered his ears. You laid your hands over his, forcing back the influence of the spirit.

_

LAKE MANITOC, WISCONSIN - NOV. 17th, late night.

You risked another glance at the lake over your shoulder, perched above it on Sheriff Devins’ back stoop. A hill of spindly trees separated you and Peter Sweeney, who filled the whole lake with frothing, furious hatred that melted the ice in patches near the shore. Boot tracks in the snow drew two lines between you and an innocuous spot within a copse of trees. It took digging up the snow and puncturing the permafrost, but you managed to touch the earth and sense it: Peter Sweeney’s red bike.

This side of the house was mostly square, white-framed windows, so Sam could see you from where he was comforting Lucas and Andrea on their couch. Andrea was dry now, and huddled close to her trembling son. The soft turn of Sam’s brow made sympathy burn in your chest. He was explaining what had happened to them. Somewhere beyond, Dean and Devins’ shadows crossed in the lamplight of the front hall. It impressed you how little yelling there was.

You thunked the two shovels you’d fetched from the Impala’s trunk beside the door, scraped off your snow boots and entered their dark kitchen. Sam caught your eye through the archway, and you gave a nod. Found the bike, you mouthed, not sure he’s linked to it. His face hardened with focus, which is when Andrea and Lucas followed his eyes to you.

Uncomfortably, you stepped into the equally dark living room. You did your best to smear away any strangeness in your body language, in case it was obvious that you’d just been sensing around their backyard—learning that ghosts were real was one thing, so adding psychics into the mix wouldn’t help anybody. But Andrea had this new weariness in her face when she studied you. Sam and Dean had saved her life; you shared her son's sickness. Feelings were definitely mixed. Nobody actually wanted to know their future.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Andrea,” you offered, “Do you have a suitcase you could use? I can, um, help you pack…” you gestured blandly over your shoulder, at the stairwell. It reeked of lake water, permeating it through the rest of the house.

“Linen cabinet. Top of the stairs, on the left…” she trailed off. You nodded, and her gaze floated between your shoulders as you walked away, like you were one of the supernatural entities Sam was claiming were real. She looked at you like you were proof of something. Quickly, you ducked out of the room.

Devins was in the shadow of the front hall, facing away from Dean and now you. “...this can’t be real, it’s not rational…” he’d been saying. Devin’s voice retched with shame, and you could feel his remorse, his regret, his guilt, all the way from outside. He stopped at the beat of your footsteps.

Dean tilted his head to hear you, the rest of him a cross-armed pillar at the foot of the stairs. You leaned into his shadow, and tried ignore how Devins pinned you with his eyes like his daughter had—like you were some other spirit, haunting him. It wasn’t new to you. Sometimes, when people found out about the supernatural the hard way, all they could assume was that everything “other-worldly” was bad. Including you. This was a prejudice hunters sometimes carried, too. It needled, but you empathized with them too much to say anything.

“I don’t think Peter’s connected to the bike,” you whispered to Dean. “Even if he was, we can’t burn the metal. N’ it’s gonna be a bitch to dig up through the ice.”

Dean’s lips pressed together. “We can bless it. Buy us some time, since we can’t hide the whole town… But they dropped his body in the lake. All your visions were right. He n’ Carlton drowned him.” He shook his head, and the little hope you’d been holding onto—that Dean would have a solution that you weren’t thinking of—quietly died. “All we can do is get them out of here. You shut off the water to the house?”

“Yes,” you said, though you got the feeling that wouldn’t stop Peter. Judging by Dean’s face, he knew this too, so you gave his arm a squeeze.

Dean flashed you an unfocused smile. “Devins is gonna drive them out of state. You n’ me will get the bike, and Sam can bless it. Yeah?”

“Way ahead of you,” you agreed, and pulled a bundle out of your jacket to give to him.

Dean took it, slightly annoyed. It was a Latin bible and rosary, bound together in bloodroot twine. For all practical reasons, Sam was the logical first choice for anything Latin, reading, or pronunciation-related, and both you and Dean would’ve chosen him to bless the bike first. But Dean was the only one out of the three of you who was baptized, so blessing it with a bible would only work with him. Maybe if you had one of the big blessing tomes Bobby kept around on you, you and Sam could do it, but for now you’d have to work with what you had. You wondered sometimes why Mary and John hadn’t baptized Sam; maybe it'd been too late.

Over Dean’s shoulder, you risked a glance at Devins. Your stomach dropped to your toes. A raw, bleeding sense of finality rolled through you as you looked at him, and again you were overwhelmed with the compulsion to warn him about something, to save him and his family. Another death omen. Four times as powerful, rippling over your senses like a final breath.

You had no idea how set-in-stone these omens were. But there was one thing you could do about them, at least. You turned up the stairs to pack for Andrea and Lucas, puddles splashing under your shoes.

You’d just started shoving close into Andrea’s suitcase when the shouting started downstairs. A series of bangs shook one side of the house, and before you knew it you’d chased them into the kitchen. Sheriff Devins had just plunged into the snow, and Sam burst after him, both careening over more tracks in the yard as the screen door rattled behind them. You ripped it open and cleared the stoop in one jump, throwing snow up under your heels. Already, your heart was pounding in your ears, nerves singing—blindly, you sprinted toward the sound of screams, lungs bursting.

It was so dark that you almost lost Sam through the trees. As much as you’d prayed for something else, you knew they were all heading for the water.

“Lucas!” Andrea wailed. Dean roared right along with her, Jake crying out in shock. Above them all, Andrea’s hoarse, terrified sob pierced your senses. “Lucas! Baby, stay where you are!”

You ran faster.

The trees parted. For a split second, Lucas’ silhouette on the dock was clear, illuminated strangely against the reflection off the lake. You watched in slow motion, Dean and Andrea and Devins and Sam all charging for the water, as Lucas ignored them. He reached into the glimmering void of water. The chunks of ice parted for something under the surface. You could almost hear it, the surging, warbled whisper of the spirit calling to him.

Lucas reached. A hand blackened by frostbite seized his arm. He was ripped under the water so violently his foot caught against the wood of the dock, twisting his leg in one sick lurch.

Dean hit the water first, boots pounding against the wood, his arms slicing through the surface with deadly precision. Sam dove a millisecond later, shooting diagonally over the edge and sinking like a rock into the murk. Your lungs crystalized in the icy air—it burned, but you spurred yourself even faster. You tore your dagger out of your waistband, clipping Devins with your shoulder as you went. He’d stilled on the bank. His eyes bored into the water, his strength and composure cracking like lake ice.

Devins met eyes with Peter Sweeney’s spirit. Then, the spirit sunk under the surface again.

You skidded to a stop at the end of the dock, gasping for breath. Andrea was ripping off her sweater and weeping, angling for the water too. “Oh my god!”

“Andrea, don’t!” You reeled her back with your free hand, and on instinct, set yourself in front of her.

“What do we—” she sobbed.

You scoured the water with your eyes and your Gift, scrambling for any sign of Lucas, Sam, or Dean—Peter was impossible to sense on his own, encompassing the entirety of the lake’s wrath. Adrenaline abandoned all sense of cold in your limbs. You jerked off your coat, panting over the edge of the dock, and tried to decide—stay with Andrea and Jake to protect them, or dive in to protect Sam, Dean, and Lucas? Three outnumbered two. Maybe you could hold the spirit back. Your dagger was an iron alloy, you could—Sam and Dean weren’t surfacing, they weren’t coming up, you couldn’t feel them anymore, Peter’s influence was too vast—you couldn’t feel them—

Sam’s outline broke through the water on one side, almost impossible to see without moonlight. Your Gift slammed back onto its rails at the sight of him, and stilled when he barked, “Stay there!”

Andrea’s voice tore. “No! Lucas!” she yelled, just as you cursed, “Sam!” You didn’t sound as brave as you’d like.

“Stay with her! We’ll get him!” Sam ordered, and disappeared under the waves again.

Andrea collapsed over the edge of the dock, face in her hands. You put your jacket around her, rubbing her back to a hypnotic rhythm you couldn’t follow, dagger ready in one hand. Somewhere behind you, Devins was laboring for breath beside the water.

Dean came up, arms empty. He swiveled to his right, where Sam surfaced. “Sam?” He asked, but his brother shook his head. They descended again.

Andrea despaired at her reflection. Her cheeks were drowning in tears. “Lucas, where are you?”

There was a splash over your shoulder. You jerked sideways, dagger raised, and felt your gut singe with horror: Jake had waded into the lake.

“Dad—” Andrea cried, and you cursed him, urging him back, his daughter clutching your free hand like it held the last wisps of her life, her son’s life, and now her father’s life. Devins ignored you both.

Fifty years of self-loathing and regret chilled him, froze him, so his slow walk into Lake Manitoc was all too easy. He wept freely. He spread his arms, and gave you one last look—it pinned you to the spot. Bill Carlton had looked at you in the exact same way. There was terror and confusion and guilt there, and acceptance somehow too—resolution. If this is what it took, he would do it.

“Peter, if you can hear me...please, Peter, I'm sorry. I'm so—I'm so sorry.”

Andrea screamed. You had to fish your arm around her shoulders, reining her back onto the dock. “Daddy!” She cried, and behind you, Sam and Dean burst through the surface. They still couldn’t find Lucas.

Devins was up to his waist, now. “Peter. Lucas—he's, he's just a little boy. Please, it's not his fault, it's mine. Please take me.”

“Jake, no!” Dean roared.

You put as much power into your voice as you could. “We can find another way!”

Devins was up to his neck. It was too late. The lingering sheets of ice watching from the lake splintered, and a massive shadow surged for the air; then it shrunk, and shrunk, until it was no smaller than a child’s body.

Jake closed his eyes and stopped kicking. “...Just let it be over.”

The spirit’s hands, twice as small as yours, burst up from behind him and took Devins by the shoulders. In one sinister push, he was shoved face-first into the water. Peter held him there. Devins sank.

He let the spirit take him.

Andrea lurched, clawing out of your grip, desperately trying to reach her father. You held on, no matter how hard her nails seared into your arms. No matter how much she tried to escape. You couldn’t lose all three of them. This couldn’t be for nothing. Her guttural scream pierced the air, the water, and for the first time you could hear her, hear everything, over the thrashing, writhing lake.

Dean and Sam dove again. Where Jake went under, the ripples from his struggle bloomed out like the blood expanding on an altar. The ice on the surface stilled. The water calmed, purifying. But Lucas still hadn’t come up.

You heard Sam gasp for air. Again, you swiveled to look at him, and again, his arms were empty. He shook his head.

All was still. Andrea keeled back into your hold, her voice lost. You couldn’t make Dean out under the water. Sam staggered, limbs stiff with hypothermia.

“Please,” you prayed to yourself.

Right where Devins had gone under, at the epicenter of the new health billowing out through the lake, Dean broke through the surface one last time. Relief burned through your freezing limbs. He tilted his head back, soaking up the flush of moonlight breaching the fog, breathing in the lake’s first clear breath of air in thirty-five years.

Lucas was over his shoulder, alive.

_

LAKE MANITOC, WISCONSIN - NOV. 18th, midday.

The parking lot of your motel had become Lake Manitoc’s latest snowball battleground. Being one of the only lots in town yet to clear out its snow, the local kids had flocked to it, eager to enjoy the first day of the season with sun. You two young boys race past the Impala, shrieking with glee as a girl their age pelted the backs of their hand-me-down jackets with snowballs. The girl had some wicked aim. She nailed the taller of the boys in the head with a solid fastball, squealing and red in the face, I do not have a crush on you! He ran away in stitches, his freckled brother pushing him into a snowbank.

You checked that the rosary was still tight around the handlebars of Peter’s bike, cinched its garbage bag shut, and mimed clawing it with three fingers—an old gesture to ward away evil. A day’s trip would take you to a friend of Bobby’s who could melt it down. Beside you, Dean was suavely pretending he wasn’t freezing his ass off. He tried to do the gesture too, but his joints still ached from his swim. You’d done your best to force the boys into every layer you’d ever owned. Sam stubborned his way into forgetting the hat and gloves, claiming his case wasn’t all that bad. Dean was doing a great impression of someone who didn’t want to be babied, even though he’d laid his head in your lap all night and whined for more warm washcloths.

Sam closed the driver’s side door with a familiar creak, then moved to hover at your side. The three of you paused and leaned against the trunk. Lake Manitoc was alive again, its streets bustling with people pre-shopping for Thanksgiving, its businesses reopening after the blizzard, and its lots booming with giggling kids. You could feel it in the air how much things had changed. Maybe it was the lake’s effect on you alone, but there was a new comfort in the air. Things felt safe again, even if no one around you could say why.

Peter Sweeney had gotten his revenge. His unfinished business was finished now, and Lake Manitoc was finally clean.

On your left, Dean sunk a bit into his boots. You nudged him with your elbow, worried about the far-away look in his eyes. “I know it doesn’t feel right, but we can’t save everybody,” you tilted to look at Sam, “we helped two people, and prevented bad things from happening to a lot more. You two should be proud.”

“And you,” Sam reminded. “We wouldn’ta found Peter’s mom or his bike without you.”

“N’ Dean pulled Lucas out of the water. You helped look for him, and together you got Andrea out of that bathtub.” You held up your fingers, threatening them with a list of all they’d accomplished, and in the same, unsatisfied way, Sam and Dean turned away to play with their hands.

For effect, you slapped both their hands and put on your best, morale-summoning grin. Cheesily, you lifted your chin and gazed off into the distance, like somehow, somewhere, there was a grand future for you on the horizon. “I couldn’t ask for two better hunting partners.”

“Oh, you can say that now that Sam’s here, huh?”

You considered hitting Dean with a snowball, but with how much he’d been complaining, there was a chance he’d keel over and die from frostbite first. If you were lucky. You were about to lean over and snuggle against his arm to embarrass him—but he’d kill you for stealing his chance with Andrea.

She and Lucas emerged from the crowd of playing kids. Framed against them as he’d been before, you expected to see that small, sullen kid, standing among the other children as soundlessly as a pillar. Maybe that kid hadn’t quite left Lucas, but you could sense a change in him too. It reassured you, after everything.

“Sam, Dean, ____,” Andrea greeted.

Her smile was a reach for optimism, but it was hard, almost impossible, to find hope when three reminders of her father’s death—her husband’s death, even—stood in front of her. She separated herself from you with a platter of food. Something told you it wasn’t a wholly grateful gesture—maybe, she just needed to make something to distract herself. You’d been there.

Dean pushed off the Impala’s trunk, careful to keep his tone disarming. To you, it bled with empathy. “Hey.”

“We’re glad we caught you,” she spoke for herself and her son, “We just, um, we made you lunch for the road.” Andrea hung there for a moment, like she was going to teeter on her toes or do something with herself, but had no energy to go through with it. “Lucas thought you’d appreciate some hot cocoa in the cold.”

Lucas signed briefly with his free hand. Sam translated for him, smiling warmly, “With milk. That’s wonderful, Lucas. Thank you. We’re, um, we’re freezing our butts off here, so…”

“They’re freezing their butts off,” you tried to joke, and immediately worried if mentioning the reason why would be insensitive. “Probably because they like watered-down hot chocolate, like crazy people. Milk-lovers like us don’t freeze, huh?”

Lucas smirked, hiding behind the tray of styrofoam cups. He seemed hesitant, embarrassed even, to speak with you, and the reason why burned behind your ribs. Still, he presented the drinks to you first. A peace-offering. You took the one in the middle, forcing down a sudden surge of loathing for your Gift.

“For the record,” Dean plucked up his drink, his smile finding its footing, “I like both.”

Sam said nothing. You were 80% sure that he was lactose intolerant, but that was something to lord over him another time. As Andrea offered the sandwiches she’d made to Dean, flushed into her ears, Sam offered you his elbow. You shared a glance with him—could he really read your mind that clearly, knowing you’d planned to do the same for Dean? Or maybe you just wanted the same things. Again, your brain found the worst time to remind you of his hands and the melting snowflakes, or his hands and the quarter, and suppressed the soul-burrowing urge to scoop his fingers into yours.

“Come on, Lucas, let’s load this into the car,” Dean invited, and Lucas pursued him faster than you could blink.

With him gone, Sam softened his voice for Andrea. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s…” Andrea choose her words carefully. “It’s going to take a long time. To, to sort through everything.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam sighed, and you joined him to say, “I wish we could’ve done more. I-I wish…”

“You saved my son,” Andrea shook her head. “I-I can't ask for more than that. Dad loved me. He loved Lucas. No matter what he did, I just have to hold on to that.”

For someone so fresh out of something so terrible, you were impressed by how ready she was to face it. If this was how she was fresh out of… well, seeing what the world really looked like, then. Then she’d be fine, and so would Lucas.

He appeared at his mother’s side again. Dean strode in, offering his hand to Andrea. After a long, weary look, she took it with both hands and gave it a single grateful shake. “If you need anything…” he advised, and Andrea nodded, “We have your number.”

Well, this was your last chance. As much as you hated to put it out in the open, it needed to be said. You slipped from the safe warmth of Sam’s arm, moved your hair away from one side of your face, and bent to Lucas’ height.

You didn’t have much experience with kids, so your voice stuttered out, somewhere between stern and precautious and comforting. “If you start drawing that way again, or the nightmares come back…” you pulled a folded piece of paper from your jacket, presenting it to wide-eyed, jaw-clenching Lucas between two fingers. “You can call me personally. I’ll know exactly how to help you, okay? It’s—it’s—”

It’s normal, you wanted to say, but you couldn’t lie to him.

“It’s not evil,” Sam said, over your shoulder, and whatever it was in his voice—that softness, that softness he always saved for you—could’ve made you burst into tears. “It helped us. You helped us with it, Lucas. And you saved your mom.”

You stood up with a jolt, unable to look at Lucas. Sam’s broad, warm hand settled sideways on your shoulder, and you let that comfort bleed into your system, wanting more than anything to believe what he said. You turned for the Chief and grabbed your helmet.

“Now, uh, since you’re feeling up to it now, I need to teach you this important phrase,” Dean said, from behind you. He looked skyward, fumbling with his hands, and to your absolute, overwhelming delight and shock, Dean signed for Lucas: “Zepplin Rules!”

A giggle bubbled out of you. Dean looked over, flushed, but Lucas repeated the sign back to him. Satisfied, Dean raised his hand, “Up top, man.”

Lucas gave him a high-five, and Sam seemed to give Dean a bit more credit. His brother really was good with kids. Where had that come from? Sam mouthed to you. You pointed at him, which just confused Sam further. It was impressive, how he could read your mind and have something obvious completely fly over his head on the same day.

Andrea gathered her son under one arm. She said a final, choked, “Thank you,” and with Lucas in tow, dissolved into the crowd of gleeful children.

You watched them walk away, roamed all over by a strange, indescribable feeling again. You’d almost killed yourself saving their lives, yet you’d never see them again. You were proud of what you’d done. There was no better way to spend this life, and your Gift, than to help other people. But the Carltons and Sheriff Devins were all dead, and that was all on you. Turning to Sam and Dean, you saw the same guilt settling back onto their shoulders—and decided that if you didn’t like it on them, then it didn’t look any better on you.

“Ma wants us back for Thanksgiving,” you reported.

“We could check in on that hunter in Michigan, before then,” Dean suggested, “get a lead on Dad. Winter’s full-on monster sleep season—we’re gonna have plenty of time to look for him.”

“Alright,” you agreed, “but um, before that,” you raised your hot cocoa, hand warmed through the styrofoam, “a toast?”

Sam hummed in thought, and raised his cup too. “To supernatural hibernation.”

Together, you clanked your cups in cheers, each taking a long, fulfilling drag of the cocoa. It wasn’t often that you got homemade anything on the road, so the drink was a full-body balm. Dean drank down whole marshmallows, hooked arms with you, and hoisted his cup to the clear winter’s day sky.

“Sleep deep, ya sick son a’ bitches! See you suckers in five months!”

_

tags: @cookiemumster1 @lacilou @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-loou @dakota-dream

ask to be added to my taglist!

NEXT PART: phantom traveller, p.0

#sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #uncouthspn #supernatural rewrite #supernatural reader insert #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn rewrite #spn #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester

[kesumi]

—dating hcs, jjk

—megumi, itadori

—fluff, comfort, gn!reader

—juggles around a modern and curse au.

megumi

-he likes associating your relationship with the song get you the moon by kina

-he doesn’t know why, but he just knows he’d do absolutely anything for you.

-his hair is a mess but it’s a fluffy mess. a good mess and he absolutely loves you playing with his hair! little pat or scruffing it, he loves all of it.

-study dates study dates

-he likes to be on the go but he will not let down a comfy cuddle session with you.

-he just wants to relax whenever you’re around, if he could he’d have you in his arms all the time.

-when you guys go out his arm is always around your shoulders or he just stands really near you.

-he’d be into you painting his nails black.

-he likes writing your name on his arm and his name on yours.

-matching black rings¿ bracelets it’s vv stylish tho.

-likes resting his forehead on yours and finds it extremely calming.

-forehead kisses and small pecks on the lips

-but also he kisses your wrists and it’s the most romantic thing ever like he’s a prince?

-isn’t super public about your relationship but his social media’s are definitely all about you like the pictures and all.

-the pictures are most probably faceless, mirror pics or your silhouettes.

-he likes it when you sit in his lap~

-he has a habit of biting your neck and shoulders? like it’s not even in a sexual way he just does it.

-likes walking out with you during the night.

-if you wanted to, he’d slow dance with you while music weakly plays from your phones.

-if you like animals he will not hesitate to summon his shikigami for you to play with.

-gojo finds out about you accidentally when he sees you and megumi on one of your dates and him being the mf dad he is would find one of your social media’s and message you, “please meet me in this location at this time”

-you’re freaked out about it —megumi boutta punch gojo in the face— but gojo just wanted to welcome you to the family in a cool way TT.

itadori

-lmfao imagine sukuna just pops out of no where and starts flirting with you- anyway

-the boyfriend that would go shopping with you and also help you pick out things he thinks you’d like or looks good on you.

-like he’d hold up a shirt and say “this would look amazing on you” gosh he’s a gentleman

-one drink two straws cliché with him.

-he loves taking photos of you, candid ones especially, thinks you’re an absolute model.

-when he does something dumb and you get mad at him he starts hold your hand and swinging it with a wide smile- it’s cute but wtaf itadori you did not just purchase 50 jennifer lawrence posters-

-on his way to the toilet for his ‘toilet break’ passes by your class just to try and see you through the glass window.

-has that moment where he makes you stay outside his door for a few seconds so that he can clean up his messy room. dw itadori we all know you have 18+ magazines under your beds

-you can’t tell me he doesn’t make tik toks.

-he like takes time to teach you tik tok dances but it ends up with you both messing around.

-his insta is filled of pictures with you and his story revolves around you.

-another one gojo acts like a dad to except itadori is the one that introduces gojo to you.

-and you three are besties you both have gojo spot you guys on your dates and he might even join??

-itadori makes like a lot of making baby with you jokes but they always turn out wholesome? like he’ll say something like “i want you to have like 10 of my babies”

-but you’d pull up the “really” with puppy dog eyes and he just melts and hugs you saying “yes!”

-itadori is for sure good with kids we all saw the way he held the little boy in ep 3

#t3 jjk #fushiguro megumi #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk itadori #jjk megumi #jjk fushiguro #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fluff #itadori fluff #itadori headcanons #itadori yuji #jujutsu kaisen itadori #itadori x reader #itadori x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader

[pettyprocrastination]

Max Philips and Werewolf Wife hcs

@honestlystop @corrupt-fvcker @captainsamwlsn @thesadvampire @humanransome-note @biharryjames @max--phillips​

​

Alright so let me start this by saying max philips is a combination of an absolute perfect husband and father but also a goddamn M E N  A C E

He’s loving and attentive, but mf will grope you in public, not to be a dick but because his internal monolouge is like “my wife is so cool and sexy all the time i love her so much” and then he grabs your ass while youre in a whole foods. 

Often times he’ll do that cliche “honey, im home!” bit when he comes home because he KNOWS it annoys the living hell out of you and he’s been doing it since yall got married. 

He is def one of those dads who will take any moment to boast about his kids. Some employees miss when he first started working there because now if you talk about sports he’ll bring up his son’s soccer team and you’ll be stuck there for the next thirty minutes as he shows you pictures of the boys at their last game. 

That obnoxious proud dad. If one of his kids does theatre? He’s whooping and cheering their name and you have to pull him down into his seat with a sharp hiss of “sit the fuck down”

Probably has started fights with the refs at soccer games when they miss a CLEAR foul or is somebody pushes his kid?? and they don't do a goddamn thing?? Vamp dad is shouting at the ref to get their head out of their ass before he does it for them. 

Because of this Max is no longer asked to bring orange slices for the boy’s soccer team. 

You have two kids. Both boys and both elementary school age. (idk their names yet tho) and they are your babies. Pride and joy. Light of your life.

They are also tiny agents of chaos that run you both ragged. 

When it comes to allergies, theirs coincide with being werewolves+vamps. 

Your vampire son is allergic to garlic and your werewolf son is allergic to wolfsbane. Luckily the extent to this allergy is just sneezing and breaking out into hives, not, ya know, death. 

But max still has to race downstairs at three a.m. because he can hear munching and now has to wrestle garlic bread out of his son’s mouth as he has an allergic reaction while still eating it because “WE CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS ALEX” 

Meanwhile you’ll go to the park with your son and see him sneezing with every step while picking wolfsbane because “It’s just so pretty mommy.” 

Safe to say you guys are constantly exhausted.  

Now lets be real here. You're just as fiery and protective of your family if not more and goddamn he does love it. 

He takes off every full moon, drives you and the family up to the cabin where you and your son can shift in peace. He thinks its a great bonding moment for you all. Your son is just barely a pup that trots after you, and more often than not you're just making sure he doesn’t get lost, start playing in mud, or eats trash (he has done this multiple times)

Your son shifts into a lil wolf pup and it’s adorable. 

But at the same time he has that puppy energy so he’s all over the place. Running after rabbits and play biting you, you take it all in stride of course but once he tries to get back to the house covered in mud Max brings out the hose. 

“Does this count as child abuse?”

“I don’t think so, look how much fun he’s having!” *cut to your son jumping and trying to eat the water as mas sprays him down with the hose*

                                 (A few nsfw headcanons as well)

You've got that mama bear strength combined with werewolf strength that max finds insanely hot to the point that anytime you tell off some bitchy mom for making a snooty comment about your kids he has half a mind to find a closet nearby and pull you in for a quickie. 

speaking of strength, the sex? World changing. More often than not yall have to resolve to quick screws in the morning before the kids wake up and he has to go to work. But when the boys are at a sleepover or their grandparents house for the weekend? You might as well warn the neighbors cause they won’t be getting any sleep with ya’ll fucking all night lmao. 

Max doesn’t feel pain much since he’s turned, but with your strength? the feeling of your nails raking down his back just teeters on the edge of painful and he fucking lives for it. 

Any time you visit him at the office? Office sex. He’ll have that look of like barely contained excitement as he asks about your day and shows you off to his employees but he is literally shaking to get you ontop of his desk. 

you take heat suppressants because nobody has time for that shit. But when yall were first dating and you forgot to renew your prescription?? 

Max literally broke like three traffic laws driving to your place. 

You basically called him and said “im in a horny frenzy and im gonna want to fuck you stupid for the next week.”

Homeboy was like “say no more” and left his job with zero explanation to his boss before getting to his car and driving like a mad man

Max is vv touchy. Not always in a sexual way. Sometimes he just wants to lay with his head on your lap or on your chest because he’s naturally cold so he loves feeling close to you cause youre all nice and warm. Sometimes hell just hug you and grab your ass. 

“You having fun there?”

“Shhhh honey im coping with a hard day at work.”

“By holding my ass?”

“It’s a magical ass, what can I say?”

Fang pals. Idk what else to say for that one but yeah. 

#werewolf tag #max phillips #max phillips x reader #idk if theres any organization to this but #here we are #aksdkska #ive talked with tori about this for SO LONG

[m00n-arin]

Skin marks of the obey me! Characters (like freckles, moles, scars etc.)

Yeah, this is cause i have skin marks but i never thought of them as imperfections, without them i wouldnt be me, one very specific mark on my left hand is the only reason i know my left form my right. Some skin marks, like moles and birthmarks are beautiful but make people feel insecure, even when they shouldnt. And i feel, the best part of meeting someone is seeing those little “imperfections” that make them unique.

Lucifer

I dont have to say this again, he has scars on his back and neck.

He used to be self conscious because of the origins but he has grown to like them.

Thats lowkey cause he heard that someone felt scars tell incredible stories.

Still rather not show them, thats why he never takes his shirt of.

Also stress related acne on his chest and back, which he keeps touching!!, LUCIFER STOP.

Mammon

He has some very small scars on his hands, because he does a lot of things and tends to be careless

He also has moles on his scalp, hands (on his left hand he has one near his middle finger nail, other in the base of his ring finger and on his right hand he has one on his wrist) and on the back of his left ear.

They are tiny and not noticable and he doesn’t care about them.

He also has one (1) scar on his leg that has been there since forever and there is no one that knows where it comes from.

Leviathan

Freckles.

Not normal sun freckles either but oddly colored freckles. Like fish freckles.

Hated them, but has learned to accept them.

On good days, but he does feel down cause of the sometimes.

Do kiss each freckles until he learns to love them, yes.

He also has various swimming related rashes at times. He complains about them ALL the time and he actually tries to take precautions against them.

Oh, and acne scars, obvs.

Satan

Cafe au lait spots on his arms (yes, i am only saying this cause i have them, leave me alone)

He also has a very big birth mark on his back which he used to hate cause it reminded him of his dad Lucifer.

Now he owns it, and no one even thinks of making fun of him, cause it looks amazing.

Also, he has a very long scar across his back, nearly following his spine, this is due to his demon form tail. Unlike lucifer, he never had a problem with this scar, he sees them as a sign of his true nature, which he no longer denies. He’s grown so much, i love ‘im.

Asmo

He actually does not have any freckles or moles or even scars.

He takes upmost care of his skin and even then his skin is smooth.

He has a tiny heart near his right eye, its pink and no one knows what it is. But it’s cute, and it fits his ✨ aesthetic ✨

He does have dimples.

He loves them, they got him so many compliments when he was little. And still do,haha

Beelzebub

Bug bites, so many bug bites.

Also a lot of scars, because he does a lot of physical work. All of them shallow too, he doesnt even notice when he has new ones.

And strech marks, his back is very broad beacuse of his muscles.

He a strong man, yall, he got strech marks,

On the human world, he got a tans quite fast. A week and he has a farmer’s tan.

Belphegor

Three moles near his left eyes. (Which i always forget to draw oops)

Eye bags, like deep eye bags.

Little bastard has a real smooth skin due to the amount of time he sleeps.

He is awfully pale and you can see the blue of his veins through it.

And he has those cow marks on his back and chest, tho sometimes the are lighter than other times.

Gets freckles easily when under the sun. He “hates” them 🙄 he actually likes them but doesn’t want to admit it.

Diavolo

Like Beel, he has strech marks on his back.

i don’t remember why, or who but someone planted this idea and i just, i just know that he used to have a tail and now he has a scar in its place.

Two moles on his neck, tried to make a vampire joke but they to far apart.

Also, other moles on his forearms, try connecting them like little dots, it’s cute AND fun.

Barbatos

I cant think of him having any marks, freckles or moles, really.

He takes care of his skin and he is really careful about not hurting himself.

He does have blisters on his fingers sometimes, but thats about it.

Solomon

Being immortal doesnt mean he’s invulnerable, so he has a lot of scars throught his body.

They are covered by tattos so you have to focus to see them.

More moles on his torso and arms that you can count.

Used to have a birth mark but it faded and never came back.

Simeon

Sun kissed freckles all over his face, arms, shoulders, anywhere where the sun hits.

They say each freckle is a kiss of an angel, so let’s just say he is very loved.

Man has impossibly smooth skin, he has no acne whatsoever.

Has some tiny moles on the back of his shoulders, 5 to be exact.

Luke

Again, sun kissed freckles.

Other than that, he has a smooth and clear skin without much moles and whatnot.

He does have one on the base of his skull but it’s covered by his hair.

#obey me leviathan #omswd levi #obey me belphegor #omswd belphie #obey me satan #omswd satan #Obey me beelzebub #omswd beel #obey me lucifer #omswd lucifer #obey me solomon #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me luke #obey me simeon #omswd solomon #omswd barbatos #omswd diavolo #omswd luke #omswd simeon #obey me! #obey me #obey me shall we date

[spaceace5834]

my c!mcyt head cannons cause yeah

Shout out to the people who actually read this, thank you I’m new to this whole tumblr fandom thing so if my head cannons upset you I apologize.  I will be going against lore or what streams have confirmed as lore because I am too sexy for rules.  These aren’t in any kind of order also.

I will also be changing some parts of Minecraft itself for parts of the head cannons because I am god at the moment.

TWs: swearing, death was said like once or twice, worried about mum and dads relationship given that it’s a bird and his fridge wife who’s secretly the goddess of death, and Karlnapity ✨angst✨

- Eret is a flamingo hybrid.  That’s all I have to say for this one.

- Technoblade is a Piglin Brute, he fancy, he strong, he’s like 8″ in cannon, and he scares the shit out of me.  He is the brute.  However, he doesn’t like to admit it for a strange reason, he finds the system in which Piglin’s elect their brutes similar to a government system and idk he just doesn’t like being a brute.

- Wilbur and Tommy are Philza’s only kids.  I’m sorry but I can’t get behind the Wilbur and Techno twin thing, a death bird and a the goddess of death disguised as a fridge having two human children I can let slide.  A Piglin Brute however? Nah, it’s supposed to be a weird ass family but there is only so much I can take.  Instead Techno is more like the son Philza never had despite having two sons, Techno seeing Phil as a fatherly figure but not his actual father and vice versa.

- Tommy once got so pissed off at Revivbur that he just like, took his old guitar and threatened to beat him with it.

- ✨Angst✨ I see many people depicting Quackity wearing a necklace with Karl and Sapnap’s rings on it and I am down for a jewelry wearing Quackity don’t get me wrong, but I need to make angst.  Quackity had the necklace and wore it for a very very long time, but when he realized that Karl and Sapnap weren’t coming back he stopped wearing.  It’s tucked away in a box under his bed for when he’s finally ready to let go.

- Philza is a mega simp for Mumza which is why he built the forest.  Mumza had asked her husband to make her someplace she could stay so that the two of them could finally be together again, she wanted to be apart of her family’s lives even if being the goddess of death made it difficult.  So Philza being Philza he made her the forest, after she settled in she was sure to enchant it just to have the extra feel of “home”.

- Callahan kinda fine.

- This was a debate a while ago if Foolish wore a Greek toga thing or if he had “little totem shorts” (if you don’t read that in a snooty voice leave).  Because of the whole Demi-god thing I’d say he wears a toga, however, that doesn’t mean he can’t be comfortable.  When he’s in his more “human friendly form” (small foolish) he wears the little totem shorts and one of those Hawaiian dad shirts. (Fun fact, I own one of those.)

- Karl knows that these are his friends in the Tales of the SMP, he just forgets before can make some kind of reminder.

- Dream picks/bites his nails, I say while I pick at my own nails.  For real tho I just think it’s something he’d do.

- Sam is still a creeper, but instead of having the weird centaur thing he just has and extra pair of arms.  The arms save him from some of the hard work that comes with redstone.

- Punz is too busy counting his bounty money to care what is going on in the SMP, and yes I know he’s part of the eggpire however….solo Punz hits different, it’s the girl boss for me.

- Glatt, enemy to Schlatt, tried to do that thing where you bury a bunch of coins with you so you can get a better afterlife but it didn’t work.  Now he’s just stuck with all these golden coins in his pockets constantly clinking against one another.

- Niki knows how to sew and has made fun patches for Tommy when L’manberg was still a thing.

- Eret’s aesthetic is that one rich wine aunt with a pink color palette that visits you every 2nd Christmas just to shower you with gifts and make your parents insecure.  Also would only show up to Thanksgivings if something important happen (ex: someone dying or a new edition to spoil).

#part 1 #c!niki #c!schlatt #c!wilbur #c!dream #c!eret #c!tommy #c!philza #c!mumza #mcyt #Callahan is hot club #c!karl #c!sapnap #c!sam my beloved #c!foolish #c!punz #minecraft #twitch #headcanon #it’s Friday at 11:22 PM #what the hell am i doing #tired as fukc but can’t fall asleep so I’m here instead

[oboevallis]

lost

sorry this is so long, i don’t know if it really makes sense but i was talking with him grandmother and she told me this story about how we went to the beach with the family and we went walking and it was late and high tide and we got absolutely completely lost and she didn’t speak great english and had no phone and we were just walking trying to find the hotel which all look the same while everyone was looking for us and that kinda inspired this story (lol sorry i feel like i do a lot of stories based on events that have happened to me so idk if that’s boring or not ill stop talking now tho)

Amelia quietly slipped out of bed once she realized her son was awake and babbling to himself, and she knew if she didn’t quickly attend to him, he’d start wailing causing the rest of the house to wake up. As much as she savored her sleep she enjoyed the early morning feeds, no one else was up, allowing her to be solely focused on her son. She quietly slipped out the back door to get settled on the lawn chair, and was startled when she saw Maureen, almost forgetting the two had come to visit.

“Good morning.” Maureen smiled, nursing her thermos of coffee.

“Morning.” Amelia reciprocated settling in the chair next to her.

“Hope you don’t mind I came back here. Eric is in a work call and I tend to distract him, and I just found myself out here.”

“No not at all.” The neurosurgeon responded truthfully as she guided her son to her breast, which he eagerly latched onto. “Thanks again for taking the kids for the day, it was much appreciated.”

“Of course. We had a great time with them.” The older woman smiled kindly, putting Amelia at ease. She tried so hard to make a good impression on her boyfriends parents and now felt at ease knowing they thought she was good enough for their son. “I don’t know how you and Link do it, especially in a pandemic. I mean you can’t take em to the park, museum, or anything.”

“Me either.” The woman absentmindedly chuckled, she was just taking it a day at a time. The women turned around once hearing the door open to reveal the oldest child.

“Auntie Amelia, I have a proposition for you.” Zola smiled as she walked further into the backyard still in her pajamas.

“A proposition huh?” The woman chuckled, it always impressed her when her niece would use a vocabulary word out of reach for a girl her age in the proper manner.

“Yep, I think we should not do school today, stay in our pjs, build a fort in the living room, and have a movie marathon.” The girl announced jumping on the balls of her feet, as much as Amelia wanted to oblige she knew she couldn’t.

“We can this weekend, but I’m sorry we can’t just not do school.”

“Ugh, but mom would let us.” This caused Amelia to laugh.

“We both know your mom would not in any capacity let you miss school if you weren’t sick.”

“It was worth a shot.” Zola shrugged.

“It was, but I’ll let you pick what we have for dinner tonight.”

“Pizza?”

“You’ve got it.”

“Do you think Link will still help me with my report.”

“I’m sure he’d love to, just let him sleep a bit more and once he wakes up ask him.” Zola nodded and ran back into the house, Amelia sighed in relief there wasn’t a tantrum.

“You’re good with kids, especially remediating a situation.” Maureen commented, admiring the younger woman more.

“I try.” Amelia chuckles, Maureen has only seen the kids well behaved and not in their tantrum state.

“So, I hate to be blunt, but my son doesn’t tell me a thing, are the two of you planning on getting married?”

“Oh, umm.” Amelia blushed awkwardly shifting her son. “Not at the moment, we’re going to wait until things calm down a bit.”

“As long as it’s in the cards.”

“I think it will be.” The neurosurgeon smiled, thinking about Links plans to get married in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

________________________________________

Bailey had an hour break before his next Zoom started up, so Link took the opportunity to take him out on their daily walk and get his energy out around the block while he tried to lull his son. This time though his father tagged along, he still had a lot of resentment towards his parents but was trying his best to be civil.

“That kid almost has as much energy as you did before..” Eric trailed off, but Link knew what he meant. Before his cancer tore his family apart, and made him a shell of the kid he was,but he was determined to only talk about the good things.

“Yeah he keeps Amelia and I on our toes.” Link quickly said, so no talk of his cancer came up.

“I know your upset with your mother and I, but we just want to help. And rebuild our family.” The ortho surgeon did his best to not roll his eyes at the statement, he couldn’t understand why they couldn’t have worked it out in the first place, why they decided to track along across multiple states during a global pandemic, and why they had to keep freaking his girlfriend out with the concept of marriage.

“I really don’t have the energy to talk about this right now, why don’t we just change the subject.” Before Eric could agree his sons phone started to ring. “Crap this is the hospital, I’ve gotta go in. Bailey! We gotta get home” He called up ahead to the boy who was scootering.

“It’s alright I’ll keep walking with them.”

“You sure?” The man asked wearily.

“Of course you know me I love a good walk.” He took the baby out of his sons arms and Link wrapped the baby snug across the older mans chest.

“Thanks dad!” He smiled as he jogged back to the house to grab his car and head to the hospital, while Eric caught up along side of Bailey as he turned another corner.

________________________________________

After Amelia finished helping Ellis with her math homework she realized it had been well over an hour since the boys had gone for their walk it typically lasted 40 minutes and the house was wearily quiet. She made her way downstairs to be met with Maureen folding the pile of laundry.

“Oh I’m sorry, you don’t have to do that.”

“Please, I don’t mind.”

“Do you know where the boys are?” Amelia asked feeling her anxiety start to rise as there was no indication of them being home.

“I assume they’re still walking, they haven’t walked in yet.” The neurosurgeon pulled out her phone and tapped on her boyfriends contact to be met with a scrub nurse who informed her, he was in fact scrubbing in on an emergency surgery.

“Link is at work.” Amelia informed Maureen rather confused, Link always told her before he left the house, but assumed he was so excited by the notion of a surgery and left the boys with his father.

“I’ll try Eric.” Once the older woman dialed the number they heard ringing coming from the coffee table where he left his phone. “I’m always telling him he needs to carry his phone around, he’s terrible with remembering it.” The woman huffed obviously starting to get a little startled.

“Okay.” Amelia took a deep breath. “I’m going to go look for them, would you mind staying with the girls?”

“Not at all.”

“Thanks.” Amelia quickly made her way towards the door and grabbed her keys from the hook, noting her boyfriend failed to bring the diaper bag as it was next to the door. Nonetheless she got into her car and tried the best to calm herself down, though all she could think about were worst case scenarios.

______________________________________

“Do you have any idea where we are?” Eric asked Bailey as he walked beside him, the boy had gotten tired and now just tracked the scooter along side them.

“No we usually don’t go this far.” Baileys fearless persona faltering, he assumed by this point he was late for class and was going to be in big trouble with his aunt and teacher.

“Everything kinda looks the same huh?”

“Yeah.” Bailey nodded nervously biting his nail, a habit he’d recently picked up from his aunt.

“Hey bud, it’s going to be fine we’ll find our way home.” Internally he was cursing himself for not bringing his phone along with him. After some more walking they found themselves on a street with convenience stores, Merediths house wasn’t far from the heart of Seattle but they were definitely far from where they were supposed to be. He was tempted to walk into a store and ask someone for directions but he didn’t have a mask and had two small children so that wasn’t an option. “Alright, let’s go back to that last street and make a left, maybe that right was a bad idea.”

“We’ll never get home.” Bailey said hopelessly.

“We will don’t worry about it.” And if things couldn’t get any worse the baby had started to fuss which in no time would turn into fill on crying.

Amelia slowly drove through the neighborhood looking for the three, not knowing she was on the opposite part of the neighborhood from them. Meanwhile after aimlessly walking and multiple turns Bailey started to recognize where they were and lead the way home.

“Where the hell have you been?” Maureen immediately asked as they walked through the door taking the now crying baby from her fiancé. “You need to have your phone on you!”

“Just strolling.” Eric responded nonchalantly.

“No we were lost. Really lost.” Bailey corrected as he ran into the kitchen to find something to eat since he missed lunch. Maureen followed taking out a bottle for Scout and calling her daughter in law informing her they were home, she heard a large sigh of relief through the other line.

Amelia happened to pull into the driveway the same time as Link, she wiped her stray tears as she had gotten herself into such a state and slammed her car door.

“Hey, where were you?” The ortho surgeon smiled brightly, he had just completed a rather simple surgery but just being in the OR at any capacity was heaven.

“Where was I? I don’t know, where was I?” Amelia chuckled on disbelief. “Where the hell were you? I spent two hours driving around trying to find your father and the boys.”

“What they never came home?” Link asked in a panic.

“They just did. They were lost and struggled to find their way home so they were aimlessly walking around while I aimlessly drove around in the wrong direction.”

“Damn it, how could my dad do this?” The man ran a stressed hand through his hair.

“This isn’t your dads fault it’s yours!”

“Huh?”

“Oh don’t act stupid. First you don’t even take the diaper bag in the walk with all the essentials and a first aid kit and then you up and leave for a surgery without even texting me.” The man was about to interject but Amelia held up her hand. “And you let your father continue the walk, even though the man has been to Seattle like two times and doesn’t know his way around.”

“I thought they were just gonna go the rest of the way up the block and back, and that he’d tell you where I went. That’s what Bailey and I do everyday.”

“Have you been living with Bailey for the past four months? Or has it just been me? Bailey will just keep riding that scooter no matter what and go any which way paying no attention to his surroundings, of course Eric is just gonna follow him around since it probably seemed he knew where he was going. You know what I can’t even look at you, I don’t want to say something I’m going to regret.” Amelia walked past him and quickly made her way into the house, to be met with her sons cries and quickly took the baby from Maureen cradling him closely, the baby immediately calming.

“I am so so sorry Amelia.” Eric apologized obviously upset.

“It’s not your fault.” Amelia forcefully smiled, she wasn’t entirely mad at him mostly at her boyfriend. Link then walked through the front door to be met with his mother scolding him.

“And what the hell were you thinking? Not telling anyone you were going to the hospital, and leaving your father with two kids in a place that’s foreign to him. Is surgery really all you can think about?” For the past couple of months he’d been complaining to his mother how much he hated not being able to operate.

“She would’ve done the same thing.” Link quickly pointed to his girlfriend who was cradling their son in the couch.

“What are we five?” Amelia asked when her boyfriend accused her in such a manner. “And I would’ve had the decency to tell you I was leaving and made sure you had the kids handled before I left.” Link backtracked and took a deep breath.

“Alright how about we just take a moment, they’ve been found so it’s fine.” The tired mother rolled her eyes and walked up the stairs with her baby, not in the mood for her boyfriends best case scenario talk.

“This could have been prevented by the both of you.” Maureen pointed to the two men who’s heads hung in shame.

“You should’ve made it clear to your father it was just up the block and back, and you should’ve texted the mother of your child.” She then directed her attention towards her husband. “And you need to pay more attention and keep your phone on you.”

“Sorry.” The two men answered in unison, ashamed to have messed up so greatly.

_______________________________________

The rest of the night was foreignly quiet, Bailey was exhausted and the couple was avoiding one another. After everyone had dinner together Maureen and Eric retreated back to the RV and the kids were all tucked in their beds. Once Link walked into the bedroom after his shower he sighed realizing Amelia wasn’t there. He quietly trekked into the nursery to be met with Amelia asleep in the rocking chair and her hand inside the crib, their sons hand was loosely holding her index finger. He would’ve smiled at the sight of he didn’t know what she was doing, her plan was to sleep in here tonight to avoid having to be in the same bed as him. He carefully removed her hand and picked her up out of the chair.

“Nooo.” Amelia sleepily groaned. “I’m sleeping in here.”

“No you’re not, your going to sleep in our bed.” He softly affirmed as he laid her down on her side of the bed. Once he moved to the other side of the bed and got settled his girlfriend was now wide awake and turned to face him.

“What happened today can never ever happen again.”

“It won’t I promise.”

“You know we’re so good at communicating within our relationship but not so great outside of it.” Link chuckled nodding in agreement. “You need to tell me when you get called in, and you need to let others know what the plan is, so they’re not getting lost in Seattle woth two small children.”

“I promise.” Link grabbed her hand in a reassuring manner. “I am so so sorry for what happened today, I was just so excited to be operating and I just lost my mind and didn’t think about anything outside of that operation.”

“I know this is hard for you, your not used to kids in the capacity that I am. You didn’t grow up in a loud house and you don’t have a large quantity of nieces and nephews. Your used to dealing with the occasional peds patient for like twenty minutes. I’m not saying your bad with kids I mean the peds floor loves you, it’s just this is a lot really quickly and non stop.”

“Wow you just articulated how I feel perfectly and I haven’t been able to even form a cohesive thought of what Im feeling.”

“Hmm, maybe that’s because you just sleep so you don’t have to think about feelings.” Link chuckled, sliding over to kiss her sweetly.

“I love you.” Link affirmed. “And I’m so sorry about today.”

“Tomorrow will be better.” Amelia agreed. “And I love you even more.”

“Impossible.”

#amelia shepherd #amelink #atticus lincoln #baby amelink #greys anatomy #greysanatomy #ellis shepherd #zola shepherd #bailey shepherd #scout lincoln #marueen lincoln #eric lincoln #greys anatomy fanfic #greys fanfic #marureen lincoln

[illfoandillfie]

DMs

Pairing: Ben Hardy x F!Reader

Summery: You run a nsfw snapchat account. Ben's horny.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), partially written as chat text, video chat sex, masturbation, fingering, sex toys, nipple play, voyeurism I guess, fuckboy ben

Words: 3774

A/N: Inspired by something El posted. I love Ben but he’s got them fuckboy/lad vibes and im positive he’d get down on some sc porn

Taglist:  @laedymoon​  @dtfrogertaylor​   @ezmina98​  @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon​ @kellypenac​ @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​  @hannafuckingsucks​  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​

@veriloquently​

Your phone buzzed, the familiar noise distracting you from your book. Considering you’d just posted a new photo, partially hidden by emojis, to Instagram and updated your snapchat story with the uncensored version, it was hardly surprising you were getting messages.

YourNewDaddy: Mmm baby let me pound you

You clicked through to his profile. Absolutely nothing. The profile picture was some abs that could belong to anyone. No recent snaps, nothing. For a few seconds you considered replying with your payment details but decided against it. He wasn’t worth your time.  

The whole NSFW account thing had started a while ago on Tumblr and then Instagram. A way to kill time and get some attention that you weren’t receiving in the real world. But then the porn ban had happened which severely limited what you could post, so you’d mostly moved to Snapchat, using everything else to advertise. A few months after the move you started getting guys offering to pay you to do specific things. One had wanted an audio recording of you calling him Daddy and begging for his cock with a few moans thrown in. Another had wanted a video of you and a dildo, though he’d had to pay more. Since then you’d used your accounts to pick up a bit of extra cash here and there. Nowhere near enough to live off of, but it came in handy.

You clicked back out of the app, put down your phone and went back to your book, hoping someone entertaining would at least comment on the photo soon. Barely half a page later another ding pulled you away. This time Instagram.  

Benhardy: Just came over you

Quick and to the point. Fuckboy energy. You clicked onto his profile half expecting another faceless timewaster. No description or links to other sites but he had a profile picture. And some fifty odd photos. Not many posts considering his million followers but at least you knew he was a real person. You scrolled through his feed trying to put gather what info you could before you responded. Lots of photos of himself sometimes with friends. A few that were clearly modelling jobs or, more likely considering the movie trailers and saved story called Oscars 2019, promotional photoshoots for magazines. And he was a proud dog dad. Definitely attractive. You wondered briefly why someone so handsome was getting off to half dressed girls on Instagram but put it out of your mind as you opened his conversation up again. Who cared why as long as he was talking to you? After all, he was hot and willingly giving you attention. Plus, if he was an actor or whatever he probably wouldn’t mind paying for something special, once you’d given him a taste. The only question left was how to approach the conversation.  

You: Really? That’s so flattering!

You: Kind of wish you’d cum over me for real tho, bit bored

Benhardy: dirty girl

Benhardy: could probably think of some way to keep you busy

Benhardy: you’re fit

You: haha aww thank you! I post more often on snap if you wanna follow. don’t have to hide behind swimwear and emojis there. easier to chat too, unless you prefer kik or something

He didn’t reply. You frowned at your phone wondering if you’d shown your hand too soon. Perhaps you should have kept up the flattered damsel act a little longer, waited before mentioning Snapchat. Maybe he wasn’t looking for a chat, just genuinely wanted to compliment you, even if it was in a gross slightly derogatory way. Or maybe he just got cold feet. You sighed as you swiped back to check what other people had been sending you. A few more ignorable accounts, a couple messages you didn’t like enough to respond to straight away. And then another Snapchat notification.  

Ben Jones: had to create an account but I’m here

You: oh! you’ve changed your name

Ben Jones: Hardy’s the stage name lol

You: hmmm hardy… little bit of a pornstar name

You: or could be if you changed the ben part.

Ben Jones: that’s my backup plan in case actual acting doesn’t work out lol

Ben Jones: not too out of place right now tho

You: haha that because of me?

Ben Jones: maybe. loved the photos in your story you’ve got great tits

Ben Jones: kinda wanna see you pinch and pull on them

And so it began. You leaned forward to pull your shirt off and then settled back against the pillows, running your fingers around your nipple until it was hard. Angling the camera towards your chest you pinched your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, rolling it between them. The camera clicked as you took a photo and then clicked again as you tugged your nipple away from your body, hissing a little at the pain.

You: Like this?

Ben Jones: perfect

Ben Jones: really are lovely tits.

You: surprisingly don’t hear that much irl so ty

Ben Jones: u don’t? criminal

You: lmao yeah but that’s what I have you for

Ben Jones: happy to help

Ben Jones: What are you wearing?

You: Just a pair of knickers now

Ben Jones: sexy

Ben Jones: can I see?

You: just the knickers or the whole look?

Ben Jones: whole look first

Ben Jones: then just the knickers so I can see the wet spot you’re making

You wriggled against the pillows, shuffling further down the bed. Long ago you’d learnt which angles were the easiest to take photos in and which were the best to show off your body. A full body shot was easiest when you leaned your phone up against a stack of books or something at the foot of the bed and used the timer on the camera to get a few shots of you kneeling. It left your hands fee to squeeze your tits if that seemed appropriate or slip into your underwear, or to put behind your back in a pose that seemed innocent but actually pushed your hips and chest forward. For Ben though you felt something that appeared a little more casual would be appropriate. You lay back, head raised slightly on your pillows, feel flat against the mattress so your knees were in the air and pressed together. Carefully you positioned the camera, wrist twisted a little to get the angle just right. You brought your free hand up to your breasts, pulling your nipple again since Ben seemed to like it, and snapped a photo. The shot of your underwear was easier, legs spread, pushing your hips up slightly to get a clear shot of the wet patch that had been slowly growing since the start of the conversation, though a little added saliva to make it more obvious didn’t hurt. He wouldn’t be able to tell.  

Ben Jones: hot

Ben Jones: like got me so hard again hot

You: does that mean I get a picture in return?

Ben Jones: Only if you take your knickers off for me

Ben Jones: wouldn’t be fair otherwise since im not wearing underwear😉  

You took your time sending him a new photo and got one back almost straight away. You would have scoffed at his eagerness to show himself off but, with a body like his you couldn’t really blame him. You zoomed into the photo, trailing your eyes over every inch of it. Messy blonde hair, though whether it was intentionally messy or just like that from him grabbing it while he jerked off over your photo you weren’t sure. Gorgeous eyes, heavy lidded and a little fucked out. One arm behind his head as he lay on his bed. It looked carefree and spontaneous, like someone else had taken the photo at the very moment he looked at the camera, but it showed off the muscles in his arms too well to be coincidence. And speaking of muscles. The boy was a fucking Adonis. You were instantly struck by the desire to drag your nails down his chest and leave a trail of hickeys and bite marks all the way down to his toned stomach and tight waist. You clenched your thighs together at the thought as you slowly revealed the bottom half of the photo. He had his legs outstretched though one was more bent than the other, knee jutting out to the side. Almost too casual to be casual, especially with the way he had his hand wrapped around his cock, like the photo was taken mid stroke. You couldn’t help linger over that particular part of the photo. It was a lovely hand, big with noticeable veins, exactly the sort that could make you weak in the knees. And the same could be said for the dick it was holding. You wondered briefly where this Ben guy had come from and what you could possibly have done to catch his attention.  

Ben Jones: is that silence because you’re so impressed

The message made you roll your eyes. Hot he might be, but he was still just another desperate fuckboy looking for a naked girl to drool over and a quick orgasm.  

You: well I’m not not impressed

Ben Jones: no need to be shy. just say you’re imagining riding me and I'd understand

You: wasn’t before. Am now.

Ben Jones: what were you picturing before?

You: doggy

Ben Jones: be happy to let you try both and compare.

You: let me film it and watch the tapes back to study your game?

Ben Jones: wait this is dumb.

Your frowned at your phone. For such typical guy, the sort you’d dealt with so many times before, Ben sure was hard to pin down.  

You: what?

Ben Jones: you comfortable doing live chat?

Ohhhh

You: umm sure thing

Ben Jones: you don’t have to

You: i know that. you couldn’t force me to even if you wanted, beauty of doing this online. i just don’t do live very often. or I charge for it.

Ben Jones: that desperate for me?

You: you caught me in a good mood

You let the call ring for a bit, wanting to make sure Ben understood how in control you were and how much more he needed it than you. But eventually you picked up, settling back against your pillows. Ben seemed to be in a similar position, leaning against his headboard, the screen showing you his face and bare shoulders. “Hi,” “Hi,” his voice was deeper than you’d expected, thrown by how soft and, dare you say, feminine his features were, and yet it suited him perfectly. You could only imagine how that voice would sound growling out sexually charged complements, the thought appealing enough to have you pressing your thighs together. There was a moment of silence as you took each other in, not quite sure how to continue now that you’d switched from text.   “So you going to show me how wet you are?” Once again his demeanour had you wanting to roll your eyes though you refrained, “No.” “No?” His confusion was entertaining to say the least. So many of the men who contacted you assumed you were going to be outright submissive and meek, taking whatever photos they demanded and doing everything they told you to with a smile and a yes sir. So proving them wrong, defying them, taking control, that was fun. Almost an aphrodisiac in its own right. Sometimes you’d eventually submit, play the brat and then let them win, and if they were paying it was a different story. But Ben struck you as the kind of guy who could use a little more pushback. Probably used to getting his way, having his pick of the litter. Lord knows had he hit on you in real life you probably would have agreed to whatever he wanted just to feel his hands on you. But here, on your profile, you had the power. Plus, in the back of your mind you suspected that being a little more assertive might just make him more interested in seeing you submit and maybe a little more willing to pay for the pleasure.   “Not yet.” “Bit of a bold move considering I could just go find someone else to look at. There’re these things called porn sites, yeah?” “But they’re so impersonal. Isn’t this more fun?” He paused, eyeing you, and then let out a breath, “You got me there.” “Figured, since the video chat was your idea and all.” “Just got sick of typing one handed.” “Mmhmm, sure.” “So are you going to show me your cunt then?” “Eventually. But what’s the rush?” you stood up, making sure to let the camera dip just a little so Ben got a quick flash of your chest. “How about I’m hard as hell and want to get off?” “You’re not the only one who wants to get off so just hold your horses for a second while I get my toys.” “There are toys now?” You could see Ben’s shoulder move as he started to stroke himself again. “Told you to hold your horses. Stop touching yourself.” Ben’s arm stopped its movement though he seemed a little taken aback by his own obedience. “Good boy,” you watched for Ben’s reaction, not disappointed as he swallowed hard, his cheeks going pinker than they already were. That was interesting. “Yes there are toys, you wanna see?” “Do I get to pick which ones you use?” “Maybe,” “Go on, show me then,” You flipped the camera around as you opened your chest of draws. There wasn’t much in there, a couple different dildos and vibrators, a set of nipple suckers, mostly things you’d bought to fulfil requests guys were paying you for. You picked up the nipple suckers and held them up to the camera. “I assume you’d like to see me in these since you liked watching me play with my nipples.” “Mmhmm, absolutely. Also want to see you with a dildo. You got one with a suction base? Might tell you to ride it the way you’d ride me,” he seemed to be doubling down on the pull for control after you’d seen his reaction to being told what to do, determined to put you in your place or whatever. “Unfortunately, no. But this one will do,” you took hold of a silicon dildo, pulling it from the draw, “Don’t think it's as big as you but it does vibrate and that’s guaranteed to work.” “I’ll allow it, though I think we both know I’d be better.” “I’m going to ignore that,” you said as you turned the camera back towards you and headed back to your bed, settling against the pillows again. You propped the camera up against a pillow so Ben could watch as you placed the suckers over your nipples, whimpering at the sudden taught feeling. You picked the phone back up, giving Ben a closer view of your boobs. “They suit you. And you can ignore it all you like but when you start doing what I say and I let you fuck yourself into your third orgasm I’ll remind you. Maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll tell you where you can meet me in real life and show you exactly how good I am.” “You’re a cocky one, aren’t you?”   “In every sense. If I remember correctly you were speechless at the sight.” “You’ve got a bad memory, Benny boy.” Slowly you let your fingers trail down to your pussy. You didn’t believe he was as good as he thought he was – you’d dealt with too many overconfident wankers, both in real life and online, to believe another one – but the game you’d fallen into, the back and forth teasing, not entirely sure who was in control at any one time, was arousing to say the least. It was certainly one of the less predictable conversations you’d had recently.   “If not speechless then certainly wet. Show me your pussy, wanna see you touching yourself.”” “Who said I’m touching myself?” you slipped a finger into your entrance, trying to keep your breathing even.” “You’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are. So show me.” “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Ben gave you a fleeting look, eyebrow raised, before his camera flipped and you were once again looking at his hand wrapped around his cock, red and leaking precum. You turned your camera too, making sure he had a good view. “Add a second finger for me.” You did as he asked, “You been a good boy and not touched? Or do I have to tell you off for misbehaving?” “I didn’t but it wasn’t because of anything you said. Just didn’t want things to finish before I heard you beg me to cum.” He began to stroke himself, keeping in time with the slow pace you’d set as you pumped your fingers in and out of your pussy. “Sure,” you panted, adding a third finger, “so if I told you to stop now,” His hand halted. “Well aren’t you just so obedient,” You removed your fingers from yourself, reaching to grab the dildo, “you wanna see me fuck myself properly? Watch me cum all over this toy, pretend it’s your cock making me moan?”   “God yes,” his voice cracked a little, fingers twitching against himself as he briefly let the cocky, controlling persona fall away. It didn’t last long, “Show me how deep you can take that cock. C’mon, I know what a fucking slut you are, getting off on people watching you.” You didn’t bother arguing, sliding the dildo along your dripping folds before pressing it into yourself with a whine. “Wait, hang on a sec.” The was the sound of shuffling and the screen went black as Ben moved around but, eventually, he flipped the camera again and settled back on the bed. He’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of himself, letting you see every inch of him from his face to his hard, leaking cock, “better?” “Oh much, hang on I’ll do the same," you carefully pulled the dildo from yourself and sat up, leaning your phone against a stack of books on your bedside table and then adjusting your pillows in front of it, “we good?” “Yeah, take the nipple things off though, wanna see your tits properly.” You did as he asked, letting out a soft moan at the sensation. Ben chuckled, “God I can’t wait to hear how loud you moan imaging how hard I’d fuck you.” You slid the dildo back into your entrance, slowly pumping it in and out of yourself as you brought your other hand up to squeeze your breast, “mmm, you look so pretty when you’re all needy Benny.” It wasn’t a lie, between his lust blown eyes, flushed cheeks and soft pout, Ben looked incredible and it only turned you on more, “Want to show me how needy you can get? Want me make you beg?” “Faster. Harder,” he ignored your questions in favour of giving you another order but you were sure you’d heard his voice crack just a little. You sped up, whining with each thrust, Ben’s hand matching your pace as his slid his thumb over the tip and spread the precum over his length. “Fuck your wet, I can hear it. That all because of me?” “Maybe a-a bit. Also just like, fuck, being watched,” “Turn on the vibrator and rub your clit,” Ben’s voice was husky, impossibly deep and rough, “don’t stop until I say.” You moaned as the vibrations started, angling the dildo to rub against your g-spot on every pass.   “There you go, being a good little slut. Gonna cum how I tell you to.” “On-only if you cum how I tell you to.” You almost let the dildo fall from your grasp, so shocked were you by the whine Ben let out, “Like that idea? Want me to tell you what to do? If I told you to stop and watch me would you?” “No,” he said, steadfastly sticking to the game although his hand faltered and his voice had mostly lost the controlling edge he’d had before, all desperate, whiny need. “N-not sure I beli-eve you.” “Please don’t stop. Wanna cum so bad,” “I know y-ou do Benny.” “You close?” “Yes, fuck Ben, so close.” “Cum for me, come on, be a good slut and cum,” “Not. Yet. Play with your balls Benny, wanna see you cum first.” His gasped turned into a strangled cry as he ran his fingers over his testicles before lightly squeezing them “T-turn the vibrator higher,” Neither one of you were in control anymore, too caught up in getting yourselves and each other off, though you were both determinedly looking at the screen, watching each other. Ben’s lip was caught between his teeth, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he let out some of the prettiest moans you’d ever heard. It only served to push you closer to the edge, your own moans escaping as you bucked your hips rhythmically in time with the dildo moving in and out of your cunt. Ben finished a split second before you did, your eyes glued to the white now painting his stomach as you held the dildo in place, its vibrations making your toes curl.

The was a moment of quiet as you both collected yourselves, the only sounds his panted breaths and your soft whine as you removed the dildo from yourself, and then Ben spoke.   “Fuck that was hot.” “Yup,” “I thought your tits were good enough to wank over but Christ. That’s gonna keep me going for a bit.” You laughed, relaxing as your heart gradually fell back to its normal rhythm, “Well not too long I hope. You’re fun and I’d be happy to chat again sometime.” “Did I see in your bio that you take commissions?” “Yuuup,” “Huh, well, I’ll keep that in mind then.” “I look forward to it,” “Well, I should be off then, gotta clean up,” he gestured to the mess drying on his stomach. “Yeah, me too, maybe have a nap. That really was fun though so next time you’re bored or whatever hit me up. If you’re lucky I’ll let you boss me around. If you’re luckier I’ll do the bossing,” “I’d like to see you try,” “That whine you made says you’d enjoy it quite a lot,” “My whine? What about yours? Needy little brat.” Guess you’ll have to come back and settle this then.” “Guess I will. See you later.”

#my writing #ben hardy smut #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #hope ya'll like this #hope i made him enough of a fuckboy #and that it makes sense and everything #i wrote the first half real quick like last month #and then took a break from it to write curtains 5 #and then found it kinda hard to get back into it #but i think im happy with it #anyway #gonna be more benny content coming soon #im so very deep in my feels because of all this 6u content

[lloydskywalkers]

There’s Insurance for That

In which Skylor buys lunch, stops a criminal, and learns the best way to blow up the kitchen electronics section, which is a pretty normal week for her, she guesses. Or, five places the ninja are no longer allowed into, featuring Skylor.

(been hitting a bit of a writer’s block with everything else lately, so here’s this...disaster, i guess?? because these ninja are definitely a disaster in this, but i was having fun so. this is the bed bath & beyond fic btw, in case anyone was wondering gdfkgdh)

1. My. Kazami’s Ramen Place

At this point, sadly, Skylor’s used to it.

It’s around a quarter to noon on a Monday, just as she's leaving the noodle shop for her well-deserved lunch break, when a familiar scream splits the relatively-quiet afternoon air on this side of Ninjago City.

The only reason Skylor does not immediately dissolve into panic at said scream is because she is — also sadly — familiar with the variations of it, and this one sounds less like it’s Lloyd’s “I’m-in-terrible-danger-and/or-pain-again” scream, and more like his “I’m-free-falling-on-purpose-from-the-sky-again” scream. Which is, in and of itself, not entirely concerning. In fact, it’d probably be more unusual not to see Lloyd go falling from the sky at some point during any of the ninjas’ higher-than-eight-feet battles, because somehow that’s become a habitual thing. The sky is blue, fire is hot, Kai uses hair gel — Lloyd is going to drop screaming from the sky at some point this month.

So instead of panicking, Skylor figures she’ll just stand in the vicinity until Lloyd either climbs out of another dumpster, or lands on top of her. Kai doesn’t seem to be around to catch him, so Skylor’s prepared to step up, even though it looks like Lloyd’s got a pretty good handle on landing, at the angle she’s watching him from.

Still though, she muses. You’d think he’d have started actively wearing a parachute at this point.

“Kai suggested that,” Lloyd says, after he’s finally able to stand straight, and he’s not quite as cross-eyed. He frowns at his reflection in a store window as they pass by, scuffing at his windblown hair again. “But it gets in the way, you know? It throws off my backflips.”

“That’s a nail in the coffin right there,” Skylor agrees, leading them across another sidewalk. Lloyd’s attracting a lot of looks, with his bright green battle gi and razor-sharp sword strapped across his back, but fortunately no one’s started crowding them yet. Probably because the razor-sharp sword strapped to his back. “Can’t have your fighting style completely crippled,” she adds.

“I don’t backflip that much,” Lloyd huffs. Yes, you do, is on the tip of Skylor’s tongue, because she’s seen him fight, but she decides not to pick that battle…this time.

“Besides,” Lloyd continues. “I don’t really need a parachute, anyways. I always make sure to aim for like, somewhere safe to land. Relatively safe. Safe-ish.”

Skylor eyes him. “You landed in a dumpster.”

Lloyd bristles in offense. “I did not! It was a perfectly respectable recycling bin.”

“Same thing, if you ask me.”

“Not even close. Dumpsters are gross. Recycling bins you just crash through a whole bunch of cardboard and old newspapers. It’s luxury trash diving.”

Skylor just sighs, shaking her head, and edits the text she’s been tapping out for Kai.

Skylor > found your kid in a recycling bin

Skylor > taking him to lunch bc you’re clearly starving him again

Skylor > he’s alive btw

Kai > oh thank fsm

Kai > tell him he’s grounded

Kai > u never take me for lunch :(

Skylor > maybe if u dropped on me from the sky sometime i would

“Hey, are the others busy?” she asks Lloyd in afterthought. “Like…fighting anyone?”

“Huh?” Lloyd blinks. He then flushes, rubbing the back of his head. “Ah, no. We’d pretty much finished up the fight when I, uh…there was a break-in, on the Bounty? We had the guys all taken care of, but they blew part of the mast up, and it left debris all over the deck, so I kind of…maybe….tripped…”

Lloyd is bright red by the time he finishes the sentence. Skylor wouldn’t feel so bad about it, if she wasn’t doubled over laughing at him in the middle of rush hour traffic.

“You are a trained ninja,” she breathes out, between snickers.

“I know,” Lloyd moans.

“You’re like, part god.”

“I know,” Lloyd moans again, into his hands this time. Skylor has to grab his shoulders and forcibly drag him along down the crowded street, trying not to cringe inside at all the looks they’re getting.

“Kai says you’re grounded, by the way,” she says, as the last of her laughter fades.

That snaps Lloyd out of it. “He can’t ground me,” he scowls. “I’m leader.”

“Stop falling from the sky, and maybe he’ll give it a rest,” Skylor replies, glancing down as her phone buzzes again.

Kai > I’d join u but I’m stuck on prison delivery

Kai > nya’s coming to pick up the demon spawn tho

Skylor > nice I’ve been wanting to buy her lunch

Kai > cruel

“—don’t know what you mean, I don’t fall that often, and most of the time it’s on purpose, anyways—”

Skylor chooses to ignore Lloyd’s slightly-concerning, sulking rambling, and pats his shoulder instead. “Nya’s coming for lunch, too,” she says. “Does ramen sound good?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lloyd brightens, seemingly cheered by the reminder he’s getting food out of this. “It’s been a while since I’ve eaten out.”

“I can tell,” Skylor says, eyeing him. “Cole hasn’t been cooking for you, has he?"

“No, but we put Zane on mandatory break so he could relax a bit, and we’re all suffering for it.”

Lloyd and Skylor both jump at Nya’s voice, not having heard her coming up behind them.

“Nya!” Lloyd beams. “Skylor is — ouch, hey, let go!”

“That’s what you get for giving me gray hairs again,” Nya scolds, digging her knuckles into Lloyd’s hair. She looks up from the hold she’s pulled him into, and smiles brightly at Skylor. “Hi, Skylor. Nice to see you.”

“Hi, Nya.” Skylor gives a little wave, watching Lloyd squirm out of Nya’s grasp in amusement.

“So, ramen?” Nya says, giving Lloyd one last elbow in the side before joining Skylor.

“Yeah,” she says. “I was thinking the place down on seventh, the Sobahouse, I think?”

Lloyd and Nya both stiffen, their steps slowing. Skylor pauses, turning to stare at them in confusion. “That’s not the one owned by someone named Mr. Kazami, is it?” Nya finally asks, hesitantly.

“Uh, yeah, it is, actually,” Skylor blinks. “He’s pretty nice, we go to the same grocer on weekends.”

“Ah,” Lloyd says, carefully.

“Hm,” Nya hesitates.

Skylor looks between the two of them, now completely stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.  She really hopes no one is getting pictures of her like this. There are enough flash articles about the rumored orange ninja cryptid on the internet as it is. “Is that…a problem?”

Nya pointedly stares at the sky as if it’s the most interesting thing she’s seen all day. Baffled, Skylor tries the weaker link. Lloyd swallows, avoiding her eyes as he bounces from leg to leg, as if the mere thought of trying to enter the restaurant is terrifying. Which is mildly alarming, because this is the same kid who power-walked straight into a prison full of escaped violent criminals, his psychotic ex, and his undead murderous dad without hesitation.

“We can’t,” Lloyd finally mutters, staring at the sidewalk. Nya elbows him in the side, hissing “weak link” as she does. Lloyd just glares at her.

“O-okay,” Skylor says, unsure. “I mean, that’s fine if you guys want to go somewhere else. I just didn’t know you…didn’t like this place…”

“No, we do,” Lloyd grinds out, and he looks more embarrassed than terrified now, so Skylor aborts her half-formed plans of speed-dialing Karloff. “We just can’t. Go in, that is. We’re not allowed to.”

Skylor stares at him. “You’re not allowed in? Why not?”

“Because,” Nya forces through gritted teeth. “They banned us.”

“They what?” Skylor gapes.

Nya presses her lips together tightly. Lloyd stares very hard at the ground, as if desperately trying to convince himself to keep quiet. Skylor can pinpoint the moment he breaks, his expression contorting as he throws his hands up wildly. “You blow their electrical system up one time—”

“Oh guys, no,” Skylor groans, before bursting into laughter at him for the second time that day. Lloyd looks incredibly unappreciative, his expression scrunching up in annoyance like she hasn’t seen since that one stupid skating match with Chamille, and that just makes her laugh harder.

“We were trying to save them!” Nya defends indignantly. “It’s not our fault they had weak wiring—”

“I just got a little too into it, it’s — it’s Nya’s fault, she’s the one that said it’d be cool if I tried to do shockwave thing like in—”

“That was a mutual thing and you know it!”

“Oh guys, no,” Skylor wheezes into her hands.

“It worked!”

“Poor Mr. Kazami,” Skylor manages, through snickers. Lloyd’s shoulders slump, his upper lip pouting, and Nya crosses her arms, as if refusing to look ashamed.

“It’s not like the other guys aren’t banned from anywhere, either—”

“Alright, alright,” Skylor waves her hands, taking pity on them. “We’ll go somewhere else.”

“Good,” Nya mutters, as Lloyd exhales in relief. Skylor just snickers again, leading them down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. She bites her lip, shaking her head, before a thought occurs to her.

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘it’s not like they aren’t banned from anywhere’?” she frowns. “You guys are banned from more than one place?”

“No,” Nya says firmly, before Lloyd can even speak up. “Forget I said anything.”

Skylor will do no such thing, but she decides it’s in her best interest not to pursue it. Nya is not the sort of person to trifle with, and she does want that ramen.

She gets her answer soon enough, anyways.

2. Ninjago City Aquarium

While Skylor has the early shift on Tuesdays, she does get the afternoons off, which is pretty nice for the most part, if it didn’t mean she’d be bored for the rest of the day. So she hits the grocery store and decides to take the long way home, partially because walking is supposed to be good for you, and partially in hopes that one of the ninja will drop in on her again.

She’s not disappointed.

Granted, a minor explosion going off from inside the Ninjago City Aquarium wasn’t exactly what she was expecting today, but the figures in bright red and white arguing furiously outside the security perimeter are par for the course.

It’s a little odd that they haven’t already rushed in yet, Skylor notes, but with the way they’re loudly yelling at each other in the middle of the street, she figures she’ll find out soon enough.

“No, Kai, it is our civic duty to follow the laws put in place for the safety of civilians—”

“Oh come on, you get brainwashed into a slightly-murderous emperor one time and now you’re a stickler for everything?!”

"One time was enough, Kai!”

“Uh, hi guys,” Skylor approaches the two, hesitantly. “Is everything alright?”

“Skylor!” Kai whirls on her, his eyes wild. “Thank FSM, you’ve gotta help us out — they won’t let us in!” He shakes his fist at the aquarium doors, before springing for the security gate. “Let us in, let us in—”

“Shaking the gate like an animal is not going to convince them, Kai!” Zane pleads, prying Kai away. He shoots Skylor an apologetic glance as he wrangles Kai into a gentle chokehold. “We would greatly appreciate your help, if possible. There’s a low-threat criminal with an unfortunate assortment of weaponry who ran into the aquarium, and we’re legally unable to pursue. If you could try to drive him out, perhaps?”

“I — you — you’re what?” Skylor has the weirdest sense of déjà vu, before it’s lost in confusion. Her head swivels from the frustrated expression on Kai’s face to the pleading one on Zane’s, then to the grocery bags in her hands. She looks back up at Kai, who’s now giving her the puppy eyes. Something from inside the aquarium explodes loudly.

“Sure,” she sighs, handing Kai her grocery bags. “Just one guy?”

“Just one guy,” Kai exhales in relief. “You’re a lifesaver, Skylor, I — hey, are these those snack cakes they made to look like us?”

“Yes, eat them and you die,” Skylor hisses. She turns to Zane, holding her hand out half-hesitantly. “Lend a girl some ice powers?”

“Of course,” Zane nods, letting her take his hand. There’s a brief moment as Skylor melds her power with Zane’s, absorbing the icy force and mimicking it to her own — a part of her notes vaguely that it’s stronger than the last time she borrowed it, but she shakes it off, pulling her hand back and tugging the hood of her jacket up, mentally hoping no one writes another article about the possible existence of a cryptid orange ninja after this.

“Alright,” she says. “Be back in five.”

“Thank you,” Zane says fervently, as Kai sputters, “Hey, why didn’t you borrow my power?”

“Because fire is explosive, and you’ve gotta be banned from here for a reason!” Skylor calls back, ice already misting over her fingertips as she sprints inside the aquarium.

“You’d be surprised,” Kai mutters, after her retreating back.

***********************

“So,” Skylor says, flexing her right hand and wincing briefly. That last right hook she’d thrown at the guy might have been a little too hard, in hindsight. But he was being a jerk, and threatening to set off a bomb near the little seahorses — and it did do the trick, so now the aquarium can have the host of cop cars off its back. Skylor feels pretty accomplished in her good deed for the day, actually. “Why, again, couldn’t you guys have taken care of that yourselves? Not that I minded,” she adds, quickly. Using the ice element had been fun. She’d forgotten what she could do with Zane’s powers.

Kai gives a nervous laugh that’s so fake it almost hurts, especially with the pained expression he makes at the end. Zane just rubs his temple with a hand, looking eternally weary.

“Like I said, we are legally not permitted to enter the aquarium, until…when was it again, Kai?”

“Five years from now,” Kai mutters. “Or whenever the director dies.”

“Yes, five years from now,” Zane repeats, with a dead sort of look in his eyes. “So your assistance was very much appreciated. Thank you.”

“It was no problem, but — wait, hold on, how are you banned from the aquarium for five years?” she stutters. “I mean, I can get Lloyd and Nya with the ramen place—”

“Ha! They told you about that? It was great—”

“Kai, please.”

“—and I can understand Kai, but you, Zane?”

She feels a little guilty for calling him out so bluntly, but it’s Zane. Zane doesn’t just get banned from places, she has to know. And he doesn’t look too upset at the question. Kai looks mildly betrayed, but not that much. They both know Skylor’s point is too valid for him to argue with effectively.

Zane gives another bone-weary sigh. “There is a small chance, that there was a time we were pursuing another villain here, and during that battle, I might have…underestimated the amount of ice I was putting out.” Zane shifts, looking pained. “Which in turn accidentally spread to any bodies of liquid that happened to be nearby at the time, which perhaps were filled with rather expensive aquatic life.”

“You froze a fish exhibit,” Skylor deadpans.

“They were merely in extreme hibernation,” Zane grits out. “They would have been fine, had Kai not tried to fix the ice.”

“Hey, it made sense! I could melt it quickest!”

“Except you didn’t just melt it, did you? No, you had an entire fish fry—”

“The poor fish,” Skylor says, staring at them blankly. “What were they?”

“Like, these rainbow fish, from way up north, I think?” Kai says. “I swear I didn’t make it that hot.”

“The water was boiling, Kai!”

“You fish murderer,” Skylor says, the corners of her mouth trembling with the laugh she’s holding back. Kai glares at Zane, then her, then Zane again.

“I didn’t freeze them solid.”

“Whatever the cause of their death, they died, and we’re banned now,” Zane says, hastily. “End of story. Would you like to take this back to the Bounty, Skylor? I know the others have been wanting to see you, and we can at least offer you tea in thanks.” He eyes the grocery bags Kai’s still holding. “Unless, of course, you wish to return home…”

“Nah, tea sounds good,” she smiles. “Besides, I bought the snack cakes for you guys to try anyways. They’ve got little squashed ninja faces in icing on ‘em.”

“You’re the best,” Kai says, looking somewhat relieved, and oh, he definitely ate one while Skylor was in there. She’s going to have to pay him back for that one…

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she says airily, figuring she’ll take her revenge later. “You can tell me more about the fish massacre on our way back. By the way, Pixal wouldn’t happen to have heard this story, would she?”

Zane gives her a look, and she almost feels bad about it. “I’m going to regret inviting you, aren’t I.”

“Maybe,” she grins. “Jury’s still out.”

3. An Entire Drugstore Chain

Wednesdays are always busy at the noodle shop, for reasons Skylor has yet to figure out. Fridays she understands, but the middle of the week? Nothing kills your drive like knowing you’re going to do this all over again in a day.

It’s good money for the shop though, she reminds herself as she locks up that evening. Any money is good money for the shop, because her stupid dad made sure she’d have a real hole to dig herself out of there, but Wednesday money is always especially good. Even if she ends up leaving the shop late and can’t get the noodle smell from her hair for the next three days.

Normally, she’d trudge home and crash into bed after these kind of shifts. But tonight is different, because she stayed long enough at the Bounty yesterday to get invited to game night, and once you’ve promised the ninja you’re going to bring snacks for Monopoly, you can’t just say no. Not unless you want Lloyd to shoot betrayed glares at you the rest of the month.

Besides, she’s promised Kai she’ll sneak out to the movies with him afterwards, and she can’t just go breaking that promise. Plus, she’s not heartless enough to deny Cole cake when he’s got the most spectacular black eye she’s seen all year bruising up around the left side of his face.

“Lucky hit,” Cole grumbles, after she’s been caught staring too long. She hasn’t wanted to ask him about it, since it seems a sensitive subject and he’s already taking the time to help her pick up (carry) all the snacks. But it’s impossible to miss, even in the dim streetlights they’re walking under, and Skylor cares about her friends, thank you very much. “We busted some drug dealers today, and I got too relaxed.”

“They normally really aren’t any match for you, to be fair,” Skylor offers.

“They weren’t this time either, that’s the sad thing,” Cole says, scrubbing a hand through his thick hair as they wait at the stoplight. “This was all on me. I kinda deserved it.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Skylor tries to console him, even though the ugly red at the edge of his eye says otherwise.

Cole gives her a bleak look. “Jay made a joke, and I laughed at it. And then I got hit across the face with a baseball bat, mid-laugh.”

“Ouch,” Skylor hisses through her teeth. “Never mind, that’s bad. Was it a good joke, at least?”

“No, that’s the thing,” Cole groans, as the light finally turns red, allowing them to cross the street. “It was terrible. And I still laughed hard enough not to notice a bat coming for my face.”

Skylor grimaces. “You were just being a good friend, I guess,” she says, and Cole snorts. “Like you are to me, right now,” she continues, glancing ruefully at the shopping list she’s been sent. “I was going to say I had it handled, then I actually looked at everything you guys asked for.”

Cole laughs sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s…that’s us, I guess. Sorry about that. We’re paying for it all, don’t worry.”

“What?” Skylor blinks. Oh no, no way. The ninja have done enough for her, the least she can do is cover a couple bags of popcorn and like ten things of M&M’s. “No, I got it. I owe you guys, anyways.”

Cole bristles. “No way. We owe you, if anything. The amount of times you’ve covered our tab at the noodle shop?”

“How about the amount of times you’ve saved my noodle shop?” Skylor shoots back. “That outweighs a few measly tabs.”

“The only reason we had to save it was because we were there in the first place,” Cole points out. “We’re danger magnets.”

“I’m sorry, I’m the daughter of Chen, remember?” Skylor huffs. “I can attract enemies all by myself.”

“Not as many as we do,” Cole says. “Also! You helped us beat Chen, and get Zane back. We’re eternally indebted to you.”

Skylor narrows her eyes. “Only after I stabbed you all in the back. So I eternally owe you.”

“Bold of you to assume we haven’t all stabbed each other in the back at some point,” Cole scoffs. “Trust me, you’re nowhere as bad as Lloyd — he like, single-handedly ruined our whole month by letting a bunch of snakes out.”

Skylor pauses at that, torn between refuting his argument and asking how in the world Lloyd, of all people, could possibly manage to wreak enough havoc to—

Actually, she doesn’t have any trouble believing that at all. But to be sure— “Lloyd let the Serpentine out? All by himself?”

Cole looses a bit of his fire, and scuffs his shoe awkwardly across the sidewalk. “I mean, we did give him a pretty hard time when he was like, eight years old and homeless and starving, so uh, it might’ve been a little...provoked.”

“FSM’s sake,” Skylor mutters, staring at the sky and trying not to be surprised, because she really shouldn’t by now. “I can’t believe you guys are all still alive.”

“Neither can we, if it helps,” Cole shrugs, grinning. “But you know, technically—”

“If you make another ghost joke, we’re skipping the cake section,” Skylor says, firmly.

Cole sulks. “Jay would’ve made a ghost joke,” he mutters.

“Jay also got you hit in the face by a bat, so his judgement is questionable as it is,” Skylor shakes her head. “Oh! There’s a drugstore right here, wanna hit that instead?”

“Sure,” Cole says. “As long as it’s not…oh.”

Skylor makes it another three steps before she realizes that Cole’s fallen behind. Confused, she turns to stare at him where he’s frozen on the sidewalk, looking up at the bright red drugstore sign and biting his lip.

“Everything okay back there?” Skylor says, wondering if he didn’t get hit in the head harder than he’s let on. Cole nods, but he also takes several steps back out of the streetlight, hiding himself from view of the store.

“Here’s an idea,” he says, suddenly. “How about we go anywhere else.”

Skylor stares at him, a sinking feeling in her chest coupled with the slowly-growing-familiar sense of déjà-vu. “Cole.” He doesn’t meet her eyes, and Skylor sighs. “Please tell me you haven’t been banned from somewhere, too.”

“It’s not just me, Lloyd and Jay also got banned,” Cole snaps, before realizing his mistake and ducking his head.

“You’re kidding me,” Skylor says flatly, looking back at the drugstore, then to Cole. “This is like, the shadiest drugstore on this side on Ninjago. How?”

Cole mumbles something under his breath, and Skylor strains to make it out. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I kind of, um, threw Lloyd through their wall,” Cole mutters again, looking as if he’d like very much to disappear entirely into the street side. Which is funny, because—

His sentence finally registers, and Skylor blinks rapidly. “Wait, you what?”

Cole’s eyes widen, and waves his arms quickly. “Not like — not like Garmadon-throwing him through a wall! He was fine after.”

Skylor has a brief, bizarre kind of moment to digest the fact that there is a distinction for throwing the youngest of their team through a wall, before Cole continues.

“I was aiming for the window — that one right there, see? The robbers were already on the move, so Lloyd was like ‘launch me, Cole’ and I said ‘great idea’, but we were also maybe high on adrenaline at the time and I forgot how much of my lava punch I had going, so I overshot and ended up smashing him through their wall, a little bit.”

“You smashed him through their wall. Just a little bit.”

“Hey, it worked. He took out all five guys in one go and only had a tiny concussion after—”

“How do you even have a tiny concussion—”

“I still don’t get why they were so mad, I mean we stopped the robbery! Sure, half their storefront wall sort of collapsed afterwards, but like, we got their money back.”

“So that’s why they were closed six months for renovations,” Skylor groans into her hands.

Cole crosses his arms, glaring stubbornly at the store’s sign. “It wasn’t six months,” he protests. “It was only like, four. I don’t see how that gives them the right to ban us for life.”

“For life—” Skylor can’t decide if she wants to laugh at him, or cry because her list of places she can hang out with the ninja is shrinking faster than she’d thought possible. She finally blows her breath out, rubs a hand across her face, and glances back down at the shopping list.

“You aren’t banned from the one on eighth street, are you?”

Cole bites his lips. “We’re uh, banned from all of them. It’s a chain store, so…”

“Of course,” Skylor sighs. “Walmart it is, then.”

And if anyone pesters them about being late, she’s going to ask how many times, exactly, somebody’s smashed Lloyd through a wall. Because really. This is getting ridiculous.

4. Bed Bath & Beyond

Thursday is normally her day off, but whatever she had for dinner last night gave her freaky dreams, so Skylor ends up puttering around the shop early that morning just to take her mind off it. It’s a bit overcast outside, and the forecast predicts rain, so Skylor’s already making plans to curl up in her bed and watch movies all day, and maybe get a bit of laundry done.

She should know better.

It’s a commonly known fact that the ninja, Kai especially, would do pretty much anything for their pseudo-little brother. Skylor’s actually heard Kai, on multiple occasion, threaten to die for Lloyd, then immediately try and make it reality. No one ever really appreciates that, Lloyd especially, but Skylor can give him credit for trying.

However, it’s a commonly overlooked fact that Lloyd would do anything for his pseudo-older siblings. It’s an even more commonly overlooked fact that Lloyd is the spawn of satan, and was raised at a boarding school for future villains and terrible children. Combined, these two facts mean that while you should definitely fear Lloyd trying to die for you, you should probably fear him trying to look out for you more, because it’s likely going to end with somebody dead. Or at least the total disruption of your plans for the day, as Skylor opens the shop windows to come face with an absolutely terrifying expression on Lloyd’s face, followed up by a deadly calm “Kai came home sad last night.”

Skylor scrubs at her eyes, and thinks, it’s too early for this.

A while back, when she was still stuck with her jerk of a father, Skylor might have found Lloyd’s part-Oni expression of doom intimidating. Now, however, she just rolls her eyes, and sticks one of the little ‘50% Off!’ stickers she’s been putting on rice cakes across his forehead.

“The dog died in the last movie we saw last night,” she explains, as Lloyd sputters at her.

He pauses, nose wrinkling. “Oh,” he says. “Boo.”

“Yeah,” she says, stepping back and allowing him to neatly front-flip through her window. Darned show-off kid, she thinks despairingly, watching him land perfectly on her freshly-waxed floors.

“Well, you’re good then, I guess,” he says, expression lightening. “That makes sense. How many movies did you make it into this time, by the way?”

“Only four this time,” Skylor sighs, turning to plaster the rest of her stickers on the nearly-expired rice cake packages. “We caught the beginning of that new superhero movie, then the opening fight of some spy movie, and the middle of that one horror movie with the dolls.” Lloyd shudders. “Yeah, Kai wasn’t a fan either. Anyways, we made it into this new romance one, but we ran into a theater employee on the way in and Kai had a guilt attack, so we stayed until the end of that one.”

Lloyd tsks. “Oh, Kai. And he’s so sold on his bad boy image.”

“One day he’ll embrace the fact that he’s just a big softie,” Skylor nods. “One of these days.”

“Yeah, when hell freezes over,” Lloyd snorts. He glances around at the empty shop, then back at her. “Hey, today’s your day off, right?”

Skylor gets a sinking kind of feeling in her stomach at that, alarm bells going off in the back of her head. “It might be,” she says, warily.

“Good,” Lloyd grins. “You should come to Bed Bath and Beyond with us, then.”

Well, she wasn’t expecting that. “Why…would you be going there?” she asks, blankly. Do they have a secret ninja weapon bargain bin she’s been missing out on? Is Bed Bath & Beyond secretly hosting an illegal crime ring she’s been unaware of? Does she need to return the shower curtain rings she bought there last week on basis of being a good citizen?

“Zane froze the blender solid before practice this morning,” Lloyd explains, his mouth twisting a bit. “We were making smoothies and someone accidentally brought up the Never Realm.”

“Ouch,” Skylor winces sympathetically. She’s still not heard the entire story of what went down during the ninja’s jaunt out of realm, besides a whole lot of panicked texts from Pixal and half-explanations from Kai, but she knows it wasn’t fun, especially for poor Zane.

“Yeah,” Lloyd sighs. “So now our blender is dead and we can’t make smoothies anymore, so we’re buying a new one before Nya can start strangling people. Wanna come?”

Skylor eyes him shrewdly. At face, it’s an innocent enough request. She’s certainly been invited to worse places than a household furnishings store, and picking up a blender is quite possibly the simplest thing the ninja have ever asked her to do. Which probably just means it’s going to go horribly and the store’s going to blow up ten minutes in, but hey, Skylor’s day was looking pretty boring anyway.

“Sure, why not,” she shrugs. “Lemme stick the last of these on, and I’m in. Just — hey, no, I’m selling those!”

Lloyd freezes in place, the rice cake package dangling from his fingers. He gives her the most pathetically sad-eyed look she’s ever seen, and not for the first time, Skylor finds herself wondering how this is the same kid who runs a highly-skilled ninja team of unimaginable power.

“Just the one,” she finally relents, because Skylor is a spineless weakling when it comes to puppy eyes, apparently. Lloyd beams, snatching the cakes up happily. “And just because you look like a starving vagrant again.”

“I do not,” Lloyd protests, through a muffled mouthful of rice cake. “I’m just super in shape. I’m jacked as heck.”

Skylor rolls her eyes. “Sure you are, you — hey, I said just one!”

***********************

So Skylor ends up at Bed Bath & Beyond on her day off, five minutes after the store’s opened for the day, and already wishing she’d slept in later.

Nya brings her coffee, though, and their bright-eyed enthusiasm at reclaiming their means of smoothie-making is infectious, so Skylor finds herself in high spirits as they walk through the store doors, almost to the point where she lets Lloyd go for stealing all her rice cakes.

However, she’s already let him get away with too much as it is, so Skylor decides to take her revenge by ruffling Lloyd’s hair, before informing the sales lady that it’s her “darling little brother’s thirteenth birthday, and he’s finally outgrown his kiddie bed, could you point us to the big kid ones, please?”

Lloyd’s attempts at strangling her are thwarted by Nya as the lady smiles airily, before pointing them to the back, and Zane has to drag Kai along with them before he suffocates on the laughter he’s choking back.

“Family shopping trips are always so much fun,” Jay remarks, as they browse the bedding section, having been successfully distracted by the animal-shaped pillows. They’ve already had to flee the lamp section, after Lloyd and Jay started having a little too much fun, despite Kai’s despair over being robbed yet again of a new lava lamp.

“One day,” he mourns. “One day, I will own another.”

Skylor pats his back consolingly. “I’m sure that’s what everyone else whose lava lamps got smashed by a giant stone colossi say.”

“I still don’t see why we can’t invest in a cappuccino maker,” Nya pouts, as they pass the coffee appliances section. “Look, there’s one on sale, too!”

“Because you can and will abuse the use of it, and then someone will end up going to the hospital for extreme heart rate elevation,” Zane glares pointedly at her. Skylor smothers a laugh as Nya scowls.

“I’m not that bad,” she grumbles under her breath, only for the others to all chime “ice cube incident” in unison. Nya goes a dark shade of red and glares at the floor as if she’s capable of lighting it on on fire with her eyes, but she doesn’t argue back.

Skylor doesn’t even want to know.

“Alright, here are our options,” Cole announces, when they’ve finally fought their way to the blender shelves. “We can get the same one we had, just a little smaller, or we can get this other one that’s half-off.” He squints at both tags. “Having looked at our bank account recently, I vote the half-off one.”

“No way,” Jay argues. “Do you see how small that one is? I can’t make my triple-espresso energy-drink smoothie with that!”

Lloyd stares at him in concern. “That’s…probably a good thing?”

Jay glares at him. “You’re one to talk, Mr. night owl.”

“I’m with Jay, that one’s way too small,” Nya says. “It won’t do.”

“What, and the other one’s better?” Kai shoots back. “Look how cheap it is, I could break this thing in my sleep.”

“The online reviews for both are perfectly fine,” Zane adds, half-heartedly, as if he already knows they’re all going to ignore that particular statement.

“What about this one?” Jay says, his eyes lighting up as he gestures to the extra-large, fancy blender. “Think of all the smoothies we could make, Cole. Think of the milkshakes.”

Cole pinches the bridge of his nose. “We are not investing in some fancy blender, just for you to complain it’s too complicated five seconds in.”

Skylor crosses over to the blenders, glancing at both. “I mean, you could always just return it…later…” She trails off, realizing that everyone’s suddenly gone deadly silent. She looks up, and starts as she comes face to face with the store manager, who is frozen in place, his mouth half-open as he stares at them with wide eyes. Behind her, Skylor is highly aware of six ninja going similarly still, all utterly quiet.

“You,” the manager finally squeaks out. “You are’t supposed to — you can’t be in here, not again—”

“On second thought, let’s get a blender next week,” Cole says, quickly.

“Yeah, I can live without smoothies a little longer,” Jay agrees, rapidly paling.

Skylor’s at a loss. “What’s going—”

Before she can finish that sentence, Kai and Nya both have hands on her arm and pull, hauling her along as they break into a dead sprint for the exit.

“Explain later!” Kai yelps, dodging employees as the manager shakes his fist at them, his yelling following them through the doors.

“I filed six restraining orders! Six!” he shrieks as they slip out. “Do you know how long that took?! Two of them don’t even exist in the legal system!”

Skylor doesn’t miss the incredibly unsubtle fist bump Lloyd and Zane share, nor the near-tears  sigh of despair from Cole.

She really, really doesn’t want to know.

***********************

Except that maybe she does, so there’s nothing stopping her from asking as they walk home, having bought smoothies from the corner store instead (that they are not banned from, which Skylor is starting to think might be miraculous).

“I don’t know why I’m surprised at this point, but how did you get banned this time?” she asks them, after a particularly long sip of smoothie. “Did you demolish half the store there, too?”

The ninja are silent for a moment, all refusing to meet her eyes. Then—

“It was Jay’s fault,” Cole declares.

Jay whirls on him, his expression wounded. “I trusted you,” he whines. “And you — you bed bath and betrayed me.”

“Because you bed bath and blew up the bedding aisle!”

“It was the kitchen electrics aisle, give me some credit.”

“Oh, because that’s so much better.”

“It is, do you know how hard I’d have to be trying to blow up the bedding aisle? It’s all weighted blankets and like, silk and stuff, no conduction at all—”

Skylor returns to her previous stance on not wanting to know, sips her smoothie in silence as they break into loud arguing in the middle of the street, and hopes once again that no one’s getting any pictures of this.

5. Jamanakai Village Candy Shop

Friday’s her busy day, so Skylor’s spared any chaos other than a jammed mixing machine for the day. It doesn’t come to a head until Saturday, when she cautiously accepts the ninjas' invitation to scout out potential terrorist activity in Jamanakai.

The terrorists turn out to be punk kids who got a little too obsessed with the idea of the Golden Master, which is an unfortunate choice of role model for them, when they have to face up to the ninja. Zane just looks mildly annoyed though, and Lloyd stares into the sun for a full minute before rolling his eyes, so the kids make it out alive.

“We weren’t going to kill them, geez,” Jay says. “Maybe just…lecture them, a bit.”

“Oh yeah, lecture them,” Kai scowls, cracking his knuckles. “The Golden Master, are they kidding?”

“To be fair, they don’t have the same experiences we do,” Cole points out, but he doesn’t look too opposed to the knuckle-cracking, either.

“No harm was done,” Zane says, a bit wearily. “We should simply let it go."

“I dunno, I say we should’ve hung them from a roof for a bit,” Lloyd says, evenly.

The other ninja all cringe in unison, except for Nya, who smothers a coughing sort of laugh. Skylor stares at them, bewildered. “Why would you hang them from a roof?”

“Not sure,” Lloyd says, his lips twitching. “Probably because crime doesn’t pay, muchacho, or something like that—”

“Alright, alright, we get it,” Kai says hastily, clapping a hand over Lloyd’s mouth.

“The guys would know,” Nya smirks, ignoring the looks of utter betrayal she’s getting. “That’s what they did to Lloyd, wasn’t it?”

“Nya, why,” Jay moans into his hands.

“You — hung Lloyd from a roof?” Skylor repeats, thrown for a loop. “Why on earth would you do that? What if he like, fell and died?”

“He was fine,” Cole assures her, hastily.

Lloyd is quick to protest, glaring at them. “No I wasn’t, it was literally scarring! Look, I got this scar from scraping my arm when I fell — oh, wait, oops, that one’s from the Never Realm, it’s this one here.” Lloyd winces as he finishes, suddenly looking contrite as he shoots Zane an apologetic look. “The Never Realm one was from Boreal though, don’t worry.”

Zane looks down, his face shadowed. “It was still my—”

“Nuh-uh,” Jay cuts over him, wagging his finger. “Remember the rule?”

Zane hesitates, looking as if he’d very much like to remember no such thing, but he finally slumps, relenting. “Scars dealt to each other while under the influence of malicious possession by person and/or ancient malevolent artifacts do not count, regardless of extenuating circumstances or deep inner psychological issues that may be brought to light during said influence,” he quotes dully, on a defeated sort of sigh.

Skylor doesn’t know whether to be impressed at that, or depressed that it needed existence in the first place.

“Exactly,” Jay nods. “Which means that any scars from you, Zane, or Lloyd — oh, and Kai, I guess — and Cole, technically, with the Hypnobrai that one time— wow, that’s, hm, that’s a lot of us.”

“If you count the dark matter, we’ve all been possessed,” Zane says, drily.

“Not me!” Kai says, mock-cheerfully.

Jay shakes his head. “Nobody got scars while we were on dark matter! I checked.”

“Why are you saying it like we were on drugs or something?”

“Speak for yourself,” Lloyd scowls. “I’ve still got that stupid ankle one.” He glares at the offending ankle, as if it’s personally disappointed him.

“That was the Overlord, not us,” Nya reminds him. “And uh, your dad, technically.”

Lloyd’s scowl just deepens, his eyebrows tilting downwards hotly. “If I had a dollar for every scar that’s from my dad…”

“I hear you,” Skylor sighs. “Dad scars are the worst. They really know where to hit.”

“Right? It’s always personal with them,” Lloyd shakes his head. “Dads are the worst.”

A beat passes before they both realize the others have fallen quiet. Her and Lloyd blink, and Skylor fights back the urge to cringe at the looks they’re now receiving.

“Well,” Jay says, bleakly. “This is a, um, miserable turn.”

“Hey, hey, no sad faces,” Lloyd scolds, reaching for Kai’s face, which is indeed sporting a pathetically teary-eyed kind of look. “Get that look off your face, off, off—”

“I’m not — stoppit — I’m just— hey, stop it— that’s my face, you brat—”

“Guys, c’mon, cut it out, you’re making a scene,” Cole scolds, pulling them both apart. “How about we stop and get ice cream before we go, okay? To like, cheer us up. Because that was completely depressing, no offense, guys.”

“None taken,” Skylor says, as Lloyd nods in agreement. Cole looks relieved, even if Kai’s still looking a little weepy, and he directs them down another street, heading toward a brightly labeled ice cream shop. Skylor can see tiny rows of candy inside, and there are a bunch of kids gathered around the little stand the owner’s set up at the door. It’s a cute place, all in all — the candy looks good, and it seems pretty cheap.

So it makes zero sense that Lloyd, of all people, would suddenly go painfully tense in the middle of the street, and refuse to take another step forward.

“I can’t go in there,” he whispers.

Skylor’s having that sense of déjà vu again. The rest of the ninja trade confused glances.

“Uh, Lloyd?” Kai says, hesitantly. “They sell candy in there, you know.”

“I know,” Lloyd grinds out, his teeth clenched painfully together. “I’ve been in there before.”

“You have?” Cole frowns. “You — oh.” Realization dawns in his eyes, and he’s suddenly biting his lip, holding back laughter. “Oh, I forgot.”

“Forgot wha—” Jay looks between the two of them, then back at the shop, before something sparks in his eyes as well, and he doubles over in laughter.

“Shut up,” Lloyd hisses.

“Why are we laughing at Lloyd,” Skylor finally sighs, as Kai and Zane break into barely-stifled giggles as well, and Nya rolls her eyes.

“So, um,” Lloyd swallows, shifting anxiously from side to side. “You know how I said they hung me from a roof? There might’ve, uh, been a reason for that.”

“Of course there was,” Skylor says.

“I kind of threatened them, a little bit, and uh, tried to steal half their shop, one time.”

“Of course you did.”

“Lloyd,” Nya sighs. “That was forever ago.”

“I stole from them,” Lloyd bites out. “If I show my face in there again, they’ll kill me."

“I highly doubt they will resort to murder, Lloyd,” Zane says, flatly. “Besides, you did not actually succeed in stealing anything, because we caught you and hung you from a roof. Remember?”

“Yeah, and then I came back with the Serpentine, and made it worse!” Lloyd exclaims. “Just go in without me, I’ll sit out here and cry.”

“We’re not just gonna leave you outside,” Kai rolls his eyes. “C’mon, let’s mend some old wounds. Just go inside and apologize.”

“I would literally rather die.”

“Lloyd, seriously.”

“I’ve done it before, don’t test me.”

“Lloyd.”

“You can’t make me, I’ll fight you—”

“Alright, alright, we’ll find a different shop!”

***********************

“Okay, I have to know,” Skylor finally asks, as they pass the outskirts of the village, heading back to the Bounty. “How many places are you all banned from, in total? Because this is ridiculous. I can’t take you anywhere.”

“I mean, you can’t take us anywhere even without the bans, anyways,” Cole says wearily. “To be fair.”

“We’re not that bad,” Lloyd protests, only to wilt immediately under Skylor’s stare. “There are just…a few places…”

“Zane, how many is it now,” Nya asks, rubbing her temples.

Zane is quiet for a moment, slowly ticking off his fingers as he stares upwards. “Did we ever decide if that one museum counted?”

“The vote was yes,” Jay mutters.

“And the Explorer’s Club, did we decide that one?”

“I’d say that’s a pretty hard ban,” Lloyd winces.

Nya huffs, crossing her arms. “I still say it doesn’t count, because like, everyone’s banned from there, with their stupid stuck-up membership requirements.”

Zane takes this into account, his eyebrows furrowing. “That leaves us with…seventeen places we cannot return to, I believe? Unless I missed one.”

Skylor’s left wordless, gaping at them. She knew there was a lot, but seventeen—?!

“I’m almost a hundred percent sure we’re also banned from the Never Realm,” Kai points out. Zane gives him the iciest look Skylor’s ever seen. Kai simply shrugs. “What? Just stating the facts.”

Lloyd frowns. “I don’t think we are? I mean, Akita wouldn’t—”

“Oh, Akita wouldn’t,” Jay cuts over him, a gleam in his eyes. “Would she, casanova?”

Lloyd goes scarlet, sputtering. “I told you, she kissed me! On the cheek! I just stood there, you can’t—” He buries his face in his hands, and despite her amusement (and rampant curiosity, because this is Lloyd and kissing), Skylor feels bad for him. “I can’t believe I ever told any of you about that,” he whines, sounding tragically upset with himself.

“You were the one having a mental breakdown over it,” Nya reminds him, almost gently. “You need to work on setting boundaries, bud.”

“It’s not like I didn’t tell her I had horrible issues with romance!” Lloyd throws his hands up, frustrated. “Because I did, in painfully honest detail—”

“And yet you refuse to open up to me about it,” Kai says plaintively.

“Turn into a dog for a bit, you might get lucky,” Lloyd grumbles.

Skylor doesn’t want to know. She really, really doesn’t want to know. “Well,” she finally says. “I do know one place you aren’t banned from.”

They all look up at her, and Skylor shakes her head. “You fly me back to the shop in time for dinner, and noodles are on the house tonight.”

Six faces brighten considerably. “Seriously?” Cole says. “Skylor, you’re an angel.”

“Seriously, the best person ever—”

“Our favorite cryptid orange ninja there ever was—”

“Yeah, yeah, keep flattering me,” Skylor sighs, trying not to smile, and failing woefully.

She doesn’t know why she still hangs out with these people, getting banned from everywhere in the city. What a bunch of nerds.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #nya smith #jay walker #cole brookstone #zane julien #skylor chen #i really have no explanation for this at all #except that i wanted to give skylor more love than i've given her #my fic

[harringrovetrashrat]

heyyy uhhhh can i get a #43 with a side of #3 and umm, can I add on some insercurites for free? how much? all my love and appreciation?? dang I've already maxed out my card but you can have my heart...

Anon, anon, anon.... I’ll do it for free.  The love an appreciation is very welcome tho (i’m a leo bastard) ;)

Why this prompt gave me trouble, I HAVE NO IDEA.  It took FOREVER to get myself going, I even had to do a fucking twitter poll, and I’m still unhappy with how this came out.  So, on the house, I’m gonna rewrite this again later.  Because there’s not enough of anything in here.

That all being said, I don’t fully hate this and I wanted to get something out for ya.  And let you know that more was coming after this.  (Fic under the cut)

--

Steve watched as Billy leaned against the lifeguard tower, finger twirling one of Casey’s curls, making her blush.  He sunk lower on the plastic lounger, glaring through his sunglasses.  It wasn’t like he thought Billy was really into her.  But still.  It made his heart clench and his stomach all queasy whenever Billy flirted with someone else.

Steve knew he wasn’t bad to look at.  That he was pretty cute.  But after Nancy and the tunnels and everything, he’d kind of lost his appeal or something.  Girls didn’t flirt with him, like, ever.  And it wasn’t like he was looking for their attention, but it would have been nice.  To get confirmation you weren’t fucking hideous.  Because Billy was gorgeous.

Like made Steve sweat the first time he saw him gorgeous.  Like, model gorgeous.  Like a fucking sun god, all tan skin, freckles, and muscles that Steve just wanted to run his tongue along, to bite and fawn over--

Steve groaned quietly and pushed his sunglasses up, pressing the meat of his palms to his eyes.

They’d talked about it before.  Talked about how Steve didn’t need to worry, but sometimes he didn’t know why Billy was doing, well, whatever it was they were doing, besides the obvious us both knowing about monsters thing.  Nothing like shared trauma.  Maybe it was because he was the only other guy in town who was okay having another guy’s dick in his mouth.  Steve sighed and grabbed his stuff, catching Dustin’s attention.

“What?” He asked, coming over.

“You guys want pizza and ice cream?  On me.” Dustin perked up and grinned.

“Hell yeah!  Can’t see why anyone would say no to that!” He went back over the The Party, gesturing animatedly.  They cheered and Steve ignored the way Billy’s eyes darted over and didn’t leave him until he was walking out the gate.

--

Steve fidgeted with the remote, hating himself and hating Billy and hating Hawkins.  He hadn’t heard anything from Billy, even though they supposedly had plans tonight.  Well, they had their usual It’s Friday let’s get wasted and fool around thing.  At least, he thought they did.  What a fucking chump.  He scrubbed at his eyes, ignoring the pit in his stomach when the clock hit 1 in the morning.  Ignoring that Billy should have been here 3 hours ago.

Steve had really thought things were getting better.  Billy had been staying the night, been staying for breakfast, and it had made Steve yearn for something domestic.  He wanted to spend every morning dressed in his underwear and one of Billy’s shirts, making them omelettes.  Give him his coffee, just the way he likes it.  Have Billy pull him down for a kiss that’s barely a kiss because they’re both smiling.

And then he ignored Steve for 3 days.

So Steve had gone to the pool.

And there was Billy.  And Casey.

Billy had ignored him the whole time.

And now here he was, somehow still under the impression that Billy might have come over for their usual Friday hangout.  That maybe Steve could pretend for a little bit that he mattered to someone.  That one fucking person wanted to spend time with him.  Wanted to be around him just because.

He wiped at the tears welling in his eyes and stood up, accepting that it was time to call it a night.  As he passed by the front door to head up the stairs, someone began pounding on it.  Steve let out a bitten off shriek and clutched at his chest.  Whoever was there wasn’t bothered by the noise, just kept pounding away.  Steve licked his lips and grabbed the bat he kept by the door.  Regular.  No nails.  He got it ready and swung the door open, ready for --

Billy Hargrove.  Drunk as a fucking skunk.  Falling forward with the momentum of his fist, eyes wide.  Steve caught him and stumbled back, dropping the bat.

“What the fuck?” Steve said, his voice flat.  Billy gripped the front of Steve’s shirt and pulled himself up, eyes bloodshot.

“Steve,” Billy slurred.  “You’re awake.” His eyes were wide, like he was shocked, and he didn’t pull away, keeping his face close to Steve’s.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, wrinkling his nose because Billy’s breath reeked.  “Waited up for you.” Billy rested his forehead in the crook of Steve’s neck and brought his arms up, pulling Steve closer.  Steve couldn’t help himself, he was so fucking starved for attention, and he let Billy cling to him, wrapping his own arms around his waist.

“Thought you would,” he hiccuped, “Wouldn’t wanna see me.” Steve sighed.

“Can’t say I’m thrilled you showed up 3 hours late and drunk,” he said, because he shouldn’t be happy Billy came like this, but he is.  He’s happy he came at all.  And how fucking sad was that.

“I didn’t wan-wanna intrude on your time with the nerds.”

“Too busy with Casey?” Steve snapped.  He felt Billy stiffen against him.  Watched him pull back and level Steve with an annoyed look.

“Fuck does that mean?” He grumbled.  Steve rolled his eyes, suddenly so fucking angry because Billy didn’t even notice.  Didn’t even fucking care.

“It means,” Steve bit out, “That you can just tell me if you wanna fuck other people.” Billy looked at him like he was making no sense, which just irked Steve more.  “You don’t have to, to let me down gently, okay?  I can take it.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“Oh my god!” Steve finally pulled all the way away from Billy, wrapping his arms around himself and hunching over, trying to make himself smaller.  “Just leave.” He didn’t look at Billy, scared that he might cry, over Billy fucking Hargrove.

“Is this,” Billy began, speaking slowly, sounding a bit more sober now, “About the flirting?”

“Is this about--” Steve scoffed and shook his head.

“Seriously?  You’re worked up over harmless flirting?” Billy sounded annoyed and Steve felt like fucking shit.  Felt tears welling up because he was an idiot.

“Fuck you,” he said, voice watery.  “I fucking--  I’m worked up,” he spit out, “Because you ignored me for 3 days.  Because when I wanted to talk to you, you fucking, fucking laughed in my face.” He scrubbed at his eyes, wishing he wasn’t crying over Billy goddamn Hargrove.  “Because you apparently can’t even bear to be my friend in public.” He laughed, the noise twisting into an aborted sob at the end.  “I’m worked up because I was actually convinced for like, a little while, that you cared about me.  That this wasn’t some fucking distraction from the bullshit.  That it maybe meant something.” Steve still hadn’t looked at Billy, who had been quiet the whole time.  “You know, sometimes, I fucking hate you.” Steve was surprised at the sharp inhale of breath and looked up, shocked to see Billy quickly rubbing at his eyes.  He glared at the floor and licked his lips.

“Please--” he stammered.  “Please don’t say that.” Steve was thrown for a loop.  Billy using please?  Billy looking upset?  Billy being anything other than his usual I’m too cool to care about anyone or anything self?

“What,” Steve said, monotone.

“I--” Billy swallowed and shut his eyes tightly, like he also couldn’t look at Steve while he was vulnerable.  Like he was vulnerable.  “I-- I got scared.” He swallowed, eyes still closed.  “When you-- You’re just so--”

“What,” Steve repeated.

“In the morning,” Billy said.  “When you smile at me, and it’s all soft and just for me, I just--” He licked his lips and wiped over his mouth harshly.  “I want that.  I got scared because I want it so much and you just…” He stopped, words trailing off like he’d already pried out what he could.  Steve couldn’t do anything more than stare, mouth open in a small ‘o.’

“So why--”

“I wanted you to hate me,” Billy said.  “I wanted you to hate me because then I wouldn’t ruin it.  I wouldn’t ruin you and you could go back to your life before I inevitably fucked this up.  But,” he let out a shuddery breath, “But hearing you say it… I don’t-- I don’t want you to--”

“I don’t,” Steve replied, probably too fast.  “I don’t hate you.”

“You should,” Billy whispered.  Steve didn’t know how to respond, so instead, he took Billy’s hand and pulled him into the kitchen.  Made him an instant coffee and got him a glass of water.  They sat in silence, neither looking at the other, until Steve cleared his throat.

“So, you really aren’t into Casey?” Billy let out a shocked laugh and shook his head.

“How is that what you’re focused on,” he muttered.  “No, I’m not.  My dad knows when I’m not, well, fucking around.  Knows that means I found someone.”

“What the fuck?” Billy shrugged.

“I’m good at pretending, Harrington, but I’m not like you.  I don’t like girls.  Sex is nice enough but they don’t really do it for me.  We left San Diego because my dad figured that out.  And he always asks who I’m meeting when I go on dates, always makes sure he knows where I am--”

“Seriously, what the fuck!” Billy shrugged again, staring into his mug.

“I don’t flirt because I want to,” he said, voice soft.  “I do it because I have to.  Because he doesn’t ask me where I go every Friday anymore.” Steve felt like shit again, but now for a whole new reason.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Billy said.  “I should have told you.  Don’t know that I ever would have if you didn’t push me.  If I wasn’t still fucking drunk right now.” He finally, finally looked at Steve, and Steve was surprised at just how tired he looked.  “You told me how it made you feel, and I couldn’t even--” He looked away again.

“It did kind of feel like shit,” Steve said.  He backtracked when Billy hunched in on himself.  “But it was also because I was a little jealous.  That like, you even could flirt.” Billy raised a brow, confused.  “It’s stupid,” Steve said, blushing, “But you’re like, like a fucking adonis?  Shut up,” he said when Billy snickered.  “And like, I know I’m not like, ugly or anything, but I’m not anything special, so I just--”

“Not anything special?” Billy asked, looking confused again.  “Are you kidding me?” Steve flushed and looked away, frowning.

“You don’t have to rub it in,” Steve muttered.

“No, no,” Billy said, grabbing Steve’s hand.  “You--” Billy looked at a loss for words.  For once.  “The minute I saw you I couldn’t-- I couldn’t think about anything except the fact that I wanted to suck your dick.” Steve rolled his eyes but smiled a little.  “Seriously, Harrington.  The minute I finally saw that dick?” Billy shook his head.  “A goner.  Wanted to fucking choke on it.”

“Billy,” Steve sighed, smiling a little more.  “You don’t--”

“I’m not going to stop until you remember that you’re hot as fuck, okay?” Billy looked away, a blush creeping across his face and down his neck.  “I get lost in your eyes sometimes,” he mumbled.  “They’re so open and kind and deep.” He looked back at Steve and brought his hand up to Steve’s face.  “When you’re asleep I see how many moles I can count.” He cupped his jaw, thumb rubbing a gentle circle on Steve’s cheek.  “It hurts to look at you sometimes,” Billy whispered, eyes glazed over.  “Especially when you smile at me.  When you’re shining so bright and I just--” He leaned forward, pulling Steve into a gentle, but thorough, kiss.  Steve kissed back, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“Billy,” he choked out, lips still pressed against Billy’s.

“You’re so good, Steve,” Billy said in a rush.  “Please, please forgive me for making you feel like you weren’t-- You know that I--” Steve cut him off with a kiss, letting Billy’s tongue swirl around his before pulling back, breath short.

“We should maybe talk about things a little more,” he mumbled, smile wet from tears, but still light.  Billy smiled a little.

“Maybe.”

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #angst with a hopeful ending #anon #prompt fic #god this is NOT my greatest work #i gotta rewrite it #i hope this tides u over until something better comes anon

[cateyesinlove]

Tarlos 1x05 Missing scene

——————————————

“And then he just came back with the saddest face I have ever seen him wear, you should have seen him Carlos” he sighed finishing putting the silverware and making sure the table looked good.

”Well that’s such a shame” Carlos replied from the kitchen, “She is passing on a great guy like Paul,” he said as he was looking through the drawers for a utensil, “ he is a keeper.”

”Well isn’t Paul Strickland’s #1 fan” he scoffed looking at Carlos with a surprised face.

”Is that jealousy I hear on your tone tiger?” Carlos asks teasingly.

”You wish cowboy” he replied winking an eye at Carlos as he sits down in the chair, “I’m not an insecure man” he throws Carlos a smirk, “and you didn’t spend your day of cooking for Paul so I feel pretty confident on my chances”

”Hey looks like someone is feeling very important right now,” Carlos jokes, “I already told you, my mother came because we had to talk about some stuff for next month's family reunion and the only time we actually have a conversation is while we cook,” he said while checking the food, “I literally came out to the women while we were making flautas on my birthday” he looks at T.K. “ She really thinks I’m starving myself even though I have been living alone for 5 years.” he rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t you just talk to her yesterday?” T.K. asks as he drinks from his glass of water, “ and like every other day before that.”

“No, she talked and complains about dad and I listen” he explains while serving the tamales in the plates, “ the worst part is that if I haven’t had to call her she would have called me and gave me the whole sermon of “Oh Carlos you never call, you don’t care about your mother anymore, Carlos Roberto Reyes! I raise you better than this!” And in the end, I’m gonna have to listen to her complaining about dad and how he is now all day in the house since he retired,” he explained after re-enacting his mother's accent and movements.

”Oh I see,” says T.K. smiling at Carlos, “So I was only invited because there was extra food?”

“ Just imagine if I had told her I was inviting you for dinner?” He shakes his head and brings the plates to the table and sitting on the opposite side of the table, “she would have made a feast.”

T.K. knows is stupid to feel like this, he is the one who asked Carlos to keep things casual and yes, they are exclusive but they haven’t defined their relationship yet and probably won’t any time soon but some part of him, one that not even Alex’s betrayal could hurt, expected that maybe Carlos would take the lead and just call him his boyfriend while the reasonable and logical part of him is terrified of that single thought, yes Carlos was sweet and wonderful, in just so little time he had shown T.K. he cared and was there for him, anytime and any day he needed him which was so much more than what Alex did for the entire time of their relationship. So yeah it was very fitting to say he was conflicted. He was a Gay disaster, a gay disaster for Carlos Reyes.

”You haven’t told your parents about u-..I-...me?” He asked nervously while fidgeting with the fork.

”Well No,” Carlos says while putting his fork down, “I hope that’s okay, I mean we hadn’t talked about that and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or make you think I was putting pressure to uh... this,” he says looking for the right word while avoiding T.K. ‘s stare, “Do you want me to tell them?”

TK takes a deep breath and nods, “Yeah, I think that we could try this,” he smiles and feels a small blush spread through his cheeks when Carlos walks around the table and comes to hug him from behind, “ I think I’m ready to bring color to this side of my life.”

”Well tomorrow when I call her, I’m gonna tell her all about this wonderful firefighter I meet and make her listen to me complains about how crazy he drives me,” Carlos says and T.K. knows he has a huge smile, he doesn’t need to see it. “but you better be prepared because Blanca Reyes will fight tooth and nail to meet you” he warns kissing T.K. 's cheek.

“Bring it on” he whispers in Carlos's ear.

”Okay,” he answers

He smiles at Carlos as he makes his way to his seat, “Okay.” he imitates Carlos teasingly.

“Hey,” Carlos calls his attention after they both fall in a comfortable silence eating, “I was thinking why don’t we go out with Paul?’

”have you been thinking about Paul while we are eating dinner? Really Carlos?” he says playfully, “That’s a low blow”

“You know what I mean,” he answers frowning, “I know a club we could go, it's a gay club tho.”

“Officer Reyes, are you telling me you actually go out?” He teases but at the same time a little surprise.

“Hey! The fact that I’m a cop doesn’t mean I don’t go out and have fun,” he says pointing a fork at him.

”I just never thought you would be the clubbing type,” he answeres honestly and keeps eating, “Mostly when you have plans you tell me you are going to someone’s house or a restaurant.”

“Well I’m not really a clubbing guy anymore but I still have it in me to woo you with my dance moves,” he jokes and moves his hands pretending to dance,

”Oh yeah? You really think you can woo me with your dance moves?”

”Oh I know I can tiger.” He winks at T.K. and smiles when he sees him blush a little while biting this lower lip trying to contain a smile.

” It's on cowboy,” he says

“Well see cariño,” he says and looks at his watch, “Do you know what time Paul shifts end?”

”No but I can ask the probie,” he says while taking his phone out and starts texting Mateo.

”Then let us finish eating and start getting ready.”

”Sounds good.”

#tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #tyler kennedy strand #carlos x tk #911 #911 lone star

[shijiujun]

2020 Because of You: Episode 3

Overall feel of the episode: Mehhh didn’t really like the pacing although it was quite cute to see CP2 and CP3 interacting with each other, I mean, no depth but what is depth in this drama right, but we’ve got stalker YJC hanging around LX and gotta say the Yuan brothers are all quite quirky

YJC big bro: YJC confuses me a little bit because he’s kind of like I guess he’s interested in LX (altho hopefully not romantically now cuz there’s the POSSIBILITY OF LX BEING HIS BROTHER, we know that’s not the case but he doesn’t) and he’s... seeing him as some sort of like social experiment which is kind of hilarious, and in tmr’s episode we see YJC stepping on LX’s BUN like DONT TREAT FOOD LIKE THAT YOU BIJ and manhandling LX but i guess this is how YJC treats his brothers - He ignores the kidnapped one, then tries to fight the potential 4th one

YJD 2nd bro: OKAY THIS BOY IS AMAZING OK THE SHAPE OF HIS FACE IS AMAZING!!!! WILL IS AMAZING like he is so handsome?!!! Honestly when the cameraman does an updown shot on the stairs I’m like OOOOOF FACE AND JAW but okay not cool that he’s jelly and possessive but I guess he’s always been like this to Xiang Shi, and omg I didn’t think Yu Chen (who plays Xiang Shi) was handsome in the beginning but he’s quite cute in this ep too th way he apologises to YJD ALTHO BRO U GOT NOTHING TO APOLOGIZE FOR YOU AREN’T A PRISONER IN THE HOUSE HAHA but okay i guess compromise

YJP 3rd bro: Wow, dumb and dumber. Dumb to the point of cute, I LOVE IT. Honestly, this boy BREAKS INTO SOMEONE ELSE’S HOUSE AND RUMMAGES THROUGH THE HOUSE AND STEALS THE PERSON’S FRUITS LIKE?!!! and he mothers Yue Rong too I’M LIKE BRO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF FIRST!!!!

The 4th son saga: DO WE MOVE ON?!!! NO WE DO NOT. YJP is still is disbelief that LX could be his brother, YJD straight up kidnaps him, YJD DOESN’T CARE ALL HE WANTS IS XIANG SHI’S ATTENTION and i gotta say that YJD has got his priorities right like who cares about another brother and another woman my dad is the king of been there done that in this aspect, not much YJC and LX interaction in this ep tho

What happens in Ep 3:

LX has begun talking to himself to cope, and he still remembers to be kind to the beggar crouching outside his house (okay in terms of best spots to beg at, this isn’t a good spot, you usually go to spots with greater foot traffic?) and gives him all of his change

And YJC WHO IS LURKING LIKE A CREEPER sees that and goes like ERROR 404 CANNOT UNDERSTAND WHY LX WOULD GIVE HIM MONEY and then LX laments his lack of lunch money at his bike, and says to his mom ‘i’ll live well mom, i’ll go earn lots of money etc.’ (and well he does live p well and earn a lot of money i guess at the end of this - just marry a rich chaebol, check both boxes)

Then YJC GIVES THE GUY MONEY TOO BUT LIKE A LOT OF MONEY HAHAHAHAHA 

then we have CP3 being dumb and cute in the library as Yue Rong gathers like this info pack on LX

WE ALSO FIND OUT LX IS VERY GOOD AT STUDYING LIKE SUPER SMART

and Yue Rong has a habit of biting at his nails, so Jun Ping hits at his hand every time he does that altho in the first instance in the beginning of the episode, JP actually bites at YR’s fingers and says it’s tasty and im like IT ISN’TTTT BROOOOO

they break into LX’s house and Jun Ping makes himself at home and finds a pack of fruits and unceremoniously starts eating amen this boy i mean like SAME HERE but you’re so damn rich go get your own damn fruits!!

Yue Rong goes through LX mom’s diary and they find out she’s their dad’s childhood friend, and they spend like one-third of the episode rationalizing that Dad really didn’t know about LX and that LX really could be the 4th son and YR bites at his fingers again LMAO

And Jun Ping is like damn it so from Yuan No. 3 I’m now Yuan No. 4?!!! Yue Rong is like PRIORITIES?!!! 

On the CP2 side: We’ve got Xiang Shi fixing up the computer or something for Yue Rong’s sister, and they’re all cousins or something, and she wants to thank him by idk, flirting with him, and Xiang Shi is like you crazy woman?!!! Anw Xiang Shi tries to go home, but the sister sprays like perfume on him and says that she’s curious as to how Jun Dao will react when he smells perfume on Xiang Shi omg do you rich people NOT HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO

And anw Jun Dao is panicking and all because it’s so late and Xiang Shi isn’t home, and he called a few times but he didn’t pick up (AND I HAVE ONLY JUST REALIZED THAT THIS BEAUTIFUL HUGE ASS HOUSE HOUSES ONLY XIANG SHI AND JUN DAO but also where are all the servants you’d think there’ll be help to just kind of push the ‘we are rich’ image in our faces) - Jun Dao of course jumps immediately to ‘hey dont tell me he’s been kidnapped?!!’

XIang Shi turns up at home and they kind of get into an argument of where he’s been and JD does smell the perfume and he gets a bit jelly that XS went on a date, and when XS tries to go upstairs, JD grabs at him and pulls, and XS idk sprains his ankle or smth LMAOOOOO

and OMGGGGG JUN DAO IS SO CUTE SITTING OUTSIDE THE BATHROOM waiting for XS to finish showering, like wrapped like a burrito in a blanket, and anw when XS comes out he ices his ankle, and XS apologises cutely, saying that he should have told JD that he was coming home late, and JD is like, ‘it’s fine, we’re childhood friends so there’s no need to say all these’ but dude you kind of hurt him

and then we have YJC BIG BRO waiting for LX to turn up back in the parking lot AND OMG BIG BRO FINGER GUNS ARE SO LAST GENERATION!!! HAHAHAHA lmao this is hilarious like lee si kang is very handsome doing that but...

Next ep: We’ve got CP3 trying to do things but they’re dumb and dumber so i doubt they’ll succeed and anyway BIG BRO YJC is alr like stepping on LX’s bun and draggin him into his car amen

#2020因为爱你 #2020because of you #2020 because of you #2020BoY #because of you #ep 3 summary #hahahaha #this is hilarious omg

[tommyquackson]

Getting Me a Little Bit | t. holland | part 1

Not My Gif

summary: toms an angel but his life begins changing when he meets one of the most dangerous monsters he’s ever heard of, you. angel!tom and demon!au

warnings: angels, demons and supernatural creatures,

note: new series!!! mostly based of the song Horns by Bryce Fox because i love that song so much.

New York City was bright and alive at 2:57am on a Friday. It was almost the witching hour, which usually meant Tom would be in the safety of his apartment asleep by now, but his mission required him to be out tonight. He wasn’t exactly excited about it, but he was ready to do his job and carry out the will of God.

His mission was to gather info on a supposed succubus at one of the more popular clubs in NYC. As a field angel, Tom was to report back to the higher ups about what they found and then they’d intervene is necessary. He always felt a little disappointed at this aspect of the job, he wanted to be in the action, actually making a difference on Earth.

He straightens his collar as he walks up to the building entrance, there’s a long line to get in but Tom doesn’t plan on waiting, he’s got to get in there and fast. He takes one look at the bouncer and knows that this place is demon infested; only demons hire Leviathans as their bouncers. He gives himself a mental peptalk as he adjusts the bracelet that allows him to hide his angel form. He walks forward, doing his best to exude confidence and authority, despite having neither. The bouncer takes a look at him, eyebrows raising up, but Tom smirks and pulls out a necklace with a pentagram and a few other demonic symbols. He felt dirty just touching it, much less putting it on, but he needed to get in and blend in. The bouncer nodded and allowed him in, saluting him as Tom passes.

The club was much different on the inside, no doubt a few hexes and charms on the place to keep people coming in and staying. The strobe lights moved like hips across the sea of sweaty people dancing way too close together. It almost looked like a blue, red and green lightning storm, with the bass of the music as the thunder. Tom could feel is bones shake and his brain drum against his skull, he pushed it to the side and began surveying. He walked to the bar, looking around for any signs of the main succubus. He orders a vodka, but turns it to water as soon as he gets his angelic hands on it. He sits at the bar for a while, just watching and pretending to enjoy himself.

“You waitin for someone?” A voice drips sultry from his left side, he turns and sees a gorgeous women with large curly hair, and a tiny red dress on. She’s got a childish devil horn headband sitting in her hair, her nails are long and pointy and clearly fake but it adds to the appeal. She’s shorter than Tom but her heels make her legs look deliciously long. It takes Tom a moment to swallow the surprise in his throat.

“Uh, no, not waitin on anyone” He speaks, finally looking at her eyes, which are sparkling with mischief. She smirks and bites her lip, giving Tom a view of her canines that seem almost too sharp for a human. Of course, she’s a demon, maybe she has some info on the succubus.

“So, you’re looking for someone?” She feigns innocence and for a split second Tom almost believed it. He laughs at himself for even letting her almost trick him.

“Something like that, what’s your name” He smirks, trying his best to play her game, after all, he was supposed to convince these blasphemers that he was one of them.

“Y/n, whats yours pretty boy?” She tilts her head to the side, sipping out a drink that has seemingly appeared in her hand.

“Tom, whaddya say we go somewhere we can...talk” He looks down at her. She smiles widely, standing up straight and grabbing his hand.

“I know just the place” She speaks walking off and pulling Tom through the crowd of people dancing. He watches as she dances through people, still holding onto Toms hand, occasionally pushing her body against his when the crowd gets to dense for them to have breathing room. The finally step into the clear, and walk down a flight of stairs, passing couples in various positions on the way down. She pushes open a red door with a cartoon rendition of the devil as a baby.

Tom finally realizes that it’s her, she’s the succubus, now how does he get out of here without becoming a victim.

“Wow, you’re smart, what are you?” She walks backwards against the door, pulling Tom against her body.

“What do you mean?” He nearly gulps but tries his best to remain calm. She rolls her eyes and runs her hands up his shoulders. The act alone made Tom feel like he was forsaking his Father, he holds down the fear in his stomach.

“Oh come on, you found out I was a succubus, not only that, but you were looking for me, so what are you? A hunter?” She locks eyes with him and he feels himself forcing the answer to the forefront of his brain, he can’t help but blurt it out.

“Angel” He mentally screams at himself to stop speaking to this succubus.

“Oo, an Angel, never had one before. This could be fun” She grins then flicks a finger towards her and a chair slides across the floor and Tom is pushed into it. As he goes to protest, rope begins to quickly slither up the chair and tighten around his legs and wrist. She being slowly swaying her hips, causing Tom to focus on her body and only her body. His struggle seizes and he finds himself unable to form a coherent thought that has anything else to do with the succubus in front of him.

“Tell me Angel, d’you come here to kill me?” She speaks moving into his lap, ghosting red lips against his throat. He shakes his head no as hard as he can, he could never kill her, he wants nothing more than to please her.

“You were gonna tell on me Angel?” She says pouting at him, her eyes look so sad that Tom feels his gut wrench. He looks down at his lap, completely ashamed.

“S’okay Tom, I forgive you. You won’t tell on me anymore” She smirks, he shakes his head no again, looking up at her hopeful that he’s pleased her.

“You wanna know a secret Tommy?” She finally stands and walks around him a couple times.

“Please” he croaks out, his voice raspy.

“I’m not a succubus” She giggles dropping down to a squat in front of Tom. His face twists in confusion and he begins sputtering trying to puzzle what she could possibly be, she shows all signs of a Succubus. except the telekinesis, that’s more a demon thing.

“I’ll let you guess, here’s a hint. My daddy’s very high up, and i’ve got a pair of these” She practically whispers out, as she says it, two horns grow from her hair, slithering into shape of the horns on her headband. Her whole eyes have turned red, with flames dancing around. Her pupil had completely disappeared, making her eyes look much bigger.

He doesn’t get it for a second, like a riddle that takes a few seconds to solve. He thinks, running through the list of every higherup demon he can think of until it hits him. Demons don’t have horns, there’s only one that does, Lucifer. She’s the Devils daughter. Y/n smiles at the gasp Tom lets out.

“Still gotta feed on humans tho, mama was a succubus, what can I say” She chuckles and runs her hands up and down his thighs. He licks his lips and stares with his lips parted, breathing fast and hard.

“Ya know what Tom, I like you. I’m not gonna use you to feed. I’m gonna keep hanging out with you though, think we’d make great friends.” She states flicking her wrist, making the rope holding Tom down falls to the ground. She walks and sits on the bed, crossing her legs and bouncing her top foot.

“You’re letting me go?” He stutters, not quite believeing it. Maybe she likes a good chase, to hunt her prey.

“Sure am, gonna visit you all the time though. We can hang out like mortal friends do. Be a real cool duo.” She shrugs.

“I don’t think either of our fathers would appreciate that.” Tom speaks, that’s the longest sentence he’s been able to confidently say to her yet.

“Oh because our daddy’s are so present in our lives, please. You think i’d be here if my dad actually gave a shit about me. It’s clear you don’t wanna do this either, but you’re an angel so you may not question what the almighty says” She speaks the last part in a deep mocking voice. Tom has nothing to say, letting her know she’s telling the truth.

“Well, go on. I’ll see you soon, don’t stay long or I will feed on you. Haven’t fed tonight” She flashes her fiery red eyes and extended canines at him, jumpstarting his heart and making him almost jog up the steps and out of the hot and humid club.

As he steps out into the street, he breathes deep, confusion clouding his brain. Now that’s he’s nowhere near y/n, he realizes how wrong and purely evil this all is. He rips the necklace off of his neck and places his hands on his head. He should immediately go to his supervisors, but what can they do. Heaven and Hell would wage a mighty war of angels killed Satans daughter. He shakes his head, going back and forth through different scenarios the whole way home.

He gets inside his apartment and locks the door, though he decides to skip the protection protocols. He grabs a water and drinks it down quickly. He crawls into bed and the second before he falls asleep, he imagines y/n laying next to him, wishing him a goodnight.

-

Toms nose crinkles in his sleep, he’s lightly awaken by the smell of, pancakes? He squints his eyes trying to figure out what was going on. He stands and slowly creeps down the hall and into his kitchen. His breath stops when he’s greeted with the sight of y/n dressed in leggings and a red bleach stained t-shirt. She’s quietly humming as she flips pancakes and stirs eggs.

“Morning tommy,” She sings without turning around.

“Uh, what’re you doing here?” He mumbles looking around to see if anyone else is present.

“think that’s pretty obvious angel, i’m cooking breakfast” She finally turns around, a glowing smile on her face and of Tom didn’t know any better, he’d think she was an Angel herself, except for the horns slightly peeking out of her bouncy curls, they look messier than last night but beautiful nonetheless.

“I didn’t know you were serious, uh last night” He gives in, sitting at the table in the kitchen.

“Course I was, don’t worry, I made sure none of your superiors were here before I showed up.” She winked at him, placing a plate of food in front of him.

Tom has to admit it looks and smells delicious. He’s not one for eating a lot, he has no real reason but he enjoys it every now and then again. She sits across from him and begins eating her plate.

“So, what are your plans for the day?” She asks so casually, it almost tricks Tom to believe they’re a completely domestic and mortal couple.

“I have to go to a mission report meeting, about the uh succubus” He gulps down his food and struggles through the sentence.

“Can I go with you?” She asks and tom almost chuckles before he sees her face and realizes she’s serious.

“I can’t, how would I explain you?” He says eyes wide, he knows that you’re not gonna back down to going.

“I’m an angel, i’m on a long term mission to prove that there’s demons in the NYC government.” She says matter of factly. It’s obvious she put thought into this.

“They’d never believe that, they’ll want to see your records and-“

“You already know I can be very persuasive. As long as they look into my eyes I can be whatever I want and they’ll believe, all under the assumption that they’ve come up with the info themselves. Angels are egotistical and very easy to convince.” She shrugs and stands to clean her plate. “Also, i’m not asking you, i’m coming either way. Gotta make sure my club stays out from under your radar.” She winks at Tom.

He puts his head in his hands and sighs deeply,

“Fine but you have to” He looks up at her and sees her now dressed in white jeans and a light blue sweater. Her horns have completely sunk into her hair and her nails are now short and bare.

“Change? Way ahead of ya angel” She smiles walking out of the kitchen and moves towards his room. He quickly stands and follows her, grumbling about how much trouble he’s going to be in of her plan doesn’t work.

#imagine #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland stan #tom holland x reader #tom x reader #demon!reader #succubus!reader #supernatural creatures #angel!au #angel!tom #marvel #spiderman

[seasonal-brotp-prompts]

Ghost Trick ;P Or Ace Attorney (Or both, both is good~)

I had to read this several times, go to bed, wake up, and read it again to realize that you were sending this for the ask meme I reblogged X”D I reblog those for you guys to use, but hey, I’ll bite ;) (Under a cut because it’s gonna be LONG)

My favorite parent-child relationship

Hmm... for Ghost Trick I guess I liked the Justice Minister and Amelie! Poor guy goes through so much stress :(

For AA it,, is DEFINITELY Apollo and Phoenix,,, listen Phoenix adopted Trucy and that makes him Apollo’s dad and you cannot tell me otherwise >:((( also Spirit of Justice was my first game so I’m biased

My favorite sibling relationship

There are no blood sibs in GT and I honestly classify most relationships as friendships or something else? But Missile and Sissel are sibling-ish, post-game at least. Missile is the dumb but sweet little brother who Sissel makes fun of but ONLY SISSEL CAN MAKE FUN OF HIM, IF ANYONE ELSE DOES IT THEY DIE AND DON’T GET BROUGHT BACK >:(

And for AA, Trucy and Apollo for sure!! Remember how SoJ was my first game? The scene where Dhurke unknowingly ships Trucy and Apollo, I literally said “huh, they feel more like siblings to me, dunno why tho”however as far as UNhealthy relationships go, I wish Capcom would hint more at Klavier’s presumed dark past with Kristoph because OUCH

My favorite family relationship (other)

SISSEL AND LYNNE SISSEL AND LYNNE SISSEL AND LYNNE, look there are no words in the English language to describe what I think their bond is like, they’re kinda siblings but kinda best friends but kinda partners in crime/crime-busting and I could go on for hours--

With AA, definitely Pearl and Maya’s cousinhood!!! I have a little cousin who reminds me so much of Pearl in how absolutely loving and devoted she is; listen if you don’t have a small child who thinks you’re the coolest person on earth then I pity you because it’s the biggest confidence booster and motivation to be a better person

My favorite friendship between two people

If I can’t do Sissel and Lynne again, I have to give some love to Missile and Kamila. Again, I don’t know if you could call what they have exactly a “friendship?” More of a master-servant relationship? But they are so good... Missile loves his Lady so much...

My favorite AA friendship is a tie between Phoenix & Edgeworth and Klavier & Apollo!! (Basic, I know.) But I honestly see them as such DIFFERENT dynamics so it’s basically impossible to compare the two? I write more for Apollo and Klavier, but that’s because 1) they’re my favs, character-wise and 2) there’s already at least SOME good platonic content for Phoenix and Edgeworth.

My favorite friendship between a group

Oh gosh this one is hard... but I love Sissel, Lynne, and Missile, particularly if/when they’re all dead together. There’s something intimate about a group that can only communicate amongst itself.

THE WRIGHT ANYTHING AGENCY... again, maybe I’m just biased because I played the second trilogy first, but I honestly love the Dual Destinies crew more than any teams in the OG trilogy! However, the dream team of Klavier, Ema, and Apollo will also always hold a special place in my heart ;-; (The WAA is basically the healthy happy family, whereas the dream team is three salty friends just letting themselves be dumb kids amongst a slew of murders and backstory angst)

My favorite mentorship

Cabenala and Lynne!! Cabenala is such a weird uncle type but he’s so good. Of course, there’s also Jowd... gee Lynne why does Tamuki let you have TWO mentors :’)

Apollo and Phoenix again, obviously, but ALSO Edgeworth and Sebastian!! Edgeworth makes fun of Phoenix for adopting all his employees but then turns around and takes Kay, Sebastian, John, and Klavier to Gatewater Land on a “business trip”

someday I will find a mentorship that doesn’t double as a parenthood but that day is not today

My favorite rivalry

ALSO SISSEL AND LYNNE... are you seeing a pattern...But seriously, how did Shu Tamuki fit that many relationships into one pairing, I am shooketh beyond compare... I screamed whenever they’d say stuff like “not a partnership, but let’s agree to ‘use each other’” like that is some BIG TIME SLOW BURN right there

(looks at the main defense attorneys & prosecutors aGAIN) ((sweats)) are you sEEing a pAttErN,,,Okay but for the sake of deviating a little, and also being more accurate to the textbook definition of a “rivalry,” Edgeworth and Lang are FANTASTIC. Lang’s overall distrust of the law, and Edgeworth growing so fully into the path that he’s chosen in life, are both written so excellently that when you throw them at each other the tension is already there like TWO CASES IN.

My favorite hatred/antipathy

Yomiel is such a cool character and the most scream-worthy villain reveal ever. So I gotta say, probably him and Cabenala, because when *THAT SCENE* happened I thought I’d never breathe again.

SHELLY DE KILLER AND DOGEN... MY WORD... I screamed sO LOUDLY when they faced off because I’d literally just predicted that one of those two characters would die and that scene felt like the nail in the coffin. Lawful evil characters are some of my problematic favorites, so two of them in one game (not to mention you-know-who) was enough to give me a heart attack.

My favorite potential relationship between characters who never talk in canon

I don’t remember if Amelie and Kamila actually do talk in canon...? I think they mention being friends, at least? But in my heart they are already best friends with a rich girl-poor girl dichotomy and they like to play dolls and probably torment their pets with dress-up :’)

Klavier and Blackquill are such a good platonic rarepair, but I’m just happy that I’ve seen platonic content for them at all?? Especially since both characters are such ports in the AA fandom l”D But yeah, I think they’d have a great dynamic. Actually there are a lot of potential Klavier friendships (Athena, Sebastian, Edgeworth as a mentor) that canon will never give us bECAUSE KLAVIER IS CAPCOM’S LEAST FAVORITE CHILD >:”(

#not a prompt #read more #anon #WSSF speaks #WSSF answers #WSSF rambles