#new tablet means i love drawing wings again

[spookthebook]

starstruck

#fursona #furry #peryton #spook draws #new tablet means i love drawing wings again

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

#shire screams #art tips #ask #art block #long post

[illyaana]

Cursive Ink - Yamaguchi Tadashi

Collab: Pain Tolerance by @haikyutiehoe

Thanks for making this collab, hun! the idea of pierced and/or tatted anime characters got me squealing~! Do check out the other works involved in the collab in the link up there~

Tags: Yamaguchi's POV, Angst, Fluff, Yamaguchi x Tattoo Artist! Reader, Binaural

Synopsis: Love never really goes the way we plan it to be - and Yamaguchi was no exception. His failed confession to his former best friend left him heartbroken. However, his decision to go to a tattoo parlour may have been the best (and craziest) choice he's ever made in his life. (I also believe Yamaguchi is pansexual, so don't get so confused XD)

Word Count: 2552

A bit of context: In Japanese, 'Yama' means mountain, 'Tsuki' means the Moon

⋯⋯ ⫍ Masterlist ◍ Navigation ⫎ ⋯⋯

Want to get a personalized drabble about your love life with an anime character you like? Check out my 50 followers event's post here! You can choose any character from BNHA, Haikyu!!, AOT, JJK and Kuroko no Basketball <3

“Yamaguchi, no,” Tsukishima said, pulling his hand away from my hand.

“Why are you lying to yourself? I know you feel the same way, Tsuki - don’t lie to yourself.”

“I don’t, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima said, eyes turning cold, “I am not gay - I am a straight, heterosexual male. I love women and women only.”

Lies.

You are lying to me.

You are in love with me.

You are already mine, Tsuki - just wake up and see it.

I know you can.

what was that kiss under the tree when we were kids?” I whispered, not wanting my voice to break, “If you never loved me, why kiss me, Tsuki?”

“We both agreed that it was a mistake, didn’t we?” The blonde male said, anger rising, “We both agreed - not just me.”

I said yes - I know I did.

That doesn’t mean I meant it.

You know me, Tsuki - I’ll agree to everything you’ll say.

Why aren’t you realising it?

I’ve waited for so many years for you to ask me out, but you never did.

I’m here, right in front of you, asking you to be mine - just say yes.

I don’t want to wait anymore - it’s too painful.

“I lied, okay?!” I scream, “I loved you ever since we were kids, Tsuki. I want to be the one you come back to when you leave, the only one you kiss, the only one you hug, the only one you dream about - I want to be that to you. Is that so hard to believe?!”

I hugged myself, not wanting to break down anymore.

That small hug was the only thing stopping me from letting all hell break loose.

I had kept this in ever since I knew Tsuki - ever since he saw him in that park.

I knew everything about the tall male. The way he smiles, the way he hides his anger when he wants to be respectful, his secret love for dinosaurs, his soft side, his small quirks - I knew it all like the back of his hand.

I knew what he needed to be the middle blocker’s lover, and I was willing to sacrifice myself to be the best thing for Tsuki.

One thing was clear in my head; Tsuki felt the exact same way.

“Yamaguchi, I’m sorry. I don’t love you the way you want me to,” Tsukishima said, kneeling beside the green-haired male.

“I don’t believe that.”

I forced his lips on Tsukishima’s.

I closed my eyes, trying to memorise how the lines of his soft and pale lips felt on his - how it softly caressed my lips without even responding to the intimate kiss I was trying to initiate.

I felt Tsukishima trying to push me away, but I didn’t let go of the male’s collar.

He already took my first kiss - what is the difference if I took another?

The second our lips left each other’s, Tsukishima punched my nose.

Blood dripped from my nose, but I couldn’t care less.

“Don’t you fucking call me Tsuki ever again, dumbass. Better yet, don’t call me.”

My last day of high school ended with blood and tears, but the pain in my heart from losing my best friend hurt more.

⁜

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I stared at the stars, lying down in the little treehouse we made as kids in my backyard.

I tried to cry it all out, but I couldn’t.

I feel cheated by you, Tsukishima Kei.

You made me make you my everything.

My voice was tuned to calm you down.

My hands we moulded to keep you warm.

My life was made to keep you safe, but you don’t need me to be you.

But I do - I need you to be me.

One-sided crushes are the worst form of love, aren’t they?

You give it all for that one person - to please and cherish them.

They just think it’s just a form of showing how strong your friendship is, but you want more.

You are the only one who wants more.

You are the one crying at night about how you wished they were by your side.

You are the one craving for their touch.

You want them, but they don’t want you.

I don’t care about you bruising my face, Tsukishima-san.

I care about you fucking me up like this.

I will no longer wait for your messages.

I will no longer look at your tweets and be the only one giving reactions.

I will erase you from my narrative, Tsukishima-san.

You can wonder about how much you’ve hurt me when I have reached somewhere you can’t even touch me.

⁜

⁜

⁜

“You are absolutely sure about this, right?” Hinata said, worry laced in his words.

I open the doors to the tattoo parlour and I was instantly mesmerized. The walls were filled with such intricate designs - sizes ranging from as small as a finger to as big as my whole body. The smell of fresh ink slowly hit me, reminding me of my schooling years.

“I am sure, Hinata. I was planning to do this ever since I was small, either way. I just wished it was under better circumstances,” I reply, eyes locked on all the flower motifs.

I always wanted a tattoo - it didn’t matter how big or small it was. I always thought of how beautiful the idea was - to have something permanently inked on your skin to remind you of who you were. Flowers drew with such hidden meaning, curved lines speaking words of poetry, ideas brought into life - tattoos are an artist’s masterpiece meant to paint on my skin as a canvas.

“Do you want me to stay? I don’t mind waiting here with you - “

“Weren’t you supposed to meet up with Kageyama later today?” I remind him, chuckling.

“That man is late for everything. I think he can handle me coming late for once.”

“I’m seriously okay, Hinata! Go get ready, I’ll send a picture when it’s done,” I say as I push him out of the shop.

“Okay, okay - make sure to send me that picture!” He said as he ran out of the shop.

Why follow me if you’re itching to leave?

“That friend of yours has really bright orange hair - is it dyed or natural?” I hear someone say.

Holy shit, you’re hot.

“Oh - uh- um- It’s natural,” I say, forming some space between us.

Holy shit, you’re hot.

You tied half of your hair in a small bun, showing me the small, intricate designs on your neck. Flowers decorated your soft skin, moving down under your shirt’s sleeve. Small golden piercings decorated your ears. They were encrusted with gems of various colours that shifted under the soft lighting gracing your skin.

You looked so beautiful I couldn’t stop staring.

“So, do you have an appointment?” You asked, breaking my train of thought.

“N- no.”

Stop stuttering, Yamaguchi Tadashi.

“First time, huh?” you smiled, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. The pain is different for everyone, but I think you can handle it.”

“T-Thanks.”

God, stop stuttering.

“God, you’re cute,” you laughed while looking at my frazzled face, “Don’t worry, my dearest client - you’re in capable hands. Come - let’s discuss your design, shall we?”

You grabbed my wrist and brought me to your corner, leaving me blushed mess.

Cute.

They called me cute.

I’m breathing, right?

Okay, I’m breathing.

As we were walking, I got to see the back of your neck - more specifically, a part of your tattoo.

It was a blossoming rose - a huge one. It had vines that grew from it, encircling your whole neck, moving down your shirt and reaching the tips of your fingers. Smaller roses grew from it, branching even smaller vines surrounded by leaves.

I wanted to know the story behind that tattoo. It looked so beautiful yet so dark. The thorns that came from certain vines alarmed me, but I kept my thoughts to myself. My attention was brought to your piercings - more specifically, the design of the encrusted jewels. They were flowers, as well. In the middle of each jewel held a line of gold that branched out, just like the vines of your tattoo.

“Oh, you’re looking at my tattoo and piercings, aren’t you?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Is it okay if I am?” I ask, worried.

You laughed.

“Of course it’s fine. Who would get a tattoo and not prepare for all the staring? Not going to lie, here - these piercings and that tattoo help me fuel my ego. After all, everyone’s staring at them,” you joke, playing with your hair.

You sit on your chair, pointing at the one opposite you.

“What are you waiting for? Sit.”

⁜

⁜

⁜

“So, you want some small vines surrounding a moon, right?” You ask as you brought out your tablet.

“Yeah, on my middle finger.”

I had enough of his little orders - I’ll twist his words into something much more meaningful. If the Moon isn’t willing to dance with the mountains, let the vines make the Moon feel the mountain’s pain from its rejection.

“That sounds really pretty,” you say, smiling at me, “Give me a minute - I’ll do a rough sketch and you can tell me if it’s to your liking.”

You took out the tablet’s pen tool and began to sketch. I eyed your eyes as you continued to sketch what would be my tattoo.

Thanks to the light from the tablet, I could see a part of another tattoo hidden under your shirt.

It was multiple birds flying across your collarbones, but there was one bird that moved to your neck. It was a smaller bird - much, much smaller. However, its wings were bigger - bigger than the other birds’.

“My family isn’t very appreciative of my more artistic side,” you began, knowing I wanted to know the story behind it.

“I love art - all types of art. Writing, drawing, painting - I loved how you could make a whole new world just with a few lines. My family…” you paused, “As much as they loved me, they couldn’t see a world where I could make a living from it. They tried to throw away this side of me, but the more they pushed it away, the more I needed it.”

You raised your tablet, showing me your sketch.

I loved it.

It was a crescent moon, wrapped in vines. Vines grew both upwards and below, accompanied by stars. Small buds were growing from the ends of the vines, leaves surrounding them.

I don’t know how you did it, but you captured all I felt about him in a few minutes - it astounded me.

“I took a few creative liberties, but-”

“It’s amazing - don’t change it.”

You’re amazing.

You smiled, getting off your chair.

“Head to that room,” you pointed to the smaller room right beside us, “I’ll get all the tools ready.”

⁜

⁜

⁜

“You ready?” you said, placing the pen right above my middle finger.

Why did I choose my middle finger for my first tattoo? It’s literally right on a bone, it’s going to hurt like hell.

“I guess…” I whisper.

“It won’t be that painful - trust me. People overexaggerate,” you say, trying to calm me down.

People weren’t overexaggerating - it hurt.

It hurt a lot.

I bit my lip, holding back the scream on the end of my lips.

“Hold on,” you said, removing the pen.

You soon came back with candy and began to unwrap it.

“Open your mouth, my liege.”

After chuckling, I opened my mouth and you plopped the sweet in my mouth.

Ooh, mango.

“Focus on the sweet, okay?” You said, patting my back.

It felt less painful, surprisingly. Focusing on the sweet rolling in my mouth helped reduce the pain significantly.

I raised my head slightly so that I could see your intense focus on my finger. You were biting on your lower lip as you slowly moved the pen on my finger, following the temporary tattoo you made earlier as a guide. You were annoyed by a strand of your hair that refused to stay behind on your ear - your anger-filled expression said it all.

Using my other hand, I pushed it behind your ear to help you focus.

A soft thank you came from you as you continued.

Blood rushed to my cheeks the minute those words left your lips.

So cute.

“You didn’t finish your story…” I asked, trying to end the awkward silence.

“It was that interesting to you?” you smiled.

You’re interesting, Y/N.

I nod.

“I asked them if I could draw again. I didn’t want to lose that skill I finetuned all my life - it felt so wrong. They thought I’d never succeed in life if I focused on ‘these useless hobbies’ and shouted at me. I remember crying for hours, but they didn’t care,” you say as you turn off the pen, wiping the tip.

“I began to spend more hours in school just so that I could scribble and draw. They’d never know what I did there - all the drawings I did, all the stories I wrote, all the songs I sang. I am not like my parents. I strayed from the thought of ‘art is useless’- I am the bird moving away from the flock,” you said, turning your chair towards me.

“Why did they hate art? It’s something that makes you happy - If it’s something you like, you should do it,” I said, slightly pissed.

Thank God they didn’t listen to them.

“Best part - they have paintings all over the house,” you snickered.

You sighed, stretching your arms in the process.

“I don’t really care about their opinion about it, anyway. I’m no longer under their wing - I’m my own person. I get money by doing the thing I love, and that’s so fulfilling. The only thing they’re paying for right now is my college education - that’s it,” you said as you pressed a wet cloth to my new tattoo.

“Wait - we’re the same age?”

“Yeah, we are,” you smiled.

“I expected you to be way older,” I say, embarrassed.

“I am utterly offended, sir,” you say, feigning sadness.

“Come on!” I say, laughing.

“I am expecting a tip,” you say, walking towards the door.

You’re amazing, Y/N. I just wish I met you earlier…

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⁜

⁜

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Yamaguchi Tadashi,” you say, closing the cash register in front of you.

“And I you, my friend.”

I walk to the door, gripping on the door handle.

I want you in my life, Y/N. Even if we spent just a few hours together, you’ve made me so happy. If you are open to the idea, I want to be friends with you - and who knows? We might become something…

I walk back to the cashier.

“Oh, did I forget something?” You ask, worried.

“No, no…”

Come on, say it.

“Hey, wanna exchange numbers? I wanna hang out with you - of course, only if you want to,” you say smiling.

Holy shit.

“Yes, please.”

You held back your laugh the minute you saw my face.

How many times have I made you laugh just by you looking at my face?

“Here’s my number,” you passed me your card, “Message me so that I get your number, too!”

“Okay!” I smile.

Holy shit. I did it.

“See you again, ‘guchi.”

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#Illyaana | Haikyu!! #Illyaana | Yamaguchi Tadashi #Illyaana | Binaural #hihqnetwork #angelwalker's virtues #haikyuu yamaguchi #yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi x reader #tadashi x reader #tadashi fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu writing #haikyu!! imagine #haikyu!! #haikyu x reader #haikyuu! #ハイキュー！！ #ハイキュー！ #haikyu!! to the top

[tinyboxxtink]

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 14*

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

This chapter literally took me all day, and it's kinda super long, but since I'm only going to 15 it had to be done. Also, I wanted to get a certain part and all the bullshit detail action needs to be written before we get there so I just kept writing to get there. Lulz.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

Okay and can I just say about the Goodbye Love thing it was in my head since I had her say "I need to go away".

This was supposed to be the preview:

Mimi Please don't touch me Understand I'm scared I need to go away

Mark I know a place - a clinic

Benny A rehab?

Mimi Maybe - could you?

Benny I'll pay

And this is for chapter 15: Mimi Goodbye love Goodbye love Came to say goodbye, love, goodbye Just came to say Goodbye love Goodbye love Goodbye love Hello disease....

*DUN DUN DUNNNN*

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

The next thing you knew you were waking up in another room. This one was more lavish and beautiful; the sunset was peeking through green silk curtains with a matching chaise lounge. You were now in pink silk pajamas as opposed to a hospital gown, and you weren’t hooked up to near as many wires. Just a pack attached to your arm linked to your sides.

“What the…?” You cautiously crept out of bed, examining the room.

So many questions flew through your mind at that moment. How did you get here? Where exactly were you? Who the hell changed you while you were passed out? It was too much to imagine. You walked over to the full length mirror and examined yourself. You were still semi pale, but you looked pretty damn good for just having surgery this morning.

You walked back towards your bed where your phone was laying on the nightstand. You went to check your messages when you saw the date-- it had been three days. THREE DAYS?

“What the actual fuck--?” You muttered.

Were you in a Black Mirror episode? How did you lose three whole days of your life?! You began to panic, making you pace the room. Wasn’t there a button you could do? You quickly looked around the room for anything, but all you found was a TV remote.

“Oh are you fucking--” You started to curse the world when you saw a little drawing of a nurse on one of the buttons. You frantically pushed it until a girl who looked like she was a nurse out of a porno as opposed to a hospital came running in.

“Oh my god, I thought you were like, dying or something,” She rolled her eyes and twirled her hair like she was a teenage stereotype.

“Where the hell am I? Why am I---”

“Okay you need to like, chill babe,” Nurse Betty put her hands up. “

“I’m not your babe, mmkay pumpkin? We are not friends,” You pushed her hands down. “Now why don’t you get your little chart and explain to me what’s going on in the Twilight Zone?”

“Alright, well--” She whipped out a mini tablet from her scrubs and flipped through it. “You got here three days ago with an order to keep you in a medically induced coma-- Ooooh, wow that sounds like some soap opera shit. Where your organs harvested on the black market?”

“WHAT?” You grabbed the tablet. That DID sound like some soap opera shit. “You read the tablet, all it said was the details about the coma and then FILES SEALED.

“Can you-- unlock this, please?” You shoved the tablet back in her hands.

“Um no, you need a supervisor for that babe,”

“Can you please get someone to unlock this then, BABE?” Your eye began to twitch from stress.

“Yeah, sure I’ll try,” She shrugged and walked back out of the room. You continued to pace faster now, googling “HARVESTED ORGANS ON THE BLACK MARKET”, when a doctor came in wearing navy blue scrubs, looking like Derek Shepherd.

“Well hey there, beautiful,” He grinned at you.

“...What is happening?” You muttered, staring at him. He was gorgeous, you’d probably be more flustered if you weren’t so freaked out and pissed off.

“What kind of soap opera hospital is this?!” You scowled.

“Hey, just because we take care of ourselves around here doesn’t mean it’s Grey’s Anatomy up here,” He made a face.

“...Could’ve fooled me, McDreamy,”

“....Just because my name is Derek doesn’t mean I’m that tool,” He frowned.

“Oh my god you’re kidding me right?” You had to laugh at the irony.

“You’re probably just grumpy because you haven’t eaten for three days,” He patted your head. “How about a nice filet mignon?”

“Wha…?” You looked around the room in disbelief. “How about you tell me where I am and how I got here?”

“You’re at Whistling Pines Hospital and Rehabilitation Center in Hartford Connecticut, Miss Y/N,”

“Connecticut?!” You gasped. “Sonny said it was just upstate New York. Jesus Christ he sent me out of state?!”

“Calm yourself,” Derek put a hand on your shoulder. “We’re basically on the state line, Mr. Carisi didn’t send you to Siberia,”

“...And why exactly was I brought here against my will?” You crossed your arms.

“Against your will?” He snorted. “Your paperwork says you requested to be out while you recovered so you wouldn’t be tempted to ask for pain meds or anything. Part of the detox, you understand,”

“Detox?” Your face scrunched. “Seriously? So...so now what, you escort me down to the padded room now that I’m healed?”

“No, no of course not,” He shook his head. “Our rehab rooms are much nicer than this. And yours is all ready for you,”

“....Yeah, alright,” You shrugged, looking around the room.

“Wonderful,” He gave you another 100 watt smile before opening the door and motioning you to follow him. You walked for a while through what seemed like a normal hospital wing, then you came to two large doors that said “REHABILITATION WING”.

Derek opened it and let you go through first, into a beautiful lobby. The walls were made of marble, there was a koi pond with a waterfall in the middle of it, sparkling water stations next to big leather chairs. It was like a spa.

“Wow...” You whispered as you admired it while you walked.

“Yes, I know,” He chuckled. “It’s quite impressive, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” You began to feel guilty; how much was this costing Sonny? This place looked like it cost the down payment on a house to stay in. You followed Derek down a hallway that looked like a hotel room hallway more than a rehab center, until he stopped at a door labelled 312.

“Ah here we are,” He opened the door and let you go inside first once again. It was an even more lavish room than you woke up in. A nice king bed with fluffy pillows and silk comforters were covered with extra blankets if you needed them. There was a huge sofa in front of a large screen TV, and a little kitchenette with a small fridge, cabinets, a dishwasher, and a microwave.

“....Wow,” You continued to stare in awe at the luxurious amenities this place had.

“Indeed,” Derek smiled. “Now, the TV comes loaded with digital cable and all the streaming services. Our WIFI password is LIVELAUGHLOVE, the fridge is stocked with organic, healthy foods only, but if you’d like to request something you can give our front desk a ring,”

You just nodded as you checked out the room.

“Now,” He cleared his throat. “For the icky part,”

“...The icky part?” You sputtered with a sarcastic smile. “Where did you go to medical school, Sesame Street?”

“Ha ha,” He rolled his eyes. “You will need to stay in your room at all times unless it’s social time, or group time. We do have several common areas such as a pool and a gym, but you’ll need to schedule times to use them, you can’t just walk around on your own,”

“Ah,” You nodded. “So it is a prison, just a very nice prison,”

“It’s not a prison, Miss Y/N,” He shook his head. “Not for you, anyway,”

“Really? Because it sounds like--”

“Your cousin did pay for your residency here, but you’re not under a court order or anything so you’re not confined here. Most of our residents have to be here several months before they’re even allowed out of their rooms at all, you should consider yourself lucky,”

“...Right,” You rolled your eyes. “Where is my cousin, anyway?” You asked. “Is he back at the hospital in New York?”

“Excuse me?” He looked at you in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand,”

“Oh I guess it’s been a few days,” You thought out loud. “He must have gone home by now,”

“...Well I’d sure hope so,” He chuckled.

“So..” You took a seat on the couch. “What am I doing now, warden?”

“Well like I said, I can have food sent up to you if you’re hungry,” He explained as he handed you your own tablet. “We have these for you so you can browse our menu for food and amenities,”

“Mmmkay…”

“Tomorrow’s social time is at 10 am, and your group therapy is at noon,”

“..Uh huh,” You nodded as you absent mindedly flipped through the menu.

“It’s mandatory,” He added.

“...Right,”

“Wonderful,” He beamed. “Now your bathroom is there, obviously,” He nodded to a door on the other side of the room. “It has a shower with three different pressures, and a spa bathtub. I recommend you take a long hot bath and relax, the first night is usually the hardest to get used to.

“Right…”

“Alright well I’ll leave you to it,” He nodded at you with another dreamy smile.

He walked out and left you to your own devices. You walked over to the drawers and pulled them out. They were full of your clothes, how did they get these so fast? It was so bizarre all of this happened while you were out, it really did seem like some kind of episode out of Dynasty or something.

You decided to call Sonny and get some things sorted out. You picked up your phone and dialed his number and let it ring.

“Oh hey...you, how you feelin’?”

“I’m good,” You went and sat on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Me? I’m good,”

“Really? Not sore or anything?”

“What? OH-- Yeah, y’know, of course, obviously,”

“...Thanks so much for this, Sonny. It’s gorgeous here,”

“Anytime….sweetie,”

“Is um, is Rafael doing better? Do you know?”

“Uh he’s...he’s fine, I’m sure,”

“...Well that’s good,”

“I’ll be up there next week to see you, you hang in there okay?”

“...Yeah, alright,”

“Night darlin’, you sleep well. I love you,”

“Love you too,”

Sonny hung up the phone and glanced over at Rafael who was busy writing his closing arguments for their case tomorrow.

“....Who was that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Niece,” He lied.

“Mmm,”

“...How are you feelin’, by the way Barba?”

“Carisi, we’re not discussing anything personal, ever again. I told you that,” He grumbled, not looking up from his desk. He winced in pain every so often when he pulled on his stitches while writing.

“...Right,” He nodded sadly. He did feel guilty about all of this, but he knew in a few weeks it wouldn’t matter. You’d both forget about each other and move on, it was for the best.

--------

The next day you woke up and felt this overwhelming sense of dread. It was like everything had finally caught up to you, all the memory of how you got here came back to you. You missed Rafael almost immediately, Sonny’s words about how you had traumatized him rang in your head.

You wanted so desperately to call him and apologize, tell him how you would have never hurt him on purpose, and that all you wanted to do was make it up to him-- but you knew you had no way of doing that, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Your tablet began to go off, alarms for SOCIAL TIME were set on it. You tried to turn it off, but apparently a counselor had to do it when you arrived. Sneaky bastards. You sighed and pulled on some PJ pants, trying to ignore the blaring sound. You stomped out of your room and down the hall, down some stairs to a huge room labelled “REC ROOM.”

“Welcome Y/N!” A bright and cheery nurse came over and greeted you. “We have lots of activities for you here,” She began to show you around. “We have arts and crafts, several board games, and the Cards Against Humanity rounds get quite rowdy!”

“...Right,” You nodded softly, feeling more and more hopeless as you saw all the other “residents” mingling-- and by mingling, meaning most of them were walking around like soulless zombies. Was this your life now?

----

One Week Later

“Hey…” You saw Rafael laying down in front of you, reaching out for your hand. You took it, not believing this was real.

“I love you, Y/N…” He smiled at you, his green eyes sparkling.

“I love you too Rafael..”

You shot up in bed, it happened again. You had been having the same dream ever since you had gotten to Whistling Pines. It felt so real, especially when you touched his hand. And you always woke up alone, stuck in your prison. Never to see Rafael ever again; It was torture. No matter how fancy the prison was, it was still a prison. You looked at the clock on your bedside table- 3:30 am. You wondered what Rafael was doing at that moment-- well, probably sleeping, duh. Or maybe he was up late, working on law stuff.

You wondered if he was thinking about you, if he ever thought about you. He didn’t seem angry the last time you saw him, in fact you were pretty sure you remembered him holding you and crying. Well, like Sonny said he was probably just upset having to see someone like that again. But-- something inside told you that you didn’t leave on bad terms. Maybe you had been too quick to just delete and block his number. But it was too late to do anything about that now. You laid back down and cried yourself back to sleep for the fifth time that night.

=============

Two weeks later

Sonny drove up to Hartford early Friday morning, hoping to get back to the city that night. He signed in at the front desk, muttering obscenities under his breath. He paced the lobby waiting for you, trying to keep his calm. Finally you emerged from the big double doors: You were dressed in a t-shirt that used to be tight, but now it draped on your shoulders. Your hip hugger jeans were more like men’s jeans, hanging off your pelvis. Your hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and you had no makeup on. You walked over to Sonny who crossed his arms at the sight of you.

“Hey, Sunshine…” He pulled you into a tight hug, your face barely moved into a small smile.

“Can we talk?” He asked as he led you to one of the leather couches.

“Sure,” You nodded like a robot as you sat next to him.

“So Sunshine,” He sighed. “They tell me you haven’t uh, been doin’ so hot,”

“Oh, have they?” You mumbled, playing with a hole in your jeans.

“Yeah they said you’re not eating, you skip the group, you won’t talk to anybody,” He put a hand on your knee. “Is everything okay? Is it your new liver? The diabetes kicking yer ass?”

“...No, I’m fine,” You shrugged feebly.

“....Seriously?” He removed his hand, his soft tone gone. “So, nothing’s wrong with you physically? You’re just being a brat?”

“Excuse me?” You suddenly blinked in surprise.

“Here I came up here because I was worried somethin’ was really wrong with you, like you were rejecting the donation or-- or the trauma was too much, but you’re tellin’ me you just won’t cooperate?” He snapped at you.

“...What do you want me to say, Sonny? Sorry?” You snarked back.

“I want you to tell me why!” He tried not to yell but this was ridiculous. “Do you know how expensive this place is?!”

“Oh wow,” You scoffed. “Well I’m sorry my recovery is so expensive for you, Son,”

“It’s not even recovery, Y/N! You’re-- You’re just laying around here like a fuckin’ angsty teen!” He barked. “Why aren’t you trying? Don’t you wanna get outta here and get back to your life?”

“Maybe I don’t!” You yelled and stood up. “Maybe I don’t care about getting out of here, or not. There’s no point anymore,”

“What?” Sonny furrowed his brows. “Why not?”

“...Because,” You looked down at the floor.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Sonny threw up his hands, finally standing up himself. “Is this about Barba, really Y/N? You knew him for a few fuckin’ days, gimme a fuckin BREAK,”

“He was wonderful to me, Sonny! He was wonderful and loving and caring and YOU made me go off on him, and then I--” You paused, tears caught in your throat. “I fucking traumatized him. I hurt him so badly he didn’t even want to see me when i was dying,”

“I mean-- how bad of a person am I?!” You tried not to break down in the lobby. “I shouldn’t be allowed to be around anyone anymore, I just destroy things. Hurt people. I shouldn’t be around anyone,”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Sonny sighed. “You need to stop, alright? If you actually tried to get better, you wouldn’t--”

“I don’t want to get better!!!!” You flat out stomped your foot, not caring about making a scene now.

“Y/N, tough love time. You need to get your shit together and forget about Barba, alright? I can’t keep paying for you to stay here--” He put both hands on your shoulders.

“So let me out,” You glared at him.

“....And if I let you out, are you going to stay sober?” He gave you a suspicious look.

“Nope,” You said with a smirk.

“Y/N come the fuck on,” He threw up his hands.

“What?” You crossed your arms. “I’m being honest. So either you keep wasting your money here, or let me go,”

“And what, let you kill yourself?” He asked angrily.

“...Maybe,” You muttered.

“Sunshine, come here--” Sonny went to wrap you in a hug, his t-shirt caught up on yours causing it to pull up on his torso. Your eyes went wide when you caught sight of it, letting go of him.

“....Where’s your scar?” You blinked in disbelief, trying to wrap your head around what you were seeing.

“What?” He began to panic.

“Your scar,” You pulled your t-shirt to reveal your own scar from the transplant. “You should have one,”

“Oh, Um--” Sonny began to rack his brain for an explanation, but your brain was moving faster.

“.....You didn’t give me part of your liver, did you?” You pulled away from him.

“Uh well--” He sighed “Not exactly, no,”

“Then who did?” You eyed him accusingly.

“They got you an anonymous--”

“Oh don’t even give me that shit, Sonny,” You stopped him. “This-- this whole thing, when I got here. It felt so much like, like a set up. A soap opera plot,”

“A soap opera?” Sonny laughed. “Come on Sunshine, don’t--”

“Why did you ship me here so fast, Sonny?” You asked, your brain now on a roll.

“What?” He half laughed. “So that you could get started early--”

“No,” You stopped him. “You could have just let me come here on my own, CONSCIOUS,”

“Well I just wanted you to skip the DT’s--” He tried to think of a defense.

“DT’s don’t happen to you if you get drunk ONCE, Sonny!” You raised your voice.

“Well how was I supposed to--” He looked around nervously.

“Who really gave me their liver, Sonny?” You narrowed your eyes.

“I told you, I don’t--” He began to lie again.

“I’ll look it up,” You threatened, making his eyes go wide.

“Y-You can’t do that,” He protested.

“Why wouldn’t you want me to?” You challenged him.

“...Because--”

“Rafael did, didn’t he?” You weren’t letting him think of any more lies.

“Look Y/N, he just wanted to help you out so that you wouldn’t die, like his dad. He couldn’t save him so he saved you. Doesn’t that sound like him?”

You had to admit, it really did. But why lie about it?

“So why didn’t you tell me that, Sonny? Why tell me you did it? Why didn’t you just tell me he did it to be nice, and not that he hated me?”

“I never said he hated you--”

“If you lied to me about that, what else have you been lying to me about?” You put your hands on your hips.

“What?”

“Oh my god…” You started to remember your recurring dream. “It was real, it was real. I know it was real!”

“...What was real?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“I keep having this dream where Rafael is across from me lying on a table, and he tells me that he loves me. And I know that happened I know it did,” You explained.

You were absolutely sure of it now. So many thoughts were running through your mind, you hated that you didn’t remember any of this before.

“What?” Sonny laughed again. “Sunshine it’s just a dream, don’t you think you would remember something like that?”

“They...they gave me something before I went into the OR,” You looked off into nowhere as you tried desperately to recall that morning. “The nurse called it…’giggle juice’,”

“Giggle juice?” Sonny rolled his eyes.

“Did you make them give me that too?!” You went for his collar, but a nurse came out of nowhere to hold you back.

“Wha who whoa, Sunshine calm down,” Sonny waved the nurse off of you. “I got her, thanks ma’am,”

“I didn’t tell them to give you anything,” He said softly.

“Yeah, just to keep me out for three days so I wouldn’t ever see Rafael before you sent me here,” You accused him.

“...Not true…” He shook his head.

“Why wouldn’t you want me to talk to him, Sonny?” Tears choked your throat.

“He didn’t want to talk to you--”

“Bullshit!” You stomped your foot, eyeing the nurse who had her eye on you in case you lost it on Sonny again.

“Bullshit, were you scared he was going to tell me what you were really doing? That you were trying to keep us apart?” Tears began dripping from your cheeks. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you couldn’t believe you could have been with Rafael this entire time.

“No!” He protested, his eyes darting back and forth. “No, I--”

“I don’t believe you!” You pushed him, the nurse stepped forward but you put your hands up in defeat. “You’re keeping him from me right now, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“That’s why you sent me so far, he has no idea where I am, and he wants to know doesn’t he? He wasn’t traumatized by my ‘incident’, he’s traumatized he lost me!” You hated that you cried when you got angry, it made you so much less intimidating.

“Traumatized is a strong word, Y/N…” Sonny rolled his eyes.

“Y’know what Sonny,” You shook your head while you wiped your eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. You bring Rafael here, and I’ll try to get better,”

“...I can’t,” He looked at the floor.

“Wha--Are you serious?” You half laughed sarcastically. “You’d rather me rot in here than--”

“I don’t know where he is, Y/N,” He looked up at you seriously.

“...What?” You asked, not wanting to know the answer.

“He…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He left,”

“What do you mean ‘he left’?” You air quoted left.

“He went on some campaign trail, Hilary I think. He took off across the country, I literally have no idea where he is right now,” He explained.

“Why would he do that?” You asked.

“I don’t know, he said he had to get out of the city--” He shrugged.

“And you couldn’t imagine why?” You gave him a knowing look.

“Oh puh-lease Y/N, he’s not a drama queen like you--” He stopped, thinking about it. “Okay well he might be a drama queen but--”

“You can call him,” You pointed to his pocket.

“I can’t,” He looked down at the ground once again.

“WHY NOT?!” You were getting fed up with him.

“He was….he was super pissed at me for keeping you apart, alright? You’re right. He...he changed his number when he took off, he wants nothing to do with me,”

“So he’s just...gone?” Your voice cracked.

“Sunshine, I promise you. In a few weeks you won’t care about him, and you’re gonna wanna get out of here,”

“Why, you're gonna start adding memory pills to my regiment too?” You scoffed with angry tears in your voice.

“Jesus,” He rolled his eyes. “No, because you’re 22 and you can fall in and out of love like that,” He snapped his fingers.

“No I won’t,” You shook your head. “You’re gonna have to let me out of here or I’ll die in here,”

“God you’re such a--” Sonny sighed in frustration. “I can get them to get you to eat, y’know that right?”

“Do it!” You dared him. “Start treating me like some kind of mental patient, control my life like you think you need to,”

“...I can’t deal with this,” He waved his hands and started to walk away. “I’ll be back in a few weeks, I’m sure you’ll be over this by then,”

“Don’t count on it,” You stomped back into the ward.

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

A week later

You let the night nurse into your room, she brought your meds and a nightly snack.

“Well, are you excited for tomorrow?” She asked, making conversation.

“...What’s tomorrow?” You asked as your downed your pills.

“Your last day!” She smiled.

“...What?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, honey you’re not here on a court order or probation, and your cousin only paid for 30 days. So, you’re leaving tomorrow!”

“You’re just...you’re just letting me go??” You asked in disbelief.

“You’re not happy about that? I’m sure we could talk to your--” She started.

“No!” You stopped her. “No, No I’m totally excited, ready to get back to real life,”

“Good!” She smiled and patted your head. “Make sure you’re all packed, we’ve already filled this room once you leave,”

“...Of course you have,” You rolled your eyes.

She left and you began to frantically pack, ready to get out of here as fast as possible. You would find Rafael on your own, you knew you could.

----------

Sonny’s phone went off while he was out on a call, he saw it was Whistling Pines so he excused himself from the scene and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Yes, Mir. Carisi? This is Sylvia at Whistling Pines, we were just checking on Miss Y/N,”

“....Why would you be checking on her? Don’t you have her?”

“...No sir, she checked out a few days ago,”

“WHAT?!”

“Well it had been 30 days and you had only paid for a month--”

“So you just let her leave?! Why would you do that?!”

“Well sir, for one she’s a grown woman who’s a law abiding citizen, she wasn’t committed here by any kind of law enforcement. And like I said you only paid--”

“For a month,” He growled. “That’s all that matters to you people, isn’t it?”

“Well sir, this is a very expensive--”

“Where did she go?”

“What do you mean where did she go? She left with you,”

“Uh she sure as hell did NOT,”

“...Well she got in a car with a man…”

“Oh my god,” Sonny almost dropped the phone. “I swear to God if something happens to her because of you people I will sue you SO fast--”

“Okay no need to get hysterical,” She began to panic. “Why don’t you just come here and we’ll figure it out…”

“No I think you’ve done enough,” He growled before hanging up on her.

Where the hell had you gone? And with who?!

#rafael barba #rafael barba angst #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fanficton #rafael barba imagine #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #sonny carisi #sonny carisi fanfiction

[huntertales]

Part One: Two Heads Are Better Than One. (Heaven Can’t Wait S09E06)

Episode Summary: When Dean gets a call from Castiel about a possible case dealing with spontaneous human combustion, the older Winchester decides to investigate--on his own. The reader decides to tag along. She doesn’t take no for an answer when Dean shares his odd hesitations on letting her work on a hunt with Castiel.  Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,518.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

“What am I exactly supposed to be looking at, again?” 

You tilted your head to the side and stared at the sheets of paper Kevin handed over to you to read over. He called you and the boys into the library this morning after claiming he had a breakthrough worth sharing. The kid had been working on translating the tablet for days now with almost no breaks at all. He was overly eager with what he claimed was some kind of monumental breakthrough. It was the first update he had in weeks. All of his supposed hard work came in the stack of papers you flipped through to discover it was nothing you were expecting. Pages upon pages filled with what you guessed were doodles and illegible chicken scratch Kevin called his handwriting. This was the progress he had to offer. It made much sense to all of you as the words etched into the stone.

You managed to read a few of Kevin’s notes that offered no clarity to the next step in his work, causing you to worry he didn’t make any real progress at all The boys weren’t happy either at the small ounce of hope Kevin had instilled you with his news. You flipped through all the notes to see if there might have been something useful, but it was all the same. Nonsense. You raised your brow in curiosity as to how this was supposed to help all of you. The demon tablet took months to translate just the trials, unfortunately you didn't have that luxury of time. You needed to undo what Metatron did quickly as possible.

"That's your 'big news',” Sam sounded the least bit enthusiastic at the promise turned into a let down at seeing the prophet's notes that were most likely going to turn out to be useless. “is that you translated the tablet into doodles?"

"It's cuneiform." Kevin tried to explain the long and tedious process of how he managed to get to this point. "I hit a wall translating the tablet into english. But I found an ancient codex linking the angel script to proto-elamite cuneiform, and I was able to translate the tablet and the footnotes into elamite, which is—"

“Doodles.” Dean finished the younger man’s sentence. 

“It’s extinct.” Kevin added.

“Well,” You let out a quiet sigh of annoyance from his news that all sounded to be turning out the same way. Bad and pointless to even still be talking about this. You glanced back to the doodles in some kind of attempt to make sense of it. You had an ear for languages. But even you found yourself drawing a blank for what the hell this could even mean. “Can you read it?”

“No one can.” He said. “Scholars have tried for centuries.” 

“So it’s a dead end?” You took a wild guess at what this meant for you. You threw the papers to the table in defeat at the continuous walls you kept hitting. It felt with each turn you took to try and get yourself out of this angel mess only turned out the same, time spent wasted and no progress to show for your effort. Kevin wasn’t defeated as you were. He thought there might be a way to keep going with this angle.

“Not quite.” Kevin said. You crossed your arms over your chest to hear what the kid had to say, hoping this conversation turned out to be worth your while. "Now, most proto-elamite is abstract, but I was able to decipher one phrase from Metatron's footnotes. 'Falling angels.'"

You and the boys exchanged a glance to one another at the set of keywords that had started this entire mess in the first place. Maybe you had been looking at this the wrong way. You thought the answer to your problems would be hidden somewhere in the tablet. Words God spoke himself might not have held the information you needed. You wondered if it was hidden somewhere between the lines. Somewhere most would simply ignore.

"Okay, so, the footnotes to Metatron's spell?" Sam asked, wondering if that’s what Kevin figured.

The kid merely shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe.” 

You let out a quiet sigh from the little information you had to go on. Sam wasn't about to give up just yet. He decided to take the only lead you had going for all of you. The Men of Letters had enough resources to help. "Well, maybe if we can decipher the footnotes, then we can reverse the spell..." Sam thought out loud a possible plan all of you could follow. He made his way to one of the shelves, pulling out some hardcover books for you to read.

“Punt those winged dicks back to heaven.” Dean said. He slapped his hand against the table in agreement with his brother’s genius idea. Little did he realize what was in store for him. “Where do we start?”

"Research." Sam said, saying his older brother's least favorite word when it came to hunts and solving supernatural problems. He tossed one of the bound books to the table, landing with a rather heavy thud. Dean’s expression of hopefulness slowly fell when he realized there was no getting out of this. "We comb through the library, see if we can find anything else on elamite." 

The older Winchester grabbed the book up from the table and read the title out loud. His excitement for the tedious research ahead darkened at the struggle ahead. “Zimmerman's Encyclopedia of Extinct Languages Volume One: Adai to Atakapa.” He frowned. “How many volumes are there?”

“Twenty-four.” You said. You smiled in delight at the sight of his drooping jaw and the failure for any words to come out. You placed a hand under the table and lightly patted his thigh in reassurance. “Don’t worry, babe. We have all of them.”

“Awesome.” Dean muttered. You were going to be no help for him to try and sneak his way out of this one. His brother only scoffed and turned his attention back down at his book when Dean subtly pleaded to have some mercy thrown his way. However it seemed there was someone looking out for him. Dean was saved from a tedious afternoon filled with research when his phone went off. “There is a God.” 

You rolled your eyes in slight annoyance at how joyous he sounded at being able to slip out from the responsibility of research. You returned your attention back to the first page of the encyclopedia as Dean tended to the phone call. He wasn’t sure who was trying to get in contact with him. It was always a guessing game when a random number flashed across his screen. Dean answered the call after the second ring and was greeted by a familiar voice he hadn’t heard in weeks, not since the awkward departure that sent Cas back on the road alone. The older Winchester wondered if the guy was calling up to reassure him that everything was okay on his end. Or he was in some kind of trouble.

"I may have a case for you. Four missing in Rexford, Idaho. Presumed dead, but no bodies have been released to loved ones." Turned out it was neither of them. To say it was a surprise upon hearing Cas' voice on the other end discussing a possible hunt was a shocker. Dean jumped up from his seat as the man went on without giving even a simple greeting. "And there were reports of a strange substance at the scenes."

"Oh, well, hello to you too, Cas." Dean whispered to the man over the phone, making sure to keep his voice low enough not to disturb everyone who had been working diligently. He knew the moment you heard Cas' name drop into the conversation you would be all over him in trying to ask questions about the whereabouts of the man and how he was doing. So far you had your nose buried in the book and engrossed with whatever you were reading about to care about who he was talking to. “How are you?”

“I...am busy.” Cas answered. 

“All right.” Dean mumbled. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the guy. Cas’ people skills were never the sharpest, despite him being down here on earth for a handful of years and interacting with people. Trying to have a simple conversation with him always ended up with words lost in translation. Dean decided not to try and make small talk and go straight to the reason why Cas called in the first place. “So, how do you want to do this? You want to meet up at the latest scene? You want me to pick you up? What?” 

Dean heard something that sounded to be liquid splashing over the other line, making him momentarily confused as to what the hell Cas was up to. "Um. I've got my hands full. I just—um..." Cas was quickly learning that he wasn't able to multitask. "...thought you would want to know about the case."

"Hey, are you sure everything's—" Dean tried to be a good friend and ask the man about his transition to normal life, but he wasn't able to finish his question when he was cut off by a dial tone. He rolled his eyes and ended the call. “Okay.”

You and the boys were no strangers to taking on a case with little to nothing to go on. From what Dean heard, this seemed like something all of you might be interested looking into. It might turn out to be nothing in the end. Or it could very well be a monster. All Dean knew for sure he couldn't ignore it without at least checking it out by himself. He forgot the last time he was able to go on a hunt by himself. But he didn’t see the need for you and Sam to tag along when there was so much reading to be done. He wasn’t sure if it was even a case after all. Whatever it did end up turning out to be, Dean was going to run with it. It wasn’t everyday he got a perfect excuse to get himself out of doing research. Before Dean went on his way to Idaho, he knew all of this was going to raise a few questions. 

“So, he said nothing about where he is or what he’s been doing?” 

Sam was rightfully confused at the shift in plans after Dean silently excused himself from research only to come back with an overnight bag all packed up and the strap hanging off his shoulder. The younger Winchester was given a brief summary of the conversation Dean had with Cas and nothing much else to go on. He was more caught up with the fact that Cas had given no proper details about his whereabouts and wellbeing. Only about some bogus case Sam personally felt would be better suited in another hunter’s hands. 

“In case you forgot, he’s not exactly Chatty Cathy.” Dean said, walking a few steps up the staircase before stopping to face his brother. 

“And you’re not even gonna see him when you’re in Idaho?” Sam kept on with the questions to try and understand the man’s eagerness to go through with the trip. 

“Well, like I said,” Dean repeated the same excuse he gave you when you found him packing up a bag after you noticed his disappearance from the library. “as long as he’s catnip for angels, he’s keeping his distance.” 

“So, then what’s the point, Dean?” Sam called out to his brother as he continued to the top of the staircase and towards the front entrance. “I mean, it’s barely even a case.” 

“That’s why I’m just gonna go have a little look-see, and we’re not gonna waste a whole lot of manpower on a big pile of nada.” Dean explained to the two men from top the balcony overlooking the lower part of the bunker. If there was one thing Dean was good at, it was always sneaking his way out of wasting a day on reading some dusty old book. 

“In other words, a perfect excuse to bail out on research.” Kevin said, calling out the man on his behavior. 

“You got me.” Dean felt the need to sarcastically reply.

Sam and Kevin were left to tend back to the tedious amount of research that was waiting for them back in the library. All though they were short a pair of eyes, not all hope was lost just yet. They thought there was still one more person who could help keep the reading somewhat manageable. Or so they thought.  

Dean was the first one to notice you had decided yourself that you weren't going to be part taking in research either. He found himself slowing his walking pace when he discovered your lower half sticking out from the backseat of the Impala. While it was always a lovely sight he enjoyed on almost every occasion, this one made a groan of frustration build up in the back of his throat. He should've known you were going to weasel your way into his plans of taking this hunt. You always did. You got yourself out and into a standing position, one hand rested on the car door and the other on your hip. The smile on your lips made him wonder if even holding a conversation as to how you managed to beat him out here was even worth it. 

"You honestly thought you were going to leave without me?" You asked him. Dean tried to open his mouth to give you an answer, you cut him off before he could even breathe. "No way. When's the last time you took a hunt by yourself?"

Dean's face scrunched up at your question, "You don't think I can handle one on my own?"

"I didn't say that. Who says you’re the only one who wants to skip out on research? I really didn't want to spend my time reading eight books on a dead language that might help us translate that stupid tablet." You admitted to him. "Besides, we haven't had any alone time in forever. We can make it a little getaway from Sammy and Kevin."

"I thought you didn't like mixing our dating life with hunts." Dean said. You smiled at the little rule you implemented years ago when you both started going out to make a balance. You walked closer to him so you could wrap your arms around his neck to be near. You looked off into the distance and pretended to think for a second.

“If it is even a case. Might be just something for the cops." You said. “And even if it turns out to be one, we can always add a few more extra days. Tell Sam it's going longer than expected."

Dean pretended himself to think about the plan you hatched up. It didn't take much thought to agree with what you had in mind. He didn't see the harm in letting you tag along, it wasn't like he was going to be around Cas to worry about any winged dicks to make things more complicated. He answered your proposal by leaning down for a kiss before hitting the road. He felt your lips stretch into a smile against his own when he agreed. The man knew deep down you would have come along no matter what he said. This way if trouble got in the way he would be able to keep an eye on you. 

+ + +

By the next morning you and Dean made it to Idaho with your first stop at the most recent crime scene that was still swarmed with police. You managed to blend in with the uniformed officers from the federal clothes you changed into before making your way here. The both of you flashed a pair of smiles and fake badges at the officer in charge in exchange for some information. While Dean chatted up the sheriff, you took the chance to snoop around the property of the most recent victim. 

It wasn't hard to see his living conditions weren't the best. The rundown house he called a home was in desperate need of repairs, not to mention the grass littered with junk from broken down cars to objects rusting from the elements. Despite the neglect to make the place appear tighty, there wasn’t much anything out of the ordinary from what you could tell. All except for for the strange coating on the front windows that overlooked the property. The bubblegum pink clashed with the clutter and ramshackle home. It felt out of place. 

“So, four missing?” You asked the sheriff, making sure to watch your step on the wet grass as you approached the police tape securing off the perimeter. 

"Four dead." The sheriff corrected you. "Just got confirmation." 

“And any common threads you can think of?” Dean wondered. 

You bent over the tape and into the crime scene so you could examine the surroundings a bit better. So far what you could tell was the amount of useless junk lying around the lawn that had been neglected from good mowing for a while. Overgrown grass and weeds helped blend in the things he had kept lying around. It was an eyesore for this neighborhood. 

"Well, Joe in there had the suicide hotline on speed dial. The gal before him was a shut-in. Head enough antidepressants in her medicine cabinet to stock a pharmacy." The sheriff gave you a quick rundown. You crossed your arms over your chest and listened to the theory he had, thinking it might help you in the long run later. “The first victims—a married couple out of Sugar City. Pretty much a walking billboard for no-fault divorce.”

“Were they all basket cases?” You asked. 

“If you asked me to make a list of this county’s saddest sacks, these four would’ve been right on top.” The sheriff said, giving her own personal opinion. 

“All right, so four unhappy people, one of them definitely suicidal.” You summarized all of the information you knew so far at the moment. You passed a quick glance over at Dean when you gave a small shrug from what you had. It wasn't much, but you had a feeling there was more to the story. "But you've ruled out suicide, right?"

The sheriff grabbed a few pairs of what appeared to be rubber gloves from another officer and handed them over to you. You furrowed your brows slightly in confusion when you realized there were also protective booties for your shoes to help from tracking in any dirt into the crime scene. "You're gonna want to put these on." 

You and Dean complied with the request and slipped on the protective equipment before entering the home. The sheriff was the first one inside, opening up the door to possibly one of the strangest crime scenes you had seen in a while. You quickly got an answer to why the windows were tinted bubblegum pink, because the entire place was coated in it. You didn’t know what the hell happened that caused the place to make it seem like a can of paint exploded in here. You highly doubt Joe thought some color in his life would help with his depression. 

You made sure to watch your step as you entered the home after Dean followed the sheriff, taken back by the strange sight himself. You spotted a forensic investigator crouched down on the ground taking a swab of the pink substance. Right away you noticed a foul smell that caused you to press your wrist against your nose in some kind of attempt to help muffle the odor. It reeked of decomposition, a smell you were unfortunately quite familiar with. 

“This look like suicide to you?” The sheriff's question caused you to rethink your theory. You glanced around the place to try and figure out what the substance was. If the police hadn't identified it yet, you wondered if something supernatural might be to blame for this after all. This was starting to feel more like a case after all. Dean took a wild guess when he asked if the substance was blood. “If the tests come back the same as the others, it’s the same as everything. Blood, skin, hair, nails, internal organs, even clothing fibers—like these poor souls got a run through the world’s finest wood-chipper.” 

“What about witnesses?” You asked. 

“Same as the rest. Neighbors reported some kind of pink flash. By the time we got here, all that was left was…” The sheriff took a sweep of the room and the remains of Joe, something he couldn’t quite explain. “this.” 

You and Dean shared a similar expression with one another at what you were learning. The deaths were odd enough for you to keep digging more into what might be the cause of this. People just don't naturally explode without a proper reason why. It seemed Cas found you a legitimate case. What you wondered next was if he was willing to lend in a helping hand. 

+ + +

After checking the crime scene and going through the usual suspects, you and Dean were left back at square one to who or what might be to blame for these deaths around town. The both of you decided to find a motel for the remainder of your stay and switch out of your fed clothes for more comfortable ones. You had a tedious amount of research and what you needed the most was a caffeine pick me up for the long night ahead of you. 

You decided to make a quick call to Sam to see how his own progress was going with the amount of reading he and Kevin were forced to do on their own after you abandoned them. You felt a little guilty for leaving them high and dry, but it seemed like they were functioning just fine on their own. And it seemed your suspicions had turned out to be right when Sam gave you an update on their progress.

 "Yeah, we're almost through the texts over here." Sam said. “We got nothing.” 

“Have you tried Professor Morrison?” Dean suggested.

“Yeah, he’s unreachable. He took a sabbatical to live amongst the trobrianders of Papua New Guinea.” Sam explained yet another useless dead end. You furrowed your brow slightly when you overheard what the professor had been doing in his free time. “Needless to say, we’re pretty burnt out.” 

“Well, there’s one guy there who is nothing if not well-rested.” You felt the need to remind the younger man of the extra housemate who had been rotting in your dungeon. Sam scoffed at the thought of Crowley helping out. "I'm just saying. We're not keeping him chained up for the one-liners."

“It’s worth a shot, I gess.” Sam said. 

"Just be careful, all right?" Dean warned his little brother. "Don't fall for any of his 'quid pro quo' crap." 

“Noted. So, what about you guys?” Sam asked, curious as to how progress was going with the hunt you decided to take. “How’s Cas’ lead panning out?”

“Four victims suddenly exploded. We tried EMF. We looked for hex bags, sulfur—nothing.” You ran down the list of the things you had searched for back at the crime scene only to come up empty with no possible leads of where to go next. 

“Spontaneous combustion?” Sam took a wild guess. “Maybe the Thule?”

“No, no, no. We already ruled them out.” Dean said. “The bodies were vaporized. They weren’t burned.” 

“That sounds like a real case.” Sam was starting to sound worried from how things were starting to shift into something more serious. "Guys, I should be there."

“No, Sammy. That’s not necessary. I’ve got this under control.” You reassured the younger man. "I'll make sure Dean doesn't get into too much trouble. And bug Crowley, see if he knows anything. We'll call you if we hit a dead end." 

When Dean said he was going out for a quick stop, you happily tagged along. It seemed Dean had been doing his own research as well. You found yourself making an extra stop after getting some coffee to discover he wanted to check up on Cas to make sure he was doing all right. He tracked the man’s call to a local gas station. 

You ended the call shortly after exchanging a quick goodbye with Sam, letting him see if the king of hell might be of use for once. You slipped your phone into your pocket for safekeeping before setting your sights on the reason why Dean wanted to head out besides for coffee. He had been doing his own research while you were getting settled into your motel. It was to track down Cas after their shared phone call the day before. You were happy to know the guy was doing all right. But confused as to as to why he was working the register of the local gas-in-sip. 

This entire situation with Cas and his departure from the bunker was strange that left you bothered. Dean held the same excuse when you asked him days after Cas decided to hit the road again. The man had a target on his back with his fellow brothers and sisters. He thought the bunker wouldn't be safe enough to keep you all from the danger. While you were happy to see that Cas was safe and out of harm's way at the moment, you still didn't understand why. Someone was eventually going to find him trying to blend in with the rest of humanity. 

"I don't know if I should laugh or cry." You mumbled under your breath.

"It's kind of funny, if you ask me." Dean said. 

“Of course you would.” You said, rolling your eyes. “I still don’t get why he ditched us.” 

Dean shrugged his shoulders at the answers he couldn’t give to you. He took a sip of his coffee and watched as his friend waited on another customer like he’d been doing this for years. “I’m surprised there’s no one complaining.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion at what you overheard the man mutter into the paper cup. “What?”

"Nothing." Dean replied a little too quickly. He noticed there wasn't an angel taking control and popping out to warn him about letting you go near Cas. So far it was just you staring at him, curious as to what he was hinting around. "Let's go. I wanna play the lotto. Suddenly I'm feeling lucky."

You knew it was Dean's flimsy excuse to go inside the gas-in-sip and ambush your friend at work. You finished the last of your coffee and properly disposed of it in the nearby trash can before following behind the man into the store. You had a few questions you wanted to ask Cas. You weren’t going to leave him alone until he answered them. And to make sure he was truly safe on his own. 

[Next Part]

Rewrite Taglist:

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#huntertales update #supernatural #reader insert #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfic #supernatural reader insert #supernatural x reader #spn #spn imagine #spn fanfic #spn reader insert #spn x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #heaven can't wait #heaven can't wait: part one #(y/n)

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #383

“the big bully try to stick his finger in my chest  /  try to tell me, tell me he’s the best  /  i don’t really give a good goddamn ‘cuz i got my lunchbox & i’m armed real well”

Ever had a friend online for a long time without seeing a photo of them? Well yeah. Most of my friends are online, and while I've seen pictures of most at least once or twice, some I still haven't. The last time you threw up, what caused it? It was a side effect of a mood stabilizer I started. Any foods from other countries you would like to try but haven’t yet? I'm sure there's something, idk. Do you think the world would be more peaceful without any religion? Yes. Have you ever had a stalker? No. Does it hurt your feelings when people talk shit about things you love? It makes me self-conscious way more than anything. I start to obsess over whether or not the person things poorly or weirdly of me for liking what I like. I just feel judged for liking it, but that's my problem. Do you like it when people give you nicknames? I do, actually. It feels kinda affectionate to me. Do you often find yourself checking out people’s butts? Haha I'm not gonna say it's never happened, but it's not something I make a habit out of for sure. What fandoms are you in? MEERKAT MANOR IS BACK BAYBEEEE, Markiplier, Silent Hill, Shadow of the Colossus, World of Warcraft, Spyro, Wings of Fire, and lots more, honestly. I'm into a lot of stuff, and I don't love in moderation, haha. Are there any fandoms you used to be in, but left? Yeah, like Supernatural, Good Mythical Morning, or Warriors, but it wasn't out of "I don't like it anymore" or anything, I just drifted away. Anything the fans in your fandoms do that pisses you off? World of Warcraft if particular has one of the most toxic fucking fanbases. There are so many goddamn elitists and people who whine about "boohoo WoW is dying" and "omg this game has been trash since Wrath" and yada yada yada and it's annoying as hell. They always find some shit to complain about. Then Silent Hill... ugh. I think people just hop onto the "the series sux after 1-4" bandwagon to fit in with a certain crowd, but that's not the main thing that annoys me; rather, it's the fact the former main admin of the SH wiki made a fucking joke out of us there. He was clearly having personal issues and made a HUGE and utterly ridiculous deal of Silent Hill 4 having heavy symbolism to the main character being obsessed with the bullshit idea of him being circumcised, and it led to a maaaassive thread of us members trying to talk some damn sense into him as he abused his power. He was finally banned by the Wikia staff, but not in time for some gaming websites to publish "news" stories about it because it was just that ludicrous. Now, YEARS later, we still get trolls coming onto the site to try and revive the drama by inserting absolute rubbish into pages or making new ones. Nowadays I'm the main administrator there, and it's fucking embarrassing sometimes. I'm supposed to keep the wiki under control and respected, you know? Ugh, I'll stop. I could rant for a very long time about this. Do you prefer ruffly or regular potato chips? Ruffly. Do you write down your own recipes, or just commit them to memory? I don’t cook. What color do you want to dye your hair? My top three are pastel pink, lilac, and a light creamsicle orange. I REALLY want to dye it SOMETHING. :( How do you like your chicken? Of course breaded (like nuggets, tenders) is my favorite, but I also enjoy is broiled and seasoned well. There's other ways, but because I don't cook, I, uh... don't know how a lot are made lmao. Do you enjoy cheese fries? UUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH YES. Do you eat refried beans? I absolutely hate beans, so no. What is a food you enjoy, but don’t have very often? A whole lot because a lot of it is from restaurants and we don't eat out all that much. As well, my diet is very narrow just because of how picky I am. Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn? Why? I mean, what are we comparing them for? I think Audrey is fucking gorgeous, though. Marilyn is also beautiful. Favorite fictional world? Uh, I dunno. Do you use lint rollers often? No. Do you carry pepper spray? No, but I want to. Has your power ever gone out for more than a day? I think so. Other than a dislike button, what’s something you wish Facebook had? Hm, I dunno. What time do your parents normally get home from work? Mom can't work right now, but I think Dad gets off around 5PM. Are you afraid to ask people out on dates? Yep. Do you think it’s better to look for love or let it find you? Both can work, but I definitely prefer to let it find me. I feel that *in general* that usually has better results. Have you ever found yourself worrying about commitment? No. I'm a very committed person romantically. Would you get involved with someone if they had a child already? No. Have you ever had a rash from poison ivy? I don't believe so, no. Do you have any chairs in your bedroom? No. Did you watch Elmo as a child? Some, yeah. Do you know anyone who doesn’t eat meat? I don't think so, off the top of my head. When you throw up, do you cry? No, but I'm a whiner and will also shake from fear because I have such a phobia of vomiting. Doing it totally turns me into a baby. Who was the last person to carry you? I couldn't tell you the last person to full-on carry me, but back when I tore a ligament in my foot, my mom kinda had me lifted when she would help me walk. Is it easy for you to accept loss? Absolutely not. I handle it very, very poorly. Have you done anything sneaky lately? No. Have you ever had a rolling back pack? Yes. Who knows you better than anyone else? My mom, probably. Would you ever want to go to Brazil? Sure, if the opportunity came up. Are there any medical conditions that run in your family? A lot, mostly heart problems. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica imo. Who is the biggest jerk you've ever met? She was somehow my former best friend. Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never been in that situation, thankfully. What's a charity you would never donate to? I'm really not familiar enough with charities and their practices to know which ones are sketch or not. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you have any exes you'd consider dating again? Yes. What were some of your favorite classes you took in high school? Art and German. Mythology was fun, too. Do you know anyone with a profession in law? Yeah, I have a cousin that's a lawyer. Have you ever Googled yourself? Yeah, outta curiosity. What's the shortest amount of time you've had between relationships? Like, two days. Part of the reason I left Girt was because I liked Sara. As a child, what comfort foods did your parents make for you when you were sick with a cold or flu? Chicken noodle soup. What's a movie series where the sequel was better than the original? Ha, for some reason Inspector Gadget came to mind. I guess from mentioning my childhood. I was FUCKING OBSESSED with that movie as a kid. The first one's fine, but I love the second one. Does your car have heated seats? Mom's doesn't. What is the strangest pizza topping you've ever eaten? Nothing strange, really. Describe your hometown. What’s it like there? Small and dangerous. Lots of run-down areas. A gang nearly broke into our house once, if that helps you get the picture. What was the last video game you beat? I replayed Silent Hill 2 forever ago. What did you learn from your last failed relationship? It really just taught me that you need to take care of your own mental health before you can effectively handle another's properly and strike a healthy balance. What country does your favorite band hail from? Britain. What’s something on your to-do list that never actually gets done? Finish decorating my room. -_- Have you ever been really passionate about something but then lost interest? If so, what was it? Good Mythical Morning, I suppose. I used to be OB-SESSED. I still adore Rhett and Link as people, they are fucking wonderful human beings and excellent entertainers, I just drifted away from their content. I don't really know why. Do you sleep with the TV or the radio on? No. What’s the worst thing about being male/female (whichever you are)? Menstrual cycles, I'd say. It affects your mood so much, and as someone who's bipolar, it can be very confusing. I like to know why I'm feeling a certain way. What movie has the best special effects? /shrug How many work hours per week is too much for you? I wouldn't know, I've never really worked long enough to figure this out. Can you remember your first day of school? I think I have the faintest memory of it. I know I was very scared to leave my mom (I had absolutely awful separation anxiety from her) and I MIGHT have cried, but I don't really recall with certainty. Have you ever entered a modelling competition? Would you? No thanks. Did you keep any drawings/stories from when you were younger? Most, no, because the level of cringe is LITERALLY unbearable for me. Do you have a safe? Mom does somewhere. What’s the scariest thing to happen to you so far? The breakup. That night was just fucking terrifying. I was so certain my life was over, like the situation was so, so impossible in my head. What was your last dream about? (or your daydream if you don’t remember) My memory's faint, but I just remember I had a nightmare where a LOT of my bones were totally snapped in half. When was the last time you saw a relative? Excluding my immediate family, I last saw my now-departed grandmother and my uncle a while back at a hotel as they were passing through. Have you ever been in a TV audience? No. Are you in any way close to reaching a personal goal? Not really... Do you prefer crosswords or word searches? Word searches. Do you like making collages? Not really. Do you remember any inside jokes from childhood? No. What would you love to learn to do? Digital art, like drawing on a tablet. Do you prefer monkeys or lemurs? Lemurs. Do you watch movies based on the actors or the movie plot? The plot, 100%. Are you more shy in real life or on the internet? I am WAY more shy irl.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''lunchbox'' by marilyn manson

[batfam-imagines]

Batsis/Batbro/Batsibling that was struck by lightning/received a high voltage of electricity and lived but they have major electric scars after. How would the batboys and Bruce react?

Title: Lightning

So sorry this took so long for me to write. I was going through some old requests and this one just spoke to me!

———————————————————————————–

It’s always raining in Gotham,but rarely is it ever a true storm. Thunder and lightning crash through thesky, lighting up the buildings, and silhouetting the vigilante’s swingingbetween them. 

Jason and Dick hit the roof oneither side of you, puddles splashing as the three of you race to the other endof the skyscraper.

The two older vigilantes stopat the edge of the roof, hunkering under one of the many gargoyles while youclimb even higher, watching the quiet city.

“Y/N! You shouldn’t be up thathigh! Not in the storm, you could slip!”

You let out a laugh, “I’m notgonna slip! I’ve been climbing these gargoyles for years!”

Jason un-clasps his helmet, hishair getting drenched in less than a minute, “Come on, birdie! You’re makingDick nervous! If you get hurt -”

No one can predict lightningstrikes, not even the best meteorologists. So no one can predict that lightningwill strike right where you’re standing, that electricity will surge throughyou’re entire body, that it’ll stop your heart.

–

Dick screams when the lightninghits Y/N, he lunges forward to catch their, now completely, limp body before itplummets to the city streets below.

“Y/N! No, no, no! Jason, callthe Cave!” Dick scrambles for the latches on Y/N’s suit until he can get hisfingers on their pulse. “No pulse, shit! Jason! Call the damn Cave! I’mstarting CPR now!”

Jason’s fingers scramble at hisear, “B! B, are you there?! B, there’s been a fucking emergency!”

“Hood, what happened? Everyonewas ordered to stay inside -”

“Yeah, yeah, I know! Listen,Y/N was struck by lightning – Dick’s … he’s doing CPR, there wasn’t a pulse. Idon’t – I don’t -” Jason raises a shaking hand to run through his hair.

“Calm down, Jason. Take a deepbreath, you know CPR, continue that until I get to you. Tim and I are trackingyour location right now. Keep calm, Jason, we’re coming. Go help Dick until weget there”

Jason splashes to his knee’s oppositeof Dick, “Switch off”

“’m fine”

“If you don’t take a break, you’llbe too exhausted to keep going later, we don’t know how long we have to keepthis up. Switch. Off”

Dick’s face twists up into asnarl, “Fine, 27-28-29-30. Switch”

Jason continues on for two morerounds, the only sounds being the boom of thunder and the huffs of breath atevery compression.

“Can I shock them with my Escrimasticks?” Dick pulls out one of his weapons, “Would shocking Y/N again do moredamage?”

“Only one way to find out.”Jason quickly shifts back, and Dick presses the Escrima stick forward. Jason reachesout and checks for a pulse before restarting CPR. “Recharge and try again”

Dick glances towards the ground,“B just pulled up, keep going Jay. One more shock and Bruce’ll be here. Onthree pull back. One, two, three” The tip of the Escrima stick makes contactwith Y/N’s chest again, more electricity pulsing through their body.

“A pulse! I felt a pulse!” Jason’seyes are wide, his fingers pressed tightly to Y/N’s carotid artery.

Dick scrambles closer, his ownfingers going to Y/N’s wrist to feel for a pulse, “I got one too! Thank God!”Y/N was even breathing on their own.

Bruce bursts through the accessdoor, “Why did you stop CPR? Quick, get Y/N on the gurney, we need to get backto the Cave -”

Jason’s fingers shake butrefuse to move from where they’re pressed to Y/N throat, “We got a pulse. We –we -”

“Good, get Y/N on the gurney.The Batmobile’s still running, Alfred’s getting the Cave ready as we speak.”

–

Everything hurts when you wake up.Your entire right side feels like it’s on fire, your chest feels like your ribshave been broken, and your shoulder feels like it’s been dislocated.

“’flred … Alfred!”

“Y/N, good heavens, you’reawake!” The old butler quickly bustles around your hospital bed, “How are youfeeling? Do you need anything?”

“W-What happened? I don’tremember … I was on Patrol with – with Dick and Jason, but I don’t – what happenedafter?” You try to push yourself higher on the bed, but your right arm doesn’twant to work. “Why can’t I …?”

“Y/N, you were struck bylightning. Your heart stopped for approximately 7-minutes on that rooftop,Master Richard and Jason were able to perform CPR and restart your heart.”Alfred gently places a hand on the side of your neck, “Unfortunately thelightning left you with some … intensive scarring, which is why you are in so muchpain”

“How long was I out?”

Jason steps into the hospitalwing, “Two weeks, you were unconscious for two weeks”

“Hey, Jay” You throw a smile atyour older brother, “Heard you and Dickie saved my life. Thanks for that”

“You little shit, do you knowhow scared I was?! You didn’t have a fucking heartbeat!! You almost fell offthat damn building and I was in too much shock to catch you! You’re lucky Dickwas there, or you’d be a damn pancake!” Jason reaches out and pulls you into agentle hug, touching your right side as little as possible.

“I know, I was reckless. I’msorry.”

“Damn right you’re reckless! Itold you not to climb so high! You didn’t listen and you got hurt!” Dickcharges is, eyes blazing. “But you’re okay and that’s all that matters! I loveyou! I don’t tell any of you that enough, but I almost lost you!”

“I’ll be more careful, promise”

Bruce walks in next, “Good,after this accident everyone needs to be more careful. Y/N, you’re benched forthe foreseeable future. You’ll need intensive physical therapy to regain fulluse of your right arm.”

“Thanks for the concern, B.”You throw him a smile, “Not like I did it on purpose”

Bruce takes a breath beforewalking closer, “I’m glad you’re alright, Y/N. You had us all scared for awhile there”

–

The first time you see the scarringleft by the lightning strike, you cry. It spiders across the right-side of yourjaw, down your neck, over your shoulder and arm, and across your chest. Thescars are angry and red, standing out starkly against your skin.

Jason’s quick to reassure youas soon as he sees tears, “They aren’t that bad! They actually look prettybadass! Aw man, don’t cry! It won’t even be that bad once it starts to fade!”

You quickly wipe the tearsaway, “Do you know how hard this’ll be to explain to the media?! Or even tohide in my mask!”

“Don’t worry about that stuff,you aren’t leaving the Manor anytime soon anyway. I’m actually surprised Damian’slet you out of his sight this long”

“He’s a good kid, Jay. He justhas a hard time showing he cares. And plus, I like his company, he’s actuallypretty smart” You slowly flex your fingers, “Come here and help me with myphysical therapy, I still can’t move my arm right”

Jason groans, but heaveshimself off the bed, “Alright, alright. You’re lucky you’re my favorite sibling”

–

Tim approaches you next, “Jasonmentioned you were worried about being recognized by your scars …”

You glance up from your bookand flash a brief smile at him, “Yeah, I was tellin’ him that it might be hardto spin to media how suddenly I have this great new accessory and one of theBats does too”

“What would you think of a masksimilar to Cassandra’s? or one that covers just your mouth, so the scar was hidden?And I mean we can just tell the media the truth, or part of it, just tell themthat we were all outside during the last storm and that you got hit”

“That’s a pretty good idea,Tim. You got some sketches to show me?” Tim holds out his tablet and you flickthrough about twenty different suit designs, “Damn, Timmy, when did you havetime for all this! These are great! How about number 15, that one only goes up overmy nose and I can keep the Domino still. I like the colors of that one too, purpleand red, hell yeah.”

Tim grins, “I was torn betweenthat one and seven. I’ll makes up the new suit so you can try it on. You know,I wish you could show off the scar, it’s pretty bad ass looking”

You smirk, “Thanks, it’sstarting to grow on me”

–

“I would like to draw your scar,Y/N, if you would let me” Damian stands in front of you holding his sketchpadand various drawing supplies.

“What?”

“The way the scar twists is fascinatingand I believe it will provide a challenge to draw on the human body. That is ifyou would let me”

You chuckle and flick the TVoff, “Alright, kid, I’ll be your model. I just have one condition”

Damian’s eyes flash inexcitement, “Name it”

“You have to show me thepicture when you’re done with it”

“Very well, if that is youronly condition I would like to start now”

You lay back on the couch andpull your t-shirt off, leaving you in a tank-top, you slide your right arm freeso the scar is completely exposed, “Draw away, Dami”

–

“Y/N … does it hurt?”

You glance over at Dick, onlyto see his eyes locked on your exposed scar, “Not anymore, not a lot anyway.Sometimes it aches, or I get like a phantom pain, but not nearly as much aswhen I first woke up in the cave”

“I – I’m sorry you have it”

“You’re sorry I have the scar?”

Dick nods mutely, his lipsturned down in a frown, “You have it because I wasn’t watching you closeenough. I let you climb on the gargoyle, if you hadn’t then you wouldn’t -”

“Stop! It wasn’t your faultwhat happened to me! I chose to be reckless in the middle of a thunderstorm.You and Jason saved my life. If it wasn’t for you, I would have fallen off thatbuilding. This scar means I’m alive, means I didn’t die. I’d rather have ahundred scars than be dead”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,Y/N”

“I know, Dick.”

———————————————————————————–

Let me know what you think! Send any ideas or requests you have to my Ask Box!

#batfamily #BatFam #Batfamily Headcanon #batfam angst #batfam headcanons #batfam imagine #batfamily angst #batfamily imagine #batfamily imagines #batsibling #reader insert #bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #big brother jason #Jason Todd #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagine #Tim Drake #tim drake imagine #Damian Wayne #damian wayne imagine #Alfred Pennyworth #alfred pennyworth imagine #hurt reader #hurt batsis #hurt batsibling #lightning scar #CPR

[hollyberry06]

First of all, I want to say thanks so much for all the likes and reblogs on my last post, it means so much to me!! I’d love to do more like it in the future 😊

Next up, I actually changed my icon a couple of days ago! It was definitely time for a change, since I made the old drawing ages ago and I’d like to think I’ve improved a bit since then? Recently, I was fortunate enough to be able to invest in a pen for my tablet, so now I can draw directly on the screen! It’s a very new experience and I’m still getting used to using it with all the new software, so I’m probably not going to be doing many big art pieces anytime soon. But, I’ve been enjoying learning it, so I’m hoping to improve as soon as I can.

I wanted to see what I could do and figure out how some of the features worked, so I drew Bell Zephyrene’s teddy bear form again! Hope you like it!

I hope to make some more art to post soon, or possibly even some writing if I can ever stop worrying about it 😅

Love to you all! 💕

Oh yeah, and I also drew a familiar, this is Damien, he’s a winged monkey and he belongs to Pandora Karakos. I was mostly just having fun with the pen when I drew him and he’s pretty rough around the edges. But he’s doing his best, and that’s something I’m sure everyone can relate to.

#personal post #wizardess heart #art stuff #wizardess heart oc

[lailoken]

QUTUB: The Point

—by Andrew D. Chumbley

Part 5 (Stanzas 39 - 62)

39. Thine Eye in seeking — seeth not. The Reaching Hand – it graspeth air. Though blind and bound — Thine Eye and Hand Have found Me — Neither Here nor There. Whilst either side the Temple-door Men rush to lie with Priest or Whore — All pass Me naked on the stair.

40. Doth Allah unto Adam speak Or doth an Idol sing Man's Verse? Whilst I into the Harem creep With Gold, fall'n, from the Temple-purse. And there with Thee, Mine Odalisque, I'll pass an hour and take the risk — To watch Them both My Words rebearse!

41. I do not err, but aberrate, No Virtue Sin may not redress. I do but turn — the Other Face — To Those that strike, return no less. From ev'ry Cup my lips shall taste, Nor spare that Drop which Fools do waste, — Who drink, then fall in God's Winepress.

42. O' Crime! What is Thine Infamy? The Shame in which we cloak our need? A Veil to bide that which we fear? The Book in which we may not read? O' Evil! Who art the Drug Divine! Who maketh blood to taste like wine, Thou hast made mine eyes to see In Golden Fruit — a Leaden Seed.

43. By Year, by Day, and by each Moment: The Abyss cross'd, the Pathway stray'd. Each Sacrifice doth mark the Road, Each Slough: Old Flesh from New Flesh – flay'd! Great Instants mark this Lightning-birth, And far beyond both Womb and Grave — From Dead Stars wast Mine Image made.

44. Over what pass I upon the Bridge? Self to Self over Self's Abyss. There my death and there my tryst: In Mirrors crack'd — the Mirror'd kiss. Most loath'd, yet most desired, The One that through the crack doth slip, — Whose Curse is Mine, but Mine to miss.

45. The Well, that once gave life to Me, Hath in the Drought of Love run dry. The Desert's Soul bath stole all Joy, And taught the Very Muse to die. Yet from this Cause of Vast Lament Run tears — suffice all thirsts to quench: Tears wept from Secret Pleasure's Eye.

46. A Thousand Unfinish'd Banquets Are tasted with a single bite Of blood — bright fangs through bone — white skin — To fill my Soul with black delight. This Love shall not 'til Morning live, Yet Tomorrow shall its death forgive — With a finger held to the Lips of Night.

47. The Hell of Those who cannot speak , Whose hearts grow cold with untold pain, Whose love still — born dieth unfulfill'd, Whose thoughts upon the Tongue's leash strain. This Muted Crowd — my sorrows bear, And in their silence — silence share. Yet by the Quill — in Hell I reign.

48. A Mirage 'pon the Prophet's Tower: A Darkly - shining Silhouette , A Crowned Man of Shadow form'd A - top the Temple's Minaret. It whisp'reth to the Muezzin To clip or lift the Prayer's Wing And cast God from the Parapet.

49. Unseen, Who stalketh behind oʻThee Whene'er Thou dost walk out alone, Who creepeth nigh all dying men To separate their flesh from bone; Then draweth down the dust of Age To dry the blood spilt on the Page And hide the Life within the Stone.

50. The Sleeper lieth 'pon the rock, Tether'd to the line of shadow; It dreameth dreams of Death and Time Where Life's River runneth shallow. 'til Time's untimely turning wheel Doth all dreamt-of fortune steal, Pierced through by Fate's true-aiméd arrow.

51. Sheath'd in a mask of emerald — The Desert 'neath the Verdant Land, Until the Sapphire Waters wash The Pearl from out each Grain of Sand. Upon that Sea the Stone shall float: A Light to lure the Mages' Boat, Like Dew caught on the Spider-strand.

52. Amid the Company of the Wise, From lip to lip Truth taketh flight, And word from word they tear apart All thoughts that are not hid from sight. Cease! For now Thy Book is writ. The Muse's Hand stirreth Wisdom's Bowl — And Thee within that Cucurbite.

53. All Antient Books of Lore shall burn, And then will countless wise men shout; Their tongues — the flames outstretch'd to cry: A Prayer to put the fire out. But one Sage will silent be, And in the flames — my words will see: "The Truth Within is Truth Without.”

54. The Silence lock'd within the Note Hath found a Voice within the Flute, And there, in playing out my Song, Hath lent its Speech unto the Mute. Though Sage and Fool oft' speak at leisure, And speaking seek the Other's Pleasure — Who may with Silence hold dispute?

55. The Hell of Those who do but speak, Whose tongues but move the air in vain; Their voices stifle Heart and Thought — Who live to speak their lives again. Their Prayers are Curses that repeat Their Sins and thus their Silence cheat. All Words are Lies, yet Truth sustain.

56. The Messiah and the Liar — Both rhyme and share a single meaning. How may a man of Virtue learn, When others seek to bear his sin? These Hands 'pon Heaven's Broken Tablet Break bread with New Reality — To feed the Man of Manless Kin.

57. The Brothel-keeper and the Priest — Both at the Sinner's Pleasure eat, And oft' from Wisdom's Coffer thieve A Bowl for begging in the street; And in that Cup catch equal coins For Prayers to part the Virgin's loins. Both with their tears wash Wisdom's feet.

58. The Pearl, where-in the Moon is caught, Hath 'pon my tide reach'd Ruha's shore. Tho' Gold may steal of Heaven's Light, What Coin may ope' Thy Crimson Door? A Leaden Disk from a Dead Man's Tongue Will buy the Soul of the Lustrous Sun And make Thy Flesh — My Temple-floor!

59. "Musick! Lift up my Sacrifice!" Thus sang the Lapis Flute for Djann, “And at my Word, let fall the Blade Upon the ripen'd field of Man. Let Old Adam bend beneath the Scythe And grant the New his bloody tithe." Thus sang the Voice of Azrvan!

60. The Dagger drawn across the lips Stealeth more than a common kiss, Divideth more than mortal flesh, To draw from Thee the Serpent's biss. Thrust deep, thrice-turn'd about the Heart, This Knife shall to Thy Soul impart — The Pain of Hell as Heaven's Bliss.

61. The World is swath'd within flay'd skin, Torn from my back and hung to dry: A Cerecloth for another corpse, And yet another, by and by; A swaddling cloth to wrap the Babe Who suckleth straight the Hanged Man's Seed. Our First Words — they do but echo That which we utter as we die.

62. The Winking Eyes of Az’ra-il, One open wide for ev'ry Soul, Cast forth their stare upon each life: An eyeliad of burning coal. And with each death an eye doth close, As Winter's Hand plucketh Summer's Rose. Our Lives are done, yet Our Sight is whole.

#magic #grimoire #sabbatic tradition #sabbatic witchcraft #traditional withcraft #cultus sabbati #sabbatic craft #qutub: the point #qutub #andrew d. chumbley

[shirtlesssammy]

8x23: Sacrifice

Welcome back to what might be our longest (and last) hellatus. This was a request that we were going to do after the series ended, but here we are. Enjoy!

Then:

Dean Winchester loves needs one (1) angel.

Now:

Jody Mills is on the Bumble date from Hell with “Roderick”. And by that, I mean she’s trying to put herself back out there after grieving the loss of her husband and son --and Roderick is really Crowley. 

Jody heads to the bathroom to pull herself together and Crowley starts his spellwork to threaten the Winchesters --again. Jody starts puking blood in the bathroom while Dean tries throwing his weight around negotiating the trials and demon/angel tablets. They make a deal, so YAY.

Kevin retrieves the demon tablet for the brothers. Dean gives him the key to the bunker. 

Cas, meanwhile, is chilling with his new friend, Metatron. He asks about God. Metatron describes God as “larger than life, gruff, bit of a sexist. But fair --eminently fair.” Hm, Metatron always did like to spin those stories. They’re outside a bar waiting for signs of the next angel trial --retrieving cupid’s bow. 

The brothers head to Sioux Falls to Bobby’s (probably theirs now?) salvage yard. Crowley is there waiting for them and ready to exchange tablets. He’s got a contract for them to sign --well, Sam to sign since he’s doing the trials. Dean demands to read the fine print before Sam signs anything. Sam unleashes his inner Veruca Salt and grabs the pen to sign. The brothers are not on the same page about this it seems. 

In Heaven, Naomi learns where Cas is --and that he’s with Metatron. 

Dean continues to read the contract and Crowley continues to needle him about how his humanity is a handicap. It’s revealed to all be just a ruse to distract Crowley when Dean throws some demon binding handcuffs on him. They tell Crowley that making him mortal is the third trial. 

Cas tries to speed up the love train for the bartender but fails awkwardly.

For Who Gives a Fuck if He’s Awkward Science:

Naomi and her squad show up. They take Metatron, leaving Cas alone. 

The brothers head to the church where the final trial will happen. They tie Crowley up and go over the game plan. Sam will inject purified blood into Crowley once an hour for eight hours. He’s going to have to confess to God to purify his blood and isn’t sure where to begin. Dean has some ideas, and, like, No ? He lists Ruby, Lilith, losing his soul, not looking for Dean in Purgatory ---and Chuck really would like a clip show of his favorite torture moments I’m sure, but support your brother a little, hmmm?

Anyway, while Sam heads to confession, Cas flaps in to ask Dean for help (like, is this the last time he flaps in to see Dean? I...really miss his wings.) He tells Dean that Naomi took Metatron, and explains that they were working on the angel trials --and planning on shutting Heaven and Hell down. 

Naomi wants answers from Metatron, and she pulls out a hand drill to extract them from him. 

Dean tells Cas that Sam needs his help more than Cas does. Sam pops up and tells Dean to go with Cas. Dean agrees and they fly off together while Sam starts the final trial.

Cas and Dean head to the bunker to have Kevin translate the angel tablet. There’s one problem: Kevin has never laid eyes on the thing before. He’s also done with all the prophet stuff. Cas, not done with all the angel badass stuff, begs to differ.

Sam continues to look SUPER rough. He’s doing so poorly, in fact, that Crowley gets the drop on him despite being tied to a chair. Crowley chomps a hole in Sam’s arm so that he can make a bloody phone call to any demon in range as soon as Sam steps away. GROSS

Dean and Cas get shot at by cupid’s arrow as a bow hunting demo airs on the bar’s TVs. Er, they wait for the cupid to arrive while continuing to strike out in the bar. Er, they wait for the cupid to arrive.

*Fourth Wall Dialogue Alert*

Cas: “You really think it’s wise to be drinking on the job?”

Dean: “What show’ve you been watching?”

Dean asks Cas about his plan to board up Heaven. He expresses worry that Cas is going to meet a bloody end locked away with the other angels. “So this is it,” Dean says fatalistically. “ET goes home.” He lingers on something unsaid, before a delivery worker arrives and distracts them. (“Nooooo,” I cry. “What were you going to say?”) The delivery lady is super cute. At last the love interest arrives! Is Ed finally going to meet his constant companion?! She bestows a glowing smile on Ed and Rod, the regular patron seated at the bar. Patting them both on the shoulder, she bids them farewell. Astonished, Dean watches the woman just…leave. 

Meanwhile, Ed and Rod mutually admire the drawing of a hunting bow on the TV. They lock eyes. Music swells! It’s love! While Dean stares gormlessly at the two lovebirds, Cas is already two steps ahead and on his way to track down the delivery driver - their cupid. 

Crowley sings Bowie to Sam as the floor cracks and ground shakes. Abaddon enters in all her stitched up glory. 

For Yes Please Science:

Sam gets hurled through a window, but Abaddon….isn’t exactly aiming to help out the current King of Hell. She wallops Crowley instead, intending to claim the throne for herself. Sam races back in, douses Abaddon in fire, and sends her smoky demon form into the night. 

Dean and Cas corner the cupid outside of the bar. Cas demands her bow, blade sliding from his sleeve. In what could be a first for him, Dean counsels, “Talk first, stab later.” MADE FOR EACH OTHER!

The cupid tells Cas that she’s avoided Heaven as its leadership has fallen. She offers the bow freely and Cas raises his blade to cut it from her palm. YIKES

In Heaven, Metatron confronts Naomi with a bloodied eye. (We clutch our blankets to our chests and think of Cas’s “re-programming” with renewed horror.) Metatron reflects that losing God was the worst thing he endured, and then he was run out of Heaven by the upper echelons of Heaven. “Did you really think you could do all of that to me and there would be no payback?” he asks. 

In Hell Quest Central, Sam sets Crowley upright again now that Abaddon has fled the building. He repaints the devil’s trap and continues the trials. Crowley drops movie reference after movie reference and I can’t help but point out that he’s targeting the WRONG WINCHESTER with those overtures. “I deserve to be loved!” Crowley declares at last, and emotion crests over him, taking both Sam and Crowley by surprise. As the cure continues, things get quiet. Crowley asks Sam how he asked for forgiveness because he doesn’t even know where to start with his own soul. 

Kevin can’t find the Heaven trials anywhere in the tablet and while Dean’s arguing with him, Naomi flaps in to talk to Cas. 

Naomi insists that Metatron is playing Cas, lying to him so he can get help enacting his revenge. “This is what you do,” Cas growls. “You twist things.” VALID mistrust! Naomi tells them that Metatron’s plan is to expel all angels from Heaven.

“Our mission was to protect what God created,” Naomi says with tears in her eyes. “I don’t know where we forgot that.” She offers up an overture, telling Dean that if Sam finishes the trials then he will die. Naomi picked that knowledge directly from Metatron’s head. 

After Naomi flaps away, Dean orders Kevin to find out if it’s true that Sam will die. Cas flies Dean to Sam, then flaps away to finish what he started. Just as Sam is about to do the final rite, Dean races into the church and shouts for him to stop.

In Naomi’s office, Cas discovers her sprawled out (mostly) dead on the desk, her probe jabbed into her brain. Metatron confronts Cas with an angel blade to his throat. Naomi was telling the truth! That rumpled eccentric is out for revenge!

Meanwhile, Dean explains to an actual, GLOWING Sam that he’ll die if he completes the trials. “So?” Sam asks. SAM BBY.

Upstairs, Cas is strapped to Naomi’s torture chair while Metatron placates him. 

He cuts a slit in Cas’s throat to extract his grace, and counsels him to go back to Earth and settle down for the rest of his life. Metatron tells Cas that he didn’t endure trials. Instead, he helped Metatron to gather ingredients for a powerful spell. He gathers Cas’s grace to finish the spell and just before he zaps Cas on a one way trip to Earth, he tells him to come see him when he’s dead so he can hear his story. 

Sam argues with Dean about the trials. He insists that Dean absolutely CAN fight the forces of evil on his own. Sam tells him that he’s been a lodestone around Dean’s neck for a long time. His greatest sin was “how many times I let you down.” OH SAMMY! 

“I know we’ve had our disagreements,” Dean argues, “I killed Benny to save you. I’m willing to let this bastard and all the sons of bitches who killed mom walk because of you, so don’t you dare think that there is anything past or present that I would put in front of you.” 

Sam listens to this and finally gasps, “How do I stop?” Dean wraps a handkerchief around Sam’s hand and tells him to let go of the spell. Sam stops glowing…which is great! Except he collapses in agony which is…less great. Dean calls for Cas desperately. 

Cas wakes in a field and strides out to a lakeshore. 

Sirens clang in the bunker, locking Kevin inside. And outside…stars fall. The angels are being expelled from Heaven, their wings burning as they plummet to the Earth. 

We’re just going to end this recap with a bunch of gifs, ‘kay? 

Waiting for a Quote to Fall:

It’s not a date until I’ve cried

This is a secret lair. You understand me? No keggers

Would you say that you're looking for, uh, a partner in crime? Or someone who's into nurse role-play and light domination?

There is no out. Only duty

Do you really think it's wise to be drinking on the job?

Talk first, stab later

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 8x23 #sacrifice #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #kevin tran #crowley #abaddon #metatron #naomi #jody mills #supernatural season 8

[spaceshipkat]

part 4 of my CCity recap will cover chapters 61 - 80. 

part 1 with chapters 1 - 20 can be found here.

part 2 with chapters 21 - 40 can be found here. 

part 3 with chapters 41 - 60 can be found here. 

chapter 61: Bruce and Hunt go to a medwitch clinic, and the medwitch is the same one Ruhn has been speaking to. the medwitch tells Bruce her partner (Hunt) can come back with her, and Bruce says her partner can come. Bruce’s leg continues to hurt bc she still has the venom from the kristallos demon in it. while Bruce changes into a hospital gown so the venom can be extracted from her leg, the medwitch asks Hunt about his tattoo, who put it on, if it hurts, and he half-heartedly jokes about taking it off, and the medwitch asks what would he do if she removed it. as the medwitch cuts into Bruce’s leg, she says she’s shocked that Bruce was able to walk around without painkillers. the witch successfully removes the venom and keeps it in the shape of a worm with her magic so it’s not liquid. Bruce and Hunt stay to watch the medwitch test the venom to find a synth antidote. the medwitch uses her magic to stabilize the venom in a tablet. the tablet dissolves three minutes later, which means it worked, but the medwitch wants to continue studying it to try to make the antidote work without her magic so it can be used by anyone. 

chapter 62: Bruce and Hunt return home so she can heal, but Micah calls to order them to his office. when they get there, Sabine and Amelie are already there waiting with Micah, as are Viktoria and Isaiah. this meeting is about how Hunt threatened Amelie, as Amelie went and told Sabine what happened and Sabine went to tell Micah. Hunt explains he threatened Amelie bc of how she’s been taunting and bullying Bruce since Danika died. Sabine wants Hunt punished and Amelie tries to protest and i see where this is going and i’m not looking forward to it at all. Hunt is to be punished with the Living Death, when an angel’s wings are cut off. Amelie keeps protesting, doesn’t want to press charges and doesn’t want Hunt to be punished so severely. he, however, kneels on the floor and removes his shirt. Bruce screams, trying to stop them, but Micah cuts off Hunt’s wings. we learn that Bruce made a bargain with the Under-King to let Danika into the Bone Quarter: she was going to be dumped in the river bc she apparently died like a coward but Bruce gave up her spot in the Bone Quarter so Danika could stay there. Hunt passes out and medwitches work on him in Micah’s office. they return to Bruce’s apartment and Hunt sleeps in Bruce’s bed, Bruce next to him. Hunt wakes up to find Bruce next to him, and pulls her closer, and thinks about how it was dangerous for her to plead so hard for him to not be given the Living Death. 

chapter 63: Bruce is back at work bc Jesiba ordered her to, says she applied to a bunch of different jobs, and asked Ruhn to watch over Hunt. she decides to try longing into Danika’s Render Industries account again and figures out the password is “through love, anything is possible.” there’s a folder labeled “Bryce” with a picture of the leather jacket. the picture is a clue and Bruce cuts open the L to find a flash drive hidden in it. it contains three unnamed videos. 

chapter 64: Hunt is feeling better so he gets up and sends Ruhn home, and then Bruce comes home. she shows Hunt the videos, one of which is entitled “Artificial Amplification for Power Dysfunction, Test Subject 7″ and the video shows a thin human woman. a draki injects the woman with synth and leaves the room. two slave serpent shapeshifters enter the room and attack, but the woman attacks back, and she kills them. they keep sending more Vanir in and the woman continues to kill all of them, and then she kills herself the same brutal way. Bruce speculates that the people who killed Danika were doped up on synth, and that the kristallos demon might have been summoned for its venom so an antidote could be made. the other two videos in the flash drive contain similar situations. Bruce wants to go full speed ahead but Hunt points out if they go full speed ahead without being smart about the investigation and ensuring they have everything figured out, Hunt will probably be killed, the Living Death a reminder of what could be next. Hunt says he wants to ensure there’s an after for them and Bruce kisses him. they make out (yes, after watching human experimentation) and have sex (sans penetration) and Hunt starts to bleed through his bandages and Bruce calls a medwitch. the medwitch says to halt sexual activity and then Bruce puts Hunt to bed and she sneaks out of the apartment to her old one. when she gets there, however, she finds that her old apartment building is burning bc someone must have discovered she logged into Danika’s Redner Industries account. Tharion texts to say something is going on down at the docks and she tells him she’ll be there in three minutes, and doesn’t tell anyone where she’s going. 

chapter 65: the Viper Queen is there on the boat, apparently selling synth. Bruce doesn’t want Philip Briggs to get his hands on synth bc humans are evil for wanting freedom. evidently Hunt is there buying synth. 

chapter 66: Bruce boards the boat and faces Hunt, who has Viktoria and Justinian with him. Bruce asks what’s going on and Micah appears with Isaiah and six other angels. evidently Hunt and Viktoria and Justinian want synth so they can break their halos and finish what was started on Mount Hermon. the drug lords Hunt was sent to kill told him about synth. Danika was the one who leaked synth to the public after becoming addicted to it herself (i assume this is why she was pulp in their apartment when Bruce found her). Mr. Tertian was also an addict to synth. Danika is the one who killed the two university students the night the Horn was stolen. Danika took too much synth the night of her murder, then slaughtered her own pack and finally herself bc it drove her mad. Hunt knew of the truth behind the murder for a long time. when Danika took the synth, it allowed her to open a portal that let the kristallos demon out. synth is on the streets, which is why there are so many kristallos demons. Hunt tries to reach Bruce but Fury appears out of the darkness and puts a gun to his head to stop him. Bruce is heartbroken bc Hunt knew for a week about the truth behind Danika’s death and he didn’t tell Bruce, claiming he didn’t want to hurt her. he kneels and says that after seeing the footage of the human experiments he wanted to stop the rebellion, but Viktoria and Justinian spooked and ordered that the Viper Queen complete the sale of the synth tonight. Hunt wanted the antidote for himself. he says that Bruce is his path forward, that he wants a life with her, and she throws the white opal he gifted her at him. Hunt apologizes and Bruce says she never wants to see him again and Fury draws Bruce into a wave skimmer with Tharion and Fury tells Micah that if he ever bothers Bruce again she will visit him. Hunt was taken away in handcuffs, as were Viktoria and Justinian. 

chapter 67: Fury takes Bruce home, where Ruhn is waiting, and then Fury leave to ensure the Viper Queen doesn’t steal any of the synth. Flynn and Declan are on the roofs with rifles to keep Bruce safe. Fury returns and she and Ruhn talk in the kitchen. Justinian was crucified in the Comitium lobby, Viktoria was torn from her body and put into a glass box to be dropped into an underwater trench for the rest of her life, and Hunt is in a holding cell beneath the Comitium (where Bruce and Hunt met with Briggs)

chapter 68: Hunt is in a white cell that nullifies his magic with a screen that shows Justinian crucified in the lobby and Viktoria in the glass box beneath him. Isaiah visits Hunt and asks why, and Hunt says it has to stop at some point, and Isaiah says it only stops when everyone they love is dead. Hunt, Viktoria, and Justinian planned to take the synth at the Summit and kill Micah, Sandriel, and the rest, and then go to the Eternal City to finish what was started 200 years ago. Isaiah doesn’t know what Micah will do to Hunt but he came to say goodbye, and Hunt asks Isaiah to tell Bruce he’s sorry and Isaiah promises he will. Bruce is back in the library beneath the gallery and Lehabah is watching the news, which shows Justinian’s rotting corpse and the box holding Viktoria, and the only explanation is “a failed coup”. the Autumn King shows up at the gallery to tell Bruce that her safety is guaranteed, and that Micah knows she was innocent and will not punish her to hurt Hunt. the Autumn King asks Bruce if she’s stopped looking for the Horn, and he tells her that he loved her mother. 

chapter 69: Viktoria has been dumped into the trench and Justinian’s body will remain on the cross for seven days before being dumped in the Istros. Sandriel shows up and shows Hunt that Bruce texted, then starts a slideshow of the all the pictures he and Bruce had taken over the weeks. Sandirel mentions Shahar and Hunt appears to be over her. Sandriel is now Bruce’s owner. Bruce finds Ruhn in a bar with Flynn. she thanks Ruhn for taking care of her on the night the truth was revealed and explains that their dad came by the gallery to talk to her. Ruhn says he has a group of people coming over for a sunball game in a few weeks and invites her to come, and she asks why, and he ask why does she keep pushing him away, and she explains that he was her best friend before Danika, and she says she’ll think about coming. 

chapter 70: Fury is at Bruce’s apartment when she gets home. Fury tells Bruce that Micah gave Hunt to Sandriel. Fury thinks Bruce is being unfair and that she’s lying about Hunt meaning nothing to her, and Fury explains that she kept silent with Bruce for two years bc she’s scared of what happens to people when she gets close to them. Fury hints that she and Juniper are in love. Fury has to leave to go to the Summit and tells Bruce she’ll be back in two weeks and that they should hang out then. Bruce decides to rescue Hunt from Sandriel bc he’s still a friend, no matter what he did. 

chapter 71: Hunt is led out of his cell by Pollux, one of Sandriel’s triarii, and through the lobby to see Justinian corpse. Hunt’s triarii wait to say goodbye--Isaiah and Naomi are named--and he’s put into the back of an armored car. Bruce shows up and shows that Jesiba wants to buy Hunt for 97 million gold marks, then throws in the amulet she wears around her neck to “sweeten the deal.” Sandriel says no, so Bruce says to take her in his place. Ruhn, Declan, and Flynn show up to stop her. Ruhn tries to stop her but Sandriel’s wind magic disintegrates his shadows. Pollux reveals that Bruce is the only daughter of the Autumn King. Ruhn says that she is a civitas of the Republic and a member of the fae royal household, and claims her as sister and kin. Ruhn declares her his property and drags her away and she promises Hunt she’ll find a way, and Hunt tells her not to and climbs into the armored car. yet again, Bruce tells Ruhn she’ll never forgive him and drives away. she goes to the Black Dock and talks to Danika (though Danika isn’t there) and then is attacked by a kristallos demon. 

chapter 72: the kristallos demon tackles her into the water, but Ruhn and Declan are there to save her. Flynn is there aiming a gun at the water if the kristallos demon comes back out. she deletes Ruhn’s info from her phone and tells him that he’s dead to her. she goes home. 

chapter 73: Hunt is to be paraded around the Summit. he joins Sandriel’s legion and sees Isaiah’s legion and the fae legion. Jesiba shows up. Queen Hypaxia, the new witch queen, shows up and Hunt recognizes her as the medwitch we all know and love (it was obvious, not gonna lie). Ruhn passes by Hunt, see his cuffs, and shakes his head in apology. Tharion and Hypaxia also acknowledged him. when the Asteri show up on a screen, only Tharion, Ruhn, Declan, Hypaxia, and Ruhn look up instead of bowing. Ruhn has telepathy, apparently, and uses it to talk to Hunt. the Asteri declare Hypaxia as queen of the Valbaran witches. the Asteri imply Hunt can provide testimony to end the war. Hunt won’t lower his eyes, though Sandriel hits him with her magic, and the Asteri grin and make his blood run cold with their magic (yes, through the screen they’re on). the Summit begins. 

chapter 74: Bruce watches the Summit and sleeps in Hunt’s bed and wears his shirts and tries to think of a way to free him. Isaiah sent the white opal back to Bruce with a note that said: 

Naomi found this on the barge. Thought you might want it back.

Then he’d added, as if on second thought, He’s sorry.

Lehabah and Bruce promise to get through this together. 

chapter 75: at the Summit, Sandriel orders every House to send rtoops to the frontlines. Ruhn asks Hypaxia why she didn’t say anything about being the queen while she was masquerading as a medwitch, and she says it’s bc he didn’t ever ask. she also wanted to see the evil spreading the city based on rumors, wanted to try out being normal, and that she knows Ruhn is expected to marry her but she doesn’t want anything with anyone right now. there’s a lot of back-and-forth about the war i’ve skimmed, but the gist is Sandriel doesn’t care if she destroys the mers’ food sources and destroys the homes of Lowers. Hunt’s wings have healed, Pollux is creepy, and Hunt listens to what’s going on.

chapter 76: Bruce stays in the gallery library for three days, cancels all client meetings, and takes another Archesian amulet from the safe (the same kind of amulet she offered in exchange for Hunt) while she and Lehabah try to find a way to free Hunt. Micah shows up and says he’s looking for her. back in the Summit, Jesiba’s phone rings. she interrupts and says that they need to link her phone to the screens to show everyone what’s on it. Bruce pours wine and Micah is there behind her on the screen. Bruce is asking for help. Ruhn orders Flynn to send an Aux force to the gallery. the gallery’s library is the Great Library of Parthos. it’s easier to copy/paste than summarize, so here: 

Bryce, to her credit, said, “Sounds like a lot of conspiracy theory crap. Parthos is a bedtime story for humans.”

Micah chuckled. “Says the female with the Archesian amulet around her neck. The amulet of the priestesses who once served and guarded Parthos. I think you know what’s here—that you spend your days in the midst of all that remains of the library after most of it burned at Vanir hands fifteen thousand years ago.”

...

Micah went on idly, “Did you know that during the First Wars, when the Asteri gave the order, it was at Parthos that a doomed human army made its final stand against the Vanir? To save proof of what they were before the Rifts opened—to save the books. A hundred thousand humans marched that day knowing they would die, and lose the war.” Micah’s smile grew. “All to buy the priestesses time to grab the most vital volumes. They loaded them onto ships and vanished. I am curious to learn how they landed with Jesiba Roga.”

...

Micah leaned back in his seat, wings rustling. “I’ve long suspected that the remains of Parthos were housed here—a record of two thousand years of human knowledge before the Asteri arrived. I took one look at some of the titles on the shelves and knew it to be true.”

Micah says Bruce needs to give him Luna’s Horn

chapter 77: Bruce says she knows nothing about the Horn, but Micah says she’s smart enough to know where Danika hid it. Bruce tries to leave but Micah grabs her shirt. Hunt tries to go to her but Sandriel stops him. Micah asks why a demon attacked her within an hour of her taking off the amulet that Sandriel melted. here’s more explanation: 

But Bryce said, “Cool as that sounds, Governor, this tattoo says—”

“The language is beyond that of this world. It is the language of universes. And it spells out a direct command to activate the Horn through a blast of raw power upon the tattoo itself. Just as it once did for the Starborn Prince. You may not possess his gifts like your brother, but I believe your bloodline and the synth shall compensate for it when I use my power upon you. To fill the tattoo—to fill you—with power is, in essence, to blow the Horn.”

Micah throws her to the floor and she tells Lehabah and Syrinx to hide. it’s revealed that Micah killed Danika and her Pack, not Danika herself. Micah is an investor in Redner Industries, but: 

“Danika tracked down the people that Redner wanted her to find. People who didn’t want to be found. Including a group of Ophion rebels who had been experimenting with a formula for synthetic magic—to assist in the humans’ treachery. They’d dug into long-forgotten history and learned that the kristallos demons’ venom nullified magic—our magic. So these clever rebels decided to look into why, isolating the proteins that were targeted by that venom. The source of magic. Redner’s human spies tipped him off, and out Danika went to bring in the research—and the people behind it.”

bc Danika wanted to see if she could find a way to give “her half-human friend” powers enough to protect herself from people who hated her. Micah dumped the synth into the streets so Danika would take the Horn. when Micah told Danika he would forget she’s trying to get the synth off the streets in exchange for the Horn, Danika realized synth could heal the Horn and decided to hide it so Micah couldn’t use it. Micah wants to use the Horn to open a portal and bring more of his people in to decimate the human rebels. Micah wants to use the Horn to be as powerful as an Asteri. Micah waited until Briggs was released so kill Danika, since he knew Briggs had black salt in his apartment and could be blamed for the murders. he spent two years with the kristallos demons looking for the Horn before he realized that Bruce would be able to find it faster bc she knows Danika. evidently, Micah “planted a seed in the mind of the Autumn King” to be annoyed the Horn was missing and send Ruhn to find it. Ruhn was always drawn to Bruce thanks to the Horn but he thought it was just something in the library. Micah injected Mr. Tertian the synth to push Bruce. Micah bombed the White Raven to frame humans. Micah burned Bruce’s old apartment building, not Hunt, as she previously believed. once Micah got Hunt off the street (with his arrest on the Viper Queen’s boat) he sent the kristallos demon after the Horn and the kristallos demon went right to Bruce. Danika knew the Archesian amulet would hide Bruce from detection as the Horn. Micah plans to inject Bruce with the synth to heal the Horn in her flesh and use it to open a portal--and he injects her with the synth. her wounds all heal and Micah holds out a hand to help her up but she grabs a book off the shelf, which glows gold. Micah throws Syrinx into the tank with the nøkk. 

chapter 78: Syrinx is trying to swim and Hunt shoots flame into the Horn on Bruce’s back. it didn’t work to open a portal, so Micah will try again and again. Micah kneels to use a knife and carve the Horn out of her, but Bruce catches a purple book and blasts greenish light at Micah, which shoots him across the library to a bathroom door Lehabah had open. the magic seals Micah inside. Syrinx is immobile in the nøkk tank so Bruce dives into it. Flynn realizes this is Bruce’s Ordeal (still not sure what that is, as it’s never been explained). 

chapter 79: Bruce gets Syrinx out and tells Lehabah to do chest compressions, and then the nøkk grabs Bruce and drags her down. Bruce grabs the nøkk ‘s balls and twists them. Bruce gets out and Syrinx isn’t responding so she starts doing CPR. Sryinx is revived and Bruce starts to leave, but she’s badly wounded, so Lehabah chooses to stay behind to buy Bruce time. Bruce tells Lehabah she freed her and Lehabah says she knows. Lehabah breaks the tank holding the nøkk to stop Micah, who is almost out of the bathroom. Hunt and Ruhn and the other members of their and Lehabah’s house stand to salute her as she sacrifices herself to save Bruce. the tank explodes right as Micah frees himself. 

chapter 80: Bruce sprints up the stairs to Jesiba’s office to grab the Godslayer Rifle. she starts to assemble it as Micah starts up the stairs out of the library. Bruce assembles the rifle and aims it at the door Micah will come through, and then she shoots him in the head. 

#ccity recap #ccity spoilers #anti ccity #anti sjm #myth & kat read ccity #long post

[margoshansons]

Wait for Me: b. blake

Bellamy Blake x Reader

Summary: Y/N finds out about Raven and Abby’s plan to head to the ground. She decides to tag along.

Warnings: Swearing

Notes: set during 1x02 “Earth Skills” and 1x04 “Murphy’s Law”

She had been tracking Raven’s recent schedule since the mechanic had called out Abby Griffin for lying to them about the lock-up quarantine. Y/N already knew that the 100 had been sent to Earth, Octavia had been one of them. 

So when Raven disappeared into a long-forgotten wing of Mecha, naturally she followed, listening on the conversation that ensued.

“I believe you,” Abby’s voice rang through the abandoned section, calming whatever fears Raven had voiced. “And you’re not in trouble.”

Y/N creased her eyebrows at the sound of that. What would she be in trouble for? Had they found out about her illegal spacewalk? Finn’s sacrifice? She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she missed the next few lines of conversation until Abby’s voice turned grim.

“The Ark is dying Raven, life support is on its last legs.”

Y/N swallowed her nerves, breathing growing shallow. She thought she could feel the oxygen deprivation working its way through her body. 

“I have ten days to prove Earth is survivable or else they’ll start reducing the population. Three-hundred-and-twenty people will be killed.”

Silence coated the room as she crept forward, not believing what she was hearing. Three hundred people killed. Innocents. Her people. Raven’s people. His people. 

She had to do something. She had to warn him somehow. 

“I don’t get it” She heard Raven protest. “Why are you telling me this?”

There was a pause as the swirling sound of cloth falling to the ground echoed through the sector hallways. Y/N forced herself to creep around the corner, her gaze falling on a hunk of junk in the corner, the escape pod barely functional and falling apart at the seams. 

Abby faced the mechanic, “You have nine days to get this ready so I can survive a drop.”

Raven scanned the pod, fully aware of the insanity unraveling before her. 

“You want me to get a one hundred and thirty-year-old escape pod ready to survive a drop in nine days?” The mechanic asked drawing an eyebrow upward in skepticism as she truly began to comprehend the desperation of the situation.

“Can you do it?” Abby asked.

Raven nodded, “But I’m coming with you.”

“So am I” Y/N piped up from behind her corner, catching both women by surprise. “I know about Earth Dr. Griffin.” She announced, trying to defend her logic. She sent a hopeful look toward the pod, her last hope to see the man she loved on the ground.

“No” Abby protested, “Absolutely not.”

Y/N scoffed. “How do you expect to get parts? Trading with Nygel?” She knew her answer was right when she saw the Doctor’s face fall. “I’m the only engineer with access to the machine shop after hours, which means I can get all the parts you need, free of deals with the devil.”

Abby shook her head, “Why do you even want to do this?”

She straightened her back, crossing her arms as a familiar head of curls and freckles popped into her head. “You’re not the only ones with people you love on the ground.”

“She’s right Abby” Raven defended, “Without her, we have no safe way to trade parts.”

She shot a grateful look at the mechanic before turning back to Abby, who reluctantly agreed to let her join the mission. 

She smiled at the thought of seeing him again.

Finally, Bellamy Blake would hold her in his arms again.

***

Three more days, she counted. That’s how long she had to wait to see Bellamy again. Three more days and she would be free of this hunk of metal and hurtling back toward the ground, ready to jump into his embrace once again. She could almost taste his lips on hers.

The door slid open, and Abby had presented them with a death sentence. 

“How soon can you two get this thing ready to launch?”

Raven wrenched another bolt back into place, “Still scraping up parts for a pressure regulator.” The mechanic threw a pointed look Y/N’s way, who drew herself out of the inside of the pod to defend herself. 

“I’m on it.” She assured the doctor, “Wick’s just being an ass.”

“Yeah well, when isn’t he?” Raven retorted before turning back to Abby, “Why? What’s changed?”

“Clarke’s wristband went out,” Abby told them, the sound of metal against metal ceasing at the news, Y/N poking her head out to catch the dire expression on her face. If Clarke took hers off... “Doesn’t matter,” Abby told them, “I can get that part, today.”

“Abby wait--”

The woman disregarded Y/N’s protests as she stormed out of the station, leaving the two mechanics alone to stare at each other.

The next few minutes passed by agonizingly slowly and Y/N found herself trying to recall the last time she had seen Bellamy. It had been right before the dropship launched, the conversation playing over in her head.

Bellamy stormed into her apartment, wrapping himself in her arms as he dug his head into the crook of her shoulder. “I have to do something awful, and I don’t know if I can do it.”

“So don’t”

“But if I don’t, I won’t be able to protect Octavia.” He squeezed her tighter, and Y/N ran the choices in her head. She hadn’t been able to save her mother, and she hadn’t been able to stop the guard from taking Octavia. But maybe she could help Bellamy save his sister. 

“Do it.” She urged him, pulling back, unaware of how badly things would turn out, “If it can save Octavia, then do it.”

He nodded, bringing her closer to his body as he pressed a kiss into her hair. “I love you.” He had whispered, and she had been so blissfully unaware of how much that meant at the time.

“I love you too.” She snuggled closer to him, the two standing there for several minutes, neither one of them wanting to let go.

When Abby came back, the magical part was there in her hands. 

“How did you--”

“Doesn’t matter” Abby cut of Y/N as she turned to Raven, “How fast can you install this?”

Raven shrugged, “A few hours maybe.”

Abby grit her teeth, a fearful expression crossing her face. “We may not have that kind of time.”

Y/N stepped forward, more determined than ever to launch. “We’ll get it installed Abby, I promise.”

The doctor nodded and the two women got to work, time passing by quicker than they expected. The ping of her tablet pulled the two women out of their work, Jackson’s frantic voice informing them of their circumstances. 

“Abby, did you take morphine from the clinic?”

Dr. Griffin’s eyes widened in confusion, “They inventoried already?”

Jackson shook his head, “No, Kane was just here,” The three women stared at each other, apprehensive looks built into their faces at the news, “He’s on his way to arrest all three of you right now.”

Raven and Abby couldn’t stop staring at the air, and realization finally passed over Y/N’s face. 

How Abby had gotten the pressure regulator so quickly.

“You gave Nygel morphine.” She announced, an angry look crawling across Abby’s face.

“She turned me in,” Abby shut off the tablet, her knuckles growing white as she gripped the broken dashboard before turning to Raven, “How much longer?”

“Twenty minutes.”

Abby slammed her hand against the metal, pushing away to go meet Kane, “They’re gonna be here in five.” She turned toward the both of them, “No matter what happens you launch that pod you hear me? You get the ground, find Clarke and radio back. Three hundred innocent people will die if you don’t.”

Y/N nodded, finally understanding the brevity of the situation. This wasn’t just about Clarke anymore. This wasn't about Finn or Bellamy anymore. This was about saving three hundred innocent people. 

“Abby, they’ll float you,” Raven spoke softly, head shaking in fear.

The doctor stared off into space, resigning herself to her fate, “Then they float me, tell Clarke I love her.”

The two women nodded and went back to work, cutting their time in half as Ravne barked orders while she worked on the pressure regulator, ready to launch at any moment. The part squealed and steamed and Raven muttered a desperate plea, “Come on, Come on,” The part only quieted when she turned the dial backward, hitting her hand against the leather seats, “Dammit!”

Y/N stared hopelessly at the broken pressure regulator, gritting her teeth, “She gave us a bad part.” She spoke as anger laced her voice, meeting Raven’s gaze, searching for another solution. 

They latched their eyes onto the two spacesuits Abby had procured for them. Before either of them knew what was happening, they settled into the worn seats, pressing several buttons as the two overlapped hands to push the ignition forward, sending the pod hurtling toward Earth.

I’ve had this plot bunny running around in my head for a while now, so maybe there will be a part two. Who knows?

Please like, reblog, and comment!

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake imagines #reader x bellamy blake #bellamy blake #bellamy x reader #reader x bellamy #the 100 imagine #the 100 imagines #the 100 fic #bellamy blake fic

[nomattertheoceans]

30. Painting the house that ends in a paint fight and giggles for feysand please?!

Lillyyyyyy thanks for the prompt!!!!! Since I know you love the “I made you a promise” version of Feysand, I chose to integrate this in their universe! I hope you like it :) 💕💕 (Sorry it’s far from being one of my best writing, it’s a bit sloppy, and it has zero editing, but oh well, don’t judge me too harshly, i’m really tired ^^)

You can always send me prompts, from lists I reblog, or just from ones you like! (Also I’m open to other pairings, mainly from ACOTAR, Six of Crows, Harry Potter, B99,...)

Anyway, here you go, this is my last post before I leave Tumblr for July, I’m attempting Camp NaNoWriMo so I’ll avoid coming here as much as possible!! I’ll try to do updates for NaNo on my writing blog, @mywritingsinprogress

It was already mid-September, but the heat outside was still unbearable. Velaris had been stuck in a wave of warmth for the last month or so, and Feyre and Rhysand had foregone the use of his terrace to find sanctuary inside the house. Today was no different, except for the room they found themselves into. The living-room was flooded with heat from the window, and Feyre had decided Rhysand’s bedroom to be “too boring,” so they had set up camp in another room, a “more exciting one” as she had said. 

The room didn’t have a purpose, really. Cassian called it The Attic, because it was where they had stored the supplies from the renovations a few years back, but it was more of a spare bedroom or an office. They built a fort with two chairs and a few old white sheets, and settled on the cold tiles. Rhysand watched as Feyre chose a movie, a few beads of sweat sparkling on her forehead and bare arms.

“I love you,” he murmured, feeling overwhelmed with affection towards his girlfriend of almost a year. He bent down to kiss her on the shoulder, and she turned to him, smiling.

“I love you too babe, but if you kiss me again in this heat, I am going to smack you.” But her tone was playful, and there was a mischievous look in her eyes that told him more kisses were welcome, despite the warm weather. So he looped an arm around her back and pulled her closer. They didn’t watch much of the movie after that.

***

He woke up in the middle of the night, the room dark around him except for the faint glow of the moon entering through the window. The temperature was still too warm, and he enjoyed the chilliness of the floor against his skin for a minute, before realizing Feyre wasn’t beside him. He sat up and looked outside the makeshift fort, only to find her standing in a corner of the room, wearing nothing but his tee-shirt and her hair held up by… a paintbrush?

“Feyre?” He called softly, and when she turned, he realized she wasn’t just standing. Her hands and face were covered in stains, and he could see pots of paint scattered around her on the floor. She had a lost air on her face, almost sad. Nostalgic. He knew that look. He loved that look. It was the face she had when she was inspired and couldn’t stop herself from painting, drawing, doodling on any available surface. Her eyes seemed to focus on him, and she gave him a small smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” He got up from the floor and grabbed his boxers before walking to her. “What are you up to?”

He saw her blush and she looked at the floor. “I couldn’t sleep, and I found these pots, and this afternoon you said you didn’t do anything with this room so I thought you wouldn’t mind if I… painted it a little.” She looked guilty, and he gently grabbed her chin to make her look at him.

“You were right, Darling, I don’t mind.” He looked behind her and saw that the entire lower half of the wall was covered in intricate drawings of a woman moving away from a village in the mountains, climbing until she reached the land of the Gods, then going down in forests and dangerous places to retrieve something. The half-finished part of the painting depicted what looked like a flock of winged children in mid flight, gathering around the woman and dancing in the starry sky. “You… You’re painting the legend about Emerie and the Gods.”

“I am. Well, I’m trying, anyway.” Then she turned to him, a broad grin on her face: “Do you want to help me?”

He laughed. “Feyre, I’m flattered, but you know how bad I am at painting, we learned that from the drawing tablet incident last year.”

She snorted, probably remembering the awful stick figures he’d drawn on her tablet one evening, the ones that had ended up on a file she was sending to New York for her work. “Okay well, maybe I won’t let you paint the details. How about you paint this wall in clear blue? I need a clean surface for the next legend.”

It sounded like a meaningless task just to keep him busy, but he didn’t want her to stop painting, and he was glad to do this with her, so he nodded and grabbed a pot.

***

He was already bored ten minutes later, so he turned away from the wall and settled for looking at his girlfriend, still wearing his tee-shirt, painting delicately one of Emerie’s wings. He contemplated her for a few minutes before an idea formed in his head, a silly idea that she would hate him for, but it was here now, and he wanted to do it. So he dipped his brush in the blue paint and, aiming slowly, he flicked the paint at her.

She gasped as the paint reached her and splashed all over her face.

“What the hell, Rhys?!”

But he wasn’t listening, He was rolling around on the floor and laughing at the look of indignation on her face. He saw her cross her arms, and tried to calm down.

“Oh Darling, I’d say I was sorry, but your face right now makes it all worth it.”

She sighed and turned away from him, so he got up, walked to her and encircled her in his arms.

“Come on, Feyre, I was only joking, I -” He was interrupted by a paintbrush collapsing with his face, and he took a step back. When he opened his eyes, he found Feyre looking at him, a small pot of red paint in her hand and a brush in the other.

“Oh, babe, you asked for it,” she said with a mischievous smile, and she plunged the brush in the paint to launch at him. In seconds, he was grabbing his own pot and retaliating, and in just under a minute, they were both covered in color, the floor around them stained, and the walls splattered with smaller rays of paint. But none of them was backing out of the fight, and Feyre seemed determined to win. He saw her let go of the paintbrush, only to plunge her entire hand inside the pot, and setting down the pot on the ground.

“Fey, don’t do that,” He said as he took a step back and she started to move towards him. “Feyre, Feyre don’t you…” He didn’t have time to add anything as she ran the last few steps to him and jumped on him, crashing her hand on his face and laughing. As a last resort, Rhys grabbed her and forced her into a hug, rubbing his cheek against her. She shrieked and made a feeble attempt to get away from him.

The last attack seemed to have calmed them down, they stopped laughing after a moment, and Rhys found himself looking at her again, and how beautiful she was, eyes sparkling with mischief, hair and skin covered in paint, standing half-naked in this room. This room that hadn’t been used in years, abandoned and forgotten, but that she had reawakened in just a few hours. This room now covered in paint and made alive by Feyre’s sheer will. Once again overwhelmed by his love for her, he opened his mouth and let the worlds spill out on themselves.

“Move in with me.”

Her smile faltered just a little bit, and she answered in a baffled voice. “What?”

“Move in with me. Come live here.” And because she still seemed confused, he added: “This room could be your study, you could paint or draw or just chill and… And I could help you paint it. I mean, better than I did tonight,” he added, and she laughed. “What I mean is I love you, and I want to go to sleep with you every night, and wake up next to you every morning. What do you think?”

She stayed silent for a moment longer, as if considering what to tell him, and then she talked, a large smile on her face.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, I want to live with you too,” and he was about to kiss her when she added: “But I want the left side of the closet in the bedroom.”

He laughed and kissed her. “Deal.”

#feysand #I made you a promise #writing prompt #awesome--username

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Have you watched Mummy and Return of the Mummy? I am watching it right now and I thought about a crossover: If you had watched it could you please write something where fem!reader is daughter of O'Connel and is dating Ahkmenrah but she is hiding it from them and somehow they discovers and kind of freak out? Thank you for your attention, love your writing.

Ooo, what fun! So, we’re gonna add in an Alex as in Alexandria ;) And don’t bother with making sense of the timeline—just roll with a setting that allows this crossover.

Warnings: sex, but not super descriptive; also Rick carries his trademark shotgun and does threaten to use it

* * * * *

Alexandria O’Connell’s moans echoed off the walls of King Ahkmenrah’s exhibit. Currently, the handsome pharaoh had Alex’s hands pinned above her head as her legs were wrapped around his waist. Alex’s back bumped into the hard granite of the hieroglyph covered walls each time Ahk slammed into her. Never had she imagined she could want another human, well, mostly human, so very much.

And if anyone had told Alexandria, who was usually a bit more proper like her mother, that she would be moaning like an animal in heat for a reanimated mummy, she would have averted her eyes, her cheeks coloring with embarrassment, as she said, “Absolutely not.”

Except that six months ago, Alex had attended her first After-Dark event at the American Museum of Natural History. Her friends thought she would love it, considering she was the most studious out of all the history majors at NYU.

At first, Alex wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps and attend Oxford, but by the time she was 18, she was ready to get out of her parents’ house and out from under the shadow of being an O’Connell.

Alexandria’s parents only wanted their daughter to be happy, and while Rick and Evelyn weren’t particularly thrilled by the distance, they both knew that New York City was an exciting place filled with opportunity.

Now, Alex was a senior and she had been a dutiful undergrad; at the completion of her junior year, she still had straight-As and was at the top of her class. However, her dedication to her studies did come at an expense. While Alex had dated a few guys over the years, nothing serious ever really developed. Alex never felt that thing, that undeniable attraction that sparks between two people and draws them into one another.

Until a fateful night at the museum when Alexandria and her friends were placed in a very attractive docent’s tour group. Alexandria couldn’t believe just how Egyptian their guide really was. While Alex didn’t share the same singular passion for Egypt as her mother, she had been around enough books and had heard enough of her parents’ stories to know when she was looking the real thing in the face—and there was something about this “Ahkmenrah” that was far from ordinary.

So, claiming her phone full out of her pocket, Alex dashed back into the museum as it was closing, shouting to her friends not to wait because she’d see herself home.

Of all people, Alexandria O’Connell certainly knew how museums worked, so she discreetly made her way back to the Egyptian wing, and hid herself in between the walls of Ahkmenrah’s exhibit, waiting and watching.

Alexandria watched from the shadows as the handsome docent walked toward the sarcophagus of the famed King Ahkmenrah. He took off part of his costume, laying the crown and the cape inside the golden coffin like it belonged to him. Alex’s brows furrowed as she tried to puzzle out how this was possible. And when the docent spoke in ancient Egyptian and the giant, obsidian Anubis statues bent to listen, she gasped.

All three of them turned their heads to look in her direction, the statues immediately moving to point their spears in her face.

On the docent’s command, the statues backed away.

“You are not supposed to be here,” the docent said with a smile, seemingly not at all bothered she was there.

“I—uh, I knew something was … different about you.”

The docent was quiet for a moment before straightening his shoulders and pronouncing, “I am Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King, and the museum’s exhibits are brought to life at night by the magic of my golden tablet.”

“I knew it!” exclaimed Alexandria, pumping her fist into the air.

Ahkmenrah looked taken aback. Clearly, he had never gotten thatreaction upon revealing his identity and his source of power before.

For the rest of the night, and when Alexandria returned the following night, Ahk explained who he was and how he came to be at the museum in New York City. Over the next few weeks, Alex returned, a palpable attraction growing between the two of them. Often, Alex thought about what her parents would say, but Ahkmenrah was nothing like the mummies her parents had discovered, and honestly, she thought her mother’s books and her father’s stories were a bit exaggerated.

And what harm was she really doing? Her parents were in England. She was in America. As a grown woman, she could carry on with Ahkmenrah in whatever manner she liked.

And carry on she would.

Alexandria looked into the blue-green of Ahkmenrah’s eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of attraction she saw within them.

“Alexandria,” Ahk breathed, slowing his pace so he could kiss her.

“Ahkmen—”

“WHERE IS SHE?”

Alex’s legs tightened around Ahkmenrah’s waist as both of them froze. She knew that yell, oh god did she know that yell.

“Oh my god! Oh my god, that’s my dad! Put me down,” Alexandria panicked as she wriggled from Ahkmenrah’s grasp.

Ahk, looking completely horrified, followed Alex’s lead and tucked himself back into his shendyt as Alex pulled her skirt down. Just as they were smoothing their hair and making final adjustments to their clothing, Rick and Evelyn O’Connell comically skidded into Ahkmenrah’s exhibit followed by Larry, Teddy, Atilla and a few of the other exhibits.

However, what was not so comic was the fact that Rick O’Connell, mummy hunter extraordinaire, was clearly angry and wielding a shotgun and a sword. Evelyn O’Connell, although still looking concerned, was more composed than her husband, her arm on Rick’s forearm to keep him from taking aim with the gun.

“Alex!” he said loudly, although her name was followed by a sigh of relief.

“Mom, Dad—what, and I mean it when I say, what the hellare you doing here?”

“Now, Alexandria, there’s no need to—”

“Yeah, there is, Mom!”

“Don’t take that tone with your—YOU!” Rick scolded before he caught sight of Ahkmenrah who had certainly figured out who Rick and Evelyn were and was standing a bit behind Alexandria as she dealt with her angry parents.

“Get your undead monster hands off my daughter,” Rick said as he shook off Evie’s hand and replaced his sword in its scabbard in order to take aim with his gun.

“DAD!” Alexandria yelled as she ran between Ahkmenrah and her father, although there was no need because at that moment, Ahk’s guards were already moving from their place in the exhibit to protect their king.

Rick took a step back, his mouth falling open at the size of the statues. Evie took that moment of hesitation as the time to run forward and join her daughter.

“Darling,” she said to Rick as she eyed the statues nervously. “Perhaps we ought to try another approach?”

Rick frowned, but he listened to his wife, lowering his shotgun.

Ahkmenrah spoke from behind his guards and they retreated to either side of him, kneeling. Ahkmenrah certainly wasn’t dumb enough to dismiss them just yet.

“Jesus, Dad,” Alexandria said, fixing him a scowl before turning to run into Ahk’s arms to ask him if he was alright.

Rick’s mouth once again dropped open as Evelyn took a few steps backward to rejoin her husband.

Alexandria took Ahk by the hand and pulled him forward.

“Mom, Dad,” she began. “There’s someone I’d like to meet.”

“Oh no, no, no, no,” Rick pleaded, his face crestfallen.

Evie nudged him in the ribs and smiled, tensely, but a smile nonetheless, as she waited for her daughter to continue.

“This is Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King of the 11thDynasty, Egyptian Middle Kingdom and … my boyfriend.”

Tiny, strangled sobs could be heard emitting from Rick as he sank to the floor. Evelyn, however, moved forward and extended her hand. Ahkmenrah gave her a shy smile and shook her hand, stating that it was pleasure to meet the famed Egyptologist Alexandria had told him so much about.

“Oh? So, my daughter really is proud of me. It’s always lovely to hear that from a thirdparty,” Evie said.

“Mooom,” Alexandria groaned.

“And this,” Evie said, pointing to her mess of a husband, “is Alexandria’s father, Rick O’Connell. Normally, he’s not so, well, like that, but this circumstance has taken us both by a bit of surprise.”

“Nightmare, Evelyn. This is a nightmare, not a circumstance,” Rick mumbled from the floor.

Evie continued to smile, her curiosity having already won her over.

“You’ll have to excuse my forwardness, Ahkmenrah, but I am dying to know just how all of this has come about? Something about a tablet the nightguard explained?”

Ahkmenrah’s face lit up as he ushered Evelyn through his exhibit and to his tablet. Alexandria hung back and watched as her mother and her boyfriend walked away, heads bent in conversation.

She sighed as she walked over to her dad, who was now slumped on the floor, his head in his hands.

“I’ve got this, guys,” Alex said to the others and Larry as they turned and headed back downstairs.

Alexandria settled on the floor next to her dad and took his hand, pulling it into her lap and patting it reassuringly.

“Why, Alex? Why? Didn’t we do a good job? Didn’t we teach you not to fraternize with the evil undead?”

“He’s not like the mummies you and mom fought all those years ago. He’s good, Dad. Really, really good.”

“He’s not human, Alexandria!” Rick said, looking over at his daughter, his eyes filled with concern.

“Of course he is! Didn’t you and mom also teach me to never, ever judge a book by its cover? To look inside to find someone’s true worth?”

“That does sound like something your mother would say,” Rick acquiesced.

Alex smiled, knowing full well her father was a wonderful man who just, on occasion, acted impulsively because he was so protective of those he loved. But given what Rick and Evelyn O’Connell had been through in their life, it wasn’t a surprise they wanted something more on the normal side for their children.

“Ahkmenrah makes me happy, Dad. I would’ve liked for you and mom to have met him under a more relaxed circumstance, but I should’ve seen this coming. Your spider-sense must have been tingling.”

Rick smiled and squeezed his daughter’s hand.

“You sure this is what you want, Allie? Really, really sure?”

“I love him.”

Rick sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

“Alright. Let’s go before your mother gets her hands on that tablet and awakens some centuries’ old curse,” Rick said as he stood and pulled his daughter up along with him.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Leave the gun and the sword, please.”

Rick hesitated for a moment before relenting under his daughter’s strong gaze.

As he set his weapons down, he looked longingly at them before following Alexandria into Ahkmenrah’s exhibit.

And as Rick O’Connell met yet another mummy, he thought with exasperation, Daughters. Almost as bad as mummies.

#Ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah x ofc #ahkmenrah imagine #ahkmenrah drabble #crossover with The Mummy

[askfallenroyalty]

Hi, love this blog (especially your Asgore)! I'm curious about your process, do you draw digitally from the getgo or does it go on paper first? I'm asking 'cause it's hard for me to draw digitally first, but it feels like it would be a lot more productive.

oh i uh, just kinda wing it? i’ve done animation in highschool so like, from pretty early on i’ve been forcing myself to draw faster and looser. as you can see my lines don’t really connect together, more vauge and open so the viewer can connect the dots. i draw fast, just trying to get the emotion and the “shape” of the character

(this is done in clip paint studio, just with a cheap tablet too)

i mean, i tend to just do what you see on the right most of the time. i just draw straight onto the layer as the lineart. (as you can seee its more stiff looking, the posture is too straight, no line of action) otherwise, if i’m doing something thats not a doodle, it’ll be sketched out like the left. where i have the line of action and the post in mind and then i’d do a new layer and redraw it a lil more carefully to get the line art

what i SHOULD be doing is the middle, and sometimes thats how my sketches will look (like here) to get the pose right. think simple shapes to convey the form, its just a sketch so it doesn’t NEED detail, just what you need to know to convey what you’re planning to draw.

and w/ lineart i’ll just like, again, really quick and i try to block out the shapes more so than anything else

um i just use the paintbucket tool to color in the lineart on a different layer (using the lineart as a reference layer, clip paint has a really really good bucket tool that fills things in w/ an algorithm so it the lines don’t have to be connected)

really my biggest advice is: it doesn’t matter what u use to draw or on paper or tablet. you need to advance your craft by studying (watching art videos on youtube, going on DA to look up tutorials or art-resource blogs on tumblr ect) and learn the fundamentals: line of action, anatomy, line art, color theory. study from real life, read art books, just, well, practice. challenge yourself. no art is perfect and god knows i still have a lot to learn. do your best to find friends who you can support and be supported by. learn to love that art evolves and any and all art is a form of expressing.

art is communication, and regardless of how “well” you draw, its the message that you convey that matters. and people will resonate with that, no matter what. even if it doesn’t feel like it, even when you’re just starting out, people are going to connect with your art silently. you’re already loved! you’re already an artist and you’re going to only become better! i believe in you and you’re going to do great stuff!

#this is written more so for anyone to read tbh i have work so i can't check out your art rn but!!! i believe in you anyway!!! and everyone #i'll be back later with links to some resources #ooc #atlasblizzard

[roseunspindle]

What if....

So, I’ve seen a lot of fics where post Metatron giving everyone the boot from heaven, Sam and Dean end up taking in the angels. I kept thinking about it, over and over, which led to this...

Sam notices how all the angels they’ve gathered have started flocking (ha, ha) to a certain member of the group, the research/what to know things angels have congregated around him, the more battle oriented angels (and the really uncertain and frighted ones) have started following Dean around, the fighters having traded in their suits for flannel and denim, ready to continue their fight against evil in new ways, while the uncertain angels, just sort of stared at Dean, apparently figuring this had helped Castiel....(Sam had already caught Dean giving the frighted ones smiles and half hugs of reassurance when new things scared them)

A smaller, but diehard group of “god will come back, god is still out there, clung to Kevin, as he translated stuff, hoping for a sign, they had all developed unhealthy addictions to coffee and red bull.

Another group was with Charlie, they were the “lets do the random stuff, lets learn about weird things, and also help find more lost angels and bring them home.” 

Castiel’s were the care-taker angels, the ones who, Sam thought, had always wanted to love and been un-allowed too, now they all carried bags packed with water bottles, snacks, ready hugs, and phones equipped with the online urban dictionary, to help any angel that needed it.

Sam observed this, while he and kevin and their angels worked on getting the angels back to heaven.

Dean’s, his fighters a least, were prepping for both battle against metatron if need be, and a life of hunting, if that failed. 

The biggest thing Sam noticed about the newly human angels was the way they always seemed shocked when they were praised, or asked their opinion on something, no matter which group they belonged to. 

An approving smile, or clap on the back from Dean was enough to make any Angel stand up straighter, while a “great job” or “I can’t believe I didn’t see that” from Kevin or sam had them just about glowing, “you rock” (once the concept was explained) from Charlie was greeted with proud smiles, and a “well done” was always met with quiet happiness when coming from Cas.

 Sam noticed after a while that any extremely overwhelmed angel, no matter the group, had a tendency to sit near him for a spell, which, when he asked Charlie if she noticed that, she said it was because he’d become so zen. After recovering from the trials, Sam’s calm had truly settled. He was firm in his conviction now that Dean loved him, their family was as complete as it could be, they had a home, they had purpose, and this made Sam happy. He was upset that the angels were locked out of their home, but they were doing what they could and so Sam didn’t feel the extreme turmoil he used to.

Things came together and heaven was reopened, metatron was defeated, and the angels were lined up, grace restored, ready to return to heaven, but instead of looking happy, they looked lost though, and kept glancing at himself, dean, cas, charlie, and kevin. Sam felt bad. The angels had never been someone’s priority before, he knew, they had never been more than cannon fodder for a father they didn’t even know.

Now, after being part of the “Winchester extended family”TM, where hugs, approval, and opinions were welcome, returning to heaven must have been daunting. Sam wished that there was something they could do for them, but they were human...

“You don’t have to be.” Said a voice behind him. Sam turned, startled. “Chuck!?” He asked incredulously. “Sort of,” he replied, and Sam swallowed. “Oh,” he said to God.

Chuck smiled ruefully, “yeah, oh”. Sam was about to start letting God have it, consequences be damned when Chuck held up a hand. “Look Sam, I came here to make you, well, all of you, an offer.” Sam glanced sideways, noticing that no one seemed to be moving around, him, the angels were frozen, while the others looked, well, like they were talking (in dean’s case shouting) at someone.

Sam looked back to chuck, “okay, what do you want?” “It’s more, what do you want, Sam.” 

Sam felt confused. “I’m here to make you an offer, my poor parenting skills have been made very clear to me, and you’ve done in months, what I couldn’t do in centuries, you took the angels, and you’ve made them people, true individual people, while letting them still be angels. So I want to make you all an offer.”

“What is it?” Sam asked. “Do you want the ability to go to heaven, to keep helping and guiding the angels? To help them be the aid to humanity I always wanted them to be?”

Sam thought about it. “What do you mean exactly, go to heaven, would we die?”

“No sam, you wouldn’t die, more to the fact, you’d never die. You would be the new archangels essentially.”

“Your archangels?” Sam asked, getting annoyed.

“Chuck shook his head sadly, “no, my time is done, I feel, my end is drawing nearer and soon Death will reap me. I’ll find out if there is anything beyond even heaven and hell.”

Chuck looked mournful, but also, just a little bit content with this statement.Sam looked over at the angels, Briathos standing just behind Dean’s shoulder, as he had since Dean had first chosen him as essentially his second in command, wearing a Led Zepplin t-shirt Dean had giveen him, Diniel, who was one of Castiel’s, who had been reading every book on babies he could find, and had taken to a true, genuine caretaker role with a great deal of enthusiasm. 

Eiael and Cochabiel, who were essentially Sam’s seconds, waiting patiently for the command to enter heaven, their worry hidden, but still visible to Sam. 

Gamaliel, who while inhabiting the body of a female, had chosen no true gender, they were Charlie’s second, and looked nearly rebellious at the idea of leaving her.

Laoel, she was Kevin’s “primary research assistant” a title she wore with pride up to and including a name tag dean had found her at a hunted library that read “assistant” she was still wearing it, fingers just coming up to touch it’s edge.

Hundreds of others, each one Sam new and each one was either visibly upset, or doing their damnedest to hide it. Sam felt a pull to them, the same pull that had he and Dean risking their necks to fight monsters for people who didn’t even know.

“There’s no catch is their?” Sam asked. Chuck shook his head, “No, but there is no going back either, choose this, and it’s quite literally forever. 

Sam examined his mind and heart, and knew his answer, “If Dean says yes, I’m in.” 

Chuck laughed. “That’s almost exactly what Dean just said.” Sam laughed, and then there was light, energy beyond description pouring into him. Chuck’s voice came, fainter now. “I did forget to mention, while my time is done, there does still need to be a god, and it seems they’ve all chosen you Sam, take care of them, my angels, my humans, love them better than I did.”

Then it was over. At first Sam didn’t feel different, then all at once, he did, but didn’t. He could see the world in layers, The human vessels, the angels within, the very make-up of the world, and even the truth of the portal to heaven in front of him. With a thought he stabilized it, and set about letting it grow, so that earth and heaven could once again be open to all.

He shook his head, God, he was supposed to be god now? That was dumb, but then he looked at the others. He saw their wings, the truest manifestations of themselves.

Charlie’s were a kaleidoscope of cheery reds and yellows, like a friendly bonfire, the kind you sat around to sing silly songs and roast marshmallows in. It suited her. Her grace burned in her body, already reaching out to touch the angels of her flock (no longer would they be coldly called garrisons). 

Kevin’s wings were a mix of stone and words, as though all the tablets had become part of him, and were him, in a way.

Castiel’s, and it was shocking to actually see them, where a huge mass of white feathers, six great pinions, Sam suspected they were a copy of what Dean might have imagined for Cas, Deans of course where black copies of Cas’s, with edges of what seemed to be the very essence of steel. Sam wasn’t surprised to see such a  similarity between the two. 

He didn’t look behind himself, he had no wings, no need of them truly. He realized everyone was looking at him, Charlie and Kevin with acceptance, Dean is happiness, and Cas in mounting joy, his wings swaying towards Dean, and Dean’s meeting his in the middle. Sam smiled at them, at the angels who looked awed and delighted by equal turns.

“Let’s go home.” He said. They spread their wings.

“And in the first days of the new god, the angels ascended to heaven and descended to earth in equal measures. They loved humanity as once they had been commanded to do so, and now did by choice.” - The Winchester Gospels

The first new angel was born only a few months after they entered heaven, Sam formed them from grace and with grace, Mary was the first, but she would not be the last.

#angels #sam winchester #dean winchester #charlie bradbury #kevin tran #chuck shurley #supernatural #fanfic #sort of #bit of silliness