#Wil the Witch Dad
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The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x F!reader
Description: After getting a call from John Winchester after no contact for months. The group gets led to a town in which a couple goes missing every year around the same time. But Sam doesn’t want to follow orders anymore, and the town still needs help.
Warnings: Cannon Violence, fight scene (tell me how i did, im still learning how to write it!), arguing, a little angst, talk of crimes, cursing (i think), talk about sacrifices and Pagan rituals (i fricken love learning about Paganism), Y/N gets a little snarky and cocky, use of magic and abilities
Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44, @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn
Word Count: …14,005
Scarecrow
(Master List, Prev. Chapter, Next Chapter)
“So you’re with the Winchesters?” Adeline says, her voice just as husky and amused as I remembered. It had been months since we talked, I'm surprised she wasn’t mad at me, though maybe she was and she was just hiding it well. “Yes.” I answer simply, waiting for the impending lecture.
“I should be surprised, but I'm not,” She remarks, and I can hear the smirk on her face.
“You know B/N said nearly the same thing!” I laughed lightly, but it soon died down when she didn't join in instead going completely quiet.
“You should have told me.” She says, venom on her tongue, but I know it’s out of worry. “No text, no call, not even a letter! I show up at your house. Not only are you not there I have to find out from your co-workers that you quit and haven’t been in contact with anyone. Did you quit because of those Winchesters? ‘Cause I swear to God I wil-“
“No!, quitting had nothing to do with them.” I cut her rant off, “Look Addie I'm sorry. I got so caught up in it all I didn’t think of telling anyone.” I sigh, leaving out the part I forgot I had people who cared about me—which is so stupid. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you or scare you. But that isn’t what I called for…”
Suddenly a sharp demanding knock sounds at my door. I don’t move for a second, watching it, “One sec, Addie” I place my phone down on the bed pulling back the heavy blankets. I tiptoe to the door, the rough carpet dragging on my feet. I take a deep breath preparing myself for the worst, I unlock the door, creaking it open just wide enough to see who is there.
Dean stands there, his eyes wide and his hair a little messy, still in his pajamas. A black shirt and some plaid pajama pants, though I figured he might have thrown those on before coming to my door- I knew he wasn’t foreign to sleeping with just a shirt and underwear on. I open the door further, “Are you okay? What happened?” I spew out.
“Get dressed. Dad called, ‘doesn't want us following him. He's going after the thing that killed Mom, says it’s a demon. He gave us a bunch of names and needs us to go investigate. Meet by the car.” He answers quickly. I stared at him, all of this was rushed, we barely got any sleep and we were already leaving rather quickly. He looks me over, nods, and then walks away back down the hall to his room, giving me no chance to ask if he was okay.
I closed the door a little shocked, making my way back to my phone and before it was even by my ear I heard the impatient click of her nails against some hard surface, “Now what” she huffed. Definitely mad at me. “I’ll have to call you back later” I sigh, “I need to go.”
“No you don’t get to just call me—“ She nearly yells but I cut her off again, “Addie I promise I’ll call you back.” The line goes silent for a beat and I wonder if she’s still there.
She sighs, “I’m worried about you.”
“I’m okay” I smiled sadly, yet even as the words passed my lips my stomach twisted itself, “I will call you.”
“Fine.” She huffs but she doesn't sound so convinced.
“I love you, Addie.” I say, and I mean it.
“I love you too. Stay safe, and call me!”
“Alright, just to double check all those names are couples?” I ask from the back seat of the Impala, copying notes down on a little notepad. “Three different couples. All went missing.” Dean confirms from the passenger seat. The darkness of the night cloaks us in its cold embrace.
“You said they were from all different states, Washington, New York, Colorado, and all went missing at the same time each year trying to travel across the country. But is it possible that it’s just a serial killer? Not to undermine your fathers findings.” I explain motioning my pen around as I speak, “I mean it is possible the suspect lives in Indiana, knows the roads well, and which way people go when road-tripping. Then being able to intercept them therefore fulfilling his or her urge. Then that kill can satisfy them till next year.”
“I guess, but they always disappeared in the second week of April. One year after another after another. That’s pretty weird.” Dean points out.
“Not necessarily, serial killers can have a certain connection to a date like an anniversary of something. Feeling only the need to do such an act during said time.” I ramble.
“Well, we’re still checking it out” Dean answers plainly, practically shutting down my theory. I guess it’s safer to check but it’s nighttime. I didn’t get any sleep, they barely got any sleep, and rushing over to Indiana in a 3-hour long car ride doesn't sound so fun if it turns out not to be a supernatural thing. “And this is the second week of April.” Sam remarks.
“Yep.” Dean nods.
“So, Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?” Sam asks, though it’s clear he knows the answer.
“Yahtzee. Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different obituaries Dad had to go through? The man’s a master.” Dean beams, flipping through the papers he had on the missing couples. He very clearly looked up to his Dad in some manner, even though he wasn’t deserving of such praise. I know Sam feels this way too, he never had an issue calling out John and he certainly can see all that’s wrong with how they grew up. The thing is I know Dean knew too, he was just trained to be loyal.
I watch Sam in the rearview mirror, his nostrils flaring in anger, his hands gripping the steering wheel harder until the knuckles turn white. He pulled the car off to the side of the road, sharply, my body jerking at the motion. “What are you doing?” Dean asks confused, straightening the way he sat.
“We’re not going to Indiana.” Sam says firmly.
“We’re not?” Dean replies, shock and amusement written on his features.
“No. We’re going to California.” Sam answers, “Dad called from a payphone. Sacramento area code.”
“Sam.” Dean warns.
“Dean, if this demon killed Mom and Jess, and Dad’s closing in, we’ve gotta be there. We’ve gotta help.” Sam reasons, and I don’t disagree.
“Dad doesn’t want our help.” Dean argues, his voice getting louder.
“I don’t care.” Sam answers rather calmly.
“He’s given us an order.” Dean bites, using one of his favorite excuses.
“I don’t care.” He repeats himself, this time more firmly, “We don’t always have to do what he says.”
“Sam, Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives, it’s important.” Dean tries to explain.
“Please stop fighting, why don’t we work this job, put all our energy into it. Work it quickly. Then immediately head to California, both of you win” I offer, always the person trying to cool the fight down and offer some sort of solution. But even as the words leave my mouth I know I’m wrong, this argument is more than working a case or chasing demons. This is years of grief built up. Sam half turns to view me, his eyes are pained and I almost think he might be close to tears, “It won’t be enough. You said it yourself. My Dad moves fast, if we don’t head there right now we’ll miss him entirely.” He looks between both of us now as he adds, “But I’m talking one week here, to get answers. To get revenge.”
Dean sighs, “Alright, look, I know how you feel.”
“Do you?” Sam spits, nearly yelling. “How old were you when Mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel?”
Oh. This is old grief on top of new grief, he hasn’t coped with the loss of his girlfriend not that we could have expected him to. It’s too soon. These emotions are too raw, too new. Dean matches his brother yelling, “Dad said it wasn’t safe. For any of us. I mean, he knows something that we don’t, so if he says to stay away, we stay away.”
“I don’t understand the blind faith you have in the man. I mean, it’s like you don’t even question him.” Sam argues, looking at his brother strangely.
“Yeah, it’s called being a good son!” Dean yells. The tension has exploded, the car falling quiet in its aftermath. My dislike for their father seemed to grow ten folds, to make your own child feel like that—
“Dean, that’s no—“ But before I can say anything more about it Sam exits the car. Slamming the door behind him. Dean and I get out of the car following him to the trunk where he unloads his things from. “You’re a selfish bastard, you know that? You just do whatever you want. Don’t care what anybody thinks.” Dean yells.
“Dean!” I snap, “This has gone far enough, you don’t get to say things like that, he’s your brother! Both of you calm down, please.” I didn’t want Sam to be treated like this, not from his brother who I know cares about him. “No. It’s okay, Y/N” Sam says calmly, his movements slowing as he stares his brother down, “Is that what you really think?”
“Yes, it is.” Dean gives a single sharp nod.
“Well.” Sam shuts the trunk, “then this selfish bastard is going to California.” he puts his backpack on and starts to walk away.
No. This can’t be happening. “Dean,” I say desperately, he has to apologize or stop him so they can talk it out. This isn’t my place but I can’t watch this happen. He looks out at his brother, “Sam, come on. You’re not serious”
“I am serious.” Sam responds, still walking away.
“It’s the middle of the night!” Dean yells out, “Hey, we’re taking off, I will leave your ass, you hear me?”
Sam stops walking, turning around, “That’s what I want you to do.”
I let out a frustrated groan, “What the hell is wrong with you both?! Just talk it out, we can come to some sort of agreement or—or reason with each other.” I practically beg. Both their eyes fall to me but Dean just responds with, “He’s made up his mind” his eyes turn back towards his brother, “Goodbye Sam.”
I stand frozen, eyes wide, this is not happening.
Dean grabs hold of my wrist, his hand warm despite the cold night, practically dragging me to the passenger side of the car. He waits for me to sit and buckle myself before closing the door and making his way to the driver's side. He gets in, putting the car in drive.
I watch Sam turn back around and walk away in the car's side mirror. Dean must have been watching too because he slams his fist on the steering wheel, takes a deep breath, and then does it again and again. I place my hand over his just as it connects with the steering wheel again. “Dean…” I say softly, but it comes out more like a plea. His hand goes still under mine, and when I turn my face to look at him, his eyes are glossy.
He does not turn to look at me though, keeping his eyes straight ahead at the dark road. “Dean” I say weakly, letting out a shaky breath feeling my own eyes welling up, “please, stop the car.” He listens, slamming on the brakes, my body jolting at the sharp stop. He snaps his head towards me, “Why so you could leave too?!”
I lean away from him retracting my hand, placing it on my lap, “No” I say quietly. But his reaction made me want to leave, the tears in my eyes finally fell over, spilling down my cheeks, “Do not take your anger out on me.” He sighs, turning his face away from me, cursing.
“I know you don’t want to hear this…but you must” I begin to say, having to pause to clear my voice of its shakiness, “I care for you both a lot but I’m so sick of you guys constantly fighting over something stupid when all you have to do is talk.”
“That's easy for you to say.” Dean snaps back, still looking away from me.
I huff, annoyed, “See! You get all standoffish instead of dealing with your emotions and I know that's what you’re used to but you don't have to be that way around me of all people.” He goes quiet, with no snappy comeback or even a grunt of annoyance. His jaw clenches and I wonder if that's from anger, trying to hold back tears, or both. “What if were destined to always hate each other,” he says quietly, and I know he means him and Sam. “He doesn't hate you, and I know you don't feel that way either,” I answer softly, even when I know what he truly means. He turns his head towards me, a single tear rolling down his cheek, “Then why does he keep leaving?!” he says through gritted teeth the last word coming out as if he spit venom.
In truth, I can't possibly know what he feels. He raised Sam and was there every moment of every day. He saw him take his first step and say his first word, brought him to school, fed him, put him to bed, and kept him safe. I was more like Sam in that aspect, I was the youngest with an older brother who took care of me and looked out for me. Honestly more than our own Dad, maybe that’s why he and Dean got along together so well- a shared understanding.
So, no, I could not understand exactly what he felt, not even a fraction of it. But even despite that I reached my hand out carefully, my fingertips barely brushing his cheek before pausing giving him time to pull away and hide if he wanted to. He didn't. I cup his cheek, whipping away another tear that fell. His green eyes seemed softer then like his anger had diminished enough but still lay beneath the tears. I don't have all the answers, “I know it may not seem like it, but he isn't leaving you. He went off to college ‘cause he wanted a chance away from this life. Even now he is going in hopes of stopping what started this all, he’s going to come back…your brothers you can't escape each other even if you wanted to.”
It's not a solution, and I don't expect it to help. But all I can do is hope it eases something in him. He leans his face into my hand, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes a deep breath in.
In one quick motion, I unbuckle my seat belt with my free hand. He must have known what I was going to do because he removed his face from my hand only to put the car in park, release his seat belt, and turn his body so I could hug him properly. I close the distance between us so I can wrap my arms around his neck, his body immediately reacts to my movements. His head falls to the crook of my neck, his arms wrapping around my waist. He pulls my body impossibly closer and tighter.
His breathing gives him away, his warm breath coming out uneven against my neck a wetness forming against where he resides. I don't say anything about him crying, or anything at all, I just move my hand up and down his back in soothing motions, hoping to ease him.
I do not know how I managed it but after he finished crying I got him to switch seats with me so he could rest while I drove. I've never driven the Impala before, maybe this was him showing me he trusted me even though I already knew he did, or maybe it was tiredness overtaking him. But the drive was pretty straightforward and it was dark so there wasn’t a worry about other cars.
He managed to drift off, which I was envious of but I was more proud of being able to drive Baby to notice my exhaustion. I even got to play music that wasn’t the usual rock songs he liked to play, which I don’t have any problem with but a change is nice sometimes (even if I played it very quietly so he could rest).
Just as we pulled into the small town he woke up, grumbling a “good morning” before staying silent the rest of the time. He went on his phone at one point, pulling up the contacts but ultimately he did not call anyone. “Ok, ready?” I ask, shutting off the car after pulling into a spot.
“Yeah” He nods, his voice still a little gravely from sleep. I hand him back his keys before exiting the car, the pure feeling of accomplishment pulling over me. I drove Baby accident-free and made it to the destination! I’m so good!!
We walked up to the only person in sight, an older man sitting on a wooden rocking chair in front of a café. Maybe it was too early for anyone else to be out, it certainly felt too early to be up though I guess I never really went to sleep.
“Let me guess,” Dean points to the store's sign that reads Scotty’s Café, “Scotty.” He looked proud of his stupid joke if you could even call it that, a dumb grin on his face. Scotty looks up at the sign and then back at us looking unamused, “Yep,”
“Hi, my name’s John Bonham and this is Pat Phillips” Dean introduces us both, and I want to glare at him for using a member from a popular band's name but if Scotty doesn't know then the glaring would give it away.
But of course, our luck has long run out, “Isn’t that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?” He looks at Dean pointedly then at me, “And his wife?” Now I really do glare at him, I didn’t know Pat Phillips was Bonham's wife! I barely knew Bonham was the drummer for Led Zeppelin, only remembering because of Dean rambling about it. Dean looks at me, eyes raised as if to silently say he didn’t think he would know. He turns back to Scotty, shock clear on his face, “Wow. Good. Classic rock fan.” Alright, he wasn’t even trying to deny it, great.
“What can I do for you, John?” Scotty asks anyway and I’m surprised he didn’t completely write us off. Dean takes out two pieces of paper from his pocket, unfolding the missing person's flyers. “I was wondering if, uh, you’d seen these people by chance.”
Scotty takes the flyers, barely studying them before answering, “Nope. Who are they?” Huh, that was a little weird, I would think he would want to think harder about it. I study the older man but his face reveals nothing, no fear in his eyes.
“They’re really close friends of ours, honestly we’re worried,” I explained while trying to test him, if he is responsible and he knows friends are looking for them and hasn’t given up he might crack a little. “They’ve been missing for a year now, passed somewhere through here. And we already asked around Salem and Scottsburg—“ But he doesn't let me finish my list, “Sorry.” He hands back the flyers to Dean, “We don’t get many strangers around here.”
Once more his eyes and face reveal nothing but still something about him is coming off weird.
“Scotty, you’ve got a smile that lights up a room, ‘anybody ever tell you that?” Dean tells him, earning a glare from the man himself. Dean chuckles, amusing himself at this point, “Never mind. See you around.”
I wait until we’re back in the car to say something, Dean taking his rightful place in the driver's seat, “Is it me or was that guy acting weird about this all?”
“Nah, he just doesn't have expressions,” Dean responds. I laughed, “That is not what I meant!”, I turned in my seat to face him, “Okay if someone came to you and was all like ‘my friend went missing and she’s been gone a long time and I think she passed through here do you know anything.’ Wouldn’t you really study the photo and try and think back, especially cause it’s a year ago. Scotty barely looked at the photo!”
He seems to contemplate what I said, “ ‘Could also just be a jerk.” he responds. I let out a frustrated sigh, “Dean.”
“Alright, you could be onto something sweetheart. We’ll keep asking around.”
Our next stop is a sort of Gas Station, all road trip essentials lining the walls from maps to mixed nuts. Aka the perfect place someone would stop at on their trip. “You sure they didn’t stop for gas or something?” Dean asks the older couple working.
“Nope, don’t remember ‘em. You said they were friends of yours?” The man who introduced himself as Harley responded.
“Yes, dear friends,” I answered.
“Did the guy have a tattoo?” A sweet blonde girl probably around our age asks, coming down the nearby stairs with a large box in her hand, her face just barely visible. “Yes, he did,” Dean responds. She puts the boxes on the counter and looks at the picture of the dark haired Vince then back up at the couple, “You remember? They were just married.”
Harley’s eyes suddenly widened making a little ‘oh’ sound, “You’re right. They did stop for gas. Weren’t here’ more than ten minutes.” Dean and I shared a look, now this guy wanted to suddenly remember. “You remember anything else?” Dean pushes further.
“I told ‘em how to get back to the Interstate. They left town.” Harley answers, finally sharing some truth. These townspeople were strange. “Would you be able to point us the same way?” I ask him, eyeing him carefully.
“Sure.”
Dean drives down the long road, slower than usual, both of us looking for anything unusual or suspicious. There was undoubtedly something going on whether it was supernatural or not. But there wasn’t much near us, just trees and endless roads.
We pass by what looks to be an orchard, apples hanging from the lush trees.
If I was kidnapping and possibly killing people I would choose somewhere along this Interstate, it was practically dead and no one would suspect anyone driving here even late at night. My thoughts are cut off by a violent buzzing noise coming from just behind me, most likely in the back seat. I turn to Dean, giving him a confused look, he turns his head to the back of the car looking instead of the road. “Dean. Road” I remind him, his eyes going back where they belong.
I unbuckle my seatbelt, shifting myself so that I was kneeling on the seat. I lean over the back seat, having to drop down low to reach his duffle bag, the top of the seat digging into my gut. My ass is definitely sticking up in the air and most likely close to Dean, but I ignore the embarrassment of that idea as I shuffle through his bag. I move one of his shirts around, finding the cause of the loud noise, “It’s your EMF” I call out hoping he can hear me even with my head still buried in the little space between the floor of the car and the backseat. I grab the box, the medal heavy in my hand.
I lift myself up and back to my seat half turned and sitting on my legs, it continues to buzz violently, the meter blaring to the red. “‘Think it’s the orchard” he announces, pulling the car off to the side of the road. We venture into the trees.
The ground was soft beneath my shoes, a light morning dew still clinging to the grass. If this was any other day or occasion I’d say it’s a rather nice orchard but the EMF has not stopped, and I think if it could go any further red it certainly would be there.
The trees were all lined up, apples scattered about the ground and a potent scent of rotten fruit following it. From where we pulled over it wasn’t hard to find the middle of the orchard, the trees cut down in almost a circle, except some paths that broke away in various directions.
A tall post stood in the middle, a creepy scarecrow on it. It looked rather human and full rather than stuffed with straw. Its face looked like a mask with stitches adorning it and hollow eyes, greasy long hair flowing from beneath his fedora. The only scarecrow-like thing about him was the fact he was tied to a wooden post and had a sort of jumper with patches on it, though the added black trench coat contradicted this. And in his hand was a sickle, what was meant to be used for agriculture only made him that much creepy.
Its head was leaned down, and looking up at it made it only seem like he was staring down at us with those empty eyes. “Dude, you're fugly.” Dean says out loud and I almost expect the thing to move or respond, but it doesn't. “Maybe you should say sorry to him.” I practically mumble to Dean. If it came to life I didn’t want a target on his back for insulting it, or mine if it thought I was guilty by association.
“Why would I say sorry?” he counters.
“So that he doesn't kill you if it comes to life!”
“I think it’d kill us either way”
Rationally I knew he was right, but the thought of something like a doll or in this case a scarecrow coming to life creeped me out a little too much, “Good point, but he is horrifying.”
“Yeah, horrifyingly ugly” He chuckles at his own joke, a stupid smile on his face. I try to hide my own laughing, not wanting to encourage him.
“I think I see something,” He murmurs. He moves back, turning to the closest tree with a ladder against it. He picks it up as if it weighs nothing, placing it right next to the scarecrow. He climbs it until he’s at eye level with the thing. I watch his eyes fall to the hand that held the sickle, his gaze at its wrist. Its sleeve ripped a bit revealing leathered “skin” and a sort of design.
I wrack my brain for any customs or cultures that decorate scarecrows beyond just its clothing and face, but I couldn’t come up with anything. Why would anyone put a design on a scarecrow's wrist?
Dean pulls out a paper from the inside of his jacket, unfolding it swiftly before placing it near the thing, comparing the two. “Look who has a nice tat.” he says, turning the paper down so I could see. He held Vince’s missing poster, the young man holding a mug in his hand the perfect pose to see his tattoo. Detailed ink with all sorts of shapes I could even begin to describe, I look back up at the scarecrows tattoo. The two are the exact same, far too alike to be any sort of coincidence.
“Nice tat indeed.”
We immediately got in the car and turned around back to the town. Something was going on and someone was causing it. Now Dean pulls the car into the local gas station. Turning it off and exiting, I nearly stay put in the passenger seat until I see the same blonde girl from before walking up to the car. We needed answers and she seemed to be the only one willing to help.
I exit the car, keeping the door open as I lean my arms on the roof of the car. “You’re back” she greeted, smiling. “Never left.” He replies smoothly.
“Still looking for your friends?” She asks, acknowledging us both. “Yup, call it stubbornness or what have you but we aren’t given up.” I respond, still pushing the same agenda as before. “I’d call that a good friend,” she smiles.
I don’t think she’s involved in all this, she’s willing to answer our questions when no one else was and she seemed to genuinely care. If she was involved then she was quite the actor. “You mind fillin’ her up there, Emily?” Dean asks her, nodding his head towards the car. The nameplate necklace she wore came into view as she grabbed the pump and began to fill the tank. That’s how he knew her name.
“Did you grow up here?” I ask, starting back up conversation.
“I came here when I was thirteen. I lost my parents. Car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in.” She explains shortly.
“They’re nice people.” Dean replies plainly. She nods as she speaks, “Everybody’s nice here.”
“So, what, it’s the, uh, perfect little town?” Dean shrugs, nonchalantly.
“Well, you know, it’s the boonies. But I love it.” she pauses for a moment, “I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here, it’s almost like we’re blessed.”
Dean turns his head towards me, giving me a look. This definitely was weird, I mean how could every town around them be failing but not here?Were they making sacrifices to the scarecrow? It would make sense considering its tattoo. Dean turns back around to Emily, “Hey, you been out to the orchard? ‘You seen that scarecrow?” We were thinking the same thing.
“Yeah, it creeps me out.” She answers her nose scrunching. “You can say that again” I laugh, “Do you know who owns it?”
“I don’t know. It’s just always been there.” She shrugs.
He nods to something behind her, I turn my gaze to it, my eyes landing on a red van parked by a garage, “That your aunt and uncle’s?” he asks.
She shakes her head, “Customer. Had some car troubles.” That’s a little too convenient, “Is it a couple by any chance? A guy and a girl?” I ask, worried that they might be the town's next victims.
She nods even as her face twists with confusion, “Mmhmm.”
As soon as the Impala's tank was filled, and Emily gestured toward the couple's location, we wasted no time heading straight there. Dean opens the glass door for me, the little welcome bell ringing above us. I walk in first, immediately being hit with the sweet smell of baked goods, the culprit of it being a thick piece of apple pie that Scotty delivered to a couple sitting by the window.
“Oh, hey, Scotty. Can I get a coffee, black?” Dean greets, walking in behind me, adding “And a green tea…actually while you’re at it some of that pie too.” I have to hold back the smile that wants to escape onto my face, he was being slightly annoying on purpose which is proved further when Scotty gives him a nasty look before walking away. But beyond that I’m surprised Dean knew what I wanted, yes I drank tea quite often but how did he know I was feeling that flavor in particular?
He moves to sit at a table right next to the couple, I sit in the chair next to him trying to come up with a conversation starter for the people only a table away. I mean how do you say ‘hey you’re in danger! haha, please leave town’ to someone without them thinking you're actually insane? I am pulled out of my thoughts at the feeling of my chair moving, a soft scratching noise below it. Immediately I see Deans hand at the side of my chair, pulling me closer to him without saying or looking at me.
I try to ignore his strange antics and the butterflies that flutter in the depths of my stomach at his movement as he talks to the dark haired couple, “How ya doin’?” God for someone whose usually so smooth he was being so awkward. They share a weird look clearly looking uncomfortable before waving and smiling. But their uninterest in starting a conversation with strangers is very obvious as the girl leans closer to her boyfriend placing her arm up to lean her head on as if to block us out.
“Just passing through?” Dean continues, ignoring their reactions. “Road trip.” The girl answers plainly, clearly trying to shut down the conversation.
“Hm.” Dean hums his hand suddenly finding my thigh. My heart lurches, my leg twitching slightly at the sudden movement but he just gives me a little squeeze before readjusting his hold. Splaying his warm hand against my thigh, his fingers hooking onto the inside of my leg as he pulls them apart slightly, the gap just big enough to hold my thigh comfortably. He gives me another squeeze as if he was testing the feel of me again…oh god.
My brain seemed to short circuit, any logical thoughts I had turning into a mass space of blankness and static. I swallowed roughly, my heart beating out of my chest and the butterflies in my stomach flying frantically in warmth. This was just for a cover, if we acted as a couple too then they might feel more comfortable and inclined to talk with us, I try to reason with myself. But god when did my face get all warm? Stay focused Y/N, stay focused, I repeat to myself in my head. This wasn’t the time. Can’t be thinking of my feelings for him or the fact that this was only making me feel more desperate for him. Stay focused.
“Us too” He adds, and I have to think for a second what he’s talking about…Oh yes, we are also on a road trip, yeah.
Scotty walks over with a pitcher of something brownish orange, maybe it was apple cider considering this town clearly has a large supply of it. He moves right past us, refilling the couples cups, “I’m sure these people want to eat in peace.” he scolds us.
“Just a little friendly conversation.” Dean smiles up at the grumpy man who begins to walk away, “Oh, and that coffee and tea, too, man. Thanks.” Scotty just stares at him, the scowl on his face deepening, but he doesn't say anything as he walks away fully. “So, what brings you to town?” I ask softly, a sweet smile on my face in hopes of erasing the awkwardness in the air.
The girl answers, “We just stopped for gas. And, uh, the guy at the gas station saved our lives.”
“Aw, really!” I respond trying to sound amused.
The guy answers this time, “Yeah, one of our brake lines was leaking. We had no idea. He was fixing it for us.”
“That’s really sweet” I nod with a smile even as concern eats at me. They were definitely going to be the next victims. But I’m also terribly confused, I have no idea what he was talking about. I'm guessing a broken brake line means you won’t be able to stop the car but I didn’t know it could leak…
“Yeah.” The man nods trying to go back to his food.
All at once it hits me, I nearly want to kick myself for not thinking about it right away. I want to blame it on Dean's hand placement but it was most likely my lack of sleep because I was in fact enjoying his hand on my thigh…
This small town in Indiana was practicing Pagan rituals, and as much as I hate to admit it learning about Pagans was one of my favorite things to do.
“So, how long till you’re up and runnin’?” Dean asks them.
“Sundown.”
It was common in Paganism to sacrifice something or someone to the gods. It was a time where they didn’t understand why certain things happened like crops dying, so they blamed this on not respecting the Gods enough. When the real cause could have been for a number of reasons from lack of water to not crop rotating…
“Really.” Dean pauses for a minute, “To fix a brake line?” He receives a nod. “I mean, you know, I know a thing or two about cars. I could probably have you up and running in about an hour. I wouldn’t charge you anything.” He offers.
…However in terms of supernatural beings when these sacrifices were made it did work, whether or not it was the Gods “cursing” them or just not understanding agriculture. Either way it did work, the gods answered, and the bigger the sacrifice the bigger the payout which is why they typically did human sacrifices, sometimes even on a mass scale.
“You know, thanks a lot, but I think we’d rather have a mechanic do it.” The girl replies, looking nervously at her boyfriend.
“Are you sure?” I chime in, “He really is good, I mean you should see the level of care he puts into his own car. ‘Keeping it all good even though it’s decades older than him, he even keeps my old car in check.” I knew with every word I was stroking his ego, but it was true. Beyond his own car I can count on two hands the amount of times he helped with my old Volkswagen Beetle, he’s probably the reason why it still works.
In the corner of my eye I can see his cocky sexy grin, he squeezes my thigh once more and my thoughts fizzle out again as a kaleidoscope of butterflies flutters in my gut. Jesus Christ, Dean Winchester will be the death of me without knowing.
“Yeah we’re sure” The girl insists.
“Sure.” Dean pauses, his smile dropping, “You know, it’s just that these roads. They’re not real safe at night.” I guess he figures they won’t listen any other way. The couple exchanged a look, “I’m sorry?”
Dean leans in closer, “I know it sounds strange, but, uh—you might be in danger.”
The man finally snaps, looking annoyed, “Look, we’re trying to eat. Okay?”
“Yeah.” Dean says disappointingly, "You know, my brother could give you this puppy dog look, and you’d just buy right into it.” The couple looks at him strangely.
The bell above the door rings and I figure we don’t have much time left, “Look we aren’t trying to bother you and ruin your day, okay, I’m sorry.” I start, looking back at the Sheriff who had walked in. I lean in, speaking just low enough for them to hear, “But you really are in danger, for the last couple of years couples have gone missing this time of year repeatedly withou—“
“I’d like a word with you both.” The sheriff practically booms. I go quiet giving the couple a warning look both to say to listen to what I said and to not bring anything up now, they look scared and hesitant.
“Come on. I’m having a bad day already, ‘m just tryna make it better with my girlfriend” Dean reasons, I know it’s a lie but the way the word slipped so easily from his lips made my heart flutter.
“You know what would make it worse?” The sheriff replies. Dean releases his hold on my thigh, a tingling feeling taking its place. We got up and followed the man outside then following his orders, he was going to follow us out of town and we weren’t allowed back.
We drive down the interstate, both knowing we would turn back once it was clear. But for now we trudge toward passing by a sign that says ‘Thanks for visiting Burkittsville.’ I check the side mirror, the sheriff making a U-turn, heading back to town. Great.
“Should we find a motel nearby and return at night?” I ask, knowing the couple wouldn’t have a car to leave with ‘till sundown.
“Yeah, you need sleep” He hums. I wonder if he’s saying that because he knows I haven't slept at all. “Unfortunately I will not be sleeping ‘cause I have a very good idea on what’s going on and I wanna research further” I answer, opening up the glovebox to pull out the map that resided there.
I unfold it, tracking down Indiana and then the small town we just left, following the colored lines. “I think if we stay straight we’ll be at a rest stop in about 15 mins” I mumble, hopefully reading it right.
“Anyways!” I place the map down in my lap, “I’m very sure this town is sacrificing the couples to a Pagan God.”
“‘Thinking the same,” He answers.
“Okay, good. Now I'm not 100% sure i’m right on which one it is ‘cause there’s a lot of agricultural Gods as well as Gods of the woods, but the second I can search it up I’ll confirm it.” I ramble, talking with my hands.
“To be honest, sweetheart, ‘don’t know much about Norse Gods except the basics.”
“Oh don’t you worry, I got this” I beam.
I grumble for the fifth time typing different wording into the search bar. I want to scream as the page turns blank, the only words on the screen being ‘No Results.’
“What is it?” Dean asks from where he lays in his bed his fathers journal open, looking for anything on Norse Gods.
“Somehow there is nothing on Vanir Gods and when I mean nothing I mean nothing!” I get up from my bed walking the short distance to his, I climb on it putting my legs beneath me. I turned my laptop towards him, showing him the screen, “See!”
His eyebrows scrunch up looking just as confused as I feel, “I know we aren’t in the town anymore but do you think it’s somehow related?” I ask.
“Maybe. We aren’t that far from Burkittsville” He answers, taking my laptop and searching up ‘Books about Vanir Gods’ but again the same message pops up ‘No Results.’
He types in ‘Books about Norse Gods’ a couple searches pop up the main one being a thick book only available in a college in Burkittsville. “That’s so strange.” I mumble, I mean how could they be interfering with the internet.
“If they can make sacrifices to a god I’m guessing they could mess with google of all things. We’ll go there later” Dean responds and I’m sure he means after making sure the couple is safe. He closes my laptop, “You should sleep, I’ll wake you”
I studied him for a moment, and he was right. I should sleep, it sounds wonderful actually. I nod getting up, I don’t even bother changing into comfortable clothes or even taking off my bra I just crawl underneath the covers of my bed. “Good night, Dean.” But it was hardly close to night time.
He smiles, “ ‘Night baby.”
Dean sped down the interstate, the sun was nearly down and we would have been there on time if not for all the semi trucks in the truck stop not knowing how to exit. You really think it wouldn’t be so hard.
Continuing by the vast orchard, we scanned for a red van parked on the side, hoping to beat them there.
After some more driving, we eventually stumbled upon the deserted car, devoid of anyone. He stopped the car short even as we still had multiple feet between us and the vacant van.
He turns the car off and I meet him by the trunk, he hands me a shotgun, “Go through here, cut ‘em off--get in front” he rattles off the plan as he cocks his own gun. I nod, cocking my gun before shutting the trunk as he takes the lead.
I catch up to him, running at his side, passing through each tree as my shoes crush the fallen apples with a satisfying crunch.
I squint my eyes, the dark haired couple too far away to get there before the dark figure of the scarecrow does. It was a clear distance away, I could bring us there in a moment's time. I’ve practiced this sort of distance before, it was doable, and nothing like the asylum. “Get ready to shoot 45 degrees to your left” I shouted, reaching a hand out to grasp Dean's shoulder. He meets my eyes with a look of determination hard in his irises. I focus back ahead on the target, forcing my energy there.
The air ripples around us even as we continue to run, in a blink of an eye we’re in front of the couple. A loud shot rings out, Dean shoots the thing square in the chest. But all it does is stumble back before it continues to walk forward.
Its head was tilted slightly, that greasy hair dangling on his shoulders, the sickle gripped tightly in its leathery hand. “Get back to your car!” I yell behind me, “Go!” I looked behind me for a split second, they were running and we weren’t too far from the orchards clearing.
Almost at the same time Dean and I start walking backward away from the horrifying thing. I raise my shotgun up, shooting it right in its chest as Dean cocks his gun again. But these salt bullets were doing nothing and was hardly buying us time, “Get ready to run!” Dean orders as he shoots the thing again.
Not needing to tell me twice I shift my footing, running towards the clearing right after the couple. Beyond Dean's own shoes hitting the ground hard next to me I could hear the subtle click of its boots walking the ground. Now I know how every character in Halloween felt as Myers went after them.
I do the thing that you should never do in a horror movie and turn my head to see how close the scarecrow was. It couldn’t be more than 10 feet away, “Screw this” I mumble, twisting my footing again so I could walk backwards as it came towards us. I uncomfortably hold the gun in the crook of my arm as I extend my hands forward, effortlessly calling upon my abilities as I shoot out pure energy from my hands.
The scarecrow goes flying what seems like 100 or more feet, landing harshly on its back. I want to celebrate and get all cocky but this was dealing with Norse Gods and I didn’t particularly feel like getting on their nerves at the moment.
I make it to the clearing, my chest heaving from the running and use of powers. Man, water would be good right now.
A familiar arm wraps around my shoulder, the crook of his arm touching my neck as he brings me into his side. His chest heaves too, “Good job.” The praise makes my heart swell but the sweet moment is cut off by the man in the couple panting, “What—what the hell was that?” He points between the orchard and me. Double yikes.
“Don’t ask.” Dean responds.
We sit in the Impala just outside of town so we wouldn’t technically get in trouble.
After helping the couple officially leave, thank god, we went back to the motel. It would be hours until the college opened so we really just had to wait. We ate at some all night diner before showering and sleeping for a couple more hours. We woke early, I threw on some low rise black jeans and a fitted black & gray long sleeve baseball tee, heading out to grab some coffee before heading back close to town to wait.
Dean had called Sam, placing his phone on speaker and positioning it in the middle of the dashboard so we could both hear and speak. He called his brother on his own accord to talk about the “hunt” and I didn’t dare say anything about it knowing he would just brush it off. The call was certainly more than just letting him know how the hunt was going. “The scarecrow climbed off its cross?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, I’m tellin’ ya. Burkittsville, Indiana. Fun Town.” Dean muses, taking a sip of coffee from his cup.
“It didn’t kill the couple, did it?” Sam responded concerned.
“God no” I scuff.
“We can cope without you, you know.” Dean adds.
“So, something must be animating it. A spirit.” Sam theorizes.
“No, it’s more than a spirit. It’s a god. A Pagan god, anyway.” Dean answers.
“What makes you say that?”
I answer this time, “There’s a lot that points to it, from annual cycle killings to the choice of victims. And I’m sure you know human sacrifices were common in Paganism especially when it comes to fertility. There were even mass sacrifices to even protect them and or help them with wars.”
I begin to speak with my hands again, getting more animated as I get excited, “And according to a local all the towns around them are failing in multiple degrees especially in agriculture, while Burkittsville remains flourishing largely in their apple department. As seen not only through their extensive orchard but their numerous apple products, they practically gloat upon it.”
“And you should see the locals. The way they treated this couple. Fattenin’ ‘em up like a Christmas turkey.” Dean adds in.
“The last meal. Given to sacrificial victims.” Sam acknowledges.
Dean answers, “Yeah, we’re thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god.”
“So, a god possesses the scarecrow…” Sam starts, Dean adding in with their usual weird finishing each other's sentences, “And the scarecrow takes its sacrifice. And for another year, the crops won’t wilt, and disease won’t spread.”
“Do you know which god you’re dealing with?” Sam asks.
“Well, there’s hundreds of Gods.” I answer, “But it will most likely align with Norse Paganism which are broken up into two sections one of them being Vanir Gods. From what I remember they’re Gods of fertility, wealth, wisdom and two other things. I don’t remember too much and unfortunately there’s an issue with the internet so I can’t even confirm my theory.”
Sam laughs, “What do you mean issue?”
“Long story,” Dean responds, “But we’re on our way to a local community college, they have a book on Norse Gods there. You know, since we don’t have our geek boy to figure out the issue with the internet crap.”
Sam laughs again, “You know, if you’re hinting you need my help, just ask.”
“I’m not hinting anything.” Dean replies quickly with a fake annoyance to his voice, “Actually, uh—“ He looks at me as if he isn’t sure what to say, I nod my head encouragingly, “I want you to know….I mean, don’t think….”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, too.” Sam says seriously, seemingly knowing what his brother was struggling to say.
Dean looks to his hands cradling his coffee cup to straight ahead through the windshield, “Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life.” I don’t try to bite back my smile, he wasn’t looking to begin with, either way I was proud of him.
“Are you serious?” Sam asks, probably never expecting to hear that.
“You’ve always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I—“ He cuts himself off, sighing, “anyway….I admire that about you. I’m proud of you, Sammy.”
“I don’t even know what to say.” Sam says quietly.
“Say you’ll take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
“Call me when you find Dad.”
“Ok.” Sam responds, though he sounds upset, "Bye, Dean.”
He collects his phone from the dashboard, hanging up. He catches me staring, “What?” I don’t answer, just smile at him, “No. Don’t give me that happy go lucky sweet look.”
“Oh come on!” I laugh, “That was really sweet of you Dean! So can’t a girl be proud of her boy.”
He rolls his eyes, placing his coffee in the cupholder before crossing his arms across his chest, but his face gives him away a light pink gracing his cheeks. “You are a sweetie pie” I declare, placing a hand on his shoulder. He removes one of his arms from their own hold, placing a warm hand on top of mine, grasping it gently to remove it, “I’m not.” he bites. His tough boy act was so cute.
“If you say so” I shrug, the smile on my face giving away the fact that this wasn’t me giving up on the fact he was a total softy. He turns his head away, facing his window, mumbling something incoherent.
I want to start skipping into the library, who knew a community college would have such a nice one. Though to be fair I would say any library was nice as long as it was in good shape. I make my way to the librarian's desk, “Hello!” I greet, my excitement getting the best of me, “Could you point us to the books on Paganism? Or even just Norse mythology?”
The old woman at the desk looks at me a little strangely, maybe I came off too strong. But her expression contorts into a small smile, “One of our dear old professors would have those sorts of books, lucky for you sweetie I think he’s free right now. I can just give him a little call.”
I look back at Dean, who stands a little bit behind me, he shrugs, I guess it wouldn’t hurt talking to a professor about this. Especially if it meant looking at that book.
I turn back to the old librarian, “Yes please.” But she already placed the phone back in its holder, “He’ll be right down.” Oh. Okay, this woman works fast. “You can take a seat there, it’ll be a moment” she points to just behind us at a mostly empty table. “Thank you!” I smile.
“It’s not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology.” Professor Williams says, as he leads us to his classroom.
“Yeah, well, call it a hobby.” Dean responds, not sounding all that amused.
“Well what are you looking for in particular?” The older man asks.
“Uh, local lore, maybe” Dean answers, looking at me to jump in at any time but I don’t know if I want to put all my eggs in one basket. We had to choose who we could trust here, and maybe I shouldn’t have been so forward with the nice librarian but doing so made getting to the book easier. I hope. “I’m afraid Indiana isn’t really known for its Pagan worship.” He answers.
I can already feel this being a painfully slow lead to the answer, “You know, actually,” I began, “I was interested in the Vanir Gods. It struck me the other day and when I can’t get an easy answer for something I go digging.” The professor stops in his tracts, turning to face me, “Very well. I was not expecting to hear such a clear topic.”
I laugh a little uncomfortably, “I just like to learn.”
We follow him down the rest of the long hallway into his classroom. A small room with desks and chairs lined in order while a large whiteboard rested on the long wall. He beckons us over to his desk, a thick and long brown leather bound book lying there, “Well, let’s see.” He leafs through a couple of pages seeking what seems to be the chapter he’s looking for, “Ah ha, there we are” he declares, turning the book towards us.
I read the first page quickly, breezing through information I already knew. I turn to the next page only to be met with a picture of a scarecrow-like thing on a post in a field with farmers surrounding it. I read out loud the text just below the image, “The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female.”
I looked up from the book catching Dean's eyes, this was definitely it. “This particular Vanir that’s energy sprung from the sacred tree?” Dean asks, gaze flipping to the man in question.
“Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic.” He answers not all that helpfully.
“So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it’d kill the god?” Dean questions further. He’s really just putting it all out there. The professor laughs, “Son, these are just legends we’re discussing.”
“Yes of course” I fake laugh along with him, “My, uh, friend here just loves the hypotheticals, you know?”
“I do,” Dean nods seriously. The professor just looks at us strangely. God I really hope he just thinks we’re weird people. “Listen, thank you very much.” Dean says, holding out his hand. The professor takes it, giving what seems like a firm handshake before offering one to me, “Yes, thank you so much,” I say sincerely, taking his hand for a single awkward handshake.
I follow Dean to the door, an odd feeling settling itself in my gut as if something was about to happen. He opens the door and the feeling spikes, my heart jumping at the simple action. What the hell. I want to ignore it, push it to the back of mind and chalk it up to just random anxiety. But I can’t, genuine fear twists itself around within me, clawing at the walls of my stomach as if to warn me. Just as my foot breeches the hallway everything in me screams to turn around.
I listen to my body, turning around as I take a half step back, a large book only inches from my face. A small breathy squeak leaves my lips as I duck, a loud bang and tumble coming from beside me. This was a trap.
Using my bent knees as leverage as well as the attackers stumbling at missing me, I latch on to their forearms pushing up and out still holding on tightly as I lift my leg and kick. My foot connects with the soft expanse of the person's stomach, letting go of his arms at the same time. It was no doubt the professor as he was the only one in the room with us. I watch him stumble backwards, knocking into his desk roughly.
My brain works quickly, adrenaline rushing through my veins. The bang and tumble I heard must have been someone attacking Dea—I twisted my upper body to the right, catching the sheriff's wrist before the blunt of his gun could hit me too. I didn’t need to look to know he already got Dean. God this town was crooked.
I bring his arm down closer to my level, twisting it in an attempt to put it behind him, but he uses his free hand to left hook me, his fist connecting with my cheekbone. I let go of his arm at the action, my hand instinctively going to my cheek that stinged until something cold clinked onto my wrist. I knew it was handcuffs but my eyes went to my wrist anyways just as he clicked into place the other half of the cuff.
He looked smug, as if he had won. He must have been stupid. Not that it changed much but my hands were cuffed in front of me, magic aside it couldn’t have stopped me. I tilt my head slightly, giving him a ‘seriously?’ look before kicking him where the sun doesn't shine, immediately he doubles over holding onto his crotch with teary eyes. I guess you could add assaulting a police officer to my list of crimes, he may have been a sheriff but it probably still counted.
He would be down at least for a minute or more so I turned back to the professor who seemed to be stalking closer with the same book raised as if he was trying to kill a bug. The second my eyes landed on him he stopped moving, I foiled his plan. “Could you stop with the book?!” I exclaim. He seems to contemplate what I said, his eyes slipping from me to something behind me. He was not good at this fighting thing.
Thin but strong arms wrap around me, forcing my arms to my chest. I flailed around trying to shake the guy off, I didn’t want to use my magic yet. The less they knew the better. “Watch, she’s a kicker” the professor warns. “I know” the somewhat familiar voice of the sheriff huffed from behind me, his chest rumbling with each word. His chest was rising and falling fast, I wonder if he fully recovered from my crotch attack or if he was pushing through.
All at once I stop flailing, a smirk making its way on my face, and before anyone can do or say anything more I bite down hard on the sheriff's hand, my neck bending at a weird angle to reach him. He yells letting me go to hold his wounded limb.
I take a couple steps away from both of them, “I’m also a biter,” I muse. I look between both men, neither of them seeming to know what to do. They hadn’t expected this. “Which one of you wants to go next?” I point between either of them, the handcuffs rattling with my movement, “ ‘cause I can go all day, baby.”
They look at each other, worried in their eyes. The sheriff's throat bobbed with a hard auditable gulp. “Aw, don’t tell me you’re scared” I tease, smirking viciously, I was having too much fun with this.
The sheriff reaches slowly for his gun, the one he must have put back after I kicked him. I watch him do it, he’d pull it but wouldn’t shoot and ask me to stand down or come with him. He expects me to be afraid of the gun, at the prospect of being shot which is why he assumes it would work. He pulls it out, holding it firmly out in front of him aiming for my chest, “Get on your knees. Hands behind your head!” he yells. How predictable.
The smirk on my face only deepens, I lift an eyebrow at him, “If you wanted me on my knees so badly you could’ve just asked.” I was never usually so flirty or straightforward, but this was just so fun. I knew I was getting cocky. Maybe I was hanging around Dean too much. “Knees now!” He yells again. At this point he was just feeding me these easy openings. A laugh escapes my lips, I must look like a psychopath.
He readjusts the gun in his hand, his finger scooting back towards the trigger, but he couldn’t shoot, not when they wanted to use Dean and I as sacrifices. “Last chance!” He warns. Last chance indeed.
I catch my eyes flaring purple in his shiny revolver, a look of horror and confusion apparent on his face. A look I was used to, and as much as it normally would upset me I could use it now. The air fizzled around me, maybe I was getting better at this, in a blink of an eye I was right behind him. I kick the back of his knee, the man buckling under his own weight, his gun going off. The bullet hits the ceiling light right above where I stood only moments before.
Shards of glass fall, the light flickering for dominance before eventually going dark. I easily grasp the gun from his hand, turning the safety back on before sliding it across the floor out of the room. Without a plan to actually hurt the man, I used what he gave me, pressing the linked chains of the handcuffs to his neck as I brought the back of his head to my stomach.
He grunts against my hold his hands trying to pry the chain off as his eyes search the professors for help, but his partner backs away hands up in defense. I loosen up my hold, I wasn’t trying to severely hurt the guy or kill him for that matter. “‘Had enough?” I ask, mostly teasing.
Suddenly a soft plush material is pressed to my face, I move to fight or teleport away but my limbs suddenly feel too heavy and my eyes begin to droop. My body feels like it’s falling even as I stand in place, I think. My eyes begin to flutter close, my legs giving out on me. The world turns black.
My head feels fuzzy. My eyes are too heavy to open just yet. It smelt bad, a musty smell combined with a farm-like smell. The ground was comfortable.
I try to open my eyes but they flutter shut again. Someones calling my name, they’re too far away…need to come closer. My head was pounding.
Something suddenly brushes into my hair repeatedly. Even still half gone, fear spikes in me. My eyes shoot open, my upper body jolting up into a seated position. Familiar hands hold my shoulders as I sway, the room seeming to move back and forth, “It's okay, you’re okay” Dean says soothingly. I stare at him, his features becoming less and less blurry as I blink.
He cups my face gently, his fingers barely brushing against my skin. He seems to study me, most likely noting the bruise that is undoubtedly forming where I was hit. His thumb brushes over my wounded cheekbone gently, yet even so I wince sucking in a breath between my teeth. “Sorry” he mumbles, meeting my eyes. I hum, my tongue feeling too heavy to utter a word. “What happened to you?” he asks softly.
I swallow, trying to force my tongue to work enough to answer but my words still come out too quietly, “You went down first. I fought, but I think someone else came. They covered my mouth with a thingy, maybe they used, um, what is it called?” My thoughts felt all jumbled still, fog covering the expanse of my brain. My head was killing me too much to think straight. He practically scowls, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips turned down in a frown, “Chloroform” he answers. I smile weakly, “yeah that.”
I want to lay down. The room was still spinning, my head hurt. This was embarrassing, I had gotten all confident before– feeling invincible only to be drugged. I remove Dean's hands from my face, holding them instead as I place them on his lap. I looked around us, the room might be moving but it was obvious enough it was some sort of basement. No, a cellar. It was dark and empty, except for the straws of hay lying around. And just across from us was a small staircase up to what seemed like cellar doors. “It's locked,” Dean says, noticing my stare. Of course it is.
But if I could just right my mind, clear the fog, I could get us out easy peasy. Almost as if I willed it, the cellar doors creek open. The sunlight floods through, I try to block it with my hand, the sudden light worsening my headache if that was even possible. I need Advil. Dean lets go of my hand getting up quickly, just watching the quick movement makes me want to vomit. I blink slowly, following suit, with a lot of stumbling I make it to my feet even as it feels like the room is pulling me down.
Four jerks stand just outside the cellar, Harley and Stacy, Scotty, and the Sheriff. Harley moves close to the stairs as if he's about to descend them before getting abruptly stopped by the Sheriff, “I wouldn’t, she's feisty.” Dean laughs at that, my assault on the man very apparent by the various bruises he displayed. I would smirk or laugh too if it didn't feel like I was using all my energy to keep me standing. Harley knocks the Sheriff's hand off but makes no move to get closer, “She’s also still drugged” he bites. “Wrong,” I pointed a finger up, feeling more like a drunk as I spoke, “This would be the side effects or aftermath of Chloroform.” All four of them looked at me blankly, maybe I was wrong. I don't know.
“I hope you both know this is for the common good,” Stacy nods. I furrow my eyebrows, “Thanks for the preaching, lady. It really eases the brain into all this sacrificial nonsense.”
“That's enough” she replies rather calmly before nodding to the others. They begin to close the cellar doors, darkness enveloping us. I sat down rather quickly, landing on my butt harshly, “I'm surprised you didn't say anything snarky to them.”
“You were more entertaining” He answers with a half shrug. He tries the cellar door again but of course it's locked, he huffs moving to sit next to me.
I lean my head on his shoulder. He speaks softly now so as not to disturb my throbbing head, “Where do you think this important tree would be?” He was referring to the tree we would have to destroy in order to kill the scarecrow, and it was a good question. “Hm” I hum, “It would be the oldest tree here, probably the most protected. Maybe the first immigrants brought it over here, so it’s wherever they would plant it. I would say in the middle.” He nods and I swear I could hear the gears in his head turning.
The cellar doors open again, Stacy coming into view “It’s time.” I want to ask why they didn't just take us the first time they opened the doors but I guess waiting to die a little later was better than sooner. I remove my head from Dean's shoulder, do we fight? It would be 4 against 2 except I wasn't completely okay. But we could fight, right? I mean we always make it out, we always wind up fine.
Harley and the Sheriff come down the stairs, the Sheriff watches me carefully as he lifts Dean forcefully up. Harley doesn't show any remorse as he grips my forearm tightly, lifting me to my feet before grabbing my other arm roughly holding them behind my back. I struggle against him attempting to step hard on his foot as he forces me up the stairs behind Dean.
Real fear twirled itself around me, were we not going to fight?
They drag us forward deeper into the orchard, I dig my heels into the dirt trying to slow it down as much as I can. I’m scared. I don't want to die. I don't want to be sacrificed to some god. Please. Please. My headache needs to go away, let me use my powers without pain. I struggle against him more, trying to let my magic seep into anything around me but immediately my headache worsens by ten folds. I grunt in frustration, trying to shake the older man off further but he only tightens his grip. I hope bruises won't come from it, not that it would matter if I died today. I close my eyes tightly, digging my heels in further, please. Please. Anything, please.
Harley pushes me forward effortlessly. I don't want to die. Please. Please.
The ground begins to rumble, shaking violently. Apples tumble from the trees hitting the ground with a bunch of thumps. My heart beats wildly in my chest as if it's trying to jump out and run away. His grip loosens on me as he freezes in place, “It's angry at us!” Stacy yells covering her head. I wiggle out of Harleys hold, taking a couple steps away as my legs wobble like the ground. A familiar click locks into place, I come face to face with a gun, “It’s not causing this. It's her” the Sheriff accuses.
“Dont touch her” Dean yells, struggling against Scotty's hold. The Sheriff must have passed him on to hold me at gunpoint for the second time today. “I'm not doing anything” I spit, the shaking ground growing more intense.
“Your eyes are glowing again” he states. “What are you talking about?” I nearly yell, I think I would know if I was using my own abilities. Plus I've never done anything like this before so how would I be able to do so now?
Before I can react he has my hair wrapped in his fist, pulling my head back forcefully a hiss of pain escaping my lips. It felt like it was going to rip itself right from the roots. “Dont you fucking hurt her!” Dean roars. The ground seems to become more violent, the large trees themselves shaking where they stood while everyone nearly stumbles over. He pulls my hair hard, my neck snapping back as he moves his shiny gun in front of me, showing me its side.
My only slightly blurred reflection stares back at me. My cheekbone had a dark bruise painted there and my eyes were–
My irises were purple. No. It doesn't make sense, I wasn't controlling this. I wasn't making it happen, I've never done this before. The Sheriff pushes me forward letting go of my hair at the last minute, I fall to my knees only a foot away from him. The barrel of the gun is pressed into the back of my skull, “Make it stop or I'll make you stop” he threatens. I can hear Dean struggle against Scotty again, and in the corner of my eyes I see him finally pull away before turning around and punching the man right in the face. Scotty doubles over, but before Dean could do any more damage to anyone else Harvey grabs him.
“You can't kill her, we have to leave them both for it” Stacy argues. The ground seems to roar, the earth shaking so siverley I nearly fall to my hands. “I would stop if I could!” I admit, “I don't kno–” I cut myself off, a sudden deep memory making its way to the surface of my brain. A memory of a deceased corn field, a disaster I caused.
“Make it stop!” the sheriff spits. “I told you I don't know h–” Suddenly the gun is raised up and before I could do anything to stop it, the gun hits the side of my skull. My head feels like it explodes as I hit the ground, my eyes struggle to stay open. The last thing I see before it all goes dark again is Dean trying to lunge forward and the ground halting in its shaking.
My eyes flutter open, my horrible headache accompanied with an even worse head-ache. Both in my head and outside. At this point my brain should be a scrambled mess.
My wrists were zip tied to a thinner part of the tree trunk my back rested on. It was just beginning to be dark out. I move my gaze from above me to across me, Dean sitting against a different tree in the same position I was in. His eyes widen and he attempts to move closer before grunting in frustration at the restrictions of his wrists, “You're awake. Are you okay?” He licks his lips, “I swear to fuckin’ god I’ll kill ‘em.”
I don't say anything, my head is too heavy. He's staring at me with wide eyes, fear clear in his irises. “‘You okay?” he asks again. I nod, my head hurts and I’m confused and upset, but I’m alive so I’m okay. He shakes his head, “No.” I look at him confused, I don't understand. He continues to shake his head, wetting his lips again, “Say it. I need to hear you say it,” he sounded breathless, “I need to hear you say you're okay.”
“Im okay” I say weakly. He sighs, relief clear in the way his shoulders drop. But I had a feeling he knew I wasn't being totally truthful.
He swallows roughly, “Can you see the scarecrow?” Despite my heavy head I look in each direction for the thing, until I can slightly see the post. “Dean” I start and I can hear my own voice wobble with fear, “It's not there.” He fights against his restraints, and I would join him in that effort if my head hasn't already given up on me. “I hope their apple pie is frickin’ worth it” he grumbles.
A shadow catches just behind Dean, I squint hoping I'm just seeing things from potential brain damage then the actual scarecrow. “Dean, I think it's behind you.” Forget everything I said and thought, I begin fighting against my own restraints, the zip ties digging into my wrists harshly. “Dean?” a familiar voice called out.
Sam’s tall figure comes into view as he rounds the tree Dean is tied to. Dean twists his neck oddly to see his brother, “Oh!” he sighs in relief, “Oh, I take everything back I said. I'm so happy to see you. Come on.” Sam takes that as his chance to assess his brother's binding before pulling out his pocket knife, “‘You okay, Y/N?” he asks as he works on sawing the bindings. “Dandy” I respond, truly done with this all.
“How’d you get here?” Dean asks his brother.
“I, uh–I stole a car.”
Dean laughs at that, “That's my boy!” His bindings finally break with a snap. Sam doesn't wait for his brother to get up as he walks the short distance to me, beginning to remove my own restraints. His eyes gaze down at me every now and then, most likely assessing the damage.
Deans at my side a breath later, squatting down to be at my level. He brings his hand carefully to my face, gently moving a piece of my hair behind my ear. Something feels dried and stiff there and I wonder if it's blood from being hit or just dirt. I tilt and roll my head away from him, the pain overwhelming even with the delicate touch.
My restraints snap above me, bits of the plastic tangling itself into my hair. My wrists are raw and red, just one more thing to add to the list. I place my hands on the cold dirt, trying to pick myself up but my ears begin to ring and my vision spins. I sit back down again, huffing. Strong arms grab my arm and waist all but lifting me off the ground and onto my feet, “‘You got eyes on the scarecrow?” Dean asks, looking at his brother who shakes his head. “Alright, I can carry you, the clearing isn’t far off” Dean says looking down at me.
“That's ridiculous,” I shake my head, “I’ll slow you down. I’ll just push through, and we don't have time to argue this.” He grumbles, he doesn't like the idea. But again we don't know where the scarecrow is and we can't waste time bickering over stupid logistics.
I immediately regret not taking the offer. My brain feels like it's jumping around in my skull and swishing side to side as if on a boat. I feel like the orchard is spinning around me, tumbling over itself like one of those tunnels in a fun house.
“Alright, now, this sacred tree you’re talking about–” Sam pants lightly as we run, Dean having filled him in on the information we gathered. “It's the source of its power” I finish, my voice feeling far away even in my own ears. “So let’s find it and burn it.” Sam annonces.
“Nah, in the morning.” Dean counters, “Let’s just shag ass before Leather face catches up.”
We come to a skidding stop, just at a clearing of trees the four jerks from before as well as a couple others stand guard. Sam nudged us in a different direction just to be met with a wall of people, we were surrounded. “Did the whole fricking town come to watch us die?!” I exclaim, “Just let us leave!” I was so tired of this, I just want to go to a motel or something and shower off today's fears before falling into a deep sleep. “It’ll be over quickly” Harley says, and if it was meant to be comforting it was not working. “It's for the greater go–” suddenly a sickle is pushed through his stomach. His mouth opens in shock, blood dripping down the sides. Screams come from all around us, and I hardly know if I was screaming too.
He’s raised off the ground before the sickle is quickly pulled out. Stacy still stands there screaming, watching her dying husband on the floor. But soon her screams are cut off too, the sickle going through her throat. Her eyes are wide, her mouth hanging open too as blood not only spurts out of her neck but spills down like a waterfall onto her shirt. The air fills quickly with all the blood's metallic scent. The scarecrow does not retract its weapon, keeping the curved blade in her neck as it grabs onto Harley's collar dragging them both behind it.
Shock had frozen us in place, but apparently not the townspeople. “Come on let’s go,” Dean insists, leading us away.
Morning came by far too slowly but at least we passed the time by using the stolen car to drive back to the college to get the Impala before returning to the orchard. It all went by so weirdly, I knew I was moving but it felt like I never left that road outside the expanse of apple trees. I hardly remember the drive there or the drive back, everything still spun and the ringing only got louder. I think I might have lost my mind.
We stand in front of the sacred tree though I don't remember how we found it. The tree had Vince’s tattoo printed onto it, that was a tell tale sign it was the right one. Sam pours gasoline all over it, Dean picks up a long branch lighting it on fire before throwing it onto the tree. “‘Think the towns ‘gonna be okay?” Sam asks as the flaming tree roars with the crackling flames. “Don’t know” Dean shrugs, but I think the answer was apparent to all of us.
“And the rest of the townspeople, they’ll just get away with it?” Sam adds.
“Well, what’ll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough.” Dean answers.
We walk back to the car leaving the burning tree behind us, though I hope it won’t spread and cause a whole forest fire, “So, can I drop you off somewhere?” Dean asks.
“No, I think you’re stuck with me.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“I didn’t. I still wanna find Dad. And you’re still a pain in the ass.” Sam explains, “But, Jess and Mom—they’re both gone. Dad is God knows where. You, me, Y/N. We’re all that’s left. So, if we’re gonna see this through, we’re gonna do it together.”
I give Sam's arm a little squeeze, it was a really sweet speech.
“Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful.” Dean smiles, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder who hits it away. They fall into a fit of laughter, “You should be kissing my ass, you were dead meat, dude.” Sam says between laughs.
“Yeah, right. I had a plan, I’d have gotten us out.” Dean scuffs.
“Right.”
#supernatural#fanfiction#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#sam winchester#john winchester#slow burn#witch reader#witchcraft#dean winchester x witch reader#dean winchester x f!reader#the hunter and the witch#the hunter and the witch update#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x female reader#angst#arguing
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"Witch's Hazel" chapter 13 'Following Red Threads' is out now on ao3!! 📌🧵
Magic Realism/Urban Fantasy
Sleepy Bois Inc as Family
TommyInnit-centric
Hurt/Comfort
Magic School Mystery
and more!
"No, what's going on? I need to, I need—"
More noise. Then suddenly, he could hear Wilbur's voice. "Dad, they're asking for you. You need to get in here and help! I can't do shit!"
"I'll be there in a second, Wil," Phil responded sharply.
"Dad!"
"Wilbur, it's Tommy! Give me one second, will you?"
"Fucking— Sure, whatever!" Wilbur sounded bitter, frustrated. After weeks of not hearing his brother's voice apart from the recorded songs on his phone, hearing him like this sent a full-body shudder through Tommy. "Because you haven't been leaving me alone with this whole shit for weeks already, yeah?"
"You know that's not—"
"Forget it."
No one said anything for a couple seconds. Wilbur must have left again. Tommy took a stuttering breath. "Dad?"
"Sorry about that, Tommy. Today has been.. tense."
The boy nodded even though his father couldn't see it anyway. "I don't wanna keep you from anything important, especially not if— if it's about Mum..? You should go do whatever you need to help with, right?"
"I will. It's okay. Just listen to me for a moment, okay? I'll make it quick."
#witch's hazel au#tommyinnit fanfic#sbi fanfic#sleepy bois fanfic#dsmp fanfic#mcyt fanfic#sbi#sleepy boys inc#tommyinnit#philza#wilbur soot#technoblade#benchtrio#philza fanart#tubbo#ranboo#awesamdude#dsmp#myct#fanfiction#ao3
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obscurebelief answered:
He stared at the younger with a question that he never heard of before. And if it were good witch or bad witch, it'd still feel a lot less complicated given he is just him. Good to some, bad to most.
"Wizard of what?" He asked, staring at Wil but listened. "Um. Yes I've flown broomstick before. Oh? Are you a witch?" He asked, "or wizard? One of those?"
He was avoiding the question. But he thought on it. Specialty? He only had deadly ones nowadays. Phoenix friend? Maybe. Obscurus Magic? Was that possible? He didn't know. Death and Torture magic? Yes.
He didn't know what he was, he just was Aurelius. He didn't seek out really anything, never really given thought until now. "I... I don't know. I um.. I never thought of what I did before. I write, I take care of my phoenix, I learn everything I can." He didn't know if he should add killing and harming others yet.
Wil had barely aged if at all since last time he met the boy in New York. Back when he was a broken and nearly dead Second Salemer. His eyes stared at Wil. "I don't know at all. I am usually labelled as a monstrosity, wanted monster, Obscurial, I never really thought of staying with one profession..
Every once in a while I accidentally travel through time. First the 80's in Hawkins, Indiana. And now the 2020's." He was not exactly good with either time to. Given he still had trouble figuring out how microwaves worked or phones for that matter.
__________________________
“Me?” He asked with a bubbled laugh. “No~,” he laughed, again. “I thought you knew, silly. I’m Peter Pan’s son. I’m half Fae.” He found it amusing. He thought the guy had known, considering ... well... they met before, even though couldn’t remember much of any of those details, but he did see him drop in talking about the dragons with Harry that one day.
But the man was seriously derailing from the question...
“No, no, not all that stuff,” Wil interjected at the guy’s explanation. “I mean where do you draw your magic from? Like for me, I draw mine from dream and from the season of Autumn, so does my other dad, the biological one. My brother though, he was ... is a witch,” he caught himself because he still had no word on that. Wil had sent out his letter ages ago, but he still hadn’t heard back. He would believe, though, that he was alive and sitting in his garden. “But he drew his magic from the plants mostly and the Earth, I believe. Itttt’s been a long time.”
Wil shook his head and listened more about the guy being called a monster.
“Humans are like that. Well, a lot of them are. They used to call me that, too when I was little and lived here. I was a freak. I think maybe just sometimes we’re in the wrong company is all. I mean when you’re surrounded by freaks it’s the normal people who are freaks. It’s perspective. It’s why I live now in Neverland. I don’t have to pretend there or try to fit in to what others call ‘normal,’ besides, I don’t like hopping around places. I spent enough of my human life doing that and I’d have to move a lot to not let on that I don’t age. You should be careful, though, about traveling through time. It can mess up things badly.”
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My year in books!
(not the exact reading order)
The Wall - Marlen Haushofer
Loved this book, it's really powerful. But it deals with difficult themes and if you are very sensitive about animals, maybe steer clear. Although it's very important to the story and it would be a shame if that would deter you from this wonderful book.
Wat stilte wil - Arthur Japin
Read this for my book club - there is only a Dutch version as far as I know. I did not like it, so that's probably for the best.
A Restless Truth - Freya Marske
Sequel to A Marvellous Light - magic and lesbians on an ocean liner. It's a really fun read!
Under the Whispering Door - TJ Klune
This hit hard with my dad recently passed - it was lovely and soothing, though.
Green Creek series - TJ Klune
If you want to lose yourself to a new series, this is the one. Not what I was expecting, based on his other books, but in the MOST delightful way.
The House in the Cerulean Sea -TJ Klune
I love everyone in this bar orphanage
The Witch's Heart - Genevieve Gornichec
The story of Angrboda, Loki's first wife, the mother of Hel, Fenrir and Jormungandr. I really enjoyed this retelling of Norse mythology.
Red, White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
The writing wasn't great, but you know - it was fun.
Carrie Soto is back - Taylor Jenkins Reid
Loved this - perfect summer read (if you enjoy tennis matches)
A Power Unbound - Freya Marske
The conclusion of the trilogy. I personally vibed most with the first book, but it was absolutely lovely to see all the charachters together and solve the puzzle!
Pride & Prejudice - Jane Austen
A comfort reread. I've read this so many times I can probably recite it in my sleep. Just a solid book.
The Haunting Season: Ghostly Tales for Long Winter Nights - Bridget Collins
A wonderful collection of creepy stories, really really enjoying this! (I'm past the halfway point and I will finish this within the next few days, so I'm counting it!) Also loved the story by Natasha Pulley that featured Mori, Thaniel and Six!
Any books you'd like to read from my list? Recommendations for me for next year? (always room on my to read pile) Feel free to post your list and tag me in it! (please!)
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forever and a day | earth's tiniest heroes. [blurb.]
〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉
series masterlist
event | stuffies for all
summary | after learning to make finger puppets, willa makes a special trip to the tower with gifts in hand for all her friends.
pairing | willa rogers (oc) x the avengers
warnings | written from steve’s pov, just willa being the sweetest little being that ever did exist, so fluffy and cute and adorable, steve is the proudest dad ever, willa made one for tony even tho he takes a “trip” when he hears they’re coming :’^)
“You’re first, Peter!” Willa cheers excitedly as she sits in the center of the circle the group’s formed around her on the rug of the fiftieth floor’s living space. Reaching into her ladybug backpack, she pulls out a Spiderman-themed puppet, complete with little webs made of string coming from the hands.
“Oh wow, Wil- this is so cool!” Peter’s eyes widen in awe as he takes the gift from the little girl to hold carefully in his hands, appearing too worried he might break something to put it on.
“C'mon, goes on your finger!” the child giggles as she helps her friend place the piece of fitted red fabric over his pointer finger, a huge smile spreading across his face.
“Wow, it looks just like my spidey suit!” the teen enthuses as he wiggles his finger, “you did such a great job! Thank you, Willa.”
After giving her best friend a quick hug, she moves on to the next person in the circle, her now great pal, the God of Thunder. When the girl reaches into her bag and pulls out a very mighty-looking Asgardian puppet with a tiny hammer dangling from its hand, Thor’s face fills with delight as he tells her, “That is a marvelous looking creation, little friend. Is that meant to be me?”
“Yes!” Willa beams, bouncing excitedly in front of her ginormous friend. “And even has your hammer, look! Thor puppet’s worthy, too!”
“He is, indeed,” the god marvels as he places the puppet on his finger, a brilliant smile gracing his face as his gaze meets the child’s. “Thank you, Willa. I shall treasure him forever.”
Wanda’s next, an excited gasp leaving the older girl as she watches the little one pull a Scarlet Witch puppet from her bag. “Oh my goodness, Willa. This is so stunning. You made my outfit just right,” she gushes as she slips the puppet on. “It’s beautiful, darling. Thank you so much.”
Nat’s face softens when she sees a Black Widow puppet being taken out next, her black leather stealth suit catching her eye as she grins at the little girl, “Now that’s a good-looking puppet. I’d know that suit anywhere- how’d you make it look so much like me?”
“Daddy helped,” Willa smiles happily as she hands over the gift, her face lighting up as Nat puts it on to show the group.
“Well your Daddy has great taste in leather,” Nat winks at me as Willa moves on, pulling out a scruffier-looking puppet with messy brown hair, a tiny bow and arrow attached to one of the hands.
“Hey- I know that guy!” Clint chimes in as he graciously accepts the present from the girl. “Thanks a ton, kiddo! This rocks- I gotta show the kids when they call tonight!”
“Say hi to Lila for me,” Willa requests with a smile as she gives the archer a hug before returning to her bag, the next puppet she pulls wearing a blackish-red outfit with a wide set of wings.
“Aww, hell yeah,” Sam cheers, brows flaring playfully as he catches his own slip-up. “I mean- awesome, that looks awesome, sweetheart. You make this just for me?”
“Jus’ for you, Sammy!” Willa confirms happily as she helps her friend wiggle the little figure onto his finger. “Look, can make him fly!” she shows him by moving his hand through the air in swooping motions.
“Now that’s really awesome,” the man laughs, planting a kiss on the girl’s temple as he wraps her in a hug. “Thank you so much, sweetheart. I’m gonna put him right up on my dresser next to Redwing; they’re gonna look sick together.”
“Totally sick!” Willa agrees as she returns to her bag, pulling out one of the last puppets from the bottom. “This one’s special, he’s got a PhB.”
“D,” I correct her with a chuckle, the faces around the circle filling with love and amusement as they watch the little girl hold up the black-haired puppet dressed in a lab coat.
“A PhD,” the child repeats, “and a s'ethescope.”
“That must be for me, then!” Bruce pipes up as he scoots closer to the girl to accept the present. Once it’s secured onto his finger, he wiggles it a big, joking, “Have you been eating your apples, Ms. Willa?”
“Every day!” she promises with a light-hearted giggle. When she peers back into her bag once more, though, something shifts on her face, a bit of sadness shining in her eyes as she looks up at me. “Daddy?” she asks quietly.
“What’s up, lovebug?” I murmur gently, moving up to join her in the middle of the circle. Cheeks turning pink, the little girl opens up her bag for me to look inside. When I catch sight of the last puppet at the bottom, my heart breaks a little in my chest. I didn’t even know she had made one more.
“Tony’s on a trip, sweetheart,” I tell her softly, pulling her onto my lap as I rub her back carefully, “but that was so thoughtful for you to make one for him, too. I bet we can leave it here for him, and he’ll get it whenever he comes back.
Looks of sadness and patient understanding have formed around the circle as Bruce scoots in near us, offering, "Here, I can keep it safe for him. Wow- you made him a lab coat just like me! He’s gonna love that we’re matching.”
“P'omise you’ll give it to him?” the girl asks carefully.
“Promise,” he nods, tucking the puppet safely into his pocket. “He’s gonna think it’s so cool, Willa. I’ll bet he wishes he could’ve been here to see you today, maybe you can see him next time.”
series masterlist
#eun's writing#faad#stuffies for all#earth's tiniest heroes#steve rogers#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers x child!oc#dad!steve rogers#steve rogers series#steve rogers au#steve rogers fanfiction#the avengers#avengers fanfiction#mcu#mcu fanfiction#captain america#captain america fanfiction
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How do you think Season 2 will end, and do you think what will happen will continue onto Season 3?
In no particular order, I predict that:
-The Day of Unity will be successful and season 2 will end in the human realm.
-The draining spell won't be entirely successful in that it won't kill anyone, but all the covened witches will end up powerless.
-The human realm will act sort of like a void for the magic and as long as the Titan is in the human realm, it's losing its magical essence. So, not only will the witches lose their inherent magic, they'll also lose their one last connection to magic via glyphs if the Day of Unity isn't reversed.
-Alador and the kids will catch up with Kikimora, save Luz, and attempt to crash the Day of Unity/protect the other rebels, but it won't work in the end
-King will contact the Collector and make a deal with them to defeat Belos, but the Collector will end up double- and triple-crossing both King and Belos and wreck havoc
-Alternatively, Belos knows about King via their mutual connection to the Collector and fully expects King to be right where he wants him when the moment arises (either way, I still believe the Collector will double-cross him). Based on some promo art I've seen for the finale, it appears King will get a crack his skull, meaning that some of his blood may be used as a final component on the door.
-The Collector will either possess or capture Luz. They're alone, desperate for a playmate who won't lie to them, and Luz is an awesome friend
-The Collector will rip the curse out of Eda and take back the owl beast (a new friend and their old pet all in the same day?!)
-Eda won't feel better with the curse gone and will do what she can to get it back
-Season 3 will start with everyone trying to rescue Luz, King, and whoever else from the Collector
-At some point during season 3, we'll get a flashback of the Wittebane brothers' backstory, at least featuring the information that we're lacking, i.e. what happened between them and what happened to Philip that caused him to start consuming palismen
-The gang will need Camila and Vee's assistance to rescue Luz, or Luz will need their assistance to stop the Collector somehow
-The series will end with a permanent link to the demon realm so that Luz will be able to continue her magic studies and stay connected with her new friends, girlfriend, and found family.
-Not so much a prediction as it is a theory/analysis, but I think that Camila has struggled ever since her husband died, especially when it comes to Luz. I believe that her dad was the one who really understood her, that she and her dad were very similar to each other, and Camila struggled to give Luz the kind of support she needed growing up. She became overprotective to prevent Luz from being judged, but instead all she managed to do was make Luz feel ashamed of who she is. Seeing that Luz chose to lie to her and live somewhere else entirely, where she's currently trapped and in constant danger, makes her feel like she failed so much as a mother that Luz would rather be anywhere else than with her. I hope that Camila will see how happy Luz is with all of her new friends, but I also hope that she knows how much Luz loves and missed her, and how sorry she is.
-Hunter will be the one who finally defeats Belos (not necessarily kill him, but make it so he'll never hurt anyone again). Just a little poetic justice, considering Belos killed all of Hunter's predecessors.
-The Collector will either be trapped away again or destroyed.
ALSO just for the record, I don't think anyone will die. If anything, they might make it look like someone dies at the end of season 2, and King seems to be the most likely candidate.
Bonus indulgent predictions because I can:
-RAEDA KISS RAEDA KISS RAEDA KISS
-Lumity date in the human realm blease
-Gus finally makes contact with the giraffes
-Hunter will officially change his name to Caleb to finally cut ties with his past identity as the Golden Guard
-Darius will be the one to take Hunter in, but the Clawthornes will consider him part of the family (based on the theory that Wittebro married a Clawthorne)
#the owl house#asks#toh spoilers#emperor belos#king clawthorne#toh the collector#luz noceda#eda clawthorne#camila noceda#toh hunter#and other characters I don't feel like tagging#toh theories
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For @dandylion240
Anika and Apollo’s turn.
Ask them to describe their love interest.
Anika: Obtuse, smartass and a hero complex so far up his arse the Superman punch is coming out of his mouth.
Paul: Did you just quote my brother?!
Anika: -giggle- But his heart is in the right place. He a little confused, but he got the spirit.
He’s intelligent, a genius even, but he’s hot-tempered. He’s passionate but he’s stubborn. He’s ambitious, but he’s relentless. He’s a good man, with good itentions, with good objectives. He dreams to save the world, to protect the people he loves from harm, from evil. Even if sometimes his notion of evil is skewed.
Paul: My notion of evil is very clear, thank you.
Anika: He appears confident and collected, like he knows what he′s doing. But I feel it in my heart. He’s insecure, vulnurable, inapt. He feels like he’s not enough, like he is a failure, like his good intentions, his attempts to be a hero have only set him out in a path to be a villain from which he doesn’t know how to get out off. He’s guilt ridden, he’s torn, he’s confused and vulnurable and he just wishes, he just dreams... someone would tell him he’s not wrong, he’s not evil, he’s not the villain.
He’s my hero.
Paul:...
Anika: Your turn.
Paul: She’s cunning. Watcher she is cunning. Cunning and relentless. She’s devious. But she’s good, though our objectives might not always align, she is there for me, she’s understanding and forgiving. She reads me like an open book. No one understands people like she does.
She has her own way of being, of doing things. She does not wish to fit any mold. Not the Witch and not the Hero, she’s a Queen who knows what she wants and wil ldo anything to reach her goal. Make you understand who she is. She’s a star, a beacon.
She’s everything. She’s my heart.
Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?
Paul: My mother. Whenever I need an advice I ask it from her. Though sometimes her advice are rather ignorant of what’s really going on, she’s still a lawyer and she has had to defend people who were indeed guilty of what they did. So... she’s pretty good at giving morally nuanced advice... *nervous laugh*.
Anika: My father. If I ask advice from anyone it’s my dad. He’s the only family I have left and he is a sage. He was also the person who was from the very beginning working on this. So, if I need help, with anything, even with normal girl things he’s the one I ask. He took care of my mom and raised me after she died, so, he was the one who was there when I got my first menstruation, my first curse, my prom and my first date... So, him, of course him.
Name one thing their parents taught them.
Paul: My mom taught me to think things through before I do them and to breath deep when I loose my cool. My father taught me that actions have consequences, regardless of intentions. As he said: “No good deed goes unpunished.”
Anika: For me to be very careful in who I trust, and before seeking alies to make sure we have equal objetives.
What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work?
Paul: Fiction. Fiction is useless. Movies, books, games. They serve no real life purpose and no real life use. What will I gain from reading about a magical mage from another planet when the spells he uses can’t even be replicated here?
Anika: I used to think makeup was a waste of time, but I have changed my mind. I realized I just didn’t know how to use it or what I liked. Now that I do, I don’t find it a waste of time. So, I don’t know. Maybe gardening is a waste of time?
What do they like that nobody else does?
Anika: Paul reads enciclopedias, for fun. Who the fuck reads enciclopedias for entertainment! That’s work, that’s ‘school’ work! Could you be any more boring?
Paul: She goes to the bathroom to fart.
Anika: -snort laughs-
Paul: Like. We’re jogging and suddenly I see her looking for a bathroom and I think it’s to pee and she comes out almost instantly and I go: That was a quick pee and she answer. Oh, I just needed to let loose a quick quif.
Anika: -bursts into laughter- I don’t like to be rude and fart in someone’s nose!
Paul: -laughing- I have seen your bed hair and smell your morning breath, and it’s a little fart that worries you?!
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Belated Halloween Short Story
We were planning on having this out earlier, but! Life happens. We have it here, just in time for Halloween in December. We voted this story in the Discord and we hope you all enjoy this short little silly drabble while we work on Chapter two. Enjoy!
There comes a moment in every child's life, a night full of whimsy and terror, a night for celebration. Their first Grimmanoct, or as the denizens of the rowdy island city of Blubail call it, Grime Night. A revelry dedicated to the trickster god Voldieu, where gambling, indulgences, and theft are all encouraged. So long as you pay tribute, that is.
This is the story of a very special slime's first Grimmanoct.
It was a brisk and chill night over Blubail, the crescent moon hung in the sky, with all the stars twinkling brightly. Goopy was brimming with excitement unlike any other. His first Grime Night! He simply couldn’t believe it. Yet, here he was half a mess! Where was his hook? Why was he struggling with the buttons so much? And why wouldn’t his stupid hat just stay put!
“Goopy- you left your hook down here!” He heard the telltale thunk of Latin clambering down the stairs, “Your damn costume ain’t complete without it!”
“Sorry!” He called out, scrambling out to meet them. “I was wondering where it went!”
They shook their head, annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. You left it by the wheel, squirt. Need help getting it on?”
“Nope, Mom! Can you help me with my buttons though..?”
“Kid, of all the people to ask, you know I can’t help you. I’m just as handily impaired as you. Think Sil or your Dad’s up in the kitchen though. Go ask them.”
Latin ruffled his hair lightly, messing up his hat once again.
“Moom! My hat! My hat!”
“Sorry kid, here-” They laughed and fixed it for him. “There you go.”
“What are you supposed to be Mom?” He glanced at the hay and grime poking out from the patterned shirt they wore.
“Scarecrow.”
Stepping back for a moment, he glanced at Latin up and down.
“...Did you steal that off of Lila’s scarecrow?”
“No.”
“...But it looks like what their scarecrow wears?”
“Does it? Hadn’t noticed.”
He narrowed his eyes, then grinned. “Mom! You can’t just steal clothes off a scarecrow! They were using them!”
“Well, it’s not like the scarecrow told me no. Now go on, let your Dad help you with those buttons.”
Giggling, Goopy headed up the hallway to the kitchen. From there a deliciously sweet smell wafted towards him. He scrambled into the kitchen to see a warm glazed rum cake. Nuts and frosting garnished the top. The syrupy sweet smell was so tempting, so wonderful, he just had to have a bite of it. Goopy reached out with his hand to envelop a bite and was quickly smacked away by a spatula.
“No.” Morgan stared him down, ‘That is for our party.’
“But! But! It looks so yummy!”
‘And it has rum in it.” Morgan rolled his eyes and handed Goopy a butterscotch. ‘Here. Your first candy of the night.’
Goopy gasped and grinned like a madman.
“My first candy! My first candy!”
“What’s this about candy?” Bennie’s face peeked in from upstairs.
“Uncle Morgan gave me my first Grime Night candy!”
“Did he now?” Bennie laughed and pressed a kiss on Morgan’s cheek.
‘I did,’ said Morgan, ‘He was trying to grab at the cake.’
“Goopy! You know what we said about sticky fingers!”
“I knooooow. Can you help me with my buttons Dad?”
Bennie rolled his eyes and bent down, taking Goopy’s shirt in his hands. One by one, he buttoned the frilly blouse up.
“You are quite the scary pirate, Goop.”
“ArrrrGG!!”
“There you go.”
“What are you, Dad?” Goopy asked.
“Whaaat! You can’t tell? I’m a clown, and Uncle Morgans a witch.”
“But clowns aren’t scary!”
“How would you know kid, you’ve never seen a clown!”
Goopy crossed his arms, pouting. Bennie laughed and patted Goopy on his shoulder.
“Alright, alright Goopy. You know where to go while we’re out, yeah?”
“I do! Meet Lila at the farm, and then she’ll take me trick or treating all around the island!”
“Perfect. Me and everyone else will be back here, alright? If you need anything just come home.”
“Okaaay Dad!” He started to scramble up the steps, excited to get on with the night.
“And don’t forget to pay tribute to Voldieu at the end! It’s bad luck if you don’t!’
“Okaaay! Okay! Bye!”
Goopy shut the door and thus began his very first Grime Night. He traveled down the winding Blubail roads to his best friend Lila’s house. Excitement bubbled in his stomach as he wound through the woods. His very first trick or treat! His very very first trick or treat! He couldn’t believe it. Oh, the candy he would get, oh the adventures he’d get up to! Goopy sped up, practically jogging through the woods. He just couldn’t wait at all.
Lila’s house was easy to find, purple and orange lanterns lighting it up as dusk slowly started to fall. The simple cottage was betrayed by the elaborate and fun decor the family had strung up. Grain sacks painted black and sticks glued on to look like huge spiders, paper chains hanging to and fro, and cotton stretched across the bushes to look like cobwebs. It was a veritable spooky masterpiece. He knocked at the door, tapping till finally someone opened it.
“Goopy!” Lila yelled, pulling him up into a big hug. “OoOOOo! You’re a pirate!”
“Yeah! Yeah! Like my Dad!” A grin spread across his face as he showed off the tattered and worn costume. He even had a coat like Dad!
“That's so coooool- do you like mine- do you?” LIla twirled, showing off shimmering fabric feathers draped all around her, and a mask sat half on her head.
“It’s shiny! Of course, I like it! Now come on- come on! Let’s go!” He grabbed Lila, tugging her along the road. “Think of the candy!”
Laughing, the two started down the road into Blubail. The first house on the way was a small shanty house, where they got caramels and crackle candies. Then, to the inner city, where market stalls handed out rich chocolates and colorful rock candies. As their pouches filled, Goopy couldn’t believe his eyes. So many sweets, in so little time! Butterscotches and lollipops, toffee and gummies, cakes and caramels, anything he could think of. Why, he could be sitting eating candy for hours and hours.
After what seemed like hours, the moon reached its peak in the night sky, and Goopy could tell he was getting tired. His eyes drooped and his feet dragged on the ground, but there was still so much candy to be had! They couldn’t stop now.
“Hey Goopy…I think it’s sorta late.” Lila glanced around, frowning, “I don’t see any more kids around.”
“Okay..?” He turned to her, confused.
“...I’m saying we should head back Goopy!”
“What? Noo! But- but- there’s still more candy to get!”
“We have plenty- my bags are almost full!”
“Please, Lila? Just one more house? One more?”
She paused, crossing her arms for a moment.
“Fine. But I get to pick the house.”
She pointed out to the distance at the old, creepy, rickety thing on the hill. Goopy thought it was barely even a house, really. Its porch opened like a mouth with teeth. Sharp jagged points lined the fence all around it. The roof sloped and swerved in a way that felt just wrong. No, Goopy didn’t like the thing at all.
“...Fine!” He said, pouting, “I’m not scared of a house.”
“Oh..but you should be. It’s haunted.”
Goopy’s eyes grew wide, staring at Lila.
“Haunted…?”
“Oh yeah. Legend has it that a noble woman made the mistake of moving here after her husband died, and all the pirates on the island came and swarmed her, and killed her! Now, her ghost wanders the house- wailing- and screaming- and looking to sink her claws into any pirate she finds!” Lila yelled, a manic grin on her face.
“Really…?”
“Oh yeah. Well, come on then!”
“Wait wait! Why don’t we head back- it is pretty late…”
“Aw! But you said one more house Goop. We can’t just stop now.”
Lila grabbed his arm and started to pull, dragging him towards the monstrous thing on the hill. The haunted monstrous thing on the hill. The clouds slowly started to crowd in as they walked up the winding, winding road. Thunder rumbled ominously in the background, and just as they got close, the strike of lightning lit the whole house from behind. Goopy could feel the slight tickle of rain on him, as Lila dragged him closer and closer. Till finally…they were at the door.
“Go on Goopy! Knock!” She said.
His hand shaking, he reached forward and knocked at the door as softly as he could manage. A second passed. Then another.
“Oh well! Look’s like nobody home Lila- lets go-” As he spun around to leave, the door slowly creaked open. A woman stood at the door, ghastly and pale. She was old, wrinkles set in her face like his Dad had. Her hair was pinned up in a messy bun, hair spilling out of it and covering her face. She had sharp pale eyes that seemed to bore holes into him and wore a tattered, ragged noble dress.
“Trick- trick or treat…”
His hands were shaking as he held out his bag, waiting for candy to be put inside. He was sure this ghost was going to kill him. She was going to tear him apart with terrible claws and wicked fangs, she was going to eat him, cook him, stuff him in a jar!
Finally, after what seemed like forever…she spoke, her voice quiet in the thundering rain.
“Oh. I didn’t know kids were still out…hold on. I think…I think I might have some candy left?”
The ghost turned around and opened a cabinet. Goopy leaned inside, his fear slowly melting away as he saw a variety of shiny, sparkly, glittering teacups and china. Fancy crystal cups, shiny polished silverware, and at the very center a gilded, shining, golden teacup.
“Ah. Here we are.”
The lady turned again, this time with some hard honey candies in her hand.
“Happy Grimmanoct, dears. Make sure to pay tribute to Voldieu, okay?”
Too stunned by the glittering display of shiny items, Goopy was silent. The door shut, and then he and Lila were left standing on the porch, with nothing but the pattering sounds of the rain.
“Okay!” Lila said, “Let’s head to the temple, then home?”
“No.”
“What? Goopy! This is the last house!”
“You’re right. This is the last house.” He grinned, staring Lila down. “And I need that teacup.”
“What.”
“The teacup.”
“No! I’m not helping you rob her!” Lila crossed her arms and pouted.
“But I want the teacup! Come on, don’t you want to be cool? Like my Dad and- and Morgan- and Latin?”
“...you really think Mr. Latin would steal the teacup…?”
“Oh yeah. Absolutely.”
“...Do you think they’ll think I’m cool if I help you steal it…?”
“Uh-huh. Totally.”
Lila was quiet, shifting on her feet for a couple of moments.
“Okay! Fine, I’ll help you. But only if you tell your mom how cool I was.”
“Deal.”
Goopy grinned and quietly studied the house. The first step of any good heist was a point of entry. That’s what Uncle Sil always said. Windows, doors, vents…there it was! A window cracked just barely open. It was a little too high for him..but if Lila boosted him up, he could easily slip through!
“Lila,” He whispered, “Look! A window.”
“Okay, okay, here, step on my hand and I’ll boost you up.”
He clambered on top of her, and with a bit of struggling, he managed to get a grip on the window. Goopy squeezed and sucked, making himself as flat as can be. Until eventually he had wormed his way in.
“Be careful!” Lila called from outside.
Those words were lost to the wind as Goopy crept further into the house. It was creaky and old, with cobwebs strewn all across its walls. The darkness seemed to press in on him. Shadows darted to and fro. The rain was loud, pattering heavily on the roof and muffling his footsteps. He was gonna get that teacup.
Goopy followed Lila’s voice from the outside until he finally got to the front door. To the cabinet. He slowly opened the door and was bombarded with an assortment of shiny, beautiful things. Only one mattered. Only one shiny was worthy of his collection. The teacup.
It was even more beautiful up close. Fine golden swirls scrawled all around the cup, moving into the thick band of gold that rimmed it. It sat delicately on a matching saucer. It was perfect. Think of all the other shinys he could put in this shiny. It was perfect for his ring collection, or his gem collection, or for all his silver spoons!
He quickly tucked it into his bag and turned to leave. But, as he started to turn, there was a sudden creak behind him.
“Hello?” the ghost's voice cried out.
It echoed in the empty home, sending chills down Goopy's spine. Should he look? Should he run? Against his better judgment, he turned towards her, sneaking a glance at the ghastly figure. Just as he did, lightning struck with a loud crack. Her face was lit up, with sunken cheeks, and dead, glossy eyes. Goopy screamed, no, no, he needed to get out now! The ghost was going to eat him! Going to stick him in a jar! He ran, practically tripping over himself, stumbling to get out that very moment.
The ghost seemed to catch on to what was happening and chased after him. Her heels clacked on the old wooden floors, closer and closer to him. Stupid adults and their long legs! He ducked into a room and slammed the door behind him. It was some sort of sitting room, with frilly curtains and a velvety couch. Most importantly though, there was a window. It was too tall for him though. He glanced around. Her heels clicked closer.
Quick! He needed to do something quick. The table by the door, if he could knock it over, he’d have more time. Goopy rammed into it with all his weight. It slid just a bit, but it wasn’t enough. The doorknob started to twist, and he rammed one last time. It had to work, it just had to! Dad was gonna be so mad if he got caught! The table tilted, and wobbled precariously for a few moments, before finally tipping over and blocking the door.
Goopy grinned. That should buy enough time. He rushed to the couch and started pushing it towards the window. It was heavy, screeching loudly across the wooden floors. But slowly, so slowly, he was making progress.
The ghost wailed outside, “What are you doing?!” “What’s that noise?!” “You open this door right now young man!”
The doorknob jostled, and he could see the door start to give way. Uh oh. He wasn’t going to have enough time to get the couch to the window. Goopy glanced around, looking for another solution. No, no, he’d have to jump from the couch out the window. He was heavy enough to break it...right?
There was a loud thump, and he saw the door open just a crack. It was now or never. Goopy climbed on the couch and sprinted towards the window. He ducked into a ball, just like his dad showed him, and crashed into it. It gave way, shards flying everywhere. He landed hard on the ground with a hefty thump. The teacup! Did it break? Goopy tore through his bag, sighing with relief seeing the cup whole. The candy must’ve broken its fall.
Lila ran up to him, “What the- the- what the freak Goopy! What happened?! I heard you scream?!”
He glanced up at the window to see the ghost angrily glaring down at them, her stark white hair whipping in the wind. Without thinking, he grabbed Lila’s hand.
“We need to go! Now!” Goopy yelled.
They tore off into the rain and lightning, booking it towards the main city. There they could lose her in all the winding stalls and crowds of people. He and Lila knew every crevice of the city! The ghost gave chase, her pale figure steadily following behind them. Rain poured down, making the ground slippery and mushy. She was no match for them, however, and just as they got into the city, they lost her.
Lila dragged him into an alley, eyes practically red with rage. He gulped.
“What the heck was that Goopy?!”
“...uh. I got the teacup?” He nervously laughed, shrinking back.
“You ruined my costume! We’re covered in mud! Did you even grab something cool for me?”
“...you wanted something?”
If looks could kill, Goopy was pretty sure he would be dead.
“That’s it. You’re giving me half your candy.”
“What?! But-”
“Half your candy or I tell Bennie!”
“No!” He pouted, crossing his arms, “You wouldn’t.”
She narrowed his eyes, leaning over him.
“Wanna bet?”
“...but I already have to give a bunch to Voldieu!”
“Okay then, guess I’m gonna go teeell-”
“No! Fine. Fiiine. I’ll give you some.”
He opened his bag and started shoveling candy into Lila’s as she watched with a grin.
“Alright, now we gotta go to Voldieus’ temple and go give some to him.”
“Nooo. I already gave you a bunch. I’m just gonna go home.”
“What?” She stared at him, eyes wide, “You can’t just…not give Voldieu candy. He’ll come eat you or- curse you or something!”
“I can and I will. I bet he’s not even real.”
“...but ghosts are real?”
“Super real. Did you see that lady!?”
Lila rolled her eyes and laughed, “Okaaay, don’t come crying to me when your hand gets turned to worms.”
“I won't. Because it’s not gonna happen.”
With that, Lila picked up her bag and headed back into the city.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, worm boy!”
Goopy huffed and stood up. He was not going to get turned into worms. He walked out of the alley, and down the road, then paused. Voldieu’s temple. Maybe he should go in? He could spare a few candies. He had a lot left even after Lila demanded half. No! This was his candy, and his alone.
Walking past the temple, Goopy headed into the woods surrounding the S.S Messe. He couldn’t wait to add his teacup to his shiny room! The rain still quietly pattered against the trees, but besides the noise of the rain, the woods were silent. All was still as Goopy happily walked home. It was a little creepy he thought, but he’d walked this path a dozen times.
Then, the skittering started. Slow pittering noises darting to and fro. Behind him, in front of him. To his left, to his right. He paused and glanced all around him. What could that possibly be? The leaves rustled, and he caught a glimpse of shining eyes staring at him from the shadows. Then another pair of eyes, and another, and another. Suddenly, they were all around him, staring. He could’ve sworn they looked almost angry. Slight chittering suddenly filled the forest. But then, it grew and grew, until it was loud and booming. The slight squeaks and clicks all overlapped each other into a chaotic frenzy, drowning out even the rain. Suddenly, they were on him. It was raccoons, he realized.
They skittered and scuttled all over him, wet paws grasping at his candy bag and pulling, ripping even. The noise was even louder up close, and Goopy screamed. What was happening? Why were there so many of them? What did he do to deserve this?
Just as suddenly as they were there, the raccoons were gone. Goopy was sitting on the ground, knocked over by the sheer force of the furry beasts. His costume was ripped and torn practically to shreds, much less his bag. There was nothing left of his bag at all. Just a scrap of its fabric still clutched in his hand…and the teacup shattered on the ground. Goopy started to cry. His candy! His cup! His costume! Everything was just ruined!
He stood and ran as fast as he could back home. He wanted his Dad. No- he wanted Mommy, they’d shoot every one of those raccoons! Tears streamed down his face as he ran for the airship. Finally, he saw it and climbed aboard. Immediately, Sil noticed him and flocked towards him.
“Woah- Goopy- Goopy slow down buddy..” Sil put their hands on his shoulders and squatted down to his level. “What happened? Why is your costume all in shreds? And where's your candy?”
“The raccoons!” Goopy yelled.
“Raccoons…?”
“The raccoons! They came and they stole my candy, and and, they broke my teacup, and they tore up everything, and now everything is ruined!”
“Oh Goopster, shh, shh. Hey, it’s okay.” Sil pulled Goopy into a hug and rubbed his back, “Why don’t we get out of the rain little guy, and get you a butterscotch or two and you can tell me everything? How’s that sound?”
“...That sounds good.” Goopy sniffled, and wiped his tears on what remained of his sleeve.
Downstairs, he chewed a butterscotch and told Sil everything. From regular trick or treating, to the scary house, to the raccoons. As he was telling Sil everything they nodded along, listening to every word.
“Wow, that sounds like a lot Goop.” Sil said.
“It was awful!” Goopy crossed his arms, pouting.
“But…It sounds to me like Voldieu was teaching you a little lesson.”
“Huh??? Where’d you get that from? You’re silly, Uncle Sil.”
Sil laughed a little, chewing on a butterscotch themself. “No no, Goopy. I’m not being silly. Gods don’t come down and tell you things. They give you little messages.”
“...like a bunch of raccoons taking my stuff..?”
“Like a bunch of raccoons taking your stuff.”
“Oh.” Goopy looked down and fiddled with the scrap of fabric from his bag.
“And what do you think he was trying to tell you Goopy…?”
“I dunno…”
“Do you remember what your Dad always says about sticky fingers?”
“...to save them for people who deserve it?”
“Exactly. Do you think that poor old lady deserved it?” Sil asked.
Goopy popped up from his seat, “Yes! She was a ghost!”
“No.” Sil gently sat him back down, “She’s an old lady. Her name is Ruth. She’s actually very sweet.”
“...oh. I’m sorry.”
“I think you should tell poor old Ruth that, Goopy.”
“Now?” Goopy asked.
“No no, don’t worry. We’ll go up there tomorrow, you and me. You can give her a shiny to make up for the teacup you stole, okay?”
“Okay…and…you’re not going to tell Dad?”
Sil paused for a moment, thinking. “Have you learned your lesson?”
“I have…”
“Alright, then..this can be a secret between you and me, okay Goopy? For Grime Night.”
Goopy grinned, maybe this night wasn’t so bad after all.
“For Grime Night!”
Written by bleebtheweeb
Colored by Sammycow12 & bleebtheweeb
#airshipsofaruna#inbetween#extra context#halloween short#grimenight#Grimmanoct#webcomic#oc comic#indie comic#short story#raccoons
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Hello Tumbler Jeebors fans as well with peps!
Soz for not being on the app for so long. I've been mostly on Ticktock, there I do random things. If you want to see more of that then hears the link.
https://www.tiktok.com/@jeebors?_t=8hZGKCCyQxP&_r=1
As far hair update?
It went well UuU
I'll be needing a trim. As far what's happened for the remaining time I've been gone of the app? Uuuh.
I finally got a friend at school! And a really one at that! Well, I got one before here but then I lifted her because apparently despite her hatred tords fakes she was one. Like, if your going to be a hypocrite around me at least try to improve yourself! My goodness.
But I'm glad that I have that new friend, she's cool. Uuh, that one friend that I side I have a crush on? Yeah no I'm no longer friends with her, Expressly since her boyfriend thretend me. She f-ckin encourage him even tho I was the one to help her with everything. Even get with him. The f-cked up part about that is that they know things that were related to that threat. It's sickening.
I started making paper ☆stars☆ 4-5 days ago! after some stuff happened. Yeah no I can't get a single brack, even in the bathroom. I literally got harassed by a group of girls while I was in the stall, it was awful!
I'm back at my mom's house and I got a desk! Sadly no char.
No char for the tiny boy
But thaz ok, I can stand! Ha! I sit for no one but my own!
.... Unless if it's mom, dad, step dad, or teachers because I gave to. Jk, I love my mom and stepdad ♡
Uuuh. Not much else as happened I think. Other than I changed my oc a bit and don't really support Dream no more. If you like him that's ok, but any songs, art, cosplays even possible conversation about or of him I would egnor. If anyone tries to talk to me while cosplaying as him {witch I daut well happen} I will just egnor that person.
I honestly boleve that the hole screenshot thinking is fack but on what he was accused of can be true. I'm not saying it is nor am I saying to harass. This is just my own opinion and please by all means think for yourself. Just because I hate him don't mean you have to too. Do research. If you want some reasons, just look as some old Tommyinit videos on Dreamsmp with that guy interacting with Tommy. I find it oddly descusting that Tommy was 16 and Dream was over 18. Philza and Wil I boleve made a video on the weird things that green blob side. Just a reminder, I'm not accusing anyone and please don't harass people. By all means, have your own ideas and don't be like sheep.
Soz if it's a long read
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Ok! 75 MG of THC, a bottle of wine, all the shows I could want to stream in front of me, and most importantly a fucking edit button. Let's get weird we're trying a new format.
Weird Go Pro and what not.
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Finally saw the Trailer for Vox Machina season 2. I really, really wanted to hate that show. Something about a bunch of nerds making money & fame off of their "nerd-cred" triggers a nerve reserved for my Wil Wheaton hatred (It's feature, not a bug considering how much bad content there is in that genre).
Vox is against my instincts good. Very good. If the D&D movie copies even half of what it has going for it, it could be a pretty successful IP. There was not many Fantasy TV & Movies being done well in America that wasn't called Game of Thrones. They were one of the first Animated series to break that. Certainly the first to not be some bleak mess.
A year later and the flood gates are opening...
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Master Boot Record dropped a new Keygen
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So Willow is a damn fun series. It's D&D Teens with Dad & his weird friends.
If you consider the primal love of the fantasy genre resides somewhere, painted on the side of a van? This is a great outcome.
Willow the movie was great because it was a generic fantasy universe; Mad Madigan, Mordred the Witch, a baby that is supposed to be the chosen one. An A-level Production of B-level film.
The new Willow series is all that in weekly hour long format. It honestly feels kinda like Buffy the Vampire Slayer with a gigantic budget and no monster of the week pacing. I mean, just go and look at the dialog throughout this scene from this week's episode:
#Christ, I am getting old.
It feels like all the good CW writers have to be working for Disney+ now. It's that quippy, quirky, Joss Wheadon style of writing on this & Hawkeye. She-Hulk was just enough on the weird style dramedy that it had to have come from that school of thought...
I don't know. Im just making this shit up.
youtube
Fun episode though and the use of this song was excellent...
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Testing the waters on DragonBall Superhero. It's definitely DragonBall Z acting like it's the MCU. Kinda fun, but not enough attention for tonight.
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Hmmmmmm.......
youtube
Nah.........
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Guess I am learning about nihari cause I have an addiction to street food shows these days...
What is Nihari?
Nihari comes from the word for morning in Arabic. It is a beef or goat stew cooked through the night. Popular in Pakistan... It looks like the Indian sub-continent version of Texas Chili or Birria.
I want to play with that idea... But my smoker is broken. 😔
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Blood // Water
Even as Calliope left their bedroom to permit Griffin his few hours of rest, the images of her brother’s memories bounced around her skull like a pinball machine on the fritz. The flames, brighter than the sun itself and consuming her twin, the dulcet sounds of furniture breaking filling her ears as if she were in Griffin’s shoes committing the act, she saw what he saw through his eyes. And the burning furioso wrath overcoming her counterpart enveloped the young witch with blood-pumping rage. She understood the actions taken by Griff, understood Malcolm’s attempted manipulation to goad a reaction from a boy he was shocked to find was Wilburn’s son from the future, but what she could never comprehend? Her father’s words, his dismissal of her brother at every corner and a disregard for a moment’s peace.
Now, Calli considered herself the obedient child, never speaking out of turn and disrespecting her elders, her parents in particular. She followed their rules to the letter and didn’t question any decision her mother or father made knowing they held her best intentions at heart. Well, even Hell is paved with good intentions. And perhaps, just perhaps, she could break the mold and shake the perfect cookie cutter dynamic family the Thornton-Watts portrayed to the town for the council’s sake. That they weren’t a coven on the verge of imploding on themselves. Yet, this is her burden, her mess, to clean as she always did when her beloved brother was involved. She kickstarted their downfall, a long-awaited blows that is certainly true, but the people she loved would not be at each other’s throats had she chosen to not risk trying the spell. Griffin said it wasn’t her fault, a mistake she couldn’t blame herself over, a choice she couldn’t take back. It isn’t easy dismissing guilt when he nearly altered the timeline protecting his sister.
Calliope waited until Wilburn was alone, Cassie ducking out to likely retrieve anything she knew would brighten Griffin even only a fraction. She found him in the study of all places, pouring over a book her mother must have plucked from the collection that would guide them on what needed to be done in regards to the time-traveling spell and its lasting impressions on the universe. Calli barged in without announcing her presence, a little just desserts twist for how Wil approached his son earlier. What a bitch karma could be at times. “You wasted no time at all, did you?” The witch flung the door closed with a swift flick of her hand, flinching none as it slammed shut with a loud bang that reverberated against the walls of the room.
Wilburn glanced up from where he was sitting in an armchair, unphased by his daughter’s interruption and knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. The twins carried each other’s weight, both magically and spiritually on a level he couldn’t wrap his head around. He once asked Cassie to explain it to him one day and even she couldn’t properly describe in a way he understood. “Honey, I already had the earful from your brother and I would rather you don’t start with me, alright?”
“Oh, right, let us bury the problem as if it does not exist.” Calli spat with venom lacing her tone.
Wil breathed a sigh filled to the brim with exasperation, “You know, that’s not what I meant, Calliope.”
“That is exactly what you meant.” She cut him off before he could fire excuse after excuse to define his actions, for the way he behaved, for the things he said to Griffin in their argument. Calliope pictured the fight from the emotions she possessed in the moment it transpired, imagining her dad chastising and jumping on Griffin’s case the second he reached the bedroom without giving her brother the opportunity to explain himself or sleep off the exhaustion from using his abilities. She imagined Griffin, energy drained and at his breaking point, having a judgmental finger pointed at him. The thought fueled Calli’s increasing fumes. “Because that is what you’ve always done, isn’t it? When the going gets tough, you shut down your emotions as easily as it takes to switch off a light.”
“Okay, hold up, little girl.” Wil lifted a hand to stop her, raising from his seat, “You listen to me-”
“No, you are going to sit and you’re going to listen for once, Dad. And you are going to hear me even if I have to scream it in your face.” Calli continued regardless if her father interjected. The temptation to staple him to the couch with a simple spell rose with the wrath seconds from boiling over. “Now, I’ve always thought of myself as a good kid, well-behaved, I held my tongue where needed and I knew never to rock the boat. With anyone and especially with our family. However, you and Mom, but particularly you, don’t give me the credit I deserve for observing things you don’t believe I see. Nobody’s perfect, though. I’m not, you aren’t, and neither is Griffin. So, tell me why,” She stepped closer, “You think that he is? Tell me why for the majority of the life he has lived on this universal plane that you have slammed the impression in his head that everything he does is meant to be pristine perfect when it’s as impossible as reaching for the stars. And trust me, he has tried.”
Calliope jabbed a finger towards the ground to emphasis each point she was shoving in her dad’s direction. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flickering from more than a few lightbulbs. “You gave an inch and he ran miles. Stellar grades, the yes ma’am and no ma’ams, following rule after rule set in place by the council knowing stepping a toe out of line resulted in this family’s execution. What kind of hypocrisy are you practicing to not punish one child for participating in the same spell while you twist the knife of disappointment through the other? Do you know who asked Mom for permission, Dad? Griffin. Do you know who had a seasoned witch as his chaperone while I flung myself into the dark abyss alone with no protection? I’ll even offer the answer on a silver platter if you’re having trouble recalling. Yeah, that’s correct, it was Griffin.” The sarcasm tasted foreign on her tongue, a welcome sensation, but possibly her brother’s attitude peeking through. “And then he comes face-to-face with the Alpha who tore our mother asunder, who we would not exist had he succeeded, and he steals the chance to take the killing shot. He loves Mom so much that he was willing to fulfill the role his powers have involuntarily compelled him to play. The defensive, the weapon, the sword burning flesh from the inside out. Trapped in a box by his father he can’t escape. Your ignorance, Dad, has blinded you to the fact your son is spiraling out of control and you are doing nothing.” There was a long pause as the ranting settled in the air. Calli surprisingly enjoyed seeing her father speechless, a first when he sometimes couldn’t find the right moment to stop speaking. “Why should I expect anything less? You’re a coward.”
“Calliope, that is enough.” Wil growled in a warning, finding he listened to this spiel longer than he would have fancied.
“I will tell you when it is enough!” The statement passed her lips in a sudden scream that nearly scorched her lungs and pierced her throat, suddenly shattering the glass of the lights on every fixture one by one. An anger so fierce touched Calliope’s cheeks with a flaming red to match her ginger tresses as her steps forward were slow and precise. “Every time you made him feel like the delinquent,” A swirling wind warped around the room in a steady pace, a barreling tornado they were standing in the eye of, plunged the entire room into a pitch darkness as if the sky was blackening from an oncoming hurricane. A sister’s rage mixing in with her twin brother’s turmoil and heartbreak, his temper and his suffering, sparking an eruption of Calliope’s magic gone haywire. Yet, maybe she was in complete control with such chaos. “Every time you dismissed anything good because of something he was born with, I picked up the pieces. I stood by and watched, well, no more.”
She saw her father give her another silent warning as if he attempted to plead with his daughter to calm herself before a catastrophe crumbled the house to its foundation. “You look at him with fear and disappointment, you see his pyrokinesis as a danger that should be snuffed and contained, but if you’re so goddamn willing to see him as the monster...then so am I.” The screamed phrase sent dozens of books flying from their places on the shelves, some clattering to the floor and flipping to random pages while others were torn down the middle by their spines unceremoniously. A bright hot glow flared to her right, the ornate fireplace sparking to life with a fire only Griff could produce. “My brother, my twin brother.” Calli’s final release of sheer anguish broke the dam in her emotional capacity, witnessing with such confounding awe as a web of cracks spread along the surface of each window, before blowing inward in an explosion that sent Wilburn planted to the ground and spraying the pair with disintegrated glassy fragments she was forced to cover her eyes from.
The dust cleared. And with its disappearance taking Calliope’s seething rampage, came the overwhelming melancholia currently plaguing her twin brother.
“Dad?”
Calli heard a fit of coughing coming from the heap that was her father as Wilburn slowly pushed himself to his feet, unharmed yet not willing to hide his shock as his gaze swept the destruction of the study. Cassie’s library, her sanctuary, sent in a state of disarray it would take more than a broom to clean. His daughter, his little girl, did this. How could he allow it to come to this point? His children tearing themselves apart at the seams and he was helpless. His son only doing what was right by his mother when he couldn’t no matter what Wil told himself. He became his own father, placing an ungodly amount of pressure on Griffin to be good. To ignore and downplay the strength of his powers, when his boy is more than those abilities. Griff was the worst in Wilburn as much as he was the best parts. And now, the Thornton-Watt patriarch dragged Calli down with him. “I’m fine, Calliope. Go.”
“Dad, I’m sorry.” Calli shook her head furiously, desperately, as her fingers threaded through her locks in a maddening mania, regretting ever letting the anger reap the best of her. Griffin would sense the distress surely from miles away as it clung to the girl’s insides in a nauseating fashion. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”
“I know, baby.” Wilburn’s gaze followed the beams of the sun that were streaming in from the windows and landing on the space where the glass should have been. Rather poetic, isn’t it? The emptiness representing the family’s mental and emotional state in the current moment. “Just go.” He heard Griffin’s familiar footsteps pad down the hallway before the door swung open to reveal Griffin himself. Wil watched his son absorb the room’s destruction as Calliope turned around and approached her brother, hearing faint whispered assurances, before father and son’s gazes briefly met. Both seemed to share a silent agreement to say nothing, knowing all has already been said.
Calli leaned into her older brother as Griff wrapped a protective arm around her and ushered the two toward the door, before glancing at the devastation she was leaving her father surrounded by. Her father who frustrated her, who loved her as dearly as she loved him, and they were hurting deeply.
Unbeknownst to the twins, even for a soothsayer psychic such as Calliope, this is the last conversation she would have with her Dad.
One final look. And it was gone.
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people keep saying “revivedbur this”, “redemption arc that.” what about my “slowly but steadily healing wilbur”?
#please#but goddammit i just want cottagecore man#i understand that that’s not where the plot is going#i want him to remember his time as alivebur and ghostbur#and remember friend#and maybe even talk to phil about how he was a pretty shitty dad#i want him to talk to fundy and tommy and so many other people#i also want him to beat the shit out of dream#id also say i want techno and wil to duke it out but we all know whos getting their ass kicked#(its wilbur he’s been dead for 13 years im not sure what you expect)#and then after that he can go live in the woods like some kind of sand witch#i know he’s done a lot of fucked up shit#i know he’s not a hero#but fuck man#he really needs the therapy#he’s got a lot of mental health issues#being dead for 13 years puts things in perspective#yes i know that im never gonna get that#at least not for a long long while#but if wilbur can get some shred of healing#im gonna fucking run with it#(we will not be talking about tommy in this post because he deserves a whole post)#dream smp#dsmp#revivedbur#revived wilbur#dsmp wilbur soot#revived wilbur soot
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My C!MCYT headcannons pt. 2
Heyyyy I remembered I actually can post shit on Tumblr and I promised a part 2 so here it is please enjoy! Please note this is all my own opinion and that I apologize if you dislike them, I may change certain aspects of already created lore and some parts of Minecraft as a whole to fit my ideals better.
TWs: cursing, death, mentioned witchcraft (????), death, “accounting” (Wil said Sally was an accountant and we all know what that truly means), possession, abandonment, trauma (ig?)
- witchdoctorponkwitchdoctorponkwitchdoctorponk- Ponk is a doctor in the SMP (I can’t remember if this is cannon or nah but it is in this reality) when someone gets hurt on the SMP they usually go to him, but because most medicines and such in Minecraft are y’know potions he knows his way around them and as a joke people call Ponk a witch-doctor. He’ll give people all kinds of neat potions and such to help them recover faster or ease pain, and since to make the complicated potions needed for his lien of work he ends up falling into the hole of witchcraft.
- Charlie knows more than he lets on, he’s been around for thousands of years- and is the same age if not older than Philza (who I hc to be almost 33,000+ years old). He’s definitely seen some shit, he just may not want to reveal or accept what he’s seen, because of this he puts on the mask of knowing little about the world to shield not only himself but also those he cares about from the horrors he’s seen through the years.
- I am in support of Demon Sapnap, he’s like a hybrid of whatever tf Bad is and to me it just makes more sense that a demon would adopt another demon.
- “if Bad adopted Sapnap would he count as a dilf?” “Ace shut your mouth.”
- (After being reminded of Puffy’s boundaries, I am changing this to only speak of my dad!Schlatt and son!Tubbo theory) Tubbo is Schlatt’s son, or at the very least we think he is, for my headcannons I’m just saying they are. Tubbo’s mom I’d assume was either human or some other horned hybrid (probably another sheep hybrid) but due to Schlatt’s alcohol problems and bad attitude she probably left him not long after Tubbo was born which lead to Schlatt being unable to take care of him and his addictions getting worse yadda yadda. AND NO HE WAS NOT ADOPTED BY PHIL.
- while we’re still on the topic of Puffy- they use to be a pirate captain, but settled down after a while then later adopted Foolish. But Foolish was not the cause of her leave, but rather she needed a break for the dangerous pirate life which lead her to the SMP. She stayed for a while but by the time she was finally ready her crew had already left her behind because she had taken too long. She eventually forgot about her days as a pirate until many years later when she found the ship again.
- Tubbo and Ranboo have confirmed that their C!characters are indeed in a romantic relationship but I’m not ready to accept that Tubbo fell in love with the enderman he was suppose to steal money from. (He can do better smh ✋🙄)
- Ranboo teleports in his sleep which is the only way Tubbo is actually able to go to sleep because it means that there is no longer a monster nearby since they keep Micheal in a separate house (if I’m remembering lore correctly that is).
- purpled is an alien, what kind of alien we don’t know.
- Sally wasn’t an accountant that deals with letters and numbers, she was an “Accountant”. She ran away with Wilbur to live happily with their child, but then cause Salmon don’t lie very long she died of natural causes. Wilbur was thrown in a deep, deep, depression which somehow lead him down the path of making a drug van.
- If Velvet (antforst’s significant other) joined the SMP there are two things that may happen.
1. He’d be able to undo whatever the egg did to Ant. The whole true love conquers all trope but in a different way, it’s still true love but instead it’s giving Ant the motivation he needs to fight back against the egg and possibly helping save everyone else.
2. He’d join the egg in order to be with Ant just as Bad did for Skeppy, history repeating itself almost. Though I think it’d be 1 instead there is still this possibility, the Egg lures people in through empty promises of giving them their greatest desires, and Velvet’s greatest desire would most likely to be with Ant. This lead to Velvet’s possession, yada yada, bam! More food for the fan artists.
- Dream is homeless but also not, like he has a house but it’s not his and he’s rarely there. So someone on the SMP (idk who, probably Foolish) had built him a house as a gift in the earlier days of the SMP, but nobody knew of it other than person who built it. But the person who built it still technically owns it making it their house and not Dreams, because of this Dream isn’t there often since he was too busy, then he went to Prison and it was basically abandoned.
#dream smp#headcanon#c!purpled#c!sapnap#c!foolish#c!puffy#c!ponk#c!charlie#c!beeduo#c!badboyhalo#c!antfrost#c!wilbur#sally the salmon#velvetiscake#dad!schlatt#demon sapnap#part 2 electric boogaloo#minecraft youtubers#what the fuck are all these tags that are showing up what are y’all postin????
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Green Thumb
Part 17
Request: Yes or No
For anyone curious and if I did my math correctly y/ns dad had him when he was 35. This one feels short and I hate ittt but I tried making it feel longer. The chunks are just thicc
~
"So, why are we going to Belgium?" Natasha asked, setting the course. You looked at her, taking a seat beside her.
"Cause.. I have family there.. She might be family, I don't now." You answered, feeling the jet move forward before it took off into the sky.
"Family? Like, blood related? Who?" Natasha asked, glancing at you. You licked your lips, staring forward.
"My aunt." Natasha's brows raised, looking over at you. You sighed, nodding.
"What if she turns me away?" You asked softly.
"Well.. You're probably her only remaining family. I wouldn't want to turn away a family member." Natasha licked her lips, looking forward at the passing clouds.
"What do I even say? Hey, I'm (Y/N) and I have superpowers?"
"Well, you can introduce yourself and ask about her brother." Natasha gave a small smile. You nodded.
"How's Clint?" Natasha asked, rested her head on her fist. Her hair was long and her natural red locks were returning. It made her hair look a little weird but she was going through a lot of things.
"Who fucking knows." You frowned, arms crossing. Clint had fucked off to god knows where, leaving you to deal with your grief alone. Natashas' brows furrowed.
"Clint has decided not to return home in what feels like weeks. Maybe even months, I haven't been paying attention." You shrugged lightly. Natasha frowned, leaning back in the seat. Definitely didn't sound like Clint but grief could make people do crazy things.
"I've been trying to keep up with the house but I'm just one guy handling everything Clint decided to build and add on." You licked your lips, shaking your head and letting out a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry." Natasha said softly, giving your arm a squeeze. "I'll talk to him if you want."
"Let him do whatever the hell he wants to do. He's a grown man." You replied, feeling bitter and resentful. Natasha silently nodded. The rest of the ride was silent until the jet reached Belgium.
"We're here." You stepped out of the jet, feeling a small breeze go by. You felt your stomach doing flips, heartbeat quickening. You took in a deep breath, glancing at Natasha. She placed a gentle hand on your back, offering a small smile.
"Are you sure you don't want me to get in touch with Clint?" She asked, head tilting. You shook your head.
"It could make things more complicated." You said, looking around. The house across the street matched with the address Tony had given you. It was more on the outskirts of town, surrounded by trees. You could hear some horses behind the house. You took in a deep breath, trying to ease your nerves as you walked towards the house, crossing the road. Natasha followed, studying the area.
"Seems like gardening might run in the family." Natasha said, motioning to the flower garden.
"Yeah.." You chuckled softly. You stepped onto the porch, noticing some plotted flowers on the windowsill. You raised your hand, pressing the doorbell. You waited a few minutes about to press it again before the door opened. A scowl appeared on Florines' face. She was shorter than you had imagined. Her hair was a bit messy and tied back into a low ponytail.
"Wat wil je?" She asked, gaze flickering over to Natasha. You swallowed, fiddling with your fingers.
"Are you Florine De Meyers?" You asked, watching her narrow her eyes.
"Who's asking?"
"(Y/N).. I think I might be the son of your brother." You said quietly. Florine stared at you, lips parting. Her features softened for a second before the frown returned. She opened the door wider, letting you and Natasha inside. The inside of the house smelled like black tea, earthy and floral. It felt straight out of a country movie.
"I've got some tea and speculoos." Florine called as she entered the kitchen. You looked at the pictures she had up. Most were pictures of horses or her at events with friends. You didn't see any pictures that seemed family related. You took a seat on the floral patterned couch, gazing dropping onto the unbothered elderly sheepdog. It made no attempt to move and simply rolled onto its side to face away from you.
"That's Gerdie. Old girl used to be a good guard dog but now she's more of a house cat." Florine said, sitting down and placing a tray on the coffee table. Natasha reached forward, taking one of the biscuits. Florine reached under the table, looking through the books she had before pulling out what looked like a photo book.
"The reason I didn't slam the door in your face is because Michael had told me he was gonna have a kid named (Y/N)." Florine said, hand wiping away the dust in the book. She scooted forward, placing the book on the table.
"Michael?" You repeated, looking at her. She nodded, opening the book. She flipped to the second page, pointing to a picture of a young boy by a fireplace opening presents.
"Michael, my half brother and your father." Your brows raised, leaning in to take a better look. The photo was old but you could see his face clearly. Natasha leaned in as well, smiling gently.
"You have his smile." She pointed out.
"Michael and his father moved here from America when he was about five. He met my mother and they got married. They had me when Michael was nine. He was a good brother. He held no resentment towards me or my mom. Michael was as stubborn as a mule and he could never keep his mouth shut. He'd let you know if he didn't agree with you." Florine chuckled, shaking her head. You watched the nostalgic look pass over her eyes.
"What happened to him?" You asked softly. Florine let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in her chair. She reached down, giving Gerdie some pats on the head.
"He disappeared for some time." She answered, gaze becoming distant.
"He wrote letters occasionally. Said he was working for a government in another country.. He might've been some sort of spy, my memory's a little fuzzy on the subject. He spent a long time working but.. He came back eventually. He never talked about it but he was good ole Michael." Florine leaned forward again, flipping to another page of a more grown up Michael. You did notice some similar features between him and you.
"By then, our father had passed from cancer and my mother needed all the help she could get. Michael built this house with some friends of his and gave it to my mother. Oh, my mother was so happy. She got the farm she had always wanted and got to garden whenever she could." Florine pointed to a a couple in the photobook.
"This is your grandmother, Sylvie. You would've loved her. She made the best cakes in town. This is your grandfather, Jonathan. He was always up to no good. He loved pulled helping the kids in town with pranks." Florine spoke of them fondly. Her childhood seemed to have been good with Jonathon and Sylvie.
"You have powers, right?" Florine asked, looking at you. You nodded, reaching out to the plant on the coffee table and watching it grow taller.
"She passed on her powers to you." Florine leaned back, clearing her throat. You glanced at Natasha, noticing her eating another biscuit.
"She? Who's she?" You asked, looking back at Florine.
"Your witch of a mother." She answered bitterly. You raised your brows at the hate and disgust in her tone.
"I shouldn't speak ill of her. Even if she deserves it." Florine muttered, standing up with a heavy sigh.
"C'mon." She motioned for you to follow. You turned towards Natasha. Natasha picked up another biscuit, making eye contact with you. You raised your brows.
"What? These are delicious!" Natasha huffed. You chuckled, standing up and following her out the backdoor. You noticed the stables with the horses walking around their fenced area. Florine had a vegetable garden and a greenhouse out back as well.
"Those pretty babies are Ernie, Kuma, and Goldie." Florine said, motioning to the horses. They approached the fence when she walked over to them. You smiled softly as she petted them, cooing in Dutch.
"They won't bite. Well, Ernie might but he's just a playful old man." Florine chuckled, turning back in the original direction. You followed her down a dirt path and into a wooded area. You blinked, seeing what looked like a moss covered statue of a woman. Her eyes were closed though her head was pointed downwards, looking at anyone who walked down the path.
"She was a charming little witch, I'll give her that." Florine crossed her arms, staring up at the statue. You tilted your head, licking your lips.
"Did he make this for her?" You asked, turning to look at her. Florine shook her head, looking down at the ground.
"Gaia, or better known as Mother Nature, is your mother. She took a human form in an attempt to convince humans to cherish what she had given them. When that proved useless, she spread plagues as punishment. What Gaia truly wanted.. Was a child. Animals, humans, and all those things were creations.. Projects she could ignore if she got bored. She met your father and he fell for her." Florine told you, another breeze blowing by. You reached your hand forward, gently touching a flower that rested by the statue. It felt full of life.
"Your mother fell pregnant with you and Michael was thrilled. Gaia had started realizing that human life wasn't for her. She was slowly becoming human herself. She disappeared with Michael and returned without him or you. She explained she couldn't stay and left her human body here."
"She abandonded me for no reason?" You stared up at the statue, features hardening.
"In some sense, she didn't. She's all around us so.. Your mother never truly left you." Florine said, turning to look at you. You scoffed.
"I have a mother. Her name is Laura Barton and she's not here anymore because of Thanos." You looked at Florine, blinking away tears.
"I don't blame you for being angry. I never found out where she took you or if you were even alive. If you want to keep in touch, I don't mind. Lord knows I could use the company." Florine looked forward again. You let out a soft sigh, shoulders slumping.
"And.. And dad? What happened to him?" You asked hesitantly, almost afraid of finding out he had done the same as Gaia. Florine stayed silent for a moment.
"He.. They never told me how it happened but.. He was murdered." Florine revealed, staring at the ground with a small frown. You stared at him, brows furrowing.
"What? By- By who?"
"You might've heard of him. People around town were talking about him a two or three years back. The infamous Winter Soldier."
~
Tags: @geek-and-proud @wolfelocksley @babyvisionisamenace
#x reader#x you#x y/n#x male reader#x male!reader#marvel#marvel x reader#marvel x male reader#marvel x you#avengers#avengers x male reader#avengers x you#avengers x y/n#avengers x reader#clint barton#clint barton x adopted reader#natasha romanoff#bucky barnes#tony stark
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satan's little blessing.
© @sonsofeorl
MICHAEL ‘RIZ’ ARIZA. (x Taza Romero's daughter)
MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS
❝ words: about 1.4k.
❝ warnings: nsfw, oral sex (male receiving), language, mention of bodily fluids.
❝ a / n: a beautiful dream i had last night 😌 as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!
Your intentions of preparing Riz a good breakfast and bringing it to bed are ruined when two arms are wrapped around you and a nose is sunk in your neck. You can't help but close your eyes gasping, turning around under his embrace, not needing much time to notice the lump beneath his black boxers. A week has passed since he left Santo Padre for a quick run, and two days since he came back but you had to attend your father. Today, he's all yours and you're all his. Your tongues find each other's out of your mouth, pushing yours to your cavity as you moan against his.
Riz's hands roam up your sides, raising the gems of the t-shirt you have stolen him too damn slowly, dragging his fingertips over your exposed skin as his caresses give you goosebumps. Your secret boyfriend loves to torture you after you've been teasing him with your hot messages during the whole trip. His lips don't have any rush either, tasting yours meticulously, while his fingers reach your hard nipples under the soft fabric. Riz pinches them shameless, drinking the moan you can't hold back, as he purrs in your mouth.
The bubble of heat you two are inside of is broken when his phone starts to ring somewhere around the living room. And you know he must reply to the call. He grunts resting his forehead on yours before placing a pissed kiss to leave you there, breathless and needed. It only takes him a couple of seconds to answer and come back to the kitchen. His face is priceless and by his gesture, you know who is at the other side of the line.
“What's up, brother?”
Brother. If only your father knew what his brother is doing (...). You lick your bottom lip mischievously, walking towards your boyfriend dangerously as he frowns confused because of your grimace.
“No, no, I just woke up, no worries”.
He goes backward until his body finds the nearest wall. He is scared. He can read your intentions on the feigned innocence appearing on your eyes. And you don't give him time to stop you, being already kneeled in front of him and pulling his boxers down.
“Yeah, no… I'm gonna stay at home today”.
Riz is sweating, bowing down his head to find your lustful orbs over his hard dick raised majestically to his abdomen. He tries to push you away with his free hand, gripping his wrist with your fingers to pin it to the wall by the side of his hips. Using the tip of your tongue you lick all his length —from the base to the reddened tip—, sucking only his head between your lips. You can see him closing his eyes, gulping a loud pleased moan as he tries to follow the conversation.
“(Y/N)...? No, I hav— haven't seen he— fuck”.
You don't let him finish his sentence, bobbing down your head until his glans is forcing your throat to beyond his limits.
“Yeah, ye— yeah, I just… hit my toe with the door frame”.
The gag he produces you gives him enough strength to free his hand and tangle it on your hair to push you back, begging in silence for you to stop. But you're not going to. God, you have missed him so much and you don't care who he is talking to or what he has to do. Rocking your head, you twirl your tongue around his hardness making some more pressure with your lips, while Riz is starting to have some struggles to breathe.
“Her bike…? Next to my house? Where ar— are you?”
You guess your father is at Vicky's like every Sunday morning. Your boyfriend's eyes widen open, having to bite his bottom lip when you slam his dick against the walls of your throat again. Your nose is pressed to his pelvis, your crystal eyes are on his scared ones and you're about to choke if it wasn't because you can notice the force he's doing to not moan again.
“Lemme… check if she's here. You know tha— that she hates to sleep alone in the ranch… and sometimes she co— comes here”.
Yeah, you sometimes come there. Freeing his cock but gripping it gently with your fingers to jerk him off, your mouth goes straight to his balls. You suck them and pull them back with no mercy, whilst the dance of your hand around his length becomes hasty. Riz is enduring like a champion, pretending he's walking through his house to try to find you.
“I don— don't know, Taza… I was too drunk when I… came home. I fell asleep on the so— sofa. Maybe she's in my bed”. Your boyfriend needs to pause briefly because of how good you look with his balls within your mouth, tasting him in all his splendor, running him out of words. “I'm… okay… I just have a fuckin' headache… Yeah, it's called hangover… thanks for your wisdom, brother”.
“Go check on her, idiot”.
You can feel his heated cock starting to twitch under your grip and you know he's really close. This is a new record. He isn't going to last not even a minute. The risk, the need, your warm mouth swallowing him and sucking his life out of his body is too much to handle at the same time.
“Okay, I'm… I'm… coming”. Riz gasp inappreciable for your father, but not for you.
“You don't have to tell me you're coming to your room. The fuck is wrong with you today?” You can hear your dad laughing at the other side of the phone, making you giggle because your boyfriend is really stupid sometimes.
As soon as your lips are blowing his dick down, increasing the pace of the swing of your head, the Mexican helps you to go a little faster to finish this torture you have put him into. But, God, he's not going to lie. He's enjoying it more than ever in his life. He can't put his eyes off from you, putting the speaker on to leave it over the dinner table to free his other hand —the one that lands by the side of the other. In silence, arching his back, Riz fucks your mouth. He fucks your mouth rough, quick, clumsily, abusing your lips and your throat now that he can go deeper.
Your saliva mixed with his pre-cum spills itself through the corner of your lips, trying to breathe by your nostrils while your crystal eyes continue glued to his darkest orb, letting him use you at his will.
“Is she there or not? Your house isn't that big”.
“Yeah, wa— wait. I was checking the guests' room”. Riz lies, not holding his orgasm for any longer.
He closes his eyelids strongly, opening his mouth as much as he can because of the pleasure of exploding inside of your mouth, pressing your face against his pelvis as much as he can. Gladly choking you on his bittersweet cum to punish you for playing with him like that.
“Satan's little blessing is here”. Your boyfriend pants unconsciously, resting his head against the wall gulping a new silent grunt.
“Send me a picture”.
Riz looks at you almost panicking. That petition has turned him off completely, letting you go. Your cheeks are burning because of the effort. Your chin, your neck, your shirt (...), wherever he looks at your boyfriend can see part of his cum and your saliva. The less you have couldn't swallow. But you're not worried at all, collecting it with your fingers to suck them clean under his attentive horrified glance.
“Okay, you, ah… lemme hang up and I wil—”.
“You don't need to hang up to send me a picture”.
“I'm a man! I can't do two thiNGS AT ONCE”.
“Fucking relax, brother. You're gonna wake her up”.
Because you aren't enough awake yet.
“Forget it. You're dumb as fuck, Ariza, I swear it. Can't understand the hell has seen my daughter on you”.
“You said what?”
Standing up as you clean your mouth on your shirt, you raise both eyebrows about to break in laughs. Is that pretty obvious? Does he really know what happens between the two of you?
“I know my kid better than she knows herself. And you… you… you're dumb as fuck, man”. Taza repeats trying to not chuckle. “You fuckin' drool wherever she walks by”.
“I don't kn—”.
“Prepare her breakfast. Satan's little blessing needs coffee when she wakes up”.
Riz can't reply. Your father hangs up laughing, as he watches you cross your arms over your chest.
“Do you… refer to me like Satan's little blessing all the time?”
“You're not a fucking angel, mi amor”. He scoffs putting on his boxers, squinting at you.
GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow
MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveeee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha @lucillewinchester @theocatkov @telfordlowmans @fanofalltheficsx @aurelie-celine
#mayans mc x reader#mayans mc imagine#mayans x reader#michael riz ariza x reader#riz ariza x reader#riz ariza#michael riz ariza#i love you rizzy ❤
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Mcyt G/t Alphabet Bingo! (Discontinued)
Masterpost
Rules
Bingo Sheet
Current Submissions
Starter Prompts
(my normal aus are under the cut!)
I've got a lot of aus that are nothing but bullet points on a Google docs right now.
I'm not sure when exactly I'll get to writing them down, so I thought I'd make a little post with brief summaries of them. If there isn't a link on one of the aus, check the tags for content on the au! Even if there is a link, you can probably find even more under the tags.
Feel free to send an ask or something if you want to know more about one. They're just the working titles for now, I might add real titles later!
G/t
Smolbois inc: the sbi get lost in a forest one day. They take shelter in a cave, but realize the cave is occupied by two giants- Ranboo and Tubbo. They're hopelessly lost, and it's too dangerous for them to be wandering outside (maybe because of giant mobs or something?) So they stay in the cave, trying their best to hide from the giants. But they're not used to being sneaky, so it's only a matter of time before one of them is spotted.
Ragdoll AU: sometimes, when creating dolls, if the circumstances are right, the doll may come alive. Be it ragdolls, porcelain dolls, or even gingerbread men. Sometimes they're made on purpose, sometimes on accident. Wilbur gets sent a tiny fabric doll as a present: it fits in his hand, and it's made of patches of black and white fabric. Somehow, he accidentally brings him to life, and suddenly he's got a living, magic doll to take care of. I have ideas for both Tubbo and Dream as porcelain dolls in this au.
Birds of a Feather: (this has an actual title, but it's one of my least thought out ones, go figure.) Wilbur and Phil are both bird hybrids. They both have wings, although only Phil's are large enough to actually fly. Wilbur has a great singing voice, and is able to make bird sounds that Phil can't make. Ranboo is also a bird hybrid, but he's also still half enderman. He only has one wing that's even smaller than Wilburs wings. He gets stuck in the rain one day and is rescued by Tubbo.
Shipwrecked au: Tommy is tossed overboard during a storm, and rescued by a giant mer, Phil. Since they're miles and miles away from the nearest shore, Phil decides to take him home. He swallows him, putting him in a pouch mer have to hold their children before they develop gills. He takes him back to where he and Wilbur live. Niki is their human friend and is able to explain things better to Tommy.
Shooting Stars au: Giant alien scientists Wilbur and Tubbo come to earth. They take samples of things to study, including a few humans, Phil, Tommy and Ranboo. Phil's friend Techno manages to sneak on board unnoticed before the aliens leave the planet so he can attempt a rescue mission. The aliens don't think the humans are sentient yet, so plan to study them.
Trust au: Giant Tubbo is best friends with half-enderman Ranboo. They met when they were both kids, and have been friends for years. Mostly a fluffy au, but I'm willing to go other directions with it depending on asks.
Starstruck au: benchtrio are tiny experiments stuck in a simulation, and have no idea their world isn't real. Wilbur is a scientist who gets transferred to their experiment and wants to get them out. He ends up making a fake identity as a musician in the simulation and the teens become his fan.
Tomyo au: a ponyo au with Tommy in the place of Ponyo, Phil as the dad and Kristen as the goddess, Wilbur as the mom and both Tubbo and Ranboo as Sosuke. Techno is a nursery worker and and Wil's coworker and Niki is beeduo's teacher.
Curiosity au: Wilbur is a witch who is experimenting with potions. His little brother Tommy sneaks in to mess with the potions and accidentally shrinks himself.
Nom Therapy: being eaten, or nommed, is a completely safe, common form of therapy or even recreation. Ranboo is referred to a therapy nom establishment where he is nommed for the first time by Tubbo. Other characters also are regularly nommed.
Httyd Au: an au of how to train your dragon, where the dragons are giant dragon hybrids. Still g/t. Tubbo is Hiccup, Tommy is Astrid (no romance obv), Ranboo is Toothless, Wilbur is also a dragon, and Phil and Techno are the leaders of the village. Dream is the giant boss dragon at the end of the movie.
Drider Au: Wilbur is a giant drider that lives in a forest that as far as he knows is far from any human villages. A human teen (Tommy) wanders into his nest somehow, getting trapped in the webs. Wilbur can't understand him, and he can't let him go or he'll be killed by the other monsters in the forest. So he keeps Tommy wrapped up so he can't escape and tries to learn the human language.
G/t Revivebur au: is the name for both tiny revivebur au and giant revivebur au. Au where Wilbur is a different size in limbo and has to deal with being a different size when he's revived.
Bedrock borrowers au: Tommy and Techno are borrowers that live in the walls of an apartment complex. Phil and Wilbur are two of the humans that they borrow from. They set out glue traps when they think they have mice, and Tommy gets stuck in one.
Itsy bitsy drider au: Ranboo is a tiny drider that's lived alone for years. Tommy and Tubbo move into the house he's in, and catch him one day.
Rantooz au: :D
Currently on ao3:
Glass ceiling au: Ranboo is a borrower who's caught and shoved in a bottle. He's sold at a market, which is where Techno finds him. Techno buys him to rescue him, and brings him home where he and Phil live. Ranboo is very nervous at first, but Techno and Phil do their best to make him feel at ease.
Earthbound Spirits au: Wilbur, Ranboo, and Phil are a family of borrowers that live in Technoblade's house. While Phil and Ranboo are pretty cautious, Wilbur is more of a risk-taker. Hopefully that won't get him into too much trouble...
Oneshots:
Hide 'n Sleep: Wilbur is a giant with a magic pocket dimension called an 'inventory'. When his family and friends are cold during the winter, he decides to help them out by sticking them in his inventory. A friendly game of hide and seek ensues.
Mcyt g/t exchange:
Lonely Nights: story for blurrybunnie! "cold nights are the best time for cuddles, but can it really be called cuddles when the giant is unaware of the tiny stealing their warmth?"
Non g/t
Humans are weird au: basically just a mcyt version of the humans are weird/humans are space orc stuff that you can find. Techno is a human, the galaxy's most terrifying creature, SBI and beeduo are aliens. Dream, Foolish, and Niki are also humans.
___
#mcyt g/t#mcyt giant/tiny#smolbois inc au#ragdoll au#birds of a feather au#shipwrecked au#vore mention#vore tw#glass ceiling au#shooting stars au#trust au#starstruck au#tag for later#earthbound spirits au#oneshots#curiosity au#tomyo au#nom therapy au#mcyt g/t exchange#httyd au#drider au#g/t revivebur au#humans are weird au#itsy bitsy drider au#bedrock borrowers au#rantooz au#face of peace au#unnamed au
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