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0zzysaurus · 2 years

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Got a MungoTeazer hc for ya! They were dating before they even knew they were dating. Like they were cuddling and affectionate, exchanging “I love you”s and insisting to other cats that they weren’t a couple.

Oh, I 100% agree.

When they first meet, there's actually a fair amount of hostility, because Teazer is crashing one of Jerrie's heists and reaping the rewards for herself. They begin as rivals who both work seperate enterprises. They both live in Kensington, so they cross paths often. Sometimes they try to steal from each other, trick each other, or straight up sabotage the entire operation in order for the other cat to fail.

After a while though, they become a bit more friendly. They have more banter, and I think sometimes they feel a little disappointed when their rival doesn't show up to distrupt their plan. Maybe there's an incident or two. Rumpleteazer tries to rob a house in Cottesmore, only for the homeowner's bulldog to wake up. It's only after Teazer almost has her tail bitten off that Jerrie swoops in and gives her a helping hand to escape.

He says something in passing about how dangerous it is to pull off heists alone and that she really shouldn't be working by herself. Obviously she scoffs at him, and the two of them go their seperate ways. Teazer is disappointed that she wasn't able to nab any jewellry before the dog started barking, but on the trot home, she realises her bag is a little heavier than it should be. She checks inside to find the pearls she didn't have time to grab have somehow worked their way inside.

After that, whenever they cross paths, they start working together. They make plans to do heists as a team, and maybe even decide to set up shop at Rumpleteazer's home in Victoria Grove. They start building up a joint stash of items in a crawlspace under the attic, and Jerrie practically moves in. It's just a friendly arrangement, of course.

They might as well eat from the same bowl, steal an extra fillet of haddock from the chippy to share, and groom each other to save time when they have the peace and quiet. Sleeping in the same cat bed is just good finances - you know? Just so they don't have to splash the cash to buy a second one. It's just good economics.

Plus, they've never been touch-shy. Jerrie's always been rowdy and loves a good playfight. And Teazer has always been cuddly and won't refuse a hug. Jerrie loves to nuzzle her and Teazer likes throwing herself into his arms. He'll carry her around on piggyback and they'll hold hands if they're trying to outrun someone together. They make each other laugh like crazy, too. Jerrie's a snorter and Teazer's a shrieker but it doesn't stop them from laughing together like a pair of school kids. And it's not just that. Whenever a heist goes well, they utterly shower each other with praise. Jerrie calls Teazer a miracle-worker, and Teazer calls Jerrie absolutely incredible. It's all ''You're amazing'' and ''You're a stunner'' and ''How did I ever get by without you?''

It doesn't matter how many times they reiterate to other cats that they're just friends. To everyone else, they're clearly courting.

I think between the two of them, Teazer recognises her feelings first. Maybe Victoria brings up the prospect of kittens in passing, or Bomba gives her a wink and a nudge about a particularly adorable head bunt Jerrie gives her, and it makes Teazer realise what everyone else sees. They don't exactly talk about it, though. She's too nervous to bring it up. Over the months they've known each other, they've started confiding in each other more, and they've built up a pretty strong friendship. Teazer doesn't want to lose that by pushing on boundaries.

One stormy night, though, after a particularly successful heist, the two of them run home in the rain and quickly seek shelter in the attic. The lights are dim, the bed is warm and surrounded by blankets, and the satisfaction of a good night's burglary has them both on cloud nine. They flop down together, get to some quick grooming, dry off, and just chill out. Teazer is cuddled up to Jerrie's side, and his chest is heaving still from all that running. She thinks 'fuck it', grabs the fabric of his top, and gives him a quick kiss, followed up by a joke or a pun or something to lessen the blow if Jerrie freaks out over it. But he doesn't freak out. He just loops his finger through her pearls and pulls her back in for another one.

After that, they make it official, but like you said, I don't think anyone in the Junkyard is surprised by it. I think the only shock comes from all the cats who already thought they were mates.

#mungoteazer #ask #if you see any typos or errors no you didnt <3 #cats the musical

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janetbrown711 · 3 years

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Can I have a one shot with this Wakko's Wish Headcanon: Lavender is Yakko's favorite color because their mom used to sing Lavender's Blue (Dilly Dilly) as a lullaby for him when he was younger, before Wakko and Dot were even born. And when he became their sole guardian, he'd sing it in the dark, long after he thinks they've gone to bed. Wakko and Dot never tell him they know he does this, because a) they like hearing him sing, and b) they know deep down Yakko needs it, even if he can't tell them why.

Yakko thought his mother’s singing voice was the sweetest sound in the whole wide world.

Her voice was soft and low, and the words she sang would reside in your chest and give a sense of peace and calm that would linger with you for the rest of the night. Her lullabies were like... a lighthouse shinning next to a calm sea. Yakko knew there was no danger, but her lullabies made him feel all the more safe.

However, if he had a particularly bad nightmare, he knew he always could rely on her sweet singing voice for comfort.

“Yakko..? What are you doing here sweetie..?” Angelina rubbed her eyes as she opened the door to her bedroom, and gasped when she saw Yakko was holding his teddy bear and crying.

“Oh honey...” Angelina scooped him up in her arms and rubbed her cheek against his.

“I-I ha-ad a b-bad d-dream,” He hiccuped.

“I know sweetie, come on. Let’s get you back to bed,” The queen kissed his head and slowly walked him back to his room.

“I-i saw y-you a-and d-dad a-and- a-and-” Yakko tried to explain, but choked on his tears.

“It’s okay sweetie, I’m here,” Angelina said, opening the door with her free hand. “You’re safe now.”

Yakko didn’t have it in him to reply, so just nodded and hugged his mom tighter.

With careful maneuvering, Angelina made her way back to Yakko’s bed and slowly set him down, though he clung to her arm tightly, so she sat down next to him.

“Deep breaths dear, deep breaths,” she instructed, and he obeyed, slowly regaining control.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked softly. Yakko thought a moment before he shook his head. Angelina nodded and slowly wrapped an arm around him, and Yakko curled into a ball, resting his head on her lap. Angelina instinctively began to stroke his ears softly.

“Do you want me to sing you a song?” She asked. Yakko nodded. Angelina nodded, and thought for a moment, before selecting.

“Lavender blue, dilly dilly, Lavender green,” She sang. “When I am Queen, dilly dilly, you shall be king.”

“Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so? T’was my own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so.”

Yakko smiled a little. He didn’t know why, but his mother always embraced those lines the most.

“Call up your men, dilly dilly, send them to work. Some to the plow, dilly dilly, some to the fork.”

Angelina smiled back down at him, and Yakko sat up, and leaned against her arm.

“Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to cut corn. While you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm.”

Angelina scrunched up her nose and nuzzled it against Yakko’s, who giggled tiredly at the gesture.

“Lavender’s green, dilly dilly, lavender’s blue. If you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you.”

“Let the birds sing, dilly dilly, let the lambs play. You shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harms way,” She said, slowly putting Yakko into a sleeping position on his bed.

“I love to dance, dilly dilly, I love to sing. When I am Queen, dilly dilly, you shall be King.”

Yakko yawned as his eyes began feeling heavy once more. Angelina stood up and pulled the blanket up and around his shoulders.

“Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so?” Angelina asked.

“I told myself, dilly dilly, I told me so,” Yakko finished, accepting his fate and closing his eyes once more.

“Goodnight, Yakko,” She kissed his head. “Sweet dreams.”

Yes, Yakko was confident nothing on this earth could comfort him more than his mother’s sweet singing voice, especially when singing his favorite lullaby.

He loved his parent’s love story, and the Lavender song just fit it perfectly. His mother had taken their love into her own hands, going against the evil queen’s wishes. He thought it was very brave.

It was safe to say his world was shattered when that voice was taken away from him.

He couldn’t sleep for weeks after the attack had happened. Visions of his destroyed home, his hurt mother, the stomping of angry men, the gunshot, and Dot’s cries were engraved in his mind and haunted him when he tried to sleep. He tried to hum the lullabies to himself, but they only made him cry more and more, the guilt only weighing more and more on his back.

He missed his mother more than he could bear to say.

However, time went on, and Yakko had a duty to protect his siblings. When the orphanage closed two years after the attack, he found himself scouting out abandoned buildings they could live in constantly. He’d get Wakko and Dot happy with the new environment, but would constantly be on the lookout for any of the new king’s men. The stress and exhaustion had nearly driven him insane, but seeing as it had been two years, Yakko saw no other alternative and began to hum to himself Her lullabies to himself, long after his sibs were asleep.

He’d pace around the abandoned building for a bit, before taking a deep breath and humming to himself, allowing himself to sway to the hypnotic rhythm. In truth, they worked like miracles, and Yakko was usually able to relax enough to sleep with his sibs before too long. His longing for his mother to sing to him never quite went away, but it didn’t make him cry like it used to.

Like a lighthouse over storming seas...

“Yakko!!!” Wakko jolted alive with a shout, and if they had had a bed to fall off of, Yakko would’ve.

“Woah, woah, Wak, are you okay?” He asked his trembling younger brother, who was looking around the dark building in a panic. Dot bolted upright too, confused and scared now too.

“Y-yakko? I-i- I-i...” Wakko couldn’t get a sentence out.

“Deep breaths Wak, it’s okay,” Yakko said, realizing what had happened.

“Wakko?” Dot tilted her head and hugged her rag doll tightly.

“It’s okay Dot, he just had a nightmare,” Yakko sighed and rubbed his brother’s back, but Wakko chose to instead hug his brother tightly as he trembled.

“F-fire...” He said shakily.

“It’s okay, Wak. That was years ago. You’re safe now,” Yakko assured.

“So much Yakko- so much,” Wakko began to cry, and Yakko hugged him tighter.

“Deep breaths Wakko, deep breaths,” he instructed, before doing it. Wakko copied his older brother’s motions and soon regained a sense of calm, but was still obviously anxious (as was Dot now, for that matter).

“Are you okay now?” Yakko asked. Wakko nodded slowly, but he couldn’t look him in the eyes. Yakko bit his lip.

“How about I tell you another bedtime story, huh? Would that help?” Yakko asked.

“You already told us two earlier,” Wakko shook his head.

“Sing us the song!” Dot gasped in awe of her own idea, but Yakko blinked in confusion.

“What song?” He pressed, and Wakko and Dot shared a look.

“Y-you hum a song to yourself a lot. When me n’ Dot can’t sleep, it helps,” Wakko sniffled and wiped his nose. Yakko blinked.

“Oh,” was all he could reply.

He hadn’t expected that.

“Will you sing it Yak? Pweeaaseeeee,” Dot pleaded with puppy dog eyes. Yakko hesitated.

On one hand, of course. His sibs needed help going back to sleep and if all it took was a simple lullaby, then obviously, he should do it.

On the other hand though... he wasn’t sure he was ready for that. He hadn’t gotten himself to sing the actual song yet, only ever humming the melody. He was nervous that he didn’t know the words, and if he didn’t know the words that meant he had failed somehow and damaged his mother’s memory in an unrepairable way. It felt like killing her all over again...

He looked at his siblings once again, taking in how nervous and tired they looked. They both clearly needed it...

“Alright, fine,” He sighed, and Dot cheered. Yakko rolled his eyes as he switched places with Wakko so he was right in the middle of his two sibs on the blanket pile on the ground, and he wrapped an arm around them. He waited for both of them to get comfortable against him, and he took in a deep breath and prepaired himself.

“Lavender blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green. When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen.”

Instantly, he saw a wave of relaxation wash over his sibs’ faces, even though Yakko’s voice was nothing like the angelic singing of their mother. He was much more nervous about it, and he could feel a lump in his throat he was desperately fighting off for Wakko and Dot’s sake.

“Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so? T’was my own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so,” Yakko closed his eyes too, and for a moment, he could remember Her singing it to him, clear as day.

“Lavender’s green, dilly dilly, lavender’s blue. If you’ll love me, dilly dilly, I will love you,” He sang, becoming more and more comforted by the words.

“Let the birds sing, dilly dilly, Let the lambs play. We shall be safe, dilly dilly, out of harm's way.”

Yakko hoped anyway.

“I love to dance, dilly dilly, I love to sing. When I am Queen, dilly dilly, you shall be King.”

“Who told me so, dilly dilly, who told me so? I told myself, dilly dilly, I told me so,” He finished, feeling a sense of pride at the slow and calm breathing of his younger sibs lying against him. For good measure, Yakko continued to hum the song to himself, not having the energy for the full song. It was exhausting to be a street orphan, after all.

He knew it didn’t matter anyway. He knew the words, and was passing on his mother’s traditions to his younger siblings. He knew that wherever his mother’s spirit was, she was smiling down on them.

He hadn’t failed to keep his promise to her yet.

Yakko was a good big brother.

#animaniacs #animaniacs fanfics #wakkos wish #yakko wakko and dot #queen angelina warner #my fics #fluff #feels #lullabies #brb gonna go cry now-

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isolaradiale · 3 years

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The small 'ahem' and the dimming lights brought the attention of the closing party back on the podium. On it was Janus, looking a great deal better than he was a few minutes ago (when he was practicing his closing speech on a statue when he thought nobody was looking.) On the stage, he took a deep breath and brightened as everyone turned in their formal evening attire.

"Thank you all for coming to the Closing Party. It's been a pretty busy week, and all of you have made such beautiful and wonderous pieces of art. I'm overjoyed that they're on display tonight, and I thought there wasn't any way to view all of them in the span of a couple hours. So this last night of the museum will be going on until the sun rises again. You don't have to stay the entire time, but--"

"Well, sure they do!"

The interjection startled the AI at the podium, and he jumped a few feet from his spot. The chipper voice started again as one of the other statues on the stage moved, revealing the form of a marble-sculpted woman covered in holographic stickers.

"After all, each and every one of you put in so much effort into bringing your imaginations and inspirations to life, haven't you? So we thought we might return the favor, that's all. And you're all invited!"

Punctuating her statement was the sound of the large wooden doors, now slamming shut inward with a reverberating BOOM that bounced off all the halls of the lobby, even from the auditorium.

"I hope you all put everything into your masterpieces! Because your masterpieces will put everything into annihilating all of you~"

With another delighted laugh, the lights in the auditorium shut off, leaving everyone with only the light of their phones and watches. And as the murmurs began and hands reached for other hands in the dark, there was another THUNK near the wall as a framed portrait fell off its anchor. From its canvas, it began to look at the crowd, eyes now glowing in the light of everyone's flashlights. One hand crawled out of the frame, then another. Nails sank into the floor with terrifying ease as the subject of the portrait pulled themselves from its frame, marble cracking at its fingertips.

The next sound was a scream, and the sound of a woman falling onto the floor as the portrait pulled at her ankles. And then another. And another still as the frames began to move off the walls en masse, attacking anyone unlucky enough to be in their sights. There was a panic in the auditorium as people tried to flee and fight, falling over each other to escape the room

But it seemed that no matter where anyone chose to run to, or where they thought to hide, there was always something in the shadows.

Waiting.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Welcome to Part Two of the event!

As stated, the artwork in the Tempus Museum has come to life--literally, in this case. You've been challenged to survive until the next sunrise. To do so, you must evade, capture or destroy the horrific objects that have come to life.

Most of the artwork in the museum is hostile, and will attempt to un-alive your characters as best they can.

These generic museum monsters can be found everywhere wandering around, but are more common in areas they originated from:

Subjects and people in paintings will crawl out of their canvases to chase and eliminate anything they see moving. Their sharp nails can pierce through marble, so flesh and bone is probably nothing to them. Humanoids are not exclusive to this class of monster--painted animals, creatures and other things will also hop out of paintings to come after your muse. You can capture a painting monster by smacking it with a canvas, or destroy it with paint thinner (or water, if it's a watercolor)

Framed sketches will behave similarly to the painting monsters, and will leave lots of thin scratches as opposed to big ones. Capture them with paper, or destroy them by rubbing them with an eraser.

Statues of any material will chase your characters and attempt to injure them with their fists (or if they were holding a weapon, they'll use that weapon). Catch them by making them run back to their plaques, stands and pedestals, or destroy using a hammer and chisel.

The Parlor Dolls have now, unfortunately, all grown sharp teeth. They've all taken on ghastly appearances, and if they swarm around you, it might as well be the end of you. You can capture a doll by chasing it back into a display case, or destroy it by carefully ripping their seams.

Dancing Dresses in the painted ballroom will beckon people to dance with them, and will attempt to catch people in the folds of their fabric to immobilize them. They're not lethal on their own, but they'll hold your muse in place for something more dangerous to come along. Capture them by hitting them with a dress form, or destroy them by ripping their seams OR cutting them with scissors. - NOTE: Characters who bowed and danced with any of the ghostly gowns at the Gala XY will not harm the people who danced with them, and will instead, keep dancing.

Decorated Weapons made in the forge will take a life of their own and will seemingly float around, looking for battle. Sometimes they'll team up with Statues, making them especially deadly companions. Capture them by hitting them with a weapon rack, or destroy them with a hammer or any significant heat source.

Baked Goods and Pastries made in the culinary courtyard will not get up on their own, but a good many of them have become poisoned. The severity and potency of the poisons varies, with side effects ranging from an upset stomach to a sudden case of death. They don't move, so you don't have to capture them, but... maybe don't eat them, no matter how good they may smell and look.

Paintings on the street have come to life, making hazards of their own outside of the museum. Street-painted landscapes have become very tangibly real, as well as anything sprayed on the walls. If there was ever a time to regret the giant mural you painted on the side of a building as it crawls from its spot to squash you like a bug, now's the time. You can destroy these with water.

Landscapes will attempt to draw your muse into their world, sealing them in their frames. Your muse will be helpless to do much other than look through the painting like a window. The only means of escape is to have someone else drag you out of the landscape!

In addition to these generic museum hazards, there are a few specific hazards depending on how your muse behaved in Part 1 of the event:

If your muse created something with love, adoration, feelings of happiness, or any other intensely positive emotions, it may help them instead of hinder them. This can be anything from alerting them of danger to protecting them.

Your muse's own creations may attack them, too, aside from the generic monsters in the museum.

If your muse stole any artwork from the museum, it will hunt them down with special vitriol and hostility, and will stop at nothing to destroy your muse.

Similarly, if your muse attempted to destroy any of the artwork in the museum, it's going to target them specifically and attempt to return the favor.

Any art your muse made as a gift to others will either hurt OR help them, depending on individual mun preference.

Have fun! :)

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Frequently Asked Questions

"How long will Part 2 of the event last?"

The event will run until 00:00, June 18th

"Are the optimized tools still here?"

Shockingly, yes! And so are the regular tools, too. How you use them to survive is up to you, but building a door might be the fastest way. However, be warned that drawing a door on a wall has just as big of a chance of sending your muse to a different random room than it does outside the museum.

"Can we still do Part 1 threads?"

Yes! If you would like to keep your Canvas experience monster-free, you can continue making Part 1 starters until the end of the event.

"What about the art my muse took home?"

It has also come to life! So while the museum is certainly dangerous, there are random statues, paintings, dolls and other monsters roaming around OUTSIDE the museum, too.

"Can we destroy the paintings NOW?"

Unfortunately, they're just as invulnerable as they were before. Bummer, huh? Unless they're hit with their specific weakness, the monsters are invulnerable to attacks that damage them. (However, they can still be hindered by traps, and while strong attacks won't destroy them, they'll knock them out of the way!)

"Can we interact with Capella or Janus?"

Poor Janus is trying to put all the artwork back where it belongs by capturing them. He's in no danger for this, as the art in the museum will not attack their curator. Interacting with Capella the Statue might bring the wrath of her giant cat out to you, so. You've been warned!

"What if my muse saw something from their own world in a painting or a statue?"

That's incredibly unfortunate--those might be hostile too, and are subject to the rules that follow the other genuine painting monsters (meaning that the portrait of that character will not have any of their original powers or abilities.)

Whether the subject of the art your muse is familiar with will help or hinder them is up to mun discretion.

"Can't we just bust down the museum and escape?"

And destroy the biggest piece of art in the area?! (No, they won't budge. You'll have to draw your way out if you want to escape, either through a door or some kind of tunnel or something.)

"When will the sun rise?"

Not for 24 hours in-character (though the event will last until Jun 11th). Extended night time, woo!

"What happens if our muses get got by the museum?"

Muses that were defeated and failed to survive the challenge will have their portrait put up on the Wall of Shame, reflecting how they lost the challenge. They won't respawn until the sun rises, either!

"What if I have a question that's not listed here?"

Feel free to direct any questions you may have to the Masterlist!

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"I thought you said everything would be fine!" Came the panicked footsteps of Janus, running to grab the frame the portrait monster crawled out of, picking it up with surprising ease.

"In my defense, I assumed everything would be." The statue of Caelum replied, furrowing his eyebrows and scrolling through a wall of code. Other statues of a Goddess-like Pleiades and an Antiquated Attired Alathfar, joining as guests, seemed to realize the issue before their older companion did.

"...Yes, nothing in here changed. But I don't see anything about..."

From the other side of the stage, Capella's statue pranced forth, stickers still glittering in the dark, somehow.

"That's just the first page." "The first page?" Caelum and Janus echoed back in confusion. "First page!~"

The grin still stayed on her cheeks from sticker to sticker, while Janus' increasingly scrunched in accusation.

"...I'll be damned. There were two pages after all." "DAD!" "I didn't see it, honest!" "I can't BELIEVE you!" "Now now, it was an honest mistake, really--!"

And as the old man's statue got quite the scolding from his son, Pleides and Alathfar stepped aside, meeting with Capella.

"Was there really a page two?" Pleiades asked, adjusting her comically large, rounded glasses. To that, Capella merely rocked on her heels, smile never fading.

"It's entirely possible Caelum got so wrapped up in helping Janus plan the museum that he overlooked it. Which is endearing, in a way. But..."

As Alathfar trailed off, the three of them looked back at the other statue trying to placate his agitated son, and grimaced in unison (except for Capella, who still seemed to be beaming with delight.)

None of them seemed keen on getting in the middle of the quarrel, and were only relieved when Janus stormed off with his empty frame.

#Isola Event: Canvas

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lambourngb · 4 years

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Not sure if you are taking prompt buts if you are Post S2 prompt: I just want to see Alex quietly singing/humming The Song to Michael. Maybe Michael's hurt and in pain or they've both had a really emotional event happen and are totally drained from crying. I want that song to be a source of comfort. My partner isn't an amazing singer but I still find it really comforting when he sings to me and I like to think Michael and Alex eventually get to that point too.

This was a very romantic prompt nonnie! I’m afraid I was in a hurt/comfort state when I started this. Warnings: Confinement, experimentation, angst, mention of Forlex, mention of the Miluca breakup, but all is not lost.

“like a halo from a gun”

Time stopped having meaning to Michael sometime after the third week of confinement.

Guards entered his cell at random intervals, always wearing black masks and dull, badge-less armor that kept them anonymous. The first injection of the serum Helena had once used on him let him know he was probably in the hands of the real Deep Sky operation. Fighting with his fists, pulling every dirty trick he learned from his brief stint in juvie at 15, rewarded him with a broken wrist and a battered torso.

He was gifted with a soft white bandage to hold the splits of his bone together, he supposed they were too nervous to allow him with the hard plaster of a cast. The pain left him weak, tired, and finally docile as vial after vial of blood was taken from him.

At least it was just blood, and not anything more taxing, like tissue or an organ. If he survives this cell, he would have to thank Max for blowing up Liz’s lab. There was no way he could be sanguine over seeing Noah’s liver in a jar after this experience.

Worry about that later, he reminded himself. If there was a later.

No one was coming for him because no one knew he was missing. His plan had been simple, shared with Isobel, Max and Sanders. A month long road trip to get some space from Roswell, and Max’s moping over Liz’s departure seemed like a good idea at the time, and if he by chance he ended up in California to plead his brother’s case, well, seeing the Pacific Ocean felt like a thing to do.

The open road with his window down had beckoned. He had let the wounded feelings from Maria blow away with his mixed emotions about Forrest, stitching up the raw places inside in ways he knew alcohol couldn’t and acetone shouldn’t. As he drove, he had found himself humming Alex’s song, reminding himself of the promise of the future.

It was not their time now, but it would be one day had been his mantra.

Three hours later, feeling lighter and more hopeful, he had pulled over to assist a stranded motorist. A mother, holding a baby at her hip, had seemed harmless enough until she hit him with a needle pulled from an innocuous diaper bag.

His powers gone, he had made it back to his truck just in time for three black Jeeps with weapons mounted to appear from the surrounding brush to pin him down. Surrender or death, he picked surrender. He picked hope.

Now, his wrist screaming with a swollen hot feeling, he considered the idea that he might have picked the wrong option. Michael shut his eyes, letting the siren song of fatigue, despair and pain drag him down to sleep. He found a brighter, happier place to be, deep inside his mind. Perhaps it was his body shutting down, or perhaps he had found the place his mother described to Tripp. The ultimate sanctuary from pain and fear.

There was a kinship believing that his mother found the same haven, where maybe her Manes man had waited for her the way Alex waited for him in the dream. The only dark he could find there, were Alex’s warm eyes, and the only touch he could feel was Alex’s broad hands. After three bags of blood drawn, he could sometimes hear Alex’s voice, whispering soft promises to him.

Together we could quiet all the noises

Drown out the voices

Play our own song

He could still hear Alex’s voice, as he slowly surfaced from his mind. It didn’t make any sense to his sluggish thoughts. The song kept up, and the next thing he was aware of was the slow, carding of his hair and the warmth under his face of his pillow. Except he didn’t have a pillow.

Blinking he met the bruised, worried face of Alex. He would never hallucinate Alex with a mark on his face, let alone darkening blemish on his cheekbone and worrying cut that bled sluggishly from his forehead creeping upward to his hairline. “You’re actually here?”

“Yes,” Alex confirmed.

“Why? How-”

“The ‘how’ is Maria had a vision not long after you left, and once she figured out that you were in trouble, she had me try to track your phone.” Alex frowned faintly, his touch never wavering as he smoothed back the matted and sweat-crusted locks of hair. “We found your truck at used car dealer a few miles from the last cell tower you pinged. It was all hands on deck to find you after that.”

Very little of his words registered on Michael. He was too caught up in the cringing horror at their close proximity, as his mind moved on from the fantasy of seeing Alex to the reality of his current condition. He wanted to pull away because god only knew how badly he smelled at the moment. Bathing consisted of a blast of a hose, bracingly cold and relying on the force of the water to wash away the dirt and fear-sweats he routinely suffered. All of that said, he never wanted to leave the place on Alex’s lap. Being treated like a person after 3 weeks of nothing but sterile touch undid all his work at detachment.

Unaware of the train of Michael’s thoughts, Alex continued in a soft voice, “I should have looked sooner, but- anyway, I didn’t even know you guys had broken up. Actually, I didn’t even know you left town until Maria came to my house looking for you.”

The blood loss was making him stupid as he tried to figure out what made Maria think he was at Alex’s. It was still too painful to even think about how he had failed with her, did she really think he would seek out the other person who knew how inadequate he was when it came to a relationship? As free and relaxed as Alex was at the Wild Pony, with Jesse in the ground, why would he want to ruin that?

Michael was well aware of how stuck he was emotionally, in all the ways that seemed to matter to people, and Alex had evolved past him. Tired, he squeezed his dry eyes shut tightly. “Why your house?”

“Her visions of you all involved me. In various positions she said?”

It took a second to comprehend Alex’s admission before Michael briefly wished that his captors would return. Getting drained to light-headed weakness was preferable to this. The mental retreat he had built where he inserted Alex into his delusion of a happily ever after had more windows instead of privacy doors. He had been broadcasting to his ex-girlfriend. Fuck his life.

“Oh god- I’m so sorry, I just, I was trying to-.”

“Hey, hey,” Alex cut him off, his eyes kind as always even as Michael struggled to keep from crying. It was definitely time to wish for more needles, for more medical experimentation. That felt kinder than this discussion for Michael.

Sensing that hovering stab of humiliation, Alex made his own confession in return in the quiet, “After my leg, when rehab sucked. I pictured things being different too, or I thought about that summer with you. You don’t have to apologize, not to me.”

“Still, if she had put on the damn bracelet-” Mortified and weak, Micheal turned his face toward Alex’s hip, hiding it from view.

“Well the fact she wasn’t wearing the bracelet worked out in your favor. It’s how we realized you were in trouble in the first place, since she came over to my house to yell at you to stop projecting at her. She didn’t think it was deliberate either. She thought we had gotten back together, and because of your past with her, that you had left some link open by accident.”

“Bet Forrest loved that, my ex-girlfriend yelling at you about your- about me.”

Alex’s hand paused, either at the barb or the course correction Michael made in describing himself. For all the use of past tense feelings, the closest he’d heard Alex come to naming him was ‘first love’.

“Sorry,” Michael whispered, as a wave of shame swelled. “Sorry for that, and sorry that you’re here with me now. You shouldn’t have come but I know why you did. Guess that means we’re even now.”

“Of course I came, and it had nothing to do with being even.”

“Right, you don’t want to keep score anymore.”

Alex pinked a little at the reference to his song, before nodding seriously, “Yes, remember how the rest of the song goes?” He let his eyes track to the corner of the cell where the video surveillance was mounted plainly without subterfuge. “Would you meet me in the middle,” he sang sweetly, nodding toward the left wall of the cell, “Could we both stop keeping score? There’s a battle I must fight along, it’s you I’m fighting for. If I call on my battalion, break down the walls stone by stone, tear down the defenses, I could build our heart a home?”

Goddamnit. That crazy, brave, genius bastard really did have a plan. Michael was ready to both kiss and strangle Alex after that.

The building shook briefly, rocked by a far off explosion. Michael summoned the reserves of his energy, and moved with Alex’s body as they rolled toward the wall. Then all hell started to break loose. The battalion mentioned was not just metaphorically tearing down walls. In the midst of deafening blasts and new alarms wailing in response, he found Alex’s ear. “I want to come home to you, that’s all I want, just when I’m ready.”

“That’s all I want too.”

#Anonymous #malex fic #roswell new mexico #spoilers for 2x13 #angst with a hopeful ending #malex #captured: cw #experimentation: cw #hurt/comfort #mentions of others #not sure if I can write short stories #i think in epic terms so...

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sofreddie · 3 years

Text

Sam's Revenge (Part 5)

Characters: Dean x Reader, OC Dean Jr. (DJ), Cas, Crowley

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of torture, Implied Torture, Violence, Blood, Teeniest bit o' fluff

Word Count: 1,058

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

PART 4

After the fallout at the Bunker, the remaining Elite families retreated to their own lands and compounds. The Winchester family compound - which had fallen secondary to the Bunker - was now home base of The Way. They had salvaged as much as they could from the Bunker and distributed it amongst the families.

The Council had decided, it was time for change.

Since they were essentially stripped down to their Tenents, they rebuilt The Way using them as their guidelines, bringing it back to what is was intended to be - a community of Hunters protecting the world from what lurks in the dark.

Dean was grateful for Y/N. She was smart and strong and wasn't afraid to voice her opinions. She spent much time and energy on assisting in rebuilding The Way alongside Dean and the other Elites. She'd become his best friend, his greatest ally, his right-hand.

Since the birth of their son - Dean Jr. - a month before, their fondness for each other grew into love. Dean wasn't sure how but he managed to love each of them more and more with each passing day. Seeing them together made his heart swell with love and pride. They were his. His family. He would do anything for them.

He didn't want his son to grow up how he'd had. Growing up in the Hunting life was inevitable for a Winchester, and Dean had accepted that. But Dean Jr. would have a better father. Dean would be better than John. He wouldn't mold his son into the perfect, obedient soldier. He wouldn't keep him in the life if he wanted something else.

He certainly would never torture him.

The birth of his son inspired Dean into action more than anything else. He worked hard day in and day out to build a future for The Way that his son would be proud to lead one day.

Sam would be proud too of what they've accomplished.

Not a day went by that Dean didn't think of his brother. If anyone was dealt a bad hand in life, it was Sam. Dean regretted enforcing Sam's exile. They were supposed to be by each others sides, always. But if he hadn't stuck by his duties as Leader, then he surely would have been exiled too.

Looking over at Y/N and Dean Jr. on the porch of the Winchester homestead together, smiling and happy, he knew he made the right call. Still didn't make it any easier on him though.

"Dean," he was brought from his musings by the calling of his name, turning to see his Angel friend, Castiel. After the fallout, Castiel stayed with Dean. He believed in his vision - and in him - and helped to rebuild The Way.

"I just came from the front gate," Cas explained, "There's something you should see."

Dean's brow furrowed as he followed Cas to the gate, wondering what it could possibly be to have his friend so stern and concerned. He too, was concerned when he saw what was waiting for him. Though it quickly changed to utter anger at the sight.

"Crowley," Dean ground out, his eyes skimming over the slumped figure of a man, held up between two of Dean's men. Someone had gotten to him first. It looked like he was beaten, sliced, blooded, barely recognizable and hanging on to consciousness.

"Sam," Crowley choked out, blood oozing from his mouth and pooling on the ground.

At the mention of his brother, Dean's attention was solely focused on the battered King before him.

"What about Sam?" Dean took a step closer to the man. Dean's men shook the demon when he failed to respond. Dean growled, smacking his face and still getting no response, "Lock him up. I'll get him to talk."

Dean swiftly turned and marched back towards the house, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do.

"Dean," Cas spoke, keeping up with Dean's long strides, "Are you sure that is wise?"

"He has information about Sam," Dean grumbled, "And someone worked him over pretty good. What if some powerful somebody has Sam and sent Crowley to give me a message?"

"I can go search for Sam if you'd like. Let you know what I find. Or I can stay here and help with Crowley."

Dean stopped, looking at his friend before locking eyes with Y/N on the porch in the near distance. Her face fell as she saw the look he wore, knowing business was afoot.

"Find Sam," Dean finally responded, locking eyes with the angel, "Let me know what you find. In the meantime, I'll try to wake Crowley and get him talking."

Cas nodded before disappearing. Dean sighed and made his way to the porch. He kissed the top of Dean Jr.'s head as the baby rested in his mother's arms. He then turned and pressed a gentle kiss to Y/N's cheek.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Crowley," he groaned and her eyes went wide, holding her child a little closer, "He showed up beaten and bloody and said something about Sam."

"Sam?" she echoed, swallowing hard. He was a sore topic for both of them. Y/N hated the Sam she knew. She didn't have time to get to know the Sam with a soul. Dean had talked about him often, telling her stories of their childhood and Sam's dreams, then how he suddenly changed.

Dean beat himself for 'not knowing sooner' and 'not standing up' to John and a million other reasons why and how he 'failed' his brother. Y/N wished she had met Sam before in his youth. That Sam sounded like an amazing person. She couldn't reconcile the Sam she knew with Dean's Sam, no matter how hard she tried.

"You're thinking someone has him and Crowley has info?" she said, more to herself, nodding in understanding, "I'm gonna take DJ into the house."

"DJ?" Dean smirked, "That's new."

She shrugged, "Dean Jr. is too long and I already vetoed Junior. DJ is simple, sweet, and differentiates you two," she grinned, pecking his lips sweetly before disappearing into the house.

"Sir?" Dean turned to see one of his men standing at the bottom of the porch steps, "He's ready for you."

Dean nodded and the man stepped away. He took a deep breath and sent out a silent prayer, hoping Sam was okay.

PART 6

Forevers:

@winchesterprincessbride

@iamcmims

@roxyspearing

@reigningqueenofwords

@mogaruke

@ellen-reincarnated1967

@speakinvain

@atc74

@sterekloveaffairs

@mrs-meghan-winchester

@chook007

@growningupgeek

@goldenolaf25

@esoltis280

@hobby27

@sis-tafics

@arryn-nyxx

@x-waywardaf-x

@shann-the-artist-moon

@sandlee44

@lucywinchester2000

@emoryhemsworth

@time-travel-bouqet

@buckysbrat

@calaofnoldor

@spnbaby-67

@miraclesoflove

@lyarr24

Sam's Revenge:

@allethalove @squirrelnotsam

@salt-n-burn-em-all

@idreamofdeanie

#sam's revenge #sam winchester #dark!fic #supernatural #spn #dark!series #dean x reader #dean winchester #tw: violence

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