Found Family! Supernatural and Teen! Witch! Reader
Chapter Ten: Purgatory Friend
Summary: Dean goes off on his own, which is never a good sign.
“Well, that is twice that Kevin’s burned us. Shame on you,” grumbled Dean.
“No, no, no, no. I’m the one who said he set us up,” said Sam.
“No, you said, ‘I wonder if Kevin is setting us up,’ and then you started in with the—the techno babble. That was like two states ago,” said Dean.
“Yeah, well, whatever. Either way, that’s another room billed to one of Kevin’s false credit IDs.” Sam groaned. “And the motel ran his number today.”
“If I wasn’t so frustrated, I’d be impressed,” said (Y/N).
“When’s that little idiot gonna stop running from us?” grumbled Dean.
“I don’t know, Dean. I mean, you did try to kill his mother,” said Sam.
“I was trying to kill Crowley, okay? Who happened to be wearing Kevin's mother at the time,” said Dean. “Well, there’s a difference.”
“He’s being dramatic, we’ve all almost died,” said (Y/N).
“There’s a different. Why? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because—oh, yeah—it’s his mother,” said Sam.
Dean’s phone rang. “Hold that thought,” he said. “No, actually, you know what? Don’t hold that thought.” He answered the phone. “Hello? Hello? Uh, hang on. There’s not enough bars.” He headed outside.
Sam looked at (Y/N). “(Y/N)—”
“No,” said (Y/N).
“No?” said Sam.
“No, I’m not having a conversation with you. I’ve said my piece,” said (Y/N). “You keep asking for me to forgvie you, but you just want to keep doing what you’re apologizing for.”
“I’m allowed to want a life without all this bloodshed,” said Sam.
“Yeah, you are,” said (Y/N). “And I want that for you. But you can’t ask me to be okay with you abandoning me and Dean for a whole year. Not when you wanting to leave as soon as possible proves that you’re not really sorry.”
“(Y/N), I am. I messed up. I should have—”
“Yeah, you should have done anything else,” said (Y/N). “But you didn’t. You gave up without trying. And if things hadn’t gone wrong in your normal life, you’d still be there and not with Dean and I. That’s how I know you’re not really sorry.”
Sam’s heart clenched. Was that really how (Y/N) felt? Was that really how it looked to the outside world? “I’m here to help until the end. I’m not going to leave you and Dean. I promise. I just want to stop killing after we seal the gates.”
“Okay,” said (Y/N). “I really don’t care.” They wanted him to be happy. They really and truly did. “But I also know you wouldn’t be here helping us if you had the option to still be in your normal life. And that’s what hurts.”
There could be a million arguments that they should forgive him, understand it was a mistake, and move on. But (Y/N) had been alone, completely alone, at sixteen. They’d been terrified. They’d had to—They’d been abandoned. And now the person that had said he was there for them, that he cared, had confirmed that he wanted to be back in the life that had been so important that he hadn’t looked for them. Of course that hurt the teenager, even if they wanted Sam happy. It was complex: Sam should get to be happy, but (Y/N) felt like it showed he never wanted to find them again.
It felt like (Y/N) was a symbol of the life he didn’t want. Like (Y/N) was making Sam’s life worse. And that was the part that hurt the most. (Y/N) felt like a monster that needed to be out of Sam’s life for him to be happy.
Dean reentered the motel room before the circular conversation could continue. “I’ve got to go.”
That successfully diverted (Y/N) and Sam’s attention.
“What exactly is that supposed to mean, you’ve got to go?” asked Sam, bewildered, as Dean grabbed a bag and threw some tools in.
“Which words are giving you trouble?” said Dean.
“We’re on the case, remember, Dean? The-the Winchester holy grail, ‘shut the gates of hell forever’ case,” said Sam incredulously.
Winchester. What (Y/N) was not. “Does someone need help?” asked (Y/N). “Jody? Or Garth?”
“Don’t worry. I can handle it,” said Dean. He felt bad not telling (Y/N) what he was up to—Sam wouldn’t understand, but he suspected (Y/N) wouldn’t flinch—but he didn’t want to involve them in post-Purgatory business. “And in order to close the Gates of Hell, we need our Prophet, am I right? So step one—find Kevin Tran. Well, he ain’t here. But he wanted us to be, which means we’re probably as far away from him as he could possibly put us. So step two—find Kevin Tran. Until then, I’m gonna help someone out.” He headed out the door.
(Y/N)’s heart clenched. Someone else didn’t want them around. Did Dean feel the same way as Sam? Were they also not wanted in his life? No. No, not true, they tried to convince themselves. Still not a Winchester.
“Wait. Dean, seriously?” said Sam, following Dean out towards the impala.
“Hey, the trail is dead, but the room is paid for. You got some research to do, and I got some personal crap I got to take care of. That’s all,” said Dean.
“What does that mean, ‘personal?’ ” asked Sam.
“Did you have a stroke? Vocabulary? Personal, as in my own grown-up personal—I don’t know—crap,” said Dean.
“Damn it—” said Sam.
“What, Sam? Last I counted, you took a year off from the job. I need a day,” said Dean.
“Are you coming back?” They had meant to ask it casually, but (Y/N)’s voice came out small.
Dean paused. His big-brother instincts instantly took hold. “Yes. Yes, I am.” He wasn’t abandoning (Y/N). Never.
(Y/N) watched him get into the impala and drive off. Sam scoffed and reentered the motel to start to track Kevin again. (Y/N) stood in the cool night air. The light above them burst from stress.
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Dean definitely needed a day. It had been hours, and they hadn’t heard a thing from him. (Y/N) was bored, and the motel room was filled with tension.
“I might have a clue,” said Sam.
“Okay,” said (Y/N), barely responding.
Sam glanced over. They had a candle out and stared at it, and the flame flickered before their eyes. He didn’t ask what it was about and instead cleared his throat. “We should tell Dean.”
“Okay.”
Sam grimaced and pulled out his phone. He dialed Dean, and the phone rang. No response. He frowned. He and Dean always picked up for each other; it was part of being a hunter.
“He’s not—” Sam’s phone rang, and he picked up, putting it on speaker. “Hey.”
“Okay, what?” said Dean.
“What?” said Sam, frowning at the curt response.
“Why did you call me?” said Dean.
“Why are you whispering?” asked (Y/N), brow furrowing in worry.
“It’s kind of hard to explain right, but I’m sort of in the middle of cleaning out a vampire’s nest, and it’s sort of gone a little sideways on me,” said Dean.
“Dean, we could have been there to help you!” snapped (Y/N). The candle flared higher.
“I’m not alone,” said Dean, hearing their worry. “I’ve got backup—guy who’s been tracking the nest for a while.”
“What guy?” asked Sam sharply, not trusting that Dean wasn’t just annoyed enough of his problems to fight vamps on his own.
“You don’t know him. He’s a friend,” said Dean.
“A friend? Dean, you don’t have any—all your friends are dead,” said Sam.
“And we all know them, too,” said (Y/N) matter-of-factly.
“That’s not what I called to talk about!” said Dean. The muffled sounds of fighting echoed out of the phone. “Okay, I texted you my twenty.”
“We’re on our way,” said (Y/N), standing to grab their stuff.
“I get the separate-lives thing, but this is a hunting thing, and we need to find that line—” said Sam.
“Sam!” said (Y/N) and Dean.
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In a stolen car, Sam and (Y/N) sped towards Dean’s location. They were going ninety and increasing speed. Dean wasn’t answering his other numbers, now, which meant trouble. They screeched to a stop at a dock of all places, and Sam and (Y/N) got out.
“It said here, right?” said (Y/N).
“Yeah,” said Sam. “So where is he?”
(Y/N) peered out into the darkness. “He better not be on a boat.”
“Damn it,” said Sam. He probably was.
“Hey.” (Y/N) tensed. “One’s coming this way.”
Sam narrowed his eyes, keeping an eye on the boat as it approached. He relaxed when he saw Dean step out on deck. “It’s Dean.”
“He’s alright?”
“Bloody but yeah,” said Sam.
The boat pulled up, and Dean tossed his tools onto the dock. He clambered out. A man got out behind him and looked at Sam and (Y/N). They looked at him suspiciously.
“I’m Benny,” he said. He extended a hand. Sam shook it. Then (Y/N) did. “Heard a lot about y’all, Sam, (Y/N).” He smiled, and the slight poke of fangs above his gums flashed in the dim light.
(Y/N) blinked in surprise, and Sam reached for a knife. Behind Benny, Dean shook his head. (Y/N) furrowed their brow but didn’t lash out. Sam narrowed his eyes in confusion.
Benny let go of (Y/N)’s hand. “I can see y’all have a lot to talk about.” He patted Dean on the shoulder, picked up his own bag, and headed away into the darkness.
“Dean—”
“Not now. I’m tired,” said Dean, walking past them towards the parked impala.
Fine. Not now. But there would be a conversation as soon as he got some rest from the hunt.
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“I caught wind of a case on this police scanner. Sounds like our kind of thing,” said Dean casually, leaning against the impala. Nearly a full day had passed since Prentiss Island, and he still had yet to answer questions about Benny.
“I wasn’t even gone ten minutes,” said Sam, gas station food in hand.
“Okay. That matters why?” said Dean.
“Because you have refused to stay near us long enough for us to ask a single question about your friend Benny,” said (Y/N). “You’re being evasive.”
Dean squared his shoulders. He knew they might not understand. But, fine, they wanted to talk? “You want to talk about Benny? Fine. Let’s talk.”
“Okay. How about he’s a vampire?” snapped Sam.
“Okay, wasn’t going to start with that, seems like the least of our worries, but, sure,” said (Y/N). Benny had helped Dean take out vamps. The fact he was one felt pretty minor in comparison.
“He’s also the reason I’m topside and not roasting on a spit in Purgatory. Anything else?” demanded Dean.
“Nope,” said (Y/N). “If you say he’s cool, he’s cool.”
“You wanted to question me,” said Dean.
“On principle,” retorted (Y/N).
“We’re not done,” said Sam. “You did what you had to in Purgatory, fine, I get it.”
“I highly doubt you get anything about Purgatory,” said Dean.
“But you’re out now, and Benny’s still breathing.” Sam almost glared. “Why?”
“He’s my friend, Sam,” said Dean forcefully.
“And what about my friend, Amy? She was what? ‘Cause you sure as hell didn’t have a problem ganking her,” snapped Sam.
(Y/N) flinched at the reminder of the incident. Dean’s hands curled into fists. He saw (Y/N) wince, and he remembered how much he’d terrified them by killing Amy. How much they thought he’d do the same to them.
“Well, I guess people change, don’t they?” Dean bit the words out. “We let that werewolf Kate go, didn’t we?”
“She was different. She—you think Benny’s different?” said Sam incredulously. “He tell you he’s not drinking live blood, or something? And you believe him.” He scoffed. “Wow. Okay. You know, you’re right. People do change.”
“Yeah. I got a vampire buddy, and you turn your phone off for a year,” said Dean. He was willing to answer questions about Benny, but he wouldn’t let anyone say Benny was evil when he was the one who had saved Dean.
“Don’t turn this on me,” said Sam.
Too late. “Sam, why is it so hard to believe Benny’s telling the truth?” said (Y/N). “If Kate is capable of not hurting people, Benny can be, too.”
“You don’t know him!” said Sam, voice rising.
“I don’t need to! He saved Dean’s life, why would he lie now?” snapped (Y/N).
“Because he’s a vampire,” said Sam.
“And I’m a witch,” retorted (Y/N). “Just as much a monster. And I’m not hurting anyone.” There. The plain fact.
Sam faltered. “We know you—”
“No, Sam, you don’t. Because I was alone for a year,” said (Y/N). They smiled bitterly. “And I had to grow up.”
Dean looked at (Y/N). Sam furrowed his brow.
“So grow up. We can kill Benny if he becomes a problem,” said (Y/N). “But right now, he’s not. So who cares.” (Y/N) pulled open the impala’s door and got in before Sam could say another word.
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A little under a year ago…
(Y/N) pushed themself to run—run faster and harder, even as their legs wanted to give out. If they stopped, they were—Pain slashed through their leg, and (Y/N) shouted, falling as the use of their legs were stolen from them. They hit the ground, and blood slicked their leg as the bullet wound cut deep into their skin and muscle.
Then it was the mass of shadows, the nameless, faceless monsters and men that blurred together into one entity to (Y/N)—danger, this was danger, that was all they knew, all they needed to know—and the burning desire for survival bubbled up.
You promised not to hurt people—
Let me protect you.
We.
Me.
I.
Indigo flared to life. (Y/N) grew up. The instinct for survival is violent.
I can see Borealis getting asked the question "Soldier boy or Homelander" and without a beat they go "Ryan" interrupting whoever asked when they try to go like "Oh, he wasn't an option", just speaking over them and repeating Ryan over and over while nodding their head until the person shuts up
Borealis is answering questions in their own way and no one can stop them!
I like to think that the ONE blood relation that Borealis really doesn’t mind having a blood relation with Ryan and vice versa. In fact, I like to think either Ryan or Borealis admit as much😊😊😊
(BTW: “Ryan wants to be like Borealis” is both so sweet and sad 🥲🥲🥲)
Borealis wants to protect Ryan, and Borealis is in turn Ryan's favorite supe. It's adorable
This was exactly their dynamic when they first met. (and, in return, MC's version is: "I don't care if you're the bounty hunter sent to take me to my doom. Ima argue back."
(Also, I thought you'd be delighted to know that an interview came up on my FYP with Pedro Pascal and he is asked what character of his would be a good babysitter, and so he had to review all his dad characters, and I know who Marcus was because of your ask the other day)
See Yourself Before the Villain (Book 2) Chapter Twenty
Found Family! The Boys and Supe! Reader
Platonic Yandere! Homelander and Supe! Reader
(Platonic! Soldier Boy and Supe! Reader)
Chapter Twenty: Weakness and Strength
Summary: Butcher moves along with his life, Ryan struggles, and Homelander crashes.
Chapter Warnings: cancer, typical The Boys warnings
“Jesus,” breathed Hughie. “You’re just telling us now?” He stared at Butcher. Butcher, who had cancer. A tumor in his brain that he hadn’t told them about. “Have you seen any specialists, have you, um…”
“How long you got?” asked MM, getting straight to the point no one wanted to bring up.
“It’s none of your fucking business,” said Butcher. Months. That was all that was left. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you all.”
Kimiko stormed into the room after a failed psychiatry appointment. She looked at everyone and signed at Frenchie. Frenchie mimicked slitting a throat—Butcher was dying.
“What’s going on?” said MM, narrowing his eyes at Butcher.
“Let’s just say I got an angel on my shoulder,” said Butcher dismissively. “And she’s a right bloody nag.”
“Butcher, I tried to warn you that that shit was poison,” said Annie.
“You ain’t one of us,” snapped Butcher.
“Hey!” said Hughie.
“Alright,” said MM before a fight could start. He looked at Butcher. “A word.” He dragged him into the hall so they could speak in private.
“You’re done,” said MM to Butcher.
“What?” said Butcher incredulously.
“Fired,” said MM. “Get your shit and get the fuck out.”
“I level with you lot, and this is the thanks I get,” scoffed Butcher. “Fuck me. See what being honest gets you?”
“Honest? Motherfucker, you’ve been lying to us for the last six months!” snapped MM.
“Not telling ain’t lyng.” Butcher pulled out a technicality. “Look, you need all the help you can get, mate.”
“Not from you. You’re a liability, Butcher.” It was the truth, and MM and Butcher both knew it.
“I ain’t gonna let this stand, then,” said Butcher. “The Boys is mine.”
“Says a dying man with his one last bluff,” said MM. “But you’ve nearly gotten everyone here killed. You lost the boy. And you got the kid killed.” MM glared at Butcher, who gritted his teeth against the true accusations. “Now grab your shit and get the fuck out.”
Butcher watched MM head back inside the safehouse. No way in hell he was standing down. This was his operation. Homelander was his to kill.
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Sister Sage rolled her eyes as she passed through the unfriendly stalls of the people of TruthCon. She wasn’t shocked that people were so stupid, but, still, it was annoying. There was no one on her level. Especially Firecracker, the supe she was scouting. Homealnder didn’t know, yet, but there was a new member of the Seven coming. If he wanted his plan to go off, though, h would have to listen to Sister Sage.
She ignored the conspiracy theories around. None of them really had any merit—just idiots searching for some sense in a world they feared. She slowed by a videotape. It showed the Soldier Boy explosion at Vought Tower, the one that had killed Borealis. She watched the explosion. She had never seen the videos, not caring in the slightest what happened to any supes. But as she watched…She saw another light amidst the golden explosion. Sister Sage leaned in.
An attempt to shield themself? considered Sister Sage. She ignored the words about Communist brainwashing popping up over the screen and examined the explosion again. A body falling one direction. Light falling another. Sister Sage straightened abruptly. She blinked. Well, that could be good leverage. It would certainly put her in good standing with Homelander.
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Frenchie frowned at the empty footage on the security camera. They had tailed Sister Sage this far, so why couldn’t they see her. “She said 9:00 pm in the Deep Blue Sea room, no?”
“I sure did,” said Firecracker cheerfully. She grinned as she stepped into the room. Several armed men—all splinters of Splinter—and Sister Sage stood with her. “Toss your guns.”
Frenchie, Kimiko, and MM lowered their weapons to the ground.
“Eh, your rifles are garish and vulgar,” said Frenchie, looking at the American guns with distaste.
“They’re American, you fuckon’ surrender monkey,” snapped Firecracker.
“Marvin, did you really think you could tail me without me knowing?” said Sister Sage.
“So what now?” said MM.
Sister Sage glanced at Firecracker. “These assholes are CIA. Genuine deep state moles. They’re taken out more superheroes than anyone in the world. And Homelander would like it if you killed them. Consider it your final audition.”
“Audition for what?” asked Firecracker.
Sister Sage ignored her and looked at MM. She had to figure out if… “No supe backup coming, is there?”
MM scoffed, but the way his brow furrowed told all.
“So you don’t have them,” murmured Sister Sage. Interesting. She turned away. “The sooner they’re dead, Firecracker, the sooner you’ll found out what you’re auditioning for.” She paused in the door. “You’re not as impressive as I heard.”
With that, she left. Firecracker and Splinter grinned, ready to kill Frenchie, Kimiko, and MM. The three Boys tensed. Once again, they were going to be in a fight for their lives.
And, much to the chagrin of MM, he would end up getting saved by Butcher, who couldn’t stay away.
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“Hey, buddy,” said Homelander, patting Ryan on the back.
Ryan just sniffled and pulled away. The accidentally death of the stuntman in his first save had destroyed him. He didn’t want to hurt people; he wanted to save people. Ryan wanted to be like Borealis.
Homelander tsked when Ryan didn’t react. “Okay, come on.” He pulled Ryan into a hug. He wanted his family to rely on him. Only him. “Come on. It’s okay.” He watched tears roll down Ryan’s cheeks. “Don’t worry. Okay? Don’t worry. You’ll get plenty of solo saves, I promise. But I really do think that my being there is good for your numbers.”
Ryan hiccupped through sobs and felt a pull of anger. That was why his dad thought he was upset? He looked up at Homelander incredulously. “What?”
“Yeah,” said Homelander encouragingly.
“No.” Ryan pushed back slightly.
“Yes,” said Homelander like a proper, patient father.
“No, no…” Ryan wished his mom was there to hold him close. She would understand.
“Yes,” said Homelander again, correctively.
“I killed Koy,” sobbed Ryan.
Homelander paused. “That’s what you’re upset about? Koy?” He sighed in disappointment. “Hmm. Okay. Accidents happen all the time, okay?” He brushed the incident—and Ryan’s feelings about it—off. “Humans are fragile. You can’t save them all.”
“But isn’t that our job?” said Ryan.
“Look, Koy died doing what he loved,” said Homelander. He smiled. “Okay? It’ll be better next time.”
“No.” Ryan refused.
“Yes,” said Homelander.
“No, I’m never doing that again,” swore Ryan.
“Jesus Chr—How many times do I have to tell you?” snapped Homelander. “They’re only humans, Ryan. Toys.” When Ryan’s expression of anger didn’t change, Homelander huffed and stood. “You can’t go around feeling bad about what you are ‘cause a few things break. Who cares? You are destined for so much more. You understand? You’re chosen, young man. Sooner or later, you got to accept it.” He stalked away.
Ryan sniffled. He missed Butcher. He missed (Y/N). He missed his mom.
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“Just keep your arms up,” said Annie, grimacing as Hughie put up his lanky arms. “Yeah. I mean, you’re eighty percent limbs. Use ‘em.” She chuckled.
“Okay,” said Hughie.
“Okay,” said Annie. She swung lightly, and Hughie blocked, but he was too slow. The fist hit his stomach.
Hughie groaned and doubled over. “Ah, fuck, that was hard.”
“That was, like, ten percent of hard,” said Annie.
“Yo,” said MM. “These new Seven picks make any goddamn sense to you?” He pointed at the news headlines about Sister Sage and Firecracker. “I mean, Sage? Elon Musk has more charm than she does, and he’s half-android.”
“I mean, Firecracker hates my guts for some reason, but outside of that, I don’t get it,” said Annie.
“Something big is happening,” said MM darkly. “And we need help. Now, look, I know y’all ain’t gonna like this shit. I want to flip A-Train.”
“What?” snapped Hughie.
“You’re joking,” said Annie.
“Fuck that,” asserted Hughie.
“We turn A-Train informant, there’s no bigger fish than him,” said MM.
“Yeah, or he could murder you,” pointed out Annie.
“He did help clear your Starlighters,” replied MM. “Guys, I know when a motherfucker’s wavering, okay? And A-Train, he’s right there, he’s ready.”
“One guess what my problem with this might be?” said Hughie sarcastically.
“No.” Annie shook her head. “No.”
“I think we should bring Butcher back,” said Hughie.
“Fuck now,” said MM. “And need I remind you who still runs this operation.”
“I thought we all had a say. I thought that was the point,” argued Hughie.
Behind them all, Frenchie and Kimiko got up to head towards the door. MM spun around.
“Hello?” he said, questioning where they were going. “You guys want to ask before you just up and fuck off?”
Frenchie and Kimiko smiled at each other. They smiled at MM. They raised the middle finger.
MM gritted his teeth. He looked back at Hughie and Annie. “The point is, we don’t have enough power to take on Homelander or the Seven. So we need someone on the inside.”
Annie looked at the screens full of headlines. If (Y/N) was still there…what would they say to do? Fight. Do whatever it takes. Annie bit her cheek.
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Sister Sage watched the journalists hang onto Firecracker’s words after the resounding success of her introduction to the Seven. People were eating her conspiracies up. Polls were doing well, tweets were upbeat, and everyone jumped on a single person who said anything negative. Honestly, it was so easy it was boring.
Homelander walked in, and Sister Sage glanced up. At least there was one thing interesting for her. Not him, of course. He was easy. But something else could prove new, unique.
“I don’t think she’s right,” said Homelander, huffing at Firecracker’s prattle. “Like she fell off her jet ski one too many times.”
“Mm-mm.” Sister Sage had told him once and would tell him again: she knew best. “Now that Starlight’s back leading the Starlighters, we need her.”
“Mm. That is gonna shut them up?” said Homelander.
“No. She’s gonna make them louder,” said Sister Sage. “Are you gonna trust me or not?”
“Is there a problem?” said Homelander dangerously. “’Cause this is a huge day for you, but you seem to have something firmly lodged up your asshole.”
“This spandex is,” said Sister Sage. “Up my ass and in a camel toe. The whole point was for me to stay behind the scenes.” She didn’t smile for the cameras passing while Homelander did. “You’re clearing punishing me for openly disagreeing with you, which you said you can handle, but you clearly can’t.”
“Do you really think I’d be that petty?” said Homelander, attempting to joke.
“Yes, I do,” retorted Sister Sage. “I mean, did it occur to you that it is harder to stage a fucking coup with a million eyes on me?”
“Popularity is power, Sister,” said Homelander.
“It’s a prison,” scoffed Sister Sage. “So quit punishing me.”
“I’m not,” denied Homelander. He was. He always punished people, whether he used those words or not.
“Right. Well, if you’re going to insist on this, then I’ll show you something to convince you to leave me alone.”
Sister Sage turned and walked out of the lobby towards the computer room. Homelander faltered and looked at the cameras. His curiosity ultimately got the better of him—his need to know what was going on so he could control it ate at him—and he followed her.
“Would you mind being less mysterious?” snapped Homelander while she remained silent and opened a computer.
“You’ll see,” said Sister Sage.
“See what?” Homelander’s face fell when she showed him the screen. Soldier Boy’s explosion. (Y/N)’s death. “What is this?” he snarled.
Sister Sage held up a hand. “Listen to me.”
Homelander glared at her. He despised rewatching his family be torn apart, the first chance he’d gotten at a real, complete home.
“Borealis might be alive.”
Homelander went still. “What?”
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Ryan nearly smiled when he lost foosball. Never in a million years had he expected himself to go to Butcher for any sort of comfort, but there he was with Butcher, having snuck out of the Tower.
“Everyone at the Tower always lets me win,” admitted Ryan, glad that someone just treated him like…a kid. “It’s no fun.”
Butcher faltered, not good at comforting people. He had been bad at it before Becca and was even worse after. He had messed up with Ryan and (Y/N), so many times. He cleared his throat. “Saw your save on the telly. So you’re a big hero now, eh?”
Ryan looked away. “Not really.”
“Come on, you’re a star. Nailed your lines and all,” said Butcher.
“I actually…” Ryan trailed off. “I accidentally hurt someone.” He looked down, ashamed of himself.
Butcher faltered once more. “What do you mean, ‘hurt ‘em?’ ”
“I was supposed to throw them—” Ryan’s lip trembled, and his eyes burned “—but I did it too hard.”
“They gonna be alright?” said Butcher, trying to think of what Becca would say. Ryan met his gaze, and Butcher understood.
Ryan’s lip trembled, and he took a shaky breath. “My dad says I shouldn’t even care.” He exhaled slowly. He did care, though. He cared so much. “I get why you don’t want me.” He smiled, the expression heartbreaking. “I wouldn’t want me, either.”
Butcher’s mouth opened and closed. “Hey.” He moved over, remembering the way that (Y/N) had looked at him every time he made them feel like a monster, inhuman. His heart clenched. “Now you listen to me. Them horrible things I said—I didn’t mean ‘em.” He should have said it to (Y/N), too. “I have this, uh…I have this habit, see, of pushing people away.”
“Why?” whispered Ryan. He needed someone. Badly.
“ ‘Cause, uh…’Cause I’m a bad man,” said Butcher honestly. “I ain’t got no business looking after a kid.”
“Like (Y/N) and me?” said Ryan.
Butcher was quiet for a long moment at the name. “Yeah. Like you and (Y/N).”
Ryan sniffled. “It’s not true.” He was doing alright right now.
Butcher looked away. Maybe he was doing the right thing in the moment, but he had messed up badly before. He would again. The only mistake he couldn’t make again was getting (Y/N) killed—because that mistake came with finality that not even grieving could take away.
“Before, you asked me if I was scared,” said Butcher. “And the truth of the matter…is I’m bloody terrified, mate. I’m leaving this world with nothing to show for it. I lost me bruv. Your mum. And I could be leaving without making things right with the one part of her that is still alive. And that scares me more than anything.” Butcher felt real emotion in his chest, and when Ryan met his gaze, he found vulnerable honesty and care.
“Butcher?” said Ryan quietly.
Butcher paused. “Yeah?”
“Do you think that I…could be a hero like (Y/N)?” Ryan didn’t know if he wanted to be like his dad. He cared. He worried. He didn’t want to hurt. And (Y/N)—that’s who they were.
Butcher looked at Ryan. “I reckon you can be the hero you want.”
Ryan smiled, still wobbly with emotion. He missed his mom and (Y/N).
Butcher picked up the cookie jar and dumped it out.
“What’s you do that for?” laughed Ryan.
“Fucked ‘em up. Put way too much sugar in ‘em. Your mom would kill me.”
Ryan smiled.
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Butcher sighed at his phone, and Kessler, his old buddy, glanced at him.
“You think that carfentanyl was easy to score?” scoffed Kessler. “Why didn’t you give him the fucking cookie?”
“Boy wants to keep talking,” said Butcher. “We don’t got to kidnap him. We can just fucking ease him into it.”
“And who has time for that?” said Kessler. “You? How long before you drop dead?” Butcher looked at Kessler in shock. “Hi, CIA. I can find a medical file.” Butcher crossed his arms and looked away. “Look, the whole world is about to burn—Billy, we need the kid.”
“Need the kid?” repeated Butcher. “I fucking told you, we ain’t turning him into an asset. He ain’t ready.”
“You saying that because that’s what Borealis was?” Kessler scoffed. “You’ve gone soft.”
“(Y/N) was Vought’s asset. I shouldn’t have—” He should have treated them like his, too.
“I told you. Soft,” said Kessler. “If you had pushed them, maybe Homelander would be dead.”
“They saved people from Soldier Boy,” said Butcher.
“And saved no one from Homelander. He’s going to burn everything down.” Kessler looked at Butcher. “Do what’s necessary, Billy. Homelander’s got to go. Cry at the funerals afterwards.”
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Homelander smashed a hand into his mirror. A table was overturned. A statue lay in crumbled fragments on the floor. Homelander breathed heavily. Alive. (Y/N) was out there somewhere, alive. They’d be his. But they were somewhere hiding. Being hidden. Homelander wanted to break more. His family was trying to break away, but they were his—(Y/N) and Ryan. Homelander ran a hand through his hair. He needed to track them, needed to find them, needed them needed them needed his family.
“Fuck!” snapped Homelander. The image of the aurora beneath the gold light of the explosion was imprinted on his mind. Alive. Alive all this time, and he had abandoned them. No. He wouldn’t. He’d be a good brother and find them, save them.
“John.” Homelander paused. “John.”
John looked up and faced his reflection where another Homelander spoke, faces fragmented with each shard.
“Come here.”
John obeyed and got up. He slowly walked to the Homelander faces.
“John, come here.”
John stood before the cracked glass at the many faces of himself. He laced his hands like a tiny child about to be scolded.
“You really made a mess this time, tiger,” tutted one Homelander.
“Come on, champ, pull yourself together,” said another face. “Deep breath.”
“For God’s sake, look at you,” sneered the first. “(Y/N) is alive—that’s all it takes for you to break? You should be in control.”
“You should be happy,” said one. “You can have your family back. All of it. You can have it all.”
“Quit being a fucking mess and find them,” snapped the angry one.
“You need to be strong for them, John,” said the kind one. “For Ryan.”
“You still need love,” said the angry one, sneering at John.
“You need your family,” said the kind one.
“You crave it all,” said the angry one, “And you’re cowering here instead of taking what you want. Because you’re weak.”
John shook his head. “No, that’s not true.”
“Be careful, John, if you don’t become a real patriarch of this family, you’ll make Ryan weak and needy, like you, and (Y/N) will get away again,” said the angry Homelander.
“But you can still fix things,” said the kind Homelander face.
“Everyone hates you.”
“You can have love.”
“You’re being weak!”
“You need to be strong.”
“Ssh. Ssh, ssh,” said the composed face who hadn’t spoken yet. “It’s time to overcome this weakness. This sickness, once and for all. You’re never gonna be your true self until you transcend your humanity.”
“What do I do?” whispered John.
“You need to go back to the start,” said the three faces simultaneously.
The Room.
l
Butcher awoke to darkness and a creak on the floorboards outside his home. He snapped up and pulled the gun from under his pillow. He got up and glanced outside. There was a figure moving almost aimlessly. Drunk. Easy to scare off. But Butcher didn’t trust that it wasn’t a trick. He crept to the door. He slowly opened it, gun raised.
“Fuck off,” snapped Butcher.
“I’m trying to find something.”
Butcher went still at the voice. He pushed the door farther open, and the porch light turned on. Butcher stared.
(me again) was daydreaming at it hit me like a plane just exactly how perfect Pedro Pascal is for the role of a dad: Marcus in 'We Can Be Heroes", Mando, Mr Fantastic (has a son, I think), and the guy from "The Last of Us" Ellie's dad
can you low-key imagine Marcus & Mando standing to the sidelines, just watching Grogu get cooed over by most of the kids from We Can Be Heroes, and to the other side of the room, (Y/n) is likely kicking Wlidcard's ass (I watched the movie when it came out for the curiosity, and ohmygod they would humble that boy)
Yess, Mando with all the other Pedro Pascal Dad characters standing around, watching their kids (not Mr. Fantastic's yet, he's a baby, even if he is super-powered) have sparring matches. Our dear MC is totally kicking butt because they put their heart and soul into a fight every time
This is so random because I've also been daydreaming about Clan of Three stuff after the movie, but I love the idea that MC is making more friendships with other Mandalorian kids but they're ahead of them in training because of, literally, just being in life-or-death scenarios is pretty good experience, and then MC accidentally keeps leading other Mandalorian kids into skirmishes like their own mini army, and the older Mandalorians are caught between worrying and being very proud of the mini Mandalorians.
Also, MC has completely hit Miyan, the Mandalorian kid OC they sparred once and I like imagining as their personal rival, over the head so his head rang like a bell in his helmet. MC thinks it's funny
i know in your non-binary reader inserts the “she” is usually because of misgendering which i totally get, but how come you never have any amab non-binary characters. it could be so easy to have a character that’s stereotypically supposed to be masculine but they like to play with their gender and still be non-binary and chafed by being called “he”
Alright, so I am trying to take my time to spell things out. I would really appreciate if you took the time to read this all the way through and think about what I say.
Let me start with the explicitly afab character: Borealis. They had a whole storyline of coming out. It was something I put out to readers as something I wanted to explore, and only after that did I write it. I wrote it because it felt important to the Borealis storyline and the story that felt right. They are gendered by Vought as a woman, exposing them to a level of oppression that intensifies why they feel so strongly about helping all people. It was different expectations. However, they're not even just misgendered as "she." Soldier Boy misgenders them as "him" to begin with. And Borealis is clear that they're not a "him," either.
A more subtly afab character is Sprout. There is slight mentions and occasional misgendering from their parents, but, again, it fits their story, the natural one that played out as I wrote it. Unlike Borealis, it isn't heavily mentioned, only in 2-3 chapters at most with a few pronouns, but I allowed this instead of playing and not paying it any mind. It felt important to Sprout's story: specifically, their relationship with the church and the way that religion, used as a weapon, targets young girls to behave a certain way. Overall, though, it's not a huge mention.
Let me move on to other misgendering, specifically where I mentioned Indigo.
Indigo is misgendered not by characters, but by commenters. Yes, there is the dragon incident, but that was because they wore a skirt that day, were a virgin, and had gold jewelry. Now, what I discussed in the Pride special is that Indigo is a victim of exactly what you're referencing above: that they like to dress fem and are misgendered. This is by commenters more than characters, as I've mentioned. It's not in the story. While most of my characters prefer androgynous, masculine, or switching styles, Indigo is explicitly into traditionally fem things. That makes them stand out. They are not AFAB-coded. Nothing hints to them growing up in a specific way, they came out when they were younger, etc. The only thing that makes people assume they are afab is that they are fem. I don't really care how people perceive them on that front. It's not part of the story. But if you are discussing the misgendering, the important point is that it's not the story that misgenders them. It's more often readers perceptions, which doesn't affect me because people can read them how they want, make their own designs for them, etc., but it is a fact.
Now, to continue on to afab-coded characters: Felis, which I mention.
I won't ever make Felis a concrete decision on how they grew up. Some people assume afab because of their history with oppression, but that can come from many places, especially in that time, and I don't really feel like making it too concrete at this time and may never in regards to gender. My current plans for their history aren't related to that. And, again, their decision to dress the way they do is to just be who they are and manipulate people. Men are more fun to kill for Felis, so they act accordingly.
Now, outside of Felis, who is slightly afab coded, Borealis and Sprout, who are afab, and Indigo, who is misgendered by the hyper-femininity they display but aren't necessarily afab, none of my characters are afab coded. In your comment, you ask why I don't have amab characters. It's because, other than the two instances where it felt extremely necessary, it was thought out in advance, and even kind of tested with trusted readers to see comfort levels, there is no reason for me to define what an MC was born as. I have MCs who I personally imagine as AMAB and have hints to it, but that's not my decision to make. Other than inhuman markings, scars for storyline, or tattoos, I don't care what skin color, hair color, eye color, etc. anyone imagines MCs having. In fact, I embrace the way that people see characters so differently and so personally.
This is not to say I will never have an explicitly (explicitly being the key word here) amab character, but, so far, the right storyline for that has not appeared. In addition, I don't want to write something that is sensitive, like queer representation can be because identities are so personally tied, without being intentional, knowledgeable, and skilled enough to give it justice. Writing a character who gets misgendered makes me uncomfortable. I chose it in two instances because it felt like the story needed it or I wasn't doing the idea and the character ustice.
So, to put it together, "how come you never have any amab non-binary characters" is answered by the fact that I prefer to keep characters vague if I can. There are afab characters because it served the story and I wouldn't have felt satisfied with the story without that depth. There are characters misgendered by readers. There are characters people have theories about that are a fun part of what they imagine for that character. There are characters I view as amab, but, in the end, it's none of my business.
I can only hope you've read through this. I really tried to lay out all my thoughts. Of course, if you have further comments, questions about specific characters, or critiques, I would be happy to answer them as long as there is the understanding that, in the end, I am also writing the stories I want to read.
saw a pin on Pinterest with a side-by-side of Mando & Grogu with the "Brown eyes" thing Mayfeld said - i am so torn between giving my version of (Y/n) in C.O.T big brown doe eyes or big golden doe eyes
That's how I sometimes imagine Ginger, so I get it! I love that
I'm so excited to write for Mandalorian & Grogu, I have so many ideas to whittle down
Found Family! Supernatural and Teen! Witch! Reader
Chapter Nine: Cacao
Summary: An old god, organ donation, and a witch? Well, what could go wrong?
Mouse Note: Some fun with your pride special?
“Alright, Professor Morrison, that does it. The FBI thanks you.” Sam’s eyes closed in exasperation as he answered another question over the phone while sitting at motel table. “Yes, I am totally looking into adding you as a technical advisor. Yeah, it-it comes with a medical plan. Alright, goodbye.” He hung up.
“He come through?” asked Dean.
“Yeah, he did. Alright, so, here’s what crazy Arthur Swenson was babbling over and over,” said Sam. “First, it is a dead language—Ancient Mayan.”
“Good call on the dead language,” said Dean to (Y/N).
“Hey, I’m go for something,” said (Y/N).
“So, what Arthur was saying was ‘The divine god Cacao is born,’ ” explained Sam.
“Not ominous at all,” said (Y/N). “What was Cacao the god of?”
“Maize—corn, the big crop. See, Cacao was the most powerful god because maize was the most important thing to the Mayans,” said Sam. “Well, that and torturing and killing everyone in sight.”
“So another god is running on the loose, tearing out hearts,” said (Y/N). “At least it’s not as psychologically scarring as Veritas.”
Sam and Dean both grimaced.
“Either way, we better cap it quick, or somebody in Phoenix is next up to get their heart yanked,” said Dean.
“Someone in Phoenix got a piece of Brick?” asked Sam.
“Yeah, I got a name. Just emailed the cops,” said Dean. “But there’s the bad news.”
“Of course there is,” said (Y/N). They took the computer to look at the news headline about a Jimmy Tong who had gone missing.
“Just heard back from them. They haven’t seen the guy in days,” said Dean.
“So do we think he’s torn a heart out or is going to—Hold on, another email came in.” (Y/N)’s body went still. “It’s for you, Sam. From a university.” They looked at him.
Sam saw the moment all of their easygoing, normal teasing became a wall of concrete around their heart. “I—I just wanted to see options. That’s it. I’m not—” I’m not going to abandon you again. He didn’t say it. He knew (Y/N) wouldn’t believe him. “You could go, too.”
“And major in what, alchemy?” scoffed (Y/N), pushing the computer back. “Whatever.” They stood. “Let’s get back to the job. We’ve got to take a look at the Holmes house since Mrs. Holmes was hiding something. I’ll see you guys at the car.” Before Sam or Dean could intervene, (Y/N) grabbed their knife, tucked it into their belt, and headed out.
Dean looked at Sam. “Way to go. You’re really convincing them you care.”
“That wasn’t—That isn’t about them,” said Sam. “I wouldn’t leave them behind.”
“You already did. What are they supposed to think, Sam?” said Dean.
l
“All right, naming ceremony’s over at ten,” said Dean, guiding their steps with his flashlight. “We got to get in and out.”
“Master bedroom,” said (Y/N), barely glancing at the brothers as they headed towards the large room.
“Closets,” said Dean.
There were two walk-in closets, and (Y/N) and Dean headed into one while Sam headed into the other. They switched the light on, and (Y/N) whistled. There was a bench and so many cupboards, drawers, and standing closets that they could fit all their clothes, Sam’s, and Dean’s with room to spare.
“If there’s a spell to become a talented quarterback, I’ll use it for this.” (Y/N) had too much taste in fashion to not want a walk-in closet. Right now they had to rotate through thrift finds (and they’d rather keep all their finds).
Dean snorted. He opened drawers. “This is Brick’s stuff. Looks like the stuff hasn’t been touched in a year. Man, what this stuff would go for on eBay.” He shook his head and then opened a cupboard. There was a bottle of peroxide in a drawer. “Hey, Sammy, would it totally crush you to know that your boy Brick wasn’t a natural blond?”
“This is really weird,” said Sam from the other closet.
(Y/N) circled out to the other closet. “What?”
“I don’t know. Is this Eleanor’s closet?” said Sam, frowning in confusion.
“Why would his mother’s clothes be in the master bedroom?” said (Y/N).
“Are you sure?” asked Dean.
Sam held up a jacket in a size that wouldn’t at all fit Brick Holmes. “Check it out.” He gestured to it. “This is what she was wearing today when we talked to her.
“So she moved into Brick’s room? Not impossible, but I would have all sorts of bad vibes.” (Y/N) gestured to the room and touched their necklace protectively.
“Or…” Dean made a face and looked at the bed.
(Y/N) gagged, and Sam groaned.
“Ew, gross,” said (Y/N).
“Thanks, Dean. Now that image is permanently etched into my retinas,” said Sam, grimacing.
(Y/N) rolled their eyes and headed back into the closet. They pushed against the back of the drawers and closets in an attempt to find any hidden trinkets or boxes, and, as they did, a soft click echoed. A hidden door swung back into the wall from behind the hanging clothes.
“There we go,” said (Y/N).
“What is it?” said Dean, coming in with Sam.
“Secret door.” (Y/N) crawled through into the next room. “Damn.”
“What?” Sam stood in the new room and found it full of trophies—from football to baseball to boxing. Any possible sport had some sort of memorabilia present.
“Why do you sound disappointed? This is cool. I knew he had to have a room like this,” said Dean.
“Because it’s not some sacrificial chamber to Cacao or anything. That would have been interesting,” said (Y/N).
“Why are there trophies for boxing and Nascar?” said Dean. “And baseball and…He didn’t play these.”
Sam shrugged. “He was a fan. Any kind of athlete—he respected them. I mean, look at all the old stuff he’s got—a cricket mallet, golf clubs, a Kendo sword, archery equipment.” He gestured to each item.
“These aren’t memorabilia,” said (Y/N), opening a box and finding stacks of letters.
“Let’s see what they say,” said Dean. He shone a flashlight over them and took out one for himself. Sam flipped through several, and (Y/N) read through a couple others.
“They’re all the same,” said Sam. “ ‘Dearest Betsy…’ Blah blah blah. Who’s Betsy?”
“Maybe a girlfriend Eleanor didn’t know about? Or one she didn’t want to mention, anyways,” said (Y/N).
“This one looks old.” Sam held it up. “ ‘Dearest Betsy, third day of training camp. Roadwork improving. Working on my left jab. They say this kid Sugar Ray is gonna be tough.’ ”
“Sugar Ray?” repeated (Y/N). “What sort of name is that?”
“Boxer in the 40s,” said Dean. He frowned. “Is that one signed the same as the others?”
“Yeah, ‘love, me,’ ” read Sam.
“Here’s another one, baseball this time,” said (Y/N). “ ‘Dearest Betsy, on the road again. So hard to be away from you, honey. Will give the Red Sox hell and get back to you.’ ”
Each letter they lifted and read contained supposedly the same man writing to the same woman across decades, some letters involving the same sport, some switching—from boxing to baseball to Nascar to golf. Every sport was covered by the same man writing back to his dear Betsy.
“Wait, this one looks recent,” said Sam. “ ‘Dearest Betsy…So tired of it all.’ ”
(Y/N), Sam, and Dean looked at each other. Who was the “me” writing to Betsy, and what was he tired of? Was he even real?
l
Dean flipped through articles about the Mayans while Sam clicked through research on the memorabilia they’d seen in the hidden room. (Y/N) sat on the bed reading a book that gave slight insight into Cacao.
“Hey, I pulled up the names on those trophies. Check it out,” said Sam. Dean and (Y/N) moved over beside him. “All right, Brick Holmes—football player.” Sam showed them a picture of him. “Charlie Karnes—race-car driver.” He showed another picture of Karnes. “Davey Samuelson—baseball player. Kelly Duran—boxer. Four different guys, right?”
“Okay?” said Dean.
“Check this out.” Sam arranged the pictures so they were on the same picture together. “Same dark eyes, same cheekbones, nose, mouth.”
“It’s the same man,” said (Y/N). Yes, it could be a “family resemblance,” but it wouldn’t be secret if one family had a ton of talented athletes.
“Wow. For a ninety-five-year-old, Brick Holmes could take a hit,” said Dean.
“So, if all those athletes were the same guy, how’d he pull it off? Appear, then go away and come back with a new look?” wondered Sam.
(Y/N) appeared thoughtful. “Cacao the maize god was Mayan, right?”
“Yeah,” said Sam.
(Y/N) picked up their research. “Well, it just so happens that the Mayans loved sports. Their athletes were treated like kings.” They cast a significant look at Sam and Dean. “And Mayan athletes made sacrifices to Cacao by killing a victim, tearing out his heart, and eating it. They believed it gave them super-charged power against opponents.”
“Sounds like our MO,” said Dean.
“Yeah, but they didn’t stay young forever,” said Sam. “So, what? Maybe Brick just made some kind of deal with this Cacao?”
“Well, we’ve seen it before—people making deals with demons, gods.” Dean shrugged. “I mean, maybe he stayed young and strong so long as the sacrifices kept coming. Remember all that antique sports equipment he had? This guy could go back to the Mayan days.”
“Wow. So, one of the greatest QBs to ever play the game was over 900 years old,” said Sam, shaking his head.
“Well, that explains Brick, but what about the mooks carrying his spare parts?” said Dean.
“Actually, it explains it perfectly,” said (Y/N).
Dean and Sam looked at them.
“Don’t look at me like that, this isn’t witch shit, it’s common sense,” said (Y/N).
“Hey,” protested Dean, and Sam snorted.
(Y/N) ignored them. “If Holmes was making sacrifices to Cacao to stay young, whatever Cacao blessed him with had to affect his whole body—strength, vitality, youth, all of that. It makes sense that it got into his organs. We don’t know if this latest death was supposed to be real or just another faked death, but, anyway, he got his organs taken out and transplanted into new people. Every person is now more alive than they have been. Think about Hayes, he’s ‘staying young’ and getting strong and fast. That proves the ritual’s effects extend to the organs.”
“So the tie to the god remains,” said Sam. “So they have the impulse to make sacrifices.”
“Exactly,” said (Y/N). “Part of their body is still tied to the deal Holmes made with Cacao.”
“Sort of like getting bit by a werewolf. I mean, once you’re infected, you do what you got to do, especially if you like the results,” said Dean.
“Or like being a witch,” said (Y/N). “We have to use our magic to stay alive. These people are compelled to keep killing because a part of their body wants to remain strong.”
“Right, except old Arthur, the dedicated cop, couldn’t handle it and went nuts,” said Sam. He sighed. “Brick Holmes, a heart eater. Who knew?”
“Yeah, sorry, buddy. The mighty—they fall hard, huh?” said Dean.
Sam scrolled farther on the articles about Holmes’s old identities. He paused. “Well, at least he wasn’t sleeping with his mother.”
“Small favors,” said (Y/N).
“No, seriously. Look,” said Sam, spinning the computer around. It showed a picture of Holmes as boxer Kelly Duran with a woman on his arm.
“ ‘Fighter Kelly Duran is congratulated on a second-round knockout by wife Betsy,’ ” read Dean.
“Dearest Betsy,” said (Y/N).
l
Mrs. Holmes walked to her door as she heard the doorbell ring. She opened it, and she tensed as she saw the same three FBI agents—now in casual clothing—looking at her from her front step.
“Hello, Eleanor,” said Dean.
“Or would you rather be called Betsy?” asked (Y/N).
Betsy’s face fell.
“Look, innocent people are dying,” said Sam, gazing at her. “And they’re gonna continue to die until we stop it.”
Silently, Betsy stepped to the side and let them in. They returned to the sofa and armchair where they’d spoken to her the previous day. She sank into the couch tiredly.
“Did you know about the murders over the past year?” asked Dean.
Betsy shook her head. “No. I didn’t. I swear. I thought when-when Brick died, it would be over.” She looked down at her hands.
“Help us. Betsy, this is not what you want Brick’s legacy to be,” said Dean, urging her to do the right thing for Holmes’s memory.
“His Mayan name was Inyo.” Betsy smiled lovingly. “He was a proud young athlete nearly one thousand years ago. He lived for sport and never wanted his days in the sun to end.” She sighed. “So he arranged a bargain with the god Cacao through a high priest.”
“To stay young forever,” said (Y/N) knowingly.
Betsy nodded. “As long as the sacrifices continued, twice a year—once for the planting, once for harvest.”
“When did you find out about this?” asked Sam.
“Not until I began to age and-and Brick—Kelly, as he was when I met him—did not,” said Betsy. “But by that time, Brick himself had changed…inside. He wasn’t just the warrior whose only reason for living was combat. He—we were deeply, deeply in love. So in love, I’m ashamed to say, that when I found out that—how my husband stayed young and strong, I chose to ignore it.”
She didn’t defend herself for ignoring the killing. She could only say she was in love, and love made the best blind to faults. (Y/N) wouldn’t attack her for it.
“You and Brick had to go underground from time to time to hide your secret, right?” said Sam.
“Every ten years or so, he would, uh, re-emerge with a new look, a new name. And me, I was the wife, and I was the woman in hiding, and then, when I got into my forties, I became Brick’s mother. Eleanor.” Betsy’s tone turned bitter. “I am so tired. You can’t imagine the burden of it all. I think even Brick was through. He could see the end of my days were at hand, and... He had lived centuries all alone, but I don’t think he could bear the thought of life without me. That’s why he drove off that bridge.” It hadn’t been an accident. Holmes hadn’t intended to fake his death and reemerge that time. He had wanted to finally be done with it all since he couldn’t be without Betsy. “You must think I’m a monster.”
“No,” said (Y/N). “You’re not. You just…married one.”
“Well, see, here’s the deal,” said Dean, getting down to it. “Now there are eight killers out there that we have to deal with, not just one.”
“I don’t think so,” said Betsy.
“What? Why not?” asked Sam.
“Brick used to say the heart was key. That was the focus of the sacrifice,” said Betsy.
“So whoever got his heart is behind everything, and if we stop them, it all stops?” asked (Y/N).
Betsy nodded.
“Do you know where the person is who has the heart?” asked Sam.
l
Dean parked the impala across the street from the Bunny Hole strip club and got out. He frowned at the club while Sam and (Y/N) got out behind him.
“Really? Our king daddy monster is a stripper?” wondered Dean.
“Everyone has to have a day job. Or night job,” said (Y/N). “Also, where else can you get someone alone with their guard down? Men are idiots.”
Dean pouted, and Sam snorted. (Y/N)’s sarcasm had only increased with turning seventeen, it appeared. (They were going to be a monster when they were an adult. Well, monster in terms of sarcasm)
“We’re pretty sure this is gonna work, right?” said Sam, glancing at their bag of tools.
“Well, as long as Betsy knows what she’s talking about,” said Dean. He took out two knives and handed them over to Sam and (Y/N).
“You think Brick thought maybe he’d burn to nothing when he crashed that car?” wondered Sam.
“He clearly wanted to,” said (Y/N).
“Well, he didn’t, which brings us here,” said Dean.
They circled around the back of the strip club, past the neon signs that were unlit but still advertised nude dancers, exotic dancers, and a variety of other entertainments. A sign pointed to “rear entry,” and they approached the door.
Dean knelt to pick the lock. The door clicked open, and he pulled it open to let them all in. The club was dimly lit, empty during the daylight hours. Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) lit their flashlights to navigate the club, heading upstairs past the locker room for performers and into the main club. Chairs were on top of tables, the bar was cleaned, and the only sign that people had been there was the glitter permanently stamped into the ground, shining in the dim emergency exit signs’ lights.
Abruptly, spotlights turned on, blinding the hunters for a moment. A woman walked out onstage, hands on her hips. It was Randa, the woman Betsy had told them of. She wore tall heels, a corset, and tiny shorts. She smirked at them. In her pose, her muscles flexed with the leanness of a dancer but undoubtedly containing the strength of a god.
“Eleanor sent you, right? I figured she’d probably break and give me up.” Randa tutted. “This won’t end well for her, of course. Not that it’s gonna end well for you.”
Sam gripped his knife tighter.
Randa noticed and smirked. “Oh, now, you don’t think we’re gonna let you do that, do you?” she tutted.
“We?” repeated Dean.
Randa raised a brow.
Two men appeared out of nowhere, swinging at Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). (Y/N) ducked and rolled to the side, but Paul Hayes and Jimmy Tong grabbed Sam and Dean, throwing them into tables and chairs. Dean stumbled to his feet, and Jimmy Tong punched him.
“I’m the guy you were looking for in Phoenix,” said Tong. He grabbed Dean and threw him across the counter into the bar shelves.
“Oh, you guys are stronger than you look,” groaned Dean.
“Dean!” Sam stood, but Hayes punched him.
(Y/N) stabbed his arm, and Hayes roared, whirling to swing at them, but (Y/N) dodged. Randa huffed at having to intervene herself, jumped down, and grabbed (Y/N). They flipped the knife over in their wrist and stabbed backwards, but Randa twisted their wrist and tossed them over her shoulder. (Y/N) hit the stage, rolled, and Randa pounced to restrain them in a moment.
Sam tried to stand, but Hayes was holding him. Sam gritted his teeth, and Dean tried to push against Tong’s restraints, but they were both too strong.
“We’ve got the package. Plus, I work out,” crowed Hayes.
Randa pinned (Y/N)’s arms down. “You can’t imagine who I was before. This shy, awkward little thing from Georgia with a heart condition. Then I had the surgery.” She smirked, grip on (Y/N)’s wrists tightened, and (Y/N) bit their tongue to prevent themself from showing it hurt. “I became freaking Xena, Warrior Princess.”
“You’re a bitch,” retorted (Y/N).
Randa’s nails dug into the skin of (Y/N)’s wrists, and blood collected on the surface, dripping down their hands.
“I couldn’t dissect a frog in high school. But sacrificing to Cacao?” Randa leaned down. “Better than sex.” She smirked and put a hand over where (Y/N)’s heart beat inside their chest. “So, if I go real slow and take my time and enjoy this, I can actually show you your own beating heart before you die.”
“Yeah, well, I’m seventeen, so no thanks, creep.” (Y/N)’s blood dripped between their fingers, they grinned, and their eyes turned indigo. Randa’s momentary surprise was all they needed. “Incussus fulminis!”
Randa jerked as she was electrocuted, and the grip on (Y/N)’s wrists loosened. They flexed their hands, and Randa, Tong, and Hayes went flying from a supernatural force. They each hit the ground, and Dean and Sam scrambled to their feet. (Y/N) flicked their wrist, and their knife flew to their hand. They stood over Randa as her body twitched from electricity running through her nerves.
(Y/N) tilted their head for a moment. Then they brought the knife down on Randa’s heart. Randa gasped, and her heart lit up with red flames. (Y/N) stepped back as Randa screamed, the red light taking over her. Milder lights flared in the chests of Tong and Hayes, and they stumbled. The light grew and grew, blinding the hunters, and then it exploded and faded. Hayes and Tong crumpled to the ground again. Randa’s body went limp. She was dead.
(Y/N) looked at Dean and Sam, blood dripping down their wrist, over their fingers, and onto the ground. “Everyone good?”
Sam and Dean stared at (Y/N)—their little witch.
“Yeah,” said Dean.
“Y-Yeah,” said Sam.
(Y/N) smiled. Their eyes were still bright and indigo.
l
Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) stood in Betsy’s kitchen, coffee cups almost empty as they finished explaining what had happened to her. She looked relieved that it was all over and that Holmes was now completely resting in peace ((Y/N) suspected resting in Hell, but they weren’t going to tell the grieving widow that).
“Well, we better get going,” said Dean, setting down his coffee mug. “We just wanted you to know that it really is over now.”
“Well, it had to be, one way or the other. I half thought you might fail and Randa would come after me.” Betsy just looked tired, not saddened or relieved. “Either way, I’d finally be at peace.”
“Take care of yourself, Betsy,” said (Y/N).
They rose to leave.
l
Dean smiled at Sam and at (Y/N) in the rearview mirror as they drove along the dark highways. “Wow. Back in business. Got the win. Admit it—feels good, huh?”
(Y/N) nodded. They had definitely felt better than they had in a while, more alive, when back with Sam and Dean with their family hunting.
“You know, I was thinking about what Randa said about, uh, you know, what it feels like to be a warrior,” rambled Dean. “I kind of get it.”
“I think she enjoyed feeling powerful for the first time in her life,” remarked (Y/N). “I mean, anyone who is born a woman can feel powerless compared to the rest of the world. So this…Yeah, she wouldn’t want to let it go.” Much like how (Y/N) couldn’t let go of their magic. It kept them alive, yes, but it also made them strong. And (Y/N) wanted to be strong. “Everyone likes to feel strong.”
“Like a warrior,” said Dean. That was his own word for it. His experience was, after all, different than that of someone who had grown up as a woman or as feeling weaker than the rest of the world like (Y/N) had.
“I don’t,” said Sam abruptly. “Not anymore. Hell, maybe I never did.”
“Sam?” (Y/N) looked at him.
Sam swallowed. “I…I’ve been thinking. And I think that after we close up shop on Kevin and the tablet…I’m done. I mean that. I’m out of the game.”
“So you are leaving?” (Y/N) went still.
“No. I’ll still be in your lives, but I can’t—I don’t want to keep doing this forever,” said Sam. “The hunting and fighting and killing. I don’t want to have to be a warrior. The year that I took off, I had something I’ve never had. A normal life. I mean, I got to see what that felt like. I want that. I had that.”
“And it was so good you could forget about me and Dean,” said (Y/N).
“No—”
“Yes, Sam. Yes.” (Y/N)’s hands curled into fists. “You say you’re sorry. But all you talk about is leaving again—about getting away from us again. Do you even care how hard we worked to get back to you?”
Sam’s mouth felt dry.
“Cas died trying to get back.” Dean’s grip on the steering wheel became white-knuckled. “Dean suffered for a year in Purgatory and fought his way back to you. I used all the magic I have to find you, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Do you know how alone I felt when I couldn’t find you?”
Sam flinched.
“I had no one. When monsters found me—and, shit, they did—I had to handle it alone,” said (Y/N). “I didn’t get a normal life. So congratu-fucking-lations that you got everything you wanted. You got it at the expense of us. So if you want to be rid of us, you might as well leave now. You don’t think we’re worth enough to stay around.”
“That’s not true, (Y/N),” said Sam. “I messed up, but once we close the gates, we can all have a normal—”
“I don’t get normal,” said (Y/N). “I’m a witch, Sam. Normal doesn’t work for me. It never will.”
“You really want me to leave now?” said Sam.
“What’s the point of you staying if we both know you want to leave?”
hello! really enjoyed reading the pride special!! it's so wonderful and special to me that you make a variety of nb characters, it means a lot to me! also the asexual characters - there's so many!! thank you so much
On a side note, about moon knight, do you read comics too or just watch the show? I really liked the show but if you want to read the comics a new series of his just started there's only 4 issues out right now, if you do want to read I use batcave.biz to read a lot of comics and it works pretty well!
I hope you're having a lovely day, Happy Pride!!
I've only watched the Moon Knight series! I may start reading comics, but right now I'm deciding whether to discontinue the series for a while or not. Or make up my own thing or maybe pivot to the MC entering the wider MCU in some way :)
Instead of a whole special, what I’ve decided to do is instead more directly address queerness in my stories
I don’t want to write bad one shots :(
But I love you all, and I believe in Pride, so let’s have some fun!
Basically, all my MCs and plenty of side characters in my stories are queer
There’s a Will; There’s a Way: “Green”
Guys, I think I’ve made it pretty clear at this point that Green is very happy in her relationship with Dazai but is also pan <3
She is comfortable with her queerness
(Yes, she and Akira have kissed, they were curious)
But they work better as friends, obviously
That was early in their friendship anyways
Dazai does not care—in my world he is also bisexual (I would make everyone bisexual if I could) (Chuuya is also bisexual)
Have Chuuya and Dazai kissed when they were both in the Port Mafia?
Canonically to There’s a Will; There’s a Way, they have
Ranpo and Poe are also probably dating?
But back to Green! To me she represents the queer people that people don’t realize are queer
Especially since she’s in a relationship with a man
Queer people are still queer when they’re in a relationship with someone
If Green was with a woman, she’d still be into men as well, and when she’s with a man, she’s still also into woman
Bi/pan/queer people stand up you’re valid
A Good Day for Death: “Reaper”
I don’t really have an actual sexuality for them
We know they’re into women—they’re dating Wednesday
But I don’t think it matters to the story other than that
Honestly, Reaper strikes me as the type of person who goes with the flow in terms of who they end up attracted to
They like emotional connections before anything else
As for the gender, we know they use they/them pronouns, but, honestly, they’re the character that probably would end up the most comfortably with any pronouns
Most of my characters have hard lines about their pronouns for one reason or another, but Reaper is someone who doesn’t care (which they get from their creator, me, haha)
Most of the other characters in the series are just whatever they are in the actual television show
Wednesday is queer in this story—and definitely on the slight asexual spectrum
Most likely demiromantic or demisexual in my take on her
She intellectualizes and gets to know people before any sort of emotions
Guys, it’s Wednesday Addams she didn’t like a guy at a summer camp until he proved himself
But, yeah, not much else to say on Reaper
Love them, though
Clan of Three: “Ginger”
I also don’t have too many thoughts on Ginger’s queerness, either
They go by they/them pronouns, but I doubt they’ve ever really thought about it
They’re aliens in space with a war and magic powers
They’ve got bigger issues
And I bet in the Star Wars world these things really don’t matter
Queers are a part of the galaxy
I do like writing Mando as slightly queer, though—specifically asexual
I like his focus on family and the lack of the typical cowboy with a string of woman storyline
(Guys, I took a course on Westerns and learned that the Mandalorian is a Western, it was so true that it knocked my socks off)
But to get to the point, I like that when Mando was soft with people, it was in a very romantic sense rather than the typical “man comes in, is mysterious, wow so hot and sexy”
He’s “wow, he’s mysterious and hot and aww adorable”
And gentle
If they try to do a romance sublot between Mando and Bo-Katan in the next movie I riot, they’re not a good couples
They’re a fun pair to get up to shenanigans
That’s my rant
I think I lost the plot a little, haha
One Hell of a Love: “Felis”
Felis was born as a human and forced into societal roles that they did not appreciate
While it isn’t outwardly stated yes, it is very AFAB coded in terms of the oppression they faced due to the time period
As such, their stance on their gender is very, very hard: they don’t take any sort of disrespect
They definitely use magic to influence people’s perceptions of them in terms of why 19th century English people are using gender-neutral pronouns
They will kill over their pronouns
They’re also very comfortable switching clothes for whatever role they’re playing—they find it fun to mess with humans
I think overall they prefer whatever clothes make them look hot
Their sexuality is fluid—they’re a demon
Not to get too NSFW but they and Sebastian are both head-over-heels in love slightly psychotic demons—they’re switching all the time
(Yes, Sebastian has worn a dress as part of foreplay)
(He looked incredible)
ANYWAYS
Suffice to say that, in general, they are attracted to who they are attracted to
And everyone is attracted to them
I think I just rambled about how hot they were, but, hey, nonbinary demons are hot
Queer icon is what Felis is, honestly
They’ll thrive when they arrive in the 21st century
Nature of the Human Soul: “Sprout”
My beloved
They are definitely growing into their identity
They had lots of inward guilt because of religious trauma
But they feel comfortable about their identity now!
They’re repairing their relationship with feminine clothing (the “modesty” issues from religious trauma) but tend to prefer masculine clothing
They like to look put together, basically
Sprout is also my aroace MC!
I got a comment once saying that a reader was happy that my aroace character wasn’t super cold and emotionless
I’m glad that they’re appearing as a real person with a heart
And, for some fun, someone asked if I could explore what it would be like if Sprout had to explain asexuality to Alastor
I think this would be hilarious
It would probably be at a Pride event
They would be talking to someone—maybe Angel Dust?—and the word asexual would come up
Alastor, being Alastor, would make some joke about “ace? I only know the aces I beat Husker with in cards”
Sprout would mention that it’s their sexuality, they were ace
And then Alastor would remember that Rosie’s teased him as an “ace in the hole”
And would be like “???”
So Sprout would have to explain what it means
They’re not interested in anything sexual, and they’re not interested in romantic relationships, either (acearo <3)
They love their friends (family)
Alastor would probably just stare, mind going slowly, and then would say “Yes, but isn’t that what everyone except for deprave people like Angel Dust—” (cue Angel Dust giving him the middle finger) “—feel? That’s normal, my dear!”
And Sprout would have to very gently tell him “No”
Poor Alastor wouldn’t know what to do with the sudden realization
I mean, he knows he is strange—he kills for fun
But he thought he was the way he was because he was better
I think, though, that he would end up kind of enjoying the label
Knowing that there were people like him, people different from him, all of that
Sometimes, having a word for how you feel is helpful
No one would really see him differently
It’s still just Alastor
I think it would make him and Sprout closer, too
Alastor has dealt with a lot of rumors or backlash when people were interested him and he wasn’t interested back (Vox)
So he would get more protective
It would be a cute moment
Happy Pride to these asexual bitches
Burden of Truth: “Azure”
Azure is nonbinary, which we know
They’re definitely more masc leaning than a lot of my MCs
Most tend to change up what they wear, but Azure sticks to comfortable, simple clothes that are on the masculine side
As for their sexuality, I do have a plan for them to meet Billy—so they’re queer enough that they are attracted to men
Whether or not they’re also attracted to women is up to the reader’s discretion
I imagine Azure hasn’t had a lot of time to think about that stuff, haha, they had a pretty traumatic upbringing
Not really much to say for them
I realllly want more Moon Knight content
Nobody’s Soldier: “Indigo”
Guyyyys my witch baddie
They’re a nonbinary icon
They’re definitely my most fem MC
They love a skirt and jewelry and makeup and nails and all of that
They’ve got an earring stack, ring stacks, and a ton of tattoos
They’re incredible
People can clock they’re queer from a mile away
Sorry, got distracted for a second, Indigo’s just so awesome
But, yeah, while they have a hard line on their identity, I bet they do get misgendered a bit because of they way they present outside of their FBI suits (and, yes, of course they wear jeans during most hunts, they’ve got good survival instincts)
It’s frustrating, for them and for me
As for their sexuality, totally queer—they don’t care about who they love
They just need someone who can handle them
Indigo would definitely curse a homophobe or a transphobe
And they clock everyone else
Specifically: Dean
I’m not shy to say that I’m letting Dean and Castiel fall in love in this series
Dean is sooo bisexual is hurts
And that’s how I write it because he is!
It’s a running joke that Indigo clocks him every time he’s being gay
I love it
See Yourself Become the Villain: “Borealis”
Borealis, my poor, sweet baby
They get misgendered all the time
I hate it
But they are NOT a woman, despite being born female
As such, they have strong feelings about feminine clothing and everything about being misgendered
It makes them really uncomfortable
But to be more joyful: they now get to be in loose-fitting clothing that makes them feel at home in their body
My beloved nonbinary baby
I was excited to write for them because it had the entire journey of coming out, too
I think it’s important to normalize gender non-conformity casually, like in some other series of mine, and also to tell real stories (of coming out and discovering the self)
They’re definitely asexual
They’re not interested in people in that way, not at all
I think what they deserve is a family and lots of love and hugs
A Shot in the Dark: “Rookie”
Okay, so we’ve got a bit of a funny thing going on with Rookie
They come from a culture where the language has no gender neutrality
That means that Rookie’s mentality around their queerness is “if no one else notices, I don’t care”
They’re objective, they know who they are, and they move on with the rest
English has gender-neutral pronouns, though, which is nice
(And by the power invested in me as a writer, everyone will address them with gender-neutral pronouns!)
Here’s the flip side that’s interesting, though: although queerness was in general still controversial, the roaring twenties there was increased acceptance
(Berlin in particular had a huge queer scene, from trans people to polyamorous couples, etc. El Dorado is a cool documentary on Netflix for anyone curious, though it does get sad when it discusses the rise of Nazism and the rhetoric that destroyed the acceptance)
But anyways, yeah, the roaring twenties had more liberal sexuality—it was roaring for a reason
So Rookie frequently changes between suits and dresses the more than they grow up
They had been hiding in Birmingham, plus they didn’t have social power, so they started out just with dresses
But Tommy supports them wearing suits, and he has power, so that gives Rookie more opportunities
They definitely embrace it
Rookie is the type of person to wear half what they want and half what serves them back
They’re manipulative like that (they would call it practical or strategic, haha)
And as for their sexuality, I’m waiting for Rookie to reveal it to me
That might sound strange, but while I do think people will be attracted to them (guys, relax, they turn eighteen during the next book), I haven’t decided whether or not Rookie will be interested back in people
I don’t believe that all asexual people are cold or something, so I’m not stereotyping that (my aroace darling Sprout is, after all, the warmest person ever)
I’m waiting for Rookie’s personality to evolve for whatever is right for them to become clear
On a fun note, whatever they end up feeling, we know that Tommy will not accept disrespect from anyone for who they are
He would throw someone out of the bar for disrespecting them like that
Had a dream about Indigo pre adventure hanging out with their parents and doing normal family stuff but like, their parents was doing some obvious witch stuff hiding it poorly but because indigo grew up around that they didn't notice and in the background all of sam and Dean s1 to s3 news stuff was on the TV or the Winchester bros and indigo and their family kept having near misses like passing each other on the street or sam asking indigo parents for directions and just as they left indigo gets their parents cause a relative was on the landline asking for them stuff like that
Your dream is so RIGHT though
100% Indigo walked in on their parents making spell bags and were just like "more crafts to make the rooms smell good, nice"
Five-year-old Indigo was in the garden with their mom, and their mom is humming in Latin to the plants and Indigo thinks it's a fun little tune that they mimic later
Ten-year-old Indigo with their father's tarot cards, practicing readings, thinking it's cool that everything is applicable to their life (too applicable)
And the martial arts training? Oh, yeah, this is fun! Avoid some iron? Huh, okay, I guess my parents prefer steel tools in the kitchen
And then they totally had accidental run-ins, not Indigo but their parents
Their parents probably encountered the Winchesters on a case. Their mom and dad were working some odd jobs in town, and the Winchesters came through, asking questions. Their parents were probably very, very scared that it was a witch-related case and that poor Indigo was going to be alone. But they managed to brush them off with some answers.
And while the Winchesters walked through town, they totally walked right by the garden little Indigo was working in where they couldn't see.
Hello! I was just wondering if you were into umbrella academy? It's one of my fav shows and it seems like something your into based on your books! If so, would you ever write for it?
I tried watching the Umbrella Academy, and then I never finished. That's not because I didn't like it, I just wasn't too invested. So, perhaps if I actually watch it and could figure out a plot...I need the spark to start
HIYA!! I hope all is well! I was wondering when your going to continue A Shot in the Dark as I’m usually tagged but I haven’t seen any chapters in a while? I’m so invested and can’t wait for more :) - anon ❄️
The first book is finished, and it'll take a bit until I'm ready to post the second since I have to stagger posts in order to have enough content for posting 5 days a week :) (Plus I'm still editing it!)
Don't worry, I'll be using the same taglist when it comes back, and I'll put out a notice for new people who want to be on the taglist like a week or two before I post (a trailer of sorts)
