#sheep writes

Characters included: Tim, Brian, Toby

Cw: implied stalking (Tim), Reader jokes about being murdered (Brian), Toby gets hit by a car. (Tobys chapter), Reader has no name or description but they are given a job.

A/n: As usual I proofread best I could, but as I say with every fic posted, I miss things every so often. (More at the bottom)

Masky

The night shifts were always quiet, you could easily place every single patron into three categories, Truckers, Travelers, and Teenagers under the influence. 

Most people wouldn’t have bothered to stop despite the unassuming name of the little pancake, the chipping paint and worn down sign add to the eerie feeling. 

Despite this, a new regular had finally made his way into the diner, he wasn't remarkable by any means, brown hair, side burns, and the usual red flannel. And yet, he didn't seem to fit any of your usual categories. 

He was a welcomed mystery to your nights. The other waitstaff had taken to calling him sideburns. He was well liked, he never tried to make conversation, he ordered his coffee and left a generous tip. 

“Hi, welcome to the little pancake.” you try to put on a little smile, keeping a customer service voice your boss had drilled into you for so long. “what can i get you today,” 

He looks up at you, there is something striking about his eyes, they're just so hollow. 

“Black coffee, please.” His voice is thick, slightly accented, he scans the room as he talks to you. 

“Coming right up sir!” You move to get the coffee, pouring it into his mug, “are you ready to order?” 

“No, the coffee will be just fine, and check when you have a second.” 

“Not a problem sir.” 

He sits there drinking the coffee for about an hour, you glance at him, avoiding outright staring but just observing. 

He leaves  a forty dollar tip on his bill. Heading out the door as soon as his cup is finished. 

The rest of your shift is a carbon copy of the usual with different faces pasted on customers. 

But walking to your car in the rising sun, you're almost certain someone is watching you. 

Hoodie

Every single person in your life has been begging you get get a new car, and to be fair it was absolutely needed, your car was about fourteen at this point and to put it delicately, was very well loved

You knew going on a night drive would be a bad idea, the service down the backroads was spotty at best, and your car had finally given up on you about two hours out from your home. 

It was nearly  midnight and you were fairly certain no rescue was going to come before 3am. 

Until a black van pulled up beside you. 

While your instincts screamed for you to lock your doors, this could be your only chance at rescue. 

You roll down your window as the man from the car approaches, blonde hair and a charming smile, 

“You okay there?” His voice is incredibly soothing, concerned with painting his features. 

“Uh, yeah, my car just broke down, I tried calling for help but services out here is shit, and I’m too far from home to walk back.”

“You mind if I take a look, I’m sorta a mechanic by trade.” 

“You're not also an axe murder are you?” 

You don't even know where the question comes from, it slips from your lips before you can even think to censor yourself. 

He blinks in surprise before busting out into laughter, and god is his laugh infectious, you giggle along with him without even thinking  “No sugar, nothing like that.” Now if any other man had tried to call you sugar, you would have probably shut the car door in his face, but the way he says it is so warm, you'll let it slide. 

“I suppose you wouldn't tell me if you were.” 

“Nah, that's the first thing they teach you in murder school, don't prewarn the victims.” 

He moves to the truck, popping your hood holding a flashlight, you vaguely see another man through the tinted windows of the car, he occasionally sticks his hand out of the window to hand your mysterious mechanic a tool, but he doesn't seem all that interested in you. 

Eventually the man says, “Brian were gonna be late.” Another southern accent, he seems antsy, you can see the curl of cigarette smoke pouring from the window. 

“You rushin me isnt gonna make it faster.” he bites back, there's an edge to his tone, as he finally closes the hood of your car. “You should be all good sugar, mind starting the engine for me?” 

You do, and surprisingly your car roars to life, it seems to startle him, he drops the wrench he had been using and he ducks down to pick it up. 

“Thanks for the help.” “Not  a problem, get home safe now.” He turns back to his truck, disappearing into the night 

Toby. 

When he peeled himself from the street you were convinced you had seen the start of the zombie apocalypse. 

The car that had hit him, a brunette you’d seen walk your streets a few times, quickly sped away, as you yelled for them to stop, running over to where the man lay.

He groaned as he got up, seemingly more annoyed than anything else, his arm lay at a dizzying angle, the bone showing itself. 

“Holy shit are you okay?” You ask, moving to examine him, “I’m a nurse and I'm registered in first aid. Do you mind if I examine you?” You're slowly helping him to his feet as he nods, you bring him to the sidewalk, he walks well for someone who just got hit, he doesn't even seem to notice  he's bleeding. 

He's shaking though, eyes dilated, skin freezing 

“Hey, hey it's alright, you mind telling me your name.” 

“Toby.” he finally mutters  out, it comes with a sickening crack of his neck, a Tic disorder clearly. 

“Arlight Toby, does it hurt anywhere in particular.” 

He shakes his head, you suppose the shock is suppressing it, adrenaline is one hell of a drug. You examine him, he clearly needs a hospital, just to set the bones right, check for a concussion “Do you want me to call you an ambul-”

“No. No I can't, I'm fine,” 

“Sir, Toby, your bleeding, have a broken wrist, and its common to have head trauma. I need to take you somewhere. Is there someone I can call.” He's clearly not in any sort of immediate life threatening danger, and the mere mention of the hospital causes him to twitch, becoming increasingly erratic. 

“Just, yeah, let me.” he flips open an old looking flip phone with his less injured hand. Dialing a number you can't quite see. You hold out your hand, and a gruff man answers the phone. 

“What Rodger’s, you're already late so this better both be some bullshit.”

“Uh, hi I'm Y/n are you Toby's friend?”

The voice pauses and then sighs out a “Yes.” 

“He’s uh, been hit by a car.” 

“Your fucking kidding me.” he sighs hard. anger brewing under his skin 

“He’s coherent and seems fine but he’s refusing to go to the hospital.” 

“Of course he is. What's your address, we can come get him, we have a medic he sees regularly.” 

 You reluctantly give him your address,  keeping an eye on the man in front of you. “how long will that take?” 

“About twenty minutes, keep him  awake. I'm sure you know the drill.” The man on the other line says. 

You go to say something else, but the click on the other line tells you he's hung up.

A beat up pickup truck finds you twenty minutes later, and a man hauls Toby into the truck, giving you a nod of thanks leaving you covered in Toby’s blood. 

She saw the vulnerability, felt the warmth of his skin as she touched his scar and saw that underneath his anger and rage was a deep pain that left a jagged scar on his psyche. It was evident by the low energy he felt for days after they boarded the stolen warship. (“I’m not sick, Katara. I was like this the last time I did something good.” “So you can tell jokes.” “I’m not.”) He’s still got his temper, but it’s quieter now, more withdrawn from being his first response.

So, the entire time on the warship, Katara’s first to make sure he’s not being hounded by Hakoda and the other Water tribesmen. Defending him even to her dad as he pulls her aside, “He saved me and Aang’s life, dad. He’s a good person.”

“He’s still the Fire Nation Prince, Katara.”

“Omg you don’t know him like I do!”

And yeah. Ok. Not like Grian can say anything about it. Losing Pearl has been hard on both of them.

But Grian has known grief before, how the games twist it and make it overwhelming, too much and too harsh. Grian had already to live after teammates deaths, spent sessions without them.

Gem hadn't.

The first thing Gem does after they get back to the lighthouse (or what remains of it), is dig.

Their garden is covered in scalding cobblestone, still steaming from the mixture of lava and water.

Gem doesn't seem to care.

She digs, foregoing her pickaxe entirely, hand buried over the pile of cobble of what once was their rose garden. Her hands burn and bleed and she doesn't even complain, just keeps on digging.

Only once all the cobblestone is gone is that you could see there were no more roses left.

Gem bites back a sob, before bursting into their burried storage room. Grian tries to go after her, but she is back just as fast as she left.

She starts tending to the garden, again. Digs and drops seeds and covers them, over and over again until the whole patch is covered in little mounds. Then, Gem searches her pockets until she takes out a handful of bonemeal and starts throwing it all over the garden.

"Gem." Grian tries. Because this all seems so silly. So pointless. What good is a garden when they need to tend to more pressing issues? "Gem. We need to strategize."

She didn't respond.

"Gem."

A rose bush sprouted. Gem continued until the entire garden was full of them. She picked some of the roses, an amalgamation of uneven stems and petals. Some hadn't even blossomed yet.

And then, Gem was off once again, leaving Grian to stumble after her to the other side of the server. They didn't stop until they reached Pearl's grave, the improvised crescent moon looked almost to be mocking them.

Gem gently laid the roses in front of the grave, more careful than she had been the entire night.

Grian didn't speak.

He couldn't.

There was something sacred in the silence that followed, something final. The grave was rough, hastily made with the same desperation that had hung over Pearl's last stand.

And now, Gem stood in front of it like a statue carved out of grief.

Then, without looking at Grian, she dropped to her knees.

And began to dig again.

The air was thick with the heat from the lingering day, but it wasn't the long-gone sun that made Grian's throat feel tight.

"Gem?" he asked unsure, his voice seemed too quiet even for his own ears.

She didn't stop.

Her fingers sank into the dirt beside Pearl's grave, not even trying to clear a space, just moving earth. Clawing at it. She didn't flinch when she hit rocks or roots, didn't pause when her already-raw hands tore again and again. The blood mixed with soil, darkening it.

Grian stepped forward.

"What are you—"

"I'm making room." she muttered.

That made Grian feel a chill down his spine.

"Room? For what?"

Gem looked up at him. Her face was blotched and tear-streaked, eyes wild but focused in a way that made Grian take a step back.

"For me." she said "I'm not letting her be alone."

And then she was back at it, digging faster, messier, like the pain in her hands meant nothing, like the end had already come and she was just catching up to it.

Grian stood frozen.

His fingers twitched at his side, useless.

He felt like he should stop Gem. Maybe say something clever or brave or kind, anything that would pull her out of this spiral.

But nothing came.

It wasn't right.

It wasn't fair.

Pearl had died with the moon high and the odds stacked.

And now Gem was burying herself alive beside her because the server had taken too much from her heart and left too little behind.

The soil gave beneath her hands.

And Grian couldn't bare to watch.

So instead, he knelt.

Have a nice dayyy

Hello! Thank you for the request, lovely. It's highly appreciated. I hope you have a nice day as well. ^_^ This is my first time properly writing for the batfam, so please do have mercy on my soul... 😓 I think I may make another version of this later with the same idea but different occurrences.

Word count : 762

Warnings : Possible OOC, implied shorter reader, no use of Y/N, Jason and reader have a pet cat, not proofread, short

Rated E, Dean/Castiel, Post 13x05 Advanced Thanatology

Cas had just annoyed a cosmic entity so much that it threw him out. Now he was back in the bunker to reconnect with recently-born-almost-adult Jack. So Cas did the most reasonable thing and went to find the recently de-widowed Dean in his room to ask him for parenting advice.

Excerpt:

Cas tilted his head, puzzled. "Riding a bike?" Dean chuckled softly. "Yeah. Bobby gave me some busted old bike from the yard when I was around… I must have been around twelve I think. I remember it now. Sammy wanted to ride a bike so bad because he wanted to impress this girl in his class. I didn't know how to ride a bike, John never taught us." Cas listened intently as Dean continued. "Bobby was really angry when he heard Sammy couldn't ride a bike, so he took me aside one day and put me on this crappy, rusted thing of a bike. Said that we were gonna fix it together and then I'm gonna learn how to ride that damn thing. Then we're gonna teach your brother. So we did it." "I'm sure you were a fast learner," Cas said. Dean shook his head, scoffing fondly at the memory. "Hell no. Not in this case at least. I was so afraid of losing my balance. Bobby had to push me and I kissed the ground as soon as I realized he let go. Truly embarrassing. Don't you ever tell Sammy about any of this," Dean pointed his finger at Cas as a warning. Cas motioned zipping his mouth closed. "I swear I won't mention your ground kissing skills to your brother." "You better not. I acted like a natural. He would never let me live that down." Cas looked thoughtful, considering this. "I never learned how to ride a bike." Dean blinked. "Seriously?" "There was never an occasion," Cas replied deadpan. "Alright then," Dean chuckled. "Guess we'll start with the basics then."

I am planning on restarting my Patreon in the coming year 2025. We'll see how it all shakes out to be, but for the moment, here is a link to it: https://www.patreon.com/Oxavane

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My Obey!Me MC is Addie. You can find her under the tag of the same name. Masa is my JJK OC.

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- all my art goes under #sheep draws

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Ta da!! A fanfiction my partner and I are writing!!

I am releasing this chapter-by-chapter as we get stuff for it done -- I thought it would be more fun that way! (Especially if we stay consistent and form a full story haha, maybe....) At some point I will post doodles and other art things for this au. Stay tuned!!

Characters: Baron Draxum, Splinter

Warnings: it's nsfw, but not explicit (I think??), but you know what they're doing. Yes, I know that's what you're here for. We have no shame here, it's fine.

Summary: What began with simple wrestling somehow turned into something more. Something differently physical. Something intimate. Something powerful.