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Stab 2 Round 1 - VS Rika BRRRRRRRRRRR
The blaring horn of the ship woke Rylee from his slumber. However, he didn’t grumble and attempt to return to sleep like he normally would. Instead, he quickly jumped out of bed and got dressed, unable to contain his excitement. Today was different. Today, he would arrive at Holon, the location of his very first tournament.
He looked out of the porthole window in his room. There was a small speck of land in the distance, surrounded by the vast ocean and cloudless sky. The sight of the island filled Rylee with even more enthusiasm, and he raced to get all of his belongings together. There was still time before the ship would reach Holon, but he simply couldn’t wait any longer.
Right as he was about to leave the room and head up to the deck, he heard a loud thumping noise coming from the window. Rylee turned around to see a Pelipper attempting to fly into the porthole, despite it being closed. At first, he just stared in c
STAB 2 Audition - Rylee's GetawayIt was a quiet morning in Hearthome City. At least, it was quiet, until a certain breeder decided to wake up her son.
"Rylee! Ryyleee! Ryyyyleeee~!" Alice Beaumont skipped through the house, calling her child's name. Her naturally loud voice was amplified even more than usual when the Chatots outside started imitating her. Soon, it was a chaotic cacophony of 'Rylee's. This chorus of cries was more effective than any alarm, not only waking up her son, but everyone in the neighborhood.
"Wake up, sleepyhead!" Alice shouted cheerfully as she kicked open the door. The boy was still in bed, covering his head with a pillow, trying to drown out the Chatots screeching his name. Seeing this, she ripped the pillow out of his hands and dragged him out of bed, still smiling the whole time. Rylee groaned. His mother was too intense to deal with at this time of day.
While this was happening, Charles was peacefully making pancakes in the kitchen. He was used to all of the ruckus. It was simply
The Panic Room (A Supernatural One-Shot)“Dean…? Dean?”
The name felt like lead on Sam’s tongue, so thick and heavy that he wasn’t sure if the syllable had actually made it past his lips.
The only reason he was aware of something cutting into his neck was the trail of red that was marking a small pathway against the stark fabric of his shirt. The dark suit and tie that usually accompanied the white-collared look were missing, but he couldn’t remember why.
His brother’s name seemed to drop soundlessly into the dark space before him. Everything felt heavy. Dull. Maybe he was dreaming.
But dreams shouldn’t smell of dust and abandonment. They shouldn’t be framed by cobwebs and wallpaper so aged that their floral design has faded into funeral bouquets. They shouldn’t have flickering candlelight and robed figures looking down on you.
No, dreams shouldn’t be like that.
But Winchesters don’t have dreams. They have nightmares. Sam smile
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