#but you thought wrong bitch here come some incantations

[musclesandhammering]

A Concept: Loki gets in a situation where his magic is bound or he’s facing someone with stronger magic than him or something and everyone expects him to just be screwed, but instead he simply starts drawing runes and reciting spells and proceeds to wreck their shit.

“I’m not the most powerful sorcerer in Asgard because my magic is the strongest, I’m the most powerful sorcerer in Asgard because I know how to use magic the best.”

[unseelie-grimalkin]

How do you write magic the way you do? Your MC seems to have a grab bag of abilities that make sense but don't make sense, you feel me? I'm not being aggro, I just wanna know the things and how your brain works.

So this ask has been sitting in my ask box for ages, and I've been fiddling with it in my drafts while I've been suffering in math.

So okay: we know NDM deals with seasonal magic.

But seasonal affiliations aren’t necessarily a whole thing in the Mythological Cycle of Irish Mythology. It’s more of a newer association with the fey folk in general; as Morgan Daimler mentions in 21st Century Fairy: The Good Folk in the new millennium,

“This [the idea of Seasonal Fairy Courts] is something that has grown out of urban fantasy across the last several decades, jumping off the older ideas of the Scottish Seelie and Unseelie courts but removing any moral implications in the names and simply tying them to seasons.”

Another good note Daimler makes that’s relevant to NDM as a whole (and, despite everything, is relevant to answering your question):

“The Seelie and Unseelie Courts themselves and the entire idea of two courts as such is probably comparatively newer as well only really coming in within the last 200 years or so.”

So, with this being a relatively modern idea, I assume that this choice for the seasonal is a world-building feature of Na Daoine Maithe rather than a misrepresentation or anything less than charitable. Why? Because they’ve made the Seelie/Unseelie labels a world-building choice as well, incorporating the inherent morality of the labels (since I believe that in Scots, Seelie can mean Blessed/Holy/Good depending on the context, while Unseelie can mean Mischievous/Evil-Doing) into the general spin that Seelie courtiers and the like put on the current political conflict in the setting.

Like, while I’m not here with a tin-foil hat and a set of pedestals for the developers with a blanket statement carved into said pedestals that declare that they can do no wrong (gods, what a ridiculous curse that one could put on any person...), Moirai Myths has shown that they’ve got a solid bit of research under their belts, so the most charitable assumption I am going to make both out of respect and for my own fun is that things are on purpose, actually.

So: seasonal magic.

The ask we have with the most information about magic in our setting is this one right here. Let’s break it down, shall we?

There are a few kinds of magic in our game overall, but that run down would be long and semi-spoilery, so let’s focus on the main magic system that the Tuatha Dé Danann are known for: Seasonal magic. Seasonal magic is regarded most highly among the TDD, since it was taught to the Tuatha Dé by the goddess Danu herself. It can involve rituals or incantations, but strongly relies on the power of voice (i.e., song) as a medium through which this form of magic is cast. Ergo, the range of one’s voice impacts your affinity or aptitude toward a given seasonal discipline, so high ranging voices tend to yield stronger results with spring or summer magic, and conversely, low ranging voices yield stronger results with autumn or winter magic.

So, important bullet points already:

Seasonal magic is simply what the TDD are known for, stylistically (with the implication that there are non-seasonal styles as well, which we need to keep a pin in for Aífe, specifically)

Seasonal magic is thought to be given by Danu (which is. Such a HOT BUTTON for me and my brain, given Danu’s...EVERYTHING! I’ll get into that later)

Somatic components (your voice) is the medium of seasonal magic. Singing is given as the example, and it’s one that I cannot and shan’t dispute: the game draws a lot of inspiration from Lebor Gabála Érenn, which has its clearest example of an incantation called The Song of Amergin so like...yeah, I want to see some early 2000’s song-fics up in this bitch! I wanna have people incorporate lyrics of their favorite songs into the prose! It’s textually supported! Grimalkin-Approved!

Vocal ranges impact your seasonal affinity/aptitude (we know from the RO affinities and their vocal ranges [speaking {this was before VO work, so take that ask as you wish} & singing] that spring probably has the highest pitch, summer a high pitch, autumn a low pitch, and winter the lowest pitch)

It is worth noting that seasonal magic is not exclusively “nature magic”, but rather covers a broad range of concepts associated with the “essence” of a season as well. For example, spring magic denotes growth and renewal, ergo it can entail the manipulation of plant life as well as healing magic, among other things. There’s a lot of variance and overlap in places, though - especially with the aligned seasons. If you’re a top notch winter magic sort of person, for instance, chances are you’ll be able to dabble in some autumn magic as well.

So the italics are what was originally there, but that bolded formatting is mine because I really want to draw attention to that word in particular as I start to probe your brain with thoughts and questions.

This supports my usual take on magic: that magic should not be treated as a cut-and-dry formalized system but as a living narrative force where the more you try to make rules, the more magic defies said rules. To put you into the mindset of how I think about magic, I’m going to borrow some words from @/cryptotheism (not actually tagging them in this fandom meta-analysis post for a niche dating sim, but credit needs to be given):

“What is a home without a house? A painting without a canvas? A lover without a body?”

It is extremely tempting to answer that the answer is emotions, that emotions are the answer. But that's not entirely true, is it? Because then what emotions would make a home without a house, a painting without a canvas, a lover without a body? No, the answer is in the narrative force that surrounds those things and how our minds process the stories we tell ourselves, and how there are layers to those stories that make having exacting answers troublesome. Because it's not simply just the stories we tell ourselves and each other. It's in how we have these concepts and in how we communicate these concepts: a home is different from a house and can be further specialized into different things that all mean something else; a cottage is different than a shack and a shack is different from a condo and a condo is different from a hotel room, but they can all be home to someone, and we can all understand that and what that concept can be. But we also know that all those things (a cottage, a shack, a condo, a hotel room) aren't all automatically someone's home; just that they can be and that the state of home can be as permanent or as temporary as things shake out for any one person.

And, with this idea of narrative magic, this idea of liminality in concepts fresh in your head and rotating (because that's not really a thing I can teach or fully explain so much plant and let you digest it), I need to get into the rest of that paragraph from that ask.

We have this textual emphasis that seasonal magic is not exclusively nature magic but is tied to each season’s essence. But I ask anyone reading this: who defines each season’s essence? Was it Danu when she gifted it? Was it the druids who potentially formalized the style? Like. My tin-foil hat theory is that this is all a mythologized fabrication by the Order of the Eternal Flame to stagnate and control the flow of the populace’s magic, but really? We don’t know. For as much noise as I’ll make beating my metaphorical pans together and yelling about druids at 2 am in the liminal hallway that we call the NDM Discord Server, that’s speculation at best, and I know it.

This paragraph gives us an example for spring: since spring’s essence is defined as growth and renewal, it can do plant magic, healing magic, and “other things”. So, say you are writing a fic and want to define those other things yourself and ask yourself, “What would an Unseelie Grimalkin do in my place?”

My usual first step for this is, admittedly, unorthodox.

I make my merry way down to the Superpower Wiki. I find the seasonal-related wiki pages that I’m looking for (in this case: anything to do with Spring), see what has been assembled, and pick what I want and what is relevant to my writing. So, if I wanted to give Shae a potential spell that’s not in the listed things the ask on magic lists for spring magic, I’d cross reference things I’d guess would be passed down in their family (something domestic, I’d wager), and then brainstorm from there. For example, maybe I’d deal with Spring’s association with Purification and wonder if Shae might have a spell to keep away and get rid of mold or similar impurities in their food, passed down from generation to generation.

To break down what spells I’ve had Tríona cast in particular, you can look at the Autumn pages on the Superpower Wiki. The parts of Autumn she has a natural inclination for have mainly been what the Wiki notes as “Enhanced Preparedness”: you can trace the concept of Hunter’s Intuition in Chapter 4 of The Five Times He Had to Engage in Purely Tactical Revision, While She Turned From a Fairy Tale, while she juggles between Prey Instinct and Predator Instinct in Meeting the Pack as she spars with Dermot. The summoning of the nearby dire wolf isn't listed on the Wiki, because I then asked myself: what else do I associate with autumn? And the answer was hunting. And what pack animal, one laden in magical association, do I associate with hunting? Wolves.

But therein lies the trickiness of this system, one that the devs have addressed: there’s overlap between the seasons (take hunting as a concept: sure, there’s a lot of hunting done in autumn to prepare for winter, but you can hunt in any season. I’d argue the season specifies what kind of hunting takes place and how it’s characterized, and I want you to think about that with NDM’s magic system a lot because it unlocks a lot of potentials). I think there’s an overlap more considerable than what is addressed (which is not bad! Not only is it fun for fics, it could be a plot point).

So, here's where they address it (and give us more lore nuggets to crunch):

Contrary to gut-impulse, no one discipline is inherently regarded as more “good” or “evil” than the other, as there is no inherent “good” or “evil” in nature. As such, it is possible to create blessings and curses from any of the seasons, and curses are broadly regarded as a taboo no matter what form they take. Protective wards are associated with winter magic, denoting perseverance and repose. Summer magic, denoting zeal and freedom, can be used to inflict insomnia.

There is no morality in nature (aye, true, the wolf isn't exactly apologizing to the deer for eating it), so any seasonal style can do blessings and curses. Fair and valid and honestly refreshing (I am. So tired. Of winter magic being considered the evil magic in fantasy).

But I'd like to inspire a counterthought in your head: the protective wards outlined here come from perseverance and repose. Valid. I'm not disputing that. But can't that same zeal from summer be used defensively? Especially in a land of eternal summer, where summer is not associated with a flitting moment but a timeless burn? Maybe not in the exact same way as winter, but to note another potential example: autumn's associated with preservation and preparation. Can't that be used in the same manner as perseverance and repose, to be funneled into protective wards?

And even the earlier idea that spring magic is the only magic that can heal because spring is associated with growth and renewal: maybe the healing isn't the same, but isn't there a healing quality to the restful hibernation of winter?

The semantics can go on forever, for as many questions as you and I can come up with. They can get as petty and niche as you'd like, because, the more you put a microscope on this all, the more questions come up that all come back to the big one:

“Who, in the setting of Na Daoine Maithe, defines what each season's essence is?”

And I legitimately think that's a plot question that goes back to my originally noted hot button: Danu.

As the seasonal magics are regarded as Danu’s gift to her people, it is commonly regarded as exclusive to the Tuatha Dé, but… Well. Danu did choose her people, after all. Have you tried asking?

That “Have you tried asking?” prompted me to write my first NDM fic, for the record. Thanks, Clotho! You did that! To me! Thanks, legitimately!

But yeah, let's get into Danu quickly because her context is...honestly? Vitally important for how I interpret NDM's magical landscape.

So, the name Danu itself is a reconstructed name, built off of the Danann from the title Tuatha Dé Danann. However, you must understand that this is a hypothetical name not found in any medieval Irish text. Largely, you see the Danann slapped onto the name Tuatha Dé because it CHANGES the whole meaning of the title.

Tuatha Dé means “The God Tribe”. Tuatha Dé Danann means “The Tribe of the Goddess Danu” in the reconstructed sense. This title change actively takes away the divinity in the title. In IRL scripts, we see Tuatha Dé Danann overtake the title Tuatha Dé because it made the Christian scribes feel more comfortable about what they were writing.

Danu never makes an appearance in the Lebor Gabála Érenn. At all! So, where does she come from? That’s! A hotly debated topic! One that’s been around since the 19th century. It doesn’t help that the Victorians did as they were want to do: overwrite existing folklore of the people they oppressed with whatever the hell they wanted (Danu made for a good comparison point to Demeter, and this is a standard colonialist system: overwrite other gods by shallow comparisons to Greek/Roman gods [a page directly taken from Roman trade books]. I believe this is where we get Sun God Lugh from, despite all text suggesting otherwise: people went Lugh = Apollo/Hermes/Thoth for too long, and it baked into some folks).

Now, for the closest possible equivalents to Danu that could've been recycled into her, we’ve got:

Anu from Cormac’s Glossary, who is noted as the mother of the gods of Ireland (which should sound familiar to the credit Danu is given, but also…Anu is sometimes another name for the Morrígan, and the name is conflated with many other goddesses, and it’s never clear in the text which potential one they’re referring to).

Danand, who actually appears in the Lebor Gabála Érenn and is actually accredited in that work for where the Danann comes from (at least, from a Watsonian perspective): Danand has three sons. They may be familiar to any who has studied Lugh: they’re the same three who kill Lugh’s father and get sent off on a suicide mission, actually. And these three are, in specific, called “The Gods of Dannan”.

So uh…this is where we have to ask: is the story we’re being told, that Danu is the mother goddess of the TD in NDM…is that true? Do we take that as truth, or is that simply the information we’re being presented because it’s the societal truth primarily believed by the populace? And if it is the latter, then…are seasonal magic styles actually given and taught by the Order of the Eternal Flame, who provided this fantastical story to avoid seeming too powerful, to prevent something? Or maybe…to power something?

This is my bit and bindle here: we have to interrogate the limitations of this system. Play in the mud of semantics. Because, for me at least, it makes you realize that something is very wrong here, and it’s nothing fey related: it’s not the magic of true names, it's not the locking of life to a realm through food, it’s not the weakness to iron. Instead, it’s absolute stagnation, apparent not only in TNN’s sky that acts more as a stage prop than anything living but also in how regions are held in eternal seasons.

And…well, we have seasonal magic.

How powerful do you reckon a spell is one that could hold a network of regions locked in specific seasons? I’d say pretty powerful, given its size and scope of it. How clever would it be, to power this spell, by locking the populace into the same stagnation as the regions by tricking them into limiting their magic through seasonal spellcasting, through locking them into specific associations based on something as arbitrary as vocal range?

Like. I cannot stress this enough. When the magic being used by the TD is described in Irish folklore, there is no seasonal association. The Morrigan just Does Shit. The Dagda? Just Fucks Things Up (he literally stops everyone from perceiving that 9 months go by just so Boan is not caught having his baby). Aengus? Just sings, and things Happen. Fúamnach quite literally turns a woman into a fly because she's angry. Whenever you read about a druid sorcerer, they just Do Things. Without limit. Their only limit is their skill, knowledge, and who taught them. Maybe their parentage? But there is no moment they ponder the essence of a season and if this is in their wheelhouse.

And while yes, you can point at that ask and go, “But there’s not just seasonal magic in NDM, Grim, please look at the ask before you lose your mind.” I also have to point out that seasonal magic is noted as the primary magic system that the NDM TDD are best known for, is the most highly regarded, and has the most ties to the central religion of current-day TNN.

Just like the discrepancy in using the Seelie/Unseelie titles in a game labeled and marketed as based on Irish mythology and making that discrepancy mean something (I do know the official site also says Celtic folklore, I know this, I have that statement in front of me as I type this, but also when I've got this ask right here that cites Lebor Gabála Érenn and the other cycles as main inspirations for world-building, I gotta focus on that rather than barking up unnamed and unknown trees because just saying Celtic is like saying they've got umbrellas made of swords: what kind of swords? Greatswords? Gladium? Parrying swords? The answer changes that umbrella for you, in your head, doesn't it? Same thing with Celtic: Celtic's a damn big umbrella word), this focus on the TD of the setting having normalized and mythologized seasonal magic probably means something.

I also want to draw attention to my absolute favorite sorceress: Aífe

Let's Talk About Aífe & How Her Takes Expand What Magic Is Like In My Head

You probably thought I name-dropped Aífe earlier and would never get back to her. Nope!

Because not only is she the one in the demo to note that you do not have to be a druid to learn magic, but she also has a couple of interestingly anti-Eternal Flame stances. Like yes, yes we all know about Time Conspiracist Aífe, we love Time Conspiracist Aífe, but I mean that she's a noted atheist and has a hidden talent for taboo magic (which could mean seasonal curses, I mean, she knows what a very specifically relevant one to her feels like to cast, but also remember: seasonal magic isn't the only type of magic, and Aífe has this association with magic we don't see play out in fey-typical media [I went THIS LONG without mentioning Warlock of the Fiend Aífe, I'm getting myself a treat for self-control, but I also mean the magical girl ask too]).

Like. All these puzzle pieces together and the whole magic system makes me like

So YEAH this is why magic comes up in my NDM fics so much and why it's probably a little wild, I think about the socio-political everything of NDM magic a lot.

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 14: Stardust

“Go!” Sam waves Dean off with one hand as he brandishes an angel blade in the other, not that it’ll do much good against a primordial entity.

Conflicted, Dean glances at Rowena, whose hands are raised to blast the Empty with purple fire. “We can hold it off, dearie,” she calls. “Do the spell!” She lets out a hair-raising shriek in some ancient language, and the heat makes Dean flinch back even from across the cavernous room. “The blood first,” Rowena instructs in a carrying voice. She circles the Empty with Sam, keeping it occupied. “Jack’s, then mine. Forbaern!”

Sam hurls a demon bomb the Empty, and the vibrations to the floor of Hell itself almost make Dean drop the second vial of blood.

Christ, Dean has no idea what he’s doing. He should be with Sam and Rowena, on the frontlines, not cowering behind a table with a spellbook that looks like it was made from people. Still, he starts chanting.

What is this spell, anyway? Ancient Klingon? Elvish Pig Latin? He could fuck up the pronunciation, and this’ll all be for nothing.

He finishes incanting, speeding a little towards the end to get it over with.

To his infinite relief and dread, the bowl with the blood starts to glow. As it reaches blinding levels, Rowena calls, “Pour it over yourself!”

“What?”

“Upturn the blood over your head!” Rowena casts a spell, and the Empty recoils with a scream.

Dean glares down at the glowing contents. So. Gross.

But for Cas -

Screwing his eyes shut, Dean lifts and tips the blood the over the crown of his head.

The noise of Sam and Rowena’s fight cuts off.

Complete silence. Jarring enough to make his ears ring with the phantom loss.

Dean opens his eyes. He almost thinks his body isn’t working properly, that his eyes didn’t open at all, but the Empty is just pitch-black. He pats his hair, and thank god the blood stayed in Hell while Dean was zapped out of there. He checks his jacket, feeling for the handle of his angel blade.

How to find Cas in a big pile of nothing?

Dean shuffles forward, doubt dragging every step. He could be going in the complete wrong direction, and if he gets off the yellow brick road, how will he ever get to Cas in time before the Empty comes back?

Fuck.

He turns back around, but the doubt doesn’t go away.

Dean spins around in a circle, panic racing through his veins. He was so stupid, thinking that, what, Cas’s love for him would show him the way?

He got all the way here, and he’s going to be wandering around like a moron until the Empty comes back and all the prayers in the world won’t save his ass -

Son of a bitch.

He’s such a dumbass.

He clears his throat. “Cas? You got your ears on?” He half expects the words to echo, but it’s more like the Empty swallows up most of the sounds.

No response.

“I hope you can hear me,” Dean continues. “I came all the way here to, well, not grip you tight and raise you from perdition, but you get the idea. So I need you to get your feathery ass over here so we can go home.”

He taps his fingers against his leg, his whole body jittery with nerves. “Look, what you said - I had no idea you felt that way.” He swallows. “And I think that’s my bad. We’ve been friends for ten goddamn years. How could I not know? But you were always leaving, and I thought…” he drifts off. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”

He shakes his head ruefully. “God, I have no idea if you’re even listening. But I guess that’s why they call it faith, right?” He smiles out into the darkness. “You showed me that, you know. I didn’t believe in any of it before I met you. I mean, I believed in family. I believed in the mission. But that’s not what you were talking about when you said I had no faith.”

Turning slowly on the spot, eyes straining against the darkness, he continues, “I’d never believed in something I couldn’t control with my own two hands. Before you. Because it’d never felt like I had a complete handle on you, not really. And apparently I was right, if I could miss something like that for years.”

Dean swallows past the lump in his throat. “But I have faith in you now, Cas. I have faith you’ll come back to me, and we’ll sort out all our shit back home, where you belong. You went on and on about how I taught you to care, but you taught me how to have faith. Not in God, not in some higher calling,” he chuckles humorlessly, “not in fate, but in you.”

He licks his lips. “You’ve always come back. All I’m asking for is one more time, man. One more miracle for a believer.”

“Dean?”

Dean spins around, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Cas is blinking at him in confusion, wearing the same frumpy suit and rumpled trenchcoat when the Empty took him.

“Cas,” Dean breathes as he surges forward to wrap his arms around him. “You heard my prayer.”

He feels more than hears Cas’s tired laugh. “I once told you, I would always come when you call.”

Dean pulls back, but he keeps both hands on Cas’s upper arms just to feel him. Solid. Warm. Alive. “You okay?”

Cas smiles, a small thing, barely there. “I’ve been better.”

“I bet,” Dean says as he reaches his hand inside his coat and pulls out his angel blade.

Cas eyes it curiously. “There are no monsters to fight here.”

Dean inhales a sharp breath. He’s made it this far; he can’t chicken out. “No, I - this is for you,” he flips it hand-first to Cas.

“I don’t understand.”

“To get out of here,” Dean says, his face deadly serious, “We need a power source.”

He gets it at once. “My grace,” Cas says, his face blank.

“Look, you don’t have to,” Dean says awkwardly. “You could use my soul, I guess, but if you give up your grace, you’ll never come back here again.”

Cas’s eyes widen in alarm. “I’m not using your soul, Dean.”

“I can handle the pain.”

Cas shakes his head. “Souls are extremely volatile. Touching yours could bring this very dimension down, or wake everyone up, or something equally catastrophic.”

Dean frowns. “When you touched that kid’s soul in that hotel room, it didn’t go all Fukushima on us.”

“That was on Earth,” Cas says flatly. “The same cosmic rules don’t apply here.” His gaze drops to the blade in Dean’s hand and takes it.

“You sure?”

Cas nods. He swallows, meeting Dean’s apprehensive gaze. “Thank you.”

Dean throws him an incredulous look. “For making you give up your grace?”

“For coming to get me,” Cas says. “For coming all the way here. I won’t forget it.”

Dean smiles. “Dude, it’s what we do for family. No hell dimension is too far.”

Cas raises the blade, and it hovers an inch away from his throat. “How are we getting back, specifically?”

“Sammy looked it up. This place runs on the intentions of the most powerful being here,” Dean says, screwing up his face as he tries to remember the specifics, “That’s how the cosmic Jell-O put everyone to sleep. And why it was so mad you woke up. When you got that zap of nephilim mojo, you could challenge it for control.”

“So, theoretically,” Cas starts, his voice deceptively light, “all I have to do is tap my heels three times and think there’s no place like home?”

Dean chuckles. “Just about. Apparently your grace is more powerful outside your vessel than inside.”

Cas nods, his face resigned. He makes a shallow cut just below his adam's apple, and his grace slips out, smooth as silk. Almost too bright to look at, it spirals above them fluid lightning against the backdrop of the Empty’s darkness. His grace keeps going and going, and they both watch it, transfixed.

Without a warning, it explodes in a soundless shower of sparks. The remains of his grace rain down like stardust around them.

Cas wears an unfathomable expression on his face. Part wistful, part stoic, part something Dean has no chance of ever describing.

Dean kisses him.

Cas stands stock still before he tentatively kisses back, so tenderly, Dean almost doesn’t notice. But Cas breaks away first, his expression carefully blank. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Dean splutters, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I didn’t expect anything when I told you about my feelings for you,” Cas says, a tremor of emotion in his words. “If you kissed me out of pity or because of obligation-”

“Dammit,” Dean swears, grabbing Cas’s hand and squeezing. “I kissed you because I believe in you. I believe in us.” He meets Cas’s shocked gaze head-on. “I just didn’t know there was an us to believe in before.”

Cas smiles, brighter than Dean has ever seen. “Let’s go home.”

[ejlovespie]

Crazed (Pt. 1)

Pt. 1 of this series.

Fandom: Supernatural 

Summary: A hunt gone wrong leaves you with a hex that drives you and Dean crazy with lust.  

Pairing: Dean x reader 

Word Count: 2016

Warnings: 18+ Please do not read this if you are underage. Language, smut, female & male masturbation with more to come...

You were starting to seriously regret going on this hunt. Sitting in the back seat of the impala, you and the Winchester boys were driving back to the bunker after what you had thought was a successful hunt. After three days you had found and ganked the witch who was causing men in the area to literally go crazy with lust. The witch had a vendetta on men and her favorite flavor was married cheaters. If you were being honest with yourself you understood her anger. A woman scorned and all. However, these guys didn’t deserve to die in the way they did...And now you were thinking you were screwed too. 

During the big showdown, the witch had gotten the drop on them. She knew they were coming for her so she was ready when they got there. She had immediately incapacitated Sam, who was lying on the floor in the corner. Then she had gone for Dean; putting him in a choke hold. You stepped in, stabbing the bitch in the back to get her off but unfortunately for you, she mumbled an incantation at you before the lights went out. At first, nothing happened so you had hoped you had gotten lucky. The witch messed up or she didn’t have enough juice left to give her words power. It took about an hour for you to feel anything. 

The three of you were headed back, dirty and disheveled from the fight, when a tingling heat started up in your belly. It was low and simmering, leaving you a little breathless but it wasn’t painful, just unexpected and odd. It was actually kind of pleasant but after a few minutes it started to ramp up. Little by little, the tingling was changing and turning into an ache. That combined with being in a small confined space with the two big hunters was starting to frazzle you. The smell in the car was suddenly too much. A mix of gunpowder, gasoline, leather, and the boy’s musky scents didn’t sound like a pleasant combination but you had always liked it. Except it was way too potent now. Filling your nose and making you a little light headed. On top of that, you were way too hot, despite the cold temperature outside. Rolling down the window, you practically stuck your face out like a dog to get some fresh air. You started fidgeting in your seat as the ache kept growing and you became aware of the new wetness in-between your thighs. Why wasn’t the cold air helping? 

Dean had noticed all your fidgeting and weird panting. Starting to worry that you were hurt or feeling ill, he turned his head to look at you and said, 

“You okay back there sweetheart?”   

Dean’s deep, gravelly voice was too much and it caused a reaction in you that you hadn’t expected. His voice made the tingly, aching heat in your belly change into tiny bolts of lust. Gasping, you struggled to breathe without panting and responded as calmly as possible, 

“I’m fine. It’s just hot in here.” 

Sam had been reading something on his phone, oblivious to the situation but now he looked over at his brother, a frown on his face. They were in the middle of a Kansas winter and it was cold in the car, despite the heat being turned on. The boys exchanged confused looks before Sam finally turned around to look at you. 

Sam looked at you and instantly knew something was wrong. He noted your flushed cheeks and the light beads of sweat above your lip and brow. He noticed your fidgeting and your quiet but heavy breaths. When you looked up at him Sam’s eyes went wide with surprise. He saw that your Y/E/C eyes had gone completely dark. Your pupils were blown and a heavy expression filled them. Although he hadn’t seen you like this before, he knew it was desire. 

You quickly turned your face away from Sam and looked back out at the window. Where were we? How long of a drive would it be until you got back to the bunker? It felt like hours had past but you were struggling to concentrate on anything besides what was happening to your body.

Sam was definitely worried now and turned back to Dean. 

“Dean, stop the car.” 

You barely heard Sam’s voice and you didn’t register the car pulling off to the side of the road until Dean had parked. Dean gave Sam an annoyed look and then glanced back at you. His green eyes suddenly went wide and his mouth dropped open. Normally, it would have been funny but now you had the focused attention of both Winchester boys and it was devastating to your body. It was too much and your panties were now soaked. You knew if you stood up, there would be a noticeable wet spot on your jeans. Dean’s mouth snapped shut and then he said in a low, husky voice, 

“Y/N what’s going on?” 

You could smell your arousal now and that thought didn’t even have the time to to embarrass you before it happened. The tiny bolts of lust suddenly ramped up again and a full on orgasm struck you. You came fast and hard, pure lust jolting your body and without permission, a cry left your lips. 

Now, both of the Winchester’s eyes went cartoon-ishly wide and their mouths dropped open. Y/N’s eyes slammed shut as her hands gripped the backseat of the impala and a cry of pleasure ripped from her lips. Dean choked on what he was about to say when the most sexual sound he had ever heard came out of Y/N’s mouth. Did she just have an orgasm because that’s what it looked and sounded like. Was that even possible? Not even a second after he thought it, her smell filled his nose. Her musky and sweet sex smell was surrounding him and he was so shocked his brain had short circuited. Without thought, Dean’s hand automatically went to his hardening cock. Suddenly, Sam jumped out of the car simultaneously feeling freaked out and turned on. Why was this happening?

After the orgasm, you had a moment of clarity. Loosening your death grip on the seat cushion you opened your eyes to see Dean’s dark green stare. His thick lips were parted now and his voice was low and seductive when he said, 

“Did you just have an orgasm in my backseat?” 

The lust in your belly had cooled but now you felt the entire process happening all over again. You realized your nipples were rock hard and rubbing painfully against the fabric of your cheap cotton bra. Suddenly, Sam opened the door and leaned in to look at you more closely. 

“The witch. Did she say anything to you before you killed her?” 

Oh Shit. With how distracted you had become you had completely forgotten about the witch and what she had said to you. 

“Yes. She mumbled something before she died but I didn’t catch all of what she said.”

The heat in your belly was ramping up again, faster this time and you closed your eyes. Taking deep and slow breaths. You focused and repeated the words you could remember the witch saying to you. Sam asked you if she had touched you or if she had slipped a hex bag into your pocket and you shook your head. Sam spoke again. 

“Y/N, she must have hexed you. The guys she killed were dying because they were driven crazy by lust and I think the same thing is happening to you.”

You weren't hearing his words anymore and Sam was too close. The mix of his natural musky smell and the hint of his cologne was filling your nose and driving you crazy. You tried fighting the feeling inside you but you had been unconsciously leaning towards Sam. Without thought, you reached for his hand, grabbing it and bringing it to your breast. Sam jerked and pulled away from you causing his fingers to graze over your hardened nipple. You moaned loudly and whined when he backed away. Sam took several steps back, his face on fire and his jeans too tight for comfort. His best friend was in trouble and he couldn’t focus long enough to help her. 

Dean on the other hand watched the whole encounter and was pissed. He had always imagined what it would be like. Usually at night, alone in his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock. He would picture Y/N and imagine the way she would look when her beautiful Y/E/C eyes filled with desire and he would wrap his hands in her Y/H/C hair and fuck her until she came for him. He had dreamed about the sounds she would make and the way she would taste and how she would open up for him. Now, he was finally seeing his fantasy come to life and it was all wrong. 

Dean jumped out of the car too and stomped over to Sam. 

“This is bad Sammy. The bitch is dead so why is the hex working on her?” 

You were vaguely aware that the boys were outside and it sounded like they were arguing. Shit. Shit. Shit. The witch really fucked you over. At this point you were starting to loose control again and the ache was consuming you. Your brain wasn’t working right. You touched yourself against your jeans and it felt so good that you started to rub yourself through the fabric. The pleasure was so intense, that you didn’t notice Dean walk back over to you until your eyes flew open and you saw him staring at you. His expression was dark and so sexy. He was leaning towards you in the back of the impala. His large presence and delicious smell combined with the movement of your hand had another orgasm tearing through you. Another loud cry escaped your lips and this time the waves of pleasure kept ripping through you, intensified by Dean’s hungry look. You were moaning and panting now, unable to stop the feeling inside of you. Biting your lip you stared and Dean and he stared back at you with a look you had never seen before. 

“Dean. I..It won’t stop...I can’t control myself. Wh..Whatever that bitch did to me, It..it’s going to keep getting worse.”  

You panted the words out in between heavy breaths. Dean wanted to lay his hand on your cheek and tell you it would be okay but he was afraid to touch you. Scratch that. He wanted to do a lot more than that but he took a deep breath and reigned in his desire.  

“Don’t worry sweetheart. We are going to get you home and figure this out.” 

With superhuman strength, Dean backed up, called Sam over and got back in the driver’s seat. For the next few hours, they drove home and it was unbearably tense. The car smelled like sex, even with all of the windows rolled down. Y/N had been making an effort to keep her panting and sexy moaning as quiet as possible but every small sound was deafening to Dean’s ears. He turned some music on to help distract them all but regardless, they sat with their teeth gritted. Every time she came she would cry out and it took everything he had in him to keep driving and ignore her. At one point it became too much and they had to pull over to put hand cuffs on Y/N to keep her from rubbing herself. 

When they finally got back to the bunker, Y/N had finally tired herself out a bit and was mewling in her sleep. Dean gently carried her to her room, settling her into bed before quickly leaving. Finally, he couldn’t help himself anymore. He stripped out of his clothes, locked himself in the bathroom, and imagined her and the noises he had been listening to all night. Turning on the shower he didn’t wait for the water to heat before he jumped in and fisted his throbbing cock. Under the icy cold water, Dean stroked himself until he came hard and fast, groaning in frustration that he wasn’t coming with her.

To be Continued...

A/N: This is my first fan fiction so I am nervous but really excited to share it with you. I would love to hear any feedback you have to give. Any mistakes are mine. Thank you for reading! :)  

[misterewrites]

Inhuman Interrogation (Welcome to the Underground!)

Hello everyone! E here hoping you are all safe and sound! Here’s the next chapter of the Underground!  A special thank you to everyone who reads my stories. I know they’re not everyone’s speed and I get wordy but I really do appreciate it! I really hope you are having some fun with it. Okay stay safe, sound, keep your loved ones safe, wash your hands, wear masks and get yourself vaccinated, push for vaccines worldwide. Here's the next chapter, enjoy! Feel free to leave likes, tell your friends, reblog and leave feedback I love it all! have a good week and I'll see you later! E is out byeeeeee!

If you want an easier way to read my story here’s the newest chapter at ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/79942294

Curious what this about? Here’s the first chapter

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/68094967

Want an overview of my works, you can find me right over here! Fun fact I do, on a occasion, write stuff for fandoms! Shocking I know :D

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

Summary: Oliver's been caught red handed and there's only one thing to do: Claw and lie his way out of the situation. However, the bard might be a little over his head from this stranger who watches all.

-----

Oliver could feel a chill run down his spine, fear gripping him tightly as he scrambled to keep himself calm. Being found out was always a possibility he’d calculated in his plans, he just hadn’t wanted to deal with it tonight. Well you know what they say: When life gives you lemons, squirt lemon juice in life’s eyes and run like hell.

He’d been caught so the next step was to determine by who.

Oliver blew cool air onto his face as he pivoted around to see which person had been acute enough to catch onto his antics.

He had been expected to looking at an unhappy Lea with his sword drawn.

What found waiting for him was worse.

It was good looking man though Oliver couldn’t hazard a guess to his age. His hair was short wispy dark brown like the color of copper. His face was scratched by dozens of tiny whites line, healed scars that somehow did not detract away from his handsomeness. He wore a plain white tunic with black leggings, a large bronze hued cape hung over his unusually thin frame. The most striking feature were his golden eyes. Not golden in shade but actual gold, metallic shimmering and shining like metal caught in the glow of the sun.

He was a sight to behold, perfection made flesh and blessed by the gods.

And Oliver knew he was utterly and terribly inhuman. He was not a mortal being for no human could ever been so perfect.

The Stranger tilted his head quizzically, his eyes dilated into pupil-less orbs.

“You” He spoke in a raspy, low voice “You’ve been busy.”

Oliver coughed, trying to get his dry throat working again.

The Stranger took a step closer, his gaze unflinching “Yes, very busy.”

Oliver chuckled nervously “I haven’t the slightest clue what you mean increasingly creepy man. If you excuse me.”

As Oliver turned to leave, his blood turned cold when the stranger harshly whispered, his words booming in Oliver’s ears.

“How’s Death I wonder? He’s an old friend for you, right?”

Oliver whirled around, fist clenched but the Stranger hadn’t taken a step forward. In fact he had taken a step away, furthering the distance between them.

Oliver gulped nervously, trying his best to stop his racing heart.

“And you” he murmured quietly, trying to hold onto his fleeting courage “Smell of it.”

It was true: Even this far away, Oliver could smell the stench of decay, of death and blood wafting off the Stranger as if he’d come straight from a bloody battle.

The Stranger made no indication he heard Oliver’s comment, just stared with golden eyes unblinking.

Oliver let out a tense breath before closing his eyes. He centered his will, he reached out into the universe and drew in the power of his magic.

He could hear the scrawling of a pen across the scratchy surface of parchment, the squishy wet sounds of paint drying, the tuning of a lute among excited laughter and cheers.

‘I need to escape.’ Oliver spoke in his mind.

Knowledge filled his mind: Spells and their uses. The hand gestures necessary to tug at the weave to make his will, his need a reality.

An unknown force guided his hand, raising it high and surging with magical power. Oliver’s eyes snapped open with a fierce determination. He took a deep breath, his fingers at the ready as he prepared to recite the incantation.

“I…” Oliver began when the Stranger struck. There was a blink and there was the stranger in front of him, his hand wrapped tightly around Oliver’s wrist.

“So.” the Stranger spoke in an oddly smooth voice “You ready to tell me what you were doing squirreling about?”

Oliver was strained against the Stranger but his grip was as strong as iron. Unless he could complete the hand gestures and motions along with the incantation, the spell was incomplete and he was as helpless as a kitten in Stranger’s grasp.

Oliver grimaced in pain “Now you’re remembering to be human? No creepy staring or awkward conversations about death?”

“Sorry, sometimes my lady speaks through me. I am her will incarnate on this plane.” The Stranger gave a sheepish grin

Oliver smiled uneasily “Right mysterious lady sure. That’s totally normal. How about you let me go and I won’t take the psychotic act personally?”

“But it is personal.” The Stranger’s smirk widen, his teeth too sharp to be mortal “You’re up to something and I’d like to know what.”

‘Great.’ Oliver thought to himself, his eyes darting about for a sign of assistance: a cloaked figure nearby fidgeted awkwardly but ultimately did nothing, a few nobles conveniently glanced the opposite direction of their altercation. Even the guards were nowhere in sight. Whoever this person was, he was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

Oliver pursed his lips, his mind desperately grasping at ideas to escape this situation.

“Party planner” Oliver offered helpfully “My job is to keep track of everything, make sure the party is moving smoothly and ensure there is no issues. You know how Mr. Brambleoak dislikes unnecessary distractions.”

The Stranger nodded in understanding “Party planner? That’s a good one. Feasible. If were I shade dumber, I might actually believe you. However…”

Oliver winced in pain as his grip tightened. The bard had been manhandled once or twice before but never this single handedly.

“Now” The Stranger’s golden eyes narrowed threateningly “Let’s try this one more time before you really anger my lady. What were you doing?”

Oliver opened his mouth.

“There you are!”

For one nerve wracking moment Oliver thought the Stranger had backup but he seemed just as confused as he was.

Maria cut in between two men gracefully and forced the Stranger to release his grip. He backed away as she linked herself arm in arm with Oliver.

“Sweetie!” She spoke with honeyed words, patting his arm lovingly “You ran off so quickly. I was worried I’d upset you.”

“Umm.” Oliver eyed the Stranger carefully, wary at any sudden movements “Sorry honey. This person thought I was someone he knew.”

Maria peered closer, getting a good look at the man.

The Stranger smiled cheekily “Fraid I got the wrong person.”

“You should really be careful, the guards here dislike any disturbance to the festivities.”

Almost as if magically summoned by her words, the guards began to approach with hands on their blades.

“Of course. Of course. Wouldn’t want trouble.” the Stranger bowed mockingly “Besides, I don’t think he’s the one I want.”

“That’s certainly ominous.” Oliver murmured under his breath.

Maria jabbed him with her elbow though her gaze never left the Stranger’s golden eyes.

“We should go.” Oliver offered helpfully “I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

Maria beamed cheerfully “No worries, I was feeling a bit tired myself. Good night good sir.”

“Bye.”

“Good night miss” the Stranger tilted his head “Bard.”

Maria hurriedly dragged Oliver away.

“Thanks for the save.” Oliver said gratefully.

Maria blew a strain of hair from her face “You’re welcome.”

“Not mad about using you as a distraction?”

“Normally I would be” Maria admitted “But that little stunt you pull got the harpies off my back for the rest of night.”

Oliver chuckled “Basking in the admiration of their adoring fans?”

“You have no idea.” she replied wearily “I’m just happy for a moment of peace. So thank you for that.”

“You are welcome then.”

The two made their way outside and straight into quite the scene: a massive cheering crowd formed around a handful of people. Most of the combatants were faced down, sprawled across the cobbled streets though Oliver spotted two familiar faces standing tall and victorious over their fallen foes.

“ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!?” Terri screamed into the roaring masses, arms flexed. Tyrell looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion.

Oliver spotted Lea among the thundering crowd, his eyes alive with excitement and joy.

Terri caught Oliver’s eye and gave a proud smile. Oliver offered a subtle thumbs up as Maria led him away from the bank.

“I take it you can’t go far.” Maria stated simply.

“No” Oliver spoke honestly “I’m afraid my business is not yet concluded.”

“Is it alright if I stay with you for now?”

Oliver bit his lip nervously “Sure. Of course. I have a moment. Not curious about what I was up to?”

Maria gave a cheeky smirk “Naturally but I have a feeling secrecy is important here. Better to not ask than force you to lie to me."

“Thank you. I don’t like lying to you.”

The two stood side by side, arms intertwined together in a quiet comfortable near silence.

Maria smiled softly “You know my father used to warn me about my sentimentality for people. About they would use it against me.”

“People like me?”

She smirked mischievously as she puffed out her chest, speaking in a mocking tone “There will come poet whose weapon is his word. He will slay you with his tongue.”

Oliver snorted loudly, trying to hide his flushing skin “Oh lei oh lai oh lord?”

“Oh quiet you.” Maria scolded with a chuckle “Surprise you didn’t take the set up.”

“Too easy.”

“Should I be offend?”

“I mean those are pretty good lyrics” Oliver replied, hand high in surrender “Surprised they came out of your father’s bitter lips.”

“I suppose everyone has their moments. However rare.”

“I suppose so.”

Maria’s hazel eyes met Oliver’s brown, curious yet expecting “Do you remember what you said to me two months ago? At the last competition?”

“Umm…” Oliver scratched his chin thoughtfully “I say a lot of things. You need to be specific.”

“That my voice was utterly angelic?”

“Ah, I didn’t think you actually heard me.” Oliver’s cheeks blushed a bright red.

Maria giggled sweetly “Did you mean it? What you said inside?”

“Yes” Oliver answered without hesitation “You don’t need them. You would be amazing by yourself.”

Maria’s smile was sad. She sighed tiredly as she threw a glance towards the bank “My father won’t let me but you knew that, didn’t you?”

Oliver nodded in confirmation.

“I feel like I am a disappointment. A puppet controlled by a father who craves nothing but influence and status.”

“You’re not.”

“How do you know?”

Oliver shifted uneasily.

“That’s what I thought bard. Nice try though.”

Oliver caught sight of Flora and Sel making their way outside, signaling the others the mission was complete. Terri and Tyrell broke free from the fight circle and began making their way towards the rendezvous point.

Maria slipped her arm out of his “It is time I suppose.”

“Enjoy your night off.” Oliver took her hand in his own and softly kissed it. Maria flushed a pink hue but still curtsy in response.

Oliver turned to face her, his eyes gentle and understanding “You aren’t a disappointment.”

Maria rolled her eyes “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not.” Oliver firmly stated.

Maria’s eyes stared quizzically into his “Certain, are you?”

Oliver cleared his throat “You aren’t a disappointment to me.”

“That’s sweet but I’m afraid I barely know you. Besides you’ve been a thorn in my father’s plans consistently. Technically, I shouldn’t be talking to you let alone assisting.”

Oliver gave an impish grin “Yet you are.”

“You are far too charming for your own good.” Maria frowned mockingly

“Nothing compared to you.”

“Sweet words are nothing without meaning beyond them bard.”

Oliver took a deep calming breath, struggling to get the words out before he lost his nerve “The boy who used to climb your fence still loves you.”

Maria’s eyes widen with confusion before realization dawned upon her hazel eyes “How did you…?”

but Oliver ran, bravery failing. He disappeared into the crowded streets without another word. He ducked and weaved through the people in case Maria decided to chase him though he doubt she would. Perhaps those words didn’t have the same weight as they once did. Oliver really did not want to stick around to find out. He shouldn’t have said anything but he’d never been good at keeping his mouth shut.

-----

It hadn’t taken long for Oliver to meet up with the rest of the crew. Everyone managed to gather in a nearby alley, their chatter excited and cheerful.

“Boss man!” Terri boomed, arms opened wide “WE DID IT! See the pile? Do I get results or do I get results?”

Oliver gave a weak chuckle “Yes you do. Remind me not to piss you off.”

“Damn straight.” Terri flexed unnecessarily once more. Flora gave a playful wink towards her girlfriend which turned Terri a lovely bright pink.

Tyrell looked haggard and sick “I never want to do that again. Ever.”

“You did amazingly Ty! You can be First Chair in no time if you keep this up!” Terri patted his back approvingly, Tyrell nearly went sprawling to the floor below.

Oliver gave a sharp whistle, grabbing the attention of everyone “We did great team and it was an honor to work with you. If you require my assistance, I’ll be in town for a few days at the Right Hook. Ask for Ollie.”

Terri slipped her hand into Flora’s “We won’t be in town much longer. We have business up north but we wish you well! Permission to leave?”

“Granted.” Oliver waved them off “No making out until you leave our sights.”

It was impossible to know who was a redder shade: Terri or Flora.

The pair bowed respectfully before taking their leave, Flora’s head resting lovingly on Terri’s shoulder. Oliver couldn’t help chuckle at Terri’s proud “And you didn’t poison anyone! Great work sweetheart!”

Oliver turned to the remaining two “Sel, destroy the paper and report back to the local Conductor. If there’s any more trouble come get me.”

Sel gave a single nod before disappearing into the crowded streets without another word.

“And me?” Tyrell whispered anxiously “What about me?”

“You.” Oliver stretched his neck, trying to relive the tension of the night “You’re gonna tell me how to get into the Clifftop Distract.”

“E-excuse me?”

Oliver waved his question off “Don’t even. I know you’re a noble born. Your clothes are way too nice to be a simple baker or blacksmith’s son. And barely frayed means you ran away from home recently.”

Tyrell glanced away, fidgeting nervously “You noticed?”

Oliver nodded.

“And you don’t care?”

“Not in the least” Oliver admitted honestly “You got into the Choir. That means you’re good in my book.”

“Thank you.” Tyrell smiled softly “I appreciate it. May I ask why you need to get into the Clifftop Distract?”

Oliver scratched the back of his neck sheepishly “Someone I know has business up there. Figured I might as well ask you to make our lives easier.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“I’m really not.” Oliver murmured quietly, unable to stare Tyrell in the eyes.

Tyrell shook his head is disagreement but didn’t press further “Every month they change the password. This month’s is Knightly Valor.”

“Knightly Valor, thank you.”

“No, thank you for not telling the others. May I go now?”

Oliver ruffled Tyrell’s hair playfully “Go on scamp.”

Tyrell bowed and with a skip in his step, made his way out of the alleyway.

Oliver stood there alone for a moment before turning towards the shadows.

“You gonna keep follow me or we’re finally going to talk?”

The figure did not break the silence of the night as they stepped out seemingly from darkness itself.

“You knew I was following you? Impressive given not many can sense my presence” the cloaked figured spoke. unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice.

“Mhm.” Oliver grunted “Ever since West End. You were in the bar the night Abigail and I hired Archie. I heard you moving about when we camped for the night, just down the tunnel out of sight. I assume you lost us when we went down the side tunnels and decided to stake out West Haven for us to pass through. You’ve been tailing me all night since I left the Right Hook.

The figure said nothing.

“That’s what I thought.” Oliver sighed tiredly “Alright, we gonna have a problem? I've had a long night and I've been threaten one times too many today.”

“No problem.” The figure muttered.

Oliver narrowed his eyes suspiciously “Then why show yourself?”

“You need to know my presence.”

Oliver sighed “You are being very cryptic.”

“Now you know how everyone else feels.”

Oliver smirked mockingly, unable to hide the sarcasm from his voice “Thanks, I hate it!”

“Be careful bard.” the figured glanced about, worried “Something is coming.”

“Nice and vague, thanks for the tip ninja.”

The figure shifted uncomfortably but remained silent.

“Fine, go on then if you're not gonna be any more helpful.” Oliver shook his head before closing his eyes. When he opened them, the figure was gone, upped and vanished into nothingness.

Oliver ran his hand through hair tiredly as he began making his way back to the Right Hook.

“And I still have to climb two stories. Fucking hell, what a night.”

[bular]

Welcome to Live Commentary

I had no one to talk to while watching the movie and I hate being alone with my thoughts so I wrote everything down in my notes app. It's not coherent! Enjoy!

Aw yeah 1.5 seconds of Bular that is all I needed! Might as well stop now I've seen my boy I'm satisfied.

Why is there a nearly 4 minute recap as if I haven't watched the show at least 50 times. I should be the one giving the recap.

The beginning felt a bit forced to me but maybe that's just me? Like they just tried to squeeze too many things into a small timeframe without any buildup, it just didn't really work. Congrats on the engagement! This is my OTP so I'm very happy! But it came out of nowhere.

Nari in Douxies body is so wrong and I love it and hate it at the same time (positive)

Eli is BIG. I knew he was gonna be tall but I was not prepared for that chiseled face. Or the fact that he stepped off the ship without glasses? I wear glasses and I would not choose to step off a spaceship blind.

OkAY who had mpreg on their bingo card?

AAARRRGGHH actually said a full sentence 🥺 there is no heterosexual explanation for this scene and I'm here for it

Arcadia being the center of the universe really does make a lot of sense. I hate how much sense it makes. Despise it.

Strickler in a Christmas sweater is something i didn't know I needed. Jim's jacket too but that's just adorable, Jim's adorable. Oh sweet baby you're about to get fucked over so bad.

Love seeing Barbara actively participating in battle too. Good for her! Power family!!

Where are the kids tho? Is NotEnrique babysitting? Either that or they hired the girl from the Incredibles movie.

Nomura is so talented I love seeing her fighting on the good side. I can't explain it but I love digitigrade legs they're just so pretty?? Aesthetically pleasing??? Fuck yeah, legg! I could watch Nomura run around and be badass all day.

WAIT NO OH SHIT HOW DARE YOU FUCK

STRICKLER DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE NOT YOU TOO THAT'S TOO FUCKING RUDE DON'T DO THIS TO ME

THERE'S NO WAY HE'S DEAD RIGHT WE SAW NO BODY

Barbara does not deserve this I refuse to accept it. He's fine he'll be back they wouldn't kill two Changelings at once. Also Nomura is with Draal now I take no criticism.

So my favorite characters were Bular, Draal, Gunmar and Angor. And before this movie I always half-joked that everyone I love dies, how I still like Strickler and Nomura but apart from them all of my faves were killed in the very order of favoritism. AND NOW LOOK AT THIS. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I LOVE A CHARACTER. MY LOVE IS TOXIC.

OKAY I LOVE GUN RO- WAIT NO I DON'T LOVE HIM FUCK ABORT ABORT

It's great tho omg

I didn't realize it was Gun Robot when I saw it in the trailer this is amazing

Okay but imagine you're chilling in your trollmarket minding your own business when some misfit group of strangers waltzes in, steals your favorite shiny and celebrates your death before running off

"I AM GUN ROBOT" IS THE HORN LMAOOO

Nana better show up at some point to reunite with her boytoy, I'll cancel this entire franchise otherwise

Something bad is going to happen to Toby isn't it. He's getting too much screentime

Jim's hand got DEEP FRIED

ARCHIE NO

We can play Scrabble okay if they don't free them (which they must) I want an after credits scene of them playing scrabble

Douxie and Nari's bond 🥺🥺🥺

Nari pls just say what you fuckin mean the world is ending

Oh god is she going to remember killing Nomura oh nooo

Claire don't make the portal you will die again. Your hair gon be white all over

EVERYONE AVOIDING THE SCHOOL JUST RIGHT THERE LMAO RIP

I love how Darci is just with the school bus. Civilian girlfriend. But also love how the world is ending and Coach is like "fuck that I'm gonna teach these kids"

Does he know his son is pregnant

"Going back to the city where it's safe" buddy have you been to that city

Whatever happens, Nari has the coolest looking titan. Giant four legged gremlin. I'd adopt him.

WAIT SHE CAN FEEL THE PAIN?

Me: oh i love that titan

The titan 5 seconds later:

Did Nari just fucking die what the FUCK

Oh of COURSE the pages are stuck together RIGHT THERE

Seriously tho how do you not notice an entire nougat nummy in a book

Wait so Arcadia has another heartstone? Or OH SO IT'S ALIVE. OKAY GREAT. GUNMAR COULDN'T EVEN DO THAT RIGHT HUH

Love how the Heartstone has been dormant/dead for months and apparently heard Blinky say it's alive and decided to wake up RIGHT THEN

Finally they're evacuating the city. This is like, the third apocalypse there. About time.

Okay so you can't pull Excalibur from the rock, but you CAN carve out the stone. Couldn't you just carve it off the sword as close as possible and like. Use that? Just swing the whole damn rock around?

God i can NOT get over Steve's pants. I mean I read a spoiler he was gonna be pregnant but I thought it was a prank or shitpost. I did not see this coming and I am never going to be over it. I love how he and Aja just roll with it and nobody else even cares. They've seen weirder stuff. So he's pregnant now. Whatever.

Jim's hand is bandaged and his ribs still hurt. I love that they're actually consistent with his injuries. I mean sucks for him but hell yeah for hero that doesn't always win!

Okayyy here comes the heartstone. Why not!

IS HE IN LABOR

So if you kiss an Akiridion 7 times you will have 3-5 babies in a few hours. How are they not overpopulated?? Also Aja couldn't have WARNED STEVE BEFOREHAND?

Eli is so supportive omfg

So uh where are the babies gonna come out of? I'm not into mpreg how does this usually work

OH STEVE THANKS FOR ASKING MY QUESTION

Oh good thing he happens to have 8 friends still alive. Otherwise this would've never worked. Nomura had to die otherwise there would've been 10 of them.

Why is everyone bowing to Jim? Did they rehearse this?

Stuart if you hadn't taken a bathroom break you would've thrown off the math and doomed the world. That was a poop of fate my man

Ahhh the signature quote. Where did Douxie and the Akiridions learn it? Did they rehearse this too? It's really cliché but I do like it tbh

If Strickler were dead we'd see more Barbara right?

WOOO BLINKY DRIVING

Ah Jim just used she/her for Bellroc! Finally we're learning some pronouns. I've been wondering this whole time.

MY VIRGIN EYES. WHAT IS GOING O N

How are they not dying with all this lava?

She really just yeeted Varvatos

Did Claire just tell AAARRRGGHH to jump off the titan and he did it without question

I want to say I like Stuart and want him to have more screentime, but I won't say it because I don't want him to die

Jim's poor ribs

Toby can drive yoooo

Tobyyy you're scaring meeeee

So did they really need the different stone or was the amulet just waiting for Jim to choose death over giving up

I saw the armor before but it looks VERY COOL

Also I didn't mention this before but I love that they cut Merlin's name from the incantation. Good for them.

Toby you lost your helmet noooo

For real tho I'm terrified for Toby rn. I saw a comment somewhere earlier that just said "Toby no" with no context and I am AFRAID

So do Bellroc's eyes work after all? I thought she was blinded back in Wizards in the past.

DID SHE JUST FUCKING STAB MY BOY

TOBY YOU SHOULD NOT BE THERE GET OUT THE TRUCK

Bellroc maybe screaming "i'm powerless" in front of your enemy isn't the best idea

She sploosh

DID JIM SURVIVE THAT FALL AND ALSO IS THE TACO TRUCK OKAY

How is he lifting Claire like that buddy you have bruised ribs and just got stabbed

ELI HI CAN WE SEE THE KIDS

SEVEN KIDS! AND ELI JR I LOVE IT

This show really loves to give people more than the recommended amount of babies with no warning huh

She immediately knows which one is Eli Jr 🥺 okay listen I'm not the biggest fan of comic relief sideplot surprise babies, but I have to admit they're cute. Cute couple. Throuple. Eli is in on this. He even has a Junior.

I TOLD YOU WHERE'S THE DAMN TACO TRUCK NANA WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU AND NEITHER WILL I

Oh yea he better fuckin be alive I will commit murder

HE BETTER FUCKIN BE ALIVE BITCH

FUCK YOU

THAT'S A WHOLE ASS CHILD HE ISN'T ALLOWED TO DIE IT'S ILLEGAL

JIM IS GONNA LOOK DOWN AT THE GREEN GLOWING BITCH AAARRRGGHH CONVENIENTLY THREW THERE AND SEE HIM ALIVE OR SOMETHING

YEAH USE THE SWORD TO UNDEAD HIM! THAT'S HOW YOU USE SWORDS!

Unbecoming Part 2

So is Jim just gonna Groundhog Day it until everyone is fine? There's only 13 minutes left we're gonna need a bigger movie

Also I screamed so much about everyone's death and now everyone reading this after they already saw the whole thing is gonna shame me for clowning huh

The scene where Blinky is giving his goodbye speech, there are no babies and Steve has a round belly? Did he reabsorb them?? I mean I know Jim is about to un-birth them but he hasn't started yet

JUST HOW FAR BACK IS HE PLANNING TO GO

WAIT HOLD UP EXCUSE ME WHAT

Oh they did NOT just do that. I though he was just gonna go back to like, the start of the movie maybe. Not all the way

Imagine being in your early twenties with as much trauma as this kid has and having to pretend you're 16 again

Somewhere Unkar is complaining because "oh sure NOW it's a good idea"

I know Jim is wondering where Toby is because he was there before. But before, he made an entire meatloaf AND did his homework before leaving the house, so honey maybe wait a minute

For a second I thought Toby wasn't gonna be there and Jim would return to the right time. But there he is!

Alright so they're in school now, did they take the canal and just didn't mention the amulet on screen or did they pass it as if the Unbecoming episode hadn't been that traumatizing? Jim you know what happens when you ignore it

Jim maybe you're being too obvious here lmao

Soooo. Anyway. These whole past years I've rewatched this show over and over and over again are cancelled now?

OKAY AT LEAST WE SAW NANA FOR A SPLIT SECOND THAT'S IRONIC TIMING

So we get the quote again. And Trollhunter Tobias is nice. Cool. Cool AU I mean, but I don't know. I don't knowwww. I've been way too invested in everything to just accept that it never happened?? So uh. Hm. How about this.

Strickler survived because fuck you, and Toby also survived and just has scars now. Maybe a wheelchair but he's fine, also he can use the Warhammer for super speed and make it awesome once he's used to it. Archie and Charlie get freed once they rebuild the bridge (and they were playing scrabble to pass the time). Nomura is still dead because she died on screen and I can't really deny that but she's with Draal so it's okay. Everyone is traumatized but they'll be fine. NotEnrique is still babysitting 500 babies and Steve is about to bring 7 more.

In summary, I reject Groundhog Day ending but everything else was great, as long as it actually happened. It was a good movie. But you can't just cancel years of passion. Having the prospect of a million "canon AUs" sounds great for writing but at the same time nooo you can't do that he didn't have to go back THAT far HHHHH

I liked the movie. It was a great watch and a satisfying end to a franchise, but I gotta say I do not fancy the ending of it so I will from now on be in denial. I honestly feel kind of betrayed that this show was my whole life for so long, I learned every smallest fact, and they basically deleted it from existence. I know what they were going for, I think, but no thank you I will be going with my own opinion. Still gonna rewatch it a few dozen times though ✌🏻

And that concludes my live commentary that was supposed to be a small handful of notes. Feel free to shame me for my opinions. See ya!

[genevievemd]

The Answer

A/N:  Here’s the follow up to “The Ultimatum.” Because I hurt myself too much and I need a happy ending to that fic. But this does not start happy, we work up to the nice things. No pain, no gain, right?

Also, incase you want to know, this was my inspiration for this fic. A song called “As the Crow Flies” from the show Nashville. 

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Genevieve McClure)

He feels frozen, stuck, unable to do anything but stare at his front door. An all too familiar feeling of utter despair overtaking him. His ears are ringing, her words like an incantation running through his mind over and over again. 

There’s no question for me...but clearly there is for you. 

The anguish in her voice felt like a knife to his heart, a repetitive stabbing that would slowly bring his death. And Ethan would gladly take that pain if it meant it saved her from it. He would take it a thousand times over, spend his entire life in the depths of hell if it spared Genevieve further heartbreak. And yet, he let her walk out the door, broken. He let his anger get the best of him. Let his pride stop him from pulling her back inside. Let his fears cloud his judgment. Let her believe she was nothing, when in reality she was everything. 

Is that what I am to you? Just some resident you can fuck?

A “fuck buddy” is what she called herself. So easily diminishing the role she has in his life to nothing more than a carnal fling. Like she wasn’t part of the reason why he was willing to give Louise a second chance, like she wasn’t the reason why his world looks brighter or the reason why he was willing to give up every rule he’d ever set for himself just to hear her laugh or see her smile. 

I’m in love with you and I have absolutely no idea how you feel about me.

What he feels for her is love. It’s been love for longer than he’d care to admit. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He won’t admit it, to himself or to her. And in the moment when she needed to hear it most, he gave her nothing but venom and tears. 

Ethan slowly drags himself from the entryway to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of scotch. Ready to drown himself in the amber liquid, to try and numb the pain of letting Genevieve walk out the door and possibly worse, out of his life. 

He saw the moment he snuffed out the light in her eyes. The moment he broke her heart. His hesitation ripping her apart and leaving behind a ghost. A once vibrant and exquisite soul turned grey with his refusal to fight for them in the face of her desperation. 

He feels like some sort of colossal imbecile. Letting his past dictate his future. His fear of another woman walking out on him has caused Ethan to keep Genevieve at arms length. Just close enough to fall for her, but far enough to protect himself. He had been convinced that keeping her just out of reach would save him from the inevitable. So when the moment came that she too would leave him, it would hurt less. 

But he was wrong, so incredibly wrong. Because she wasn’t the one to leave him, she was the one fighting for him. Ethan was the one that walked away. He was the one that went back on his word and left Genevieve alone in the shadows of grief. 

With one final swig of his drink, Ethan grabs his keys and heads for the door. If he doesn’t fix this now, tonight, he’ll almost certainly lose her forever. And that feels like a fate worse than death.

He’s caught by surprise when he opens the door, because she’s still here. Leaning on the wall by the elevators, body shaking with tears. He’s broken her and for a moment he fears that he’ll never be able to fully heal the damage he’s done. 

With quiet steps, he makes his way down the hall. Towards the woman he undoubtedly loves and is finally ready and willing to fight for. 

“Genevieve,” he says her name like a prayer, like she’s his only way to eternal salvation. 

She looks up, straightening herself the best she can. Her eyes red and puffy, cheeks are stained with mascara and it feels like another punch in the gut. “I know, I’m pathetic for still being here. And you probably think I’m a childish bitch for giving you an ultimatum like that.” 

“Please don’t call yourself that.” He hesitantly brings his hand to cheek, slowly wiping the tears away. “And please stop crying, I feel like a big enough ass as it is.” 

“You should.” 

“Come back inside, please? I’d rather not discuss this in full view of the neighbors.”

She gives him a gentle nod, taking his hand as he leads her back inside. He brings them to the couch and they sit farther apart then he’d like. It feels like there’s an ocean between them, wide and rough - the kind that makes it harder to find your way home. 

“Do you remember when I said I always think five steps ahead?” 

“Yeah and then you said you can’t see past tomorrow.” 

“I did say that, because with you - Genevieve, you are unpredictable and passionate. You take risks without thinking of the possible outcomes. You don’t see the world as black and white. You can sometimes be the exact opposite of me.”

“What does that even mean? Because I don’t fit in your box, I’m not worth it?”  She has yet to look up from the floor but Ethan can still see the fury returning to her eyes. The once emerald green orbs turning into a darkened forest. 

“You are worth it. You’re worth so much more than I’ve given you. You deserve commitment and someone who will fight for you, someone who loves you the way you do me.”

“And that someone’s not you? Is that what you’re saying?” 

“I didn’t say that. Stop jumping to conclusions.” 

She gives him a pointed look before retreating back into her shell. He’s done more damage than he had initially realized. Genevieve isn’t one to hide, to back down. But here she is, on his couch, looking like the shadow of her former self.  

“Just let me get my thoughts out, alright? This is new territory for me.” Ethan tests their savage waters, inching just the smallest bit closer until it feels like he can breath safely again. “I’m not a man who is led by feelings. I work by logic and rational thought. But there is nothing rational about the way I feel about you, Genevieve. And that - that’s terrifying because I can’t see the end, the conclusion. I’ve kept you at arms length to protect myself, it had absolutely nothing to do with you, it never did.” 

He dares to move another inch closer, until their knees are touching and he can see the tremor in her fingers. “I let my past determine my future. As much as I have tried to run from it, it was still there, pulling the strings and I didn’t see it until you walked out the door.” 

“So you don’t see me as just some -” 

“Resident I can fuck? No, I never have. You are so much more than just some resident and this-” He reaches for her hand, waiting until she looks up at him before he continues. “This is so much more than just a means to an end.” 

He takes a deep breath before making his final move. Ever so slowly bringing his hand to her cheek, holding her gaze until they are both fighting back tears. “Genevieve, you are compassionate and driven. The most beautiful woman I have ever met. Any man would be lucky to have you. I am lucky to have you. And I will never be able to tell you how sorry I am that I made you feel like you’re not worth the commitment you deserve. I want you, Rookie. I want you tomorrow, next week, next month.” 

“How about next year?” Her eyes are bright and hopeful, her light has returned and it’s quite possibly the greatest thing he’s ever seen. 

“I want you for however long you’re willing to have me. I don’t know everything that the future holds, but I know I want you to be apart of it.”  Everything in him is screaming to say that he loves hers, but the words die on his tongue and he hates that even now he’s too much of a coward to tell her. 

He’s about to speak again when she moves, climbing into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. “So you’re in this, completely?” 

“Yes.” Ethan rests his forehead against hers and it feels like his entire body has settled. The fear subsided and the echoes of despair floating off their shoulders in a steady wave. “I am so sorry, Genevieve.” 

She runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. She is gentle and pure and everything he doesn’t deserve. But everything he needs.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: sorry for the pain, i hope this made up for it. 

taglist: 

@queencarb, @overwhelminglyaquarius, @me-and-my-choices, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @crazy-loca-blog, @a-crepusculo, @drakewalkerfantasy, @ohchoices, @adrex04, @udishaman, @drariellevalentine, @custaroonie, @archxxronrookie, @terrm9, @maurine07, @openheartthot, @gryffindordaughterofathena, @aworldoffandoms

lmk if you want to be added to the list (or taken off)

[rusty-tetanus-nail]

Ghosting

Dean’s dead, but that won’t stop Eileen from asking him a very important question.

or

The story of how Sam and Sam’s Blurry Wife never met.

------

“Look, Eileen, I know I haven’t been the same ever since Dean- ever since he-” Sam tries to explain, frustrated with himself for not being able to say the word as Eileen drags him towards the pre-prepared table.

“This is a bad idea. I promised Dean not to bring him back and to move on with my life. This won’t do me or him any good.”

The glare Eileen shoots him in response makes Sam squirm.

“We’re not bringing him back, Sam. I have a question and I need an answer. That’s all. Now, sit.”

Sam sits down and Eileen follows after lightning the necessary candles for the séance. This will end in disaster. Sam is sure of it, but there’s no talking to Eileen. She’ll do it with or without him. All Sam can do is hope staying with her is the right decision even though everything in him tells him to run away. Eileen’s eyes soften and she takes Sam’s hands in hers squeezing them gently, telling him it’ll be alright. Sam takes a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Together they start the séance, invoking Dean’s spirit to join them at the table and answer their questions. Each participant gets to ask one and then the ghost should disappear back to heaven. If done right the ritual should be completely harmless, but Sam is still on edge.

On top of that Eileen refused to tell him what it is she needs to ask Dean so desperately. Whatever it is, it won’t change anything. Dean will still be dead and Sam will just have to mourn him again. Some part of Sam resents Eileen for forcing him into this.

They finish the incantation. The flames flicker and the air grows cold. “Dean?” Sam shakingly asks into the empty room.

“Heya Sammy!”, comes the cheerful voice from his left side. Sam lets out a high pitched sound in surprise and swirls around coming face to face with the grinning ghostly visage of his very dead older brother.

“Cute squeak.” Dean teases and Sam is left gaping, unable to form a word. Before the silence between them becomes too awkward Dean turns around and winks at the other person on the table. 

"Hey Eileen."

"Hi." She replies with a smile.

"Thanks for taking care of the sasquatch. I know he can be a handful.”

“I’ve got it handled.” Eileen chuckles as if they didn’t just summon the ghost of his dead brother. Sam watches the exchange stunned, his mind reeling. Small talk, really?

“Is our little mermaid over here still on his rabbit food?” Dean continues ignorant of Sam’s inner turmoil, signing the last two words as best he remembers.

Eileen nods gravely.

“And there’s so much gas because of it.” 

Dean pulls a disgusted face. “Right?! Let me offer my deepest condolences for the sacrifice of keeping him company despite all of that. It must’ve been torture.”

“Shut up, Jerk!” Sam blurts out and without missing a beat Dean replies with a “Bitch.” And just like that Sam’s heart feels lighter. “It’s good to see you again, Dean.” Sam says, willing his eyes to stay dry. He refuses to give Dean more material to make fun of him in front of his girlfriend. “You too, Sammy.” For a moment it looks like Dean is fighting with his emotions as well, but then he composes himself and continues. “Okay, now that Ariel found her voice again, let’s do this. Séance rules say both of you get to ask a question to the all knowing ghost. So, shoot.”

Sam waits for Eileen to start, but she signs for him to go first. That’s a problem. Sam had put all his money on vainly hoping the ritual wouldn’t work and prepared nothing for this moment. 

“So, eh, how’s heaven?” More smalltalk it is.

Dean leans back into his chair with a sigh. “Busy.”

Sam frowns. “Busy how?” 

“Busy how could we possibly think a three year old would be able to come up with a good plan to restructure heaven. Don’t get me wrong, the kid’s trying his best, but he’s definitely not thinking long term. We’ve been trying to find a way to bust into heaven’s administration office and give the kid some pointers, but no luck for now. Guess my retirement has to wait.”

Dean pauses, giving Sam a moment to gather his thoughts. This is unexpected, but if anyone can raise hell in heaven and give God a good talking to it’s his older brother.

“If you need any help from down here, just ask.” Eileen offers, leaving both Sam and Dean somewhat startled.

“Eh, I don’t know. I’d have to discuss it with the others upstairs and then you’d have to summon me again...”

“Sure. Sounds good. Let’s check up on each other every couple of months or so.”

Sam stares at his girlfriend disbelievingly and turns to Dean.

“Is that even allowed?” 

Dean shrugs, clearly at as much of a loss as Sam is. “It’s probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but if we make sure I return to heaven after every séance, I don’t think it’s against the rules? There’s no retiring and being dead dead for me until heaven’s fixed anyway and unless you have any plans to leave the life behind any time soon, I don’t see why not.” Sam shakes his head. He wasn’t planning on retiring either. At least that’s what he’s trying to tell himself now that Dean asked. He’d talked with Eileen about rebuilding the Men of Letters from the ground up and creating a nation wide hunter network, but after Dean’s death Sam had rarely thought about it. In fact he hadn’t been thinking about anything that he wanted and only considered what Dean would want him to do. He had been certain Dean wanted him to become a civilian and leave everything behind, but now Sam’s not so sure anymore.

“Good, so okay. Unhealthy coping mechanism it is. At least for now. And if it turns bad-” “-we’ll figure it out. Our lives are so weird, man.” Sam chuckles, not having the heart to feel bad about their newest arrangement.   “That’s our lives and deaths to you. Don’t be life-ist, Sam.” Dean retorts, offended.

A comfortable silence settles around them, each getting lost in their own thoughts until Dean breaks it by shuffling awkwardly and looking anywhere but Sam and Eileen. “Of course I wouldn’t need any help breaking into heaven if Cas would just stop running away from me.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Cas is back? Wait why would he run away from you? Dean, what have you done?”

Dean scoffs. “I’ve done nothing. It’s Cas who decided to just assume things.”

Sam feels a headache coming up. Not this again.

“Dean. What. Happened?”

Dean’s form flickers and he turns to Eileen ignoring Sam’s question.

“So what did you want to ask me?”

“Dean, Sam is right you should tell us what happened. If fixing things with Cas can help you…” Eileen tries to reason, but it only agitates Dean further. The table starts to shake as Dean stands up and paces the room. “There’s nothing to fix, okay? Cas said he loves me, died and now I’m being ghosted.” 

Dean lets out a frustrated growl. “How am I supposed to tell him I feel the same if refuses to talk to me?” Dean finishes and slumps down in the chair again.

Sam blinks. He had been too preoccupied with translating Dean’s words for Eileen to register what Dean actually said until Sam saw Eileen’s eyes widen in surprise. Cas is in love with Dean and Dean feels the same? Okay, that’s- that’s huge. Sam knew there always had been something more going on between the two of them, but with everything going on in their lives, he had never really dwelled on it. It does make an awful lot of sense though. Of course Dean would fall in love with the angel and then spend however many years repressing all of it.

“Dean,” Sam starts but before he can find the right words to say, Dean blanches, clearly only now realising what he just confessed to and grows defensive. “Shut up. We’re never talking about this again, capiche?”

Sam has to force himself not to get annoyed by Dean’s unwillingness to talk and settles on what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Okay, whenever you’re ready then.”

Dean ignores him and turns to Eileen putting all his protective walls up again in the process. “So, your question?”

“Right.” She says with a nervous smile and stands up straight gesturing for Dean to do the same. Dean obeys hesitantly, just as confused about the whole thing as Sam is. Sam moves to stand up as well, but gets interrupted by Eileen. “You can stay down, Sam. This is between Dean and I.”

“Eh, okay?” Sam shifts in his seat feeling like a child watching the adults conduct some serious business he knows nothing about. Silence settles in the room as Eileen mentally prepares herself to ask her question. Sam has rarely seen his girlfriend this nervous about anything. It’s worrying and Sam has to tell himself to calm down. Eileen would’ve told him if it was something potentially dangerous and he has no right to be overprotective unless she wants him to. Still, he can’t help but feel a nervous squirming in his stomach.

“Sam has been having a lot of stupid thoughts recently about your wishes for him, so I want to ask you. Officially.”, Eileen finally states solemnly.

“Dean Winchester” 

“Yeah?” Dean arches an eyebrow.

“I want to ask for your brother’s hand in marriage. Will you give us your blessing?”

A beat. Dean blinks, opening his mouth to answer. Sam tries to jump up, but stumbles over his own two feet in his panic and crashes hard over the chair onto the floor.

“Eileen!” Sam sputters out.

Dean looks expressionlessly down at the mess that is Sam Winchester and deadpans.

“Are you sure you wanna marry that?”

“Yes.” Eileen replies with a smile so full of love, Sam doesn’t know what he did to deserve it, her.

“You know you could do so much better, right?”

“No.” She shakes her head resolutely. The “there is no one better” hanging unsaid in the air.

Dean looks at the both of them and if Sam wasn’t too preoccupied with staring at the amazing woman in front of him he would’ve sworn he saw tears forming in Dean's eyes.

“In that case,” Dean walks up to Eileen and places a kiss on her forehead. “You have my blessing. There’s no one else I would rather trust with Sammy. I know you’ll make him happy.”

“Thank you.” Eileen signs and offers her hand to Sam to help him up.

“Let’s get married. And no more drunken talks about Dean not approving, got it?”

Sam takes her offered hand, but instead of getting up he pulls her down into a tight embrace, her small but strong body fitting perfectly into his own. Sam doesn’t deserve her. After Dean died he’s been nothing but an ass to her, wanting to abandon her and the life they’ve been trying to build, because of some misguided duty towards his brother. She’s the best thing that happened to him in a long time and in his grieve he was ready to throw it all away. Eileen had every right to leave him wallowing in his own misery, but she stayed and Sam doesn’t know he’ll ever be able to thank her for that. He tells her as much. “Marrying me would be a good start.” She replies and Sam nods vigorously before kissing her to seal the promise.

Dean clears his throat interrupting the moment. Sam looks up and sees the flickering form of his brother fading in the candle light.

“It’s time for me to go. You better treat her right, or I’ll come down and haunt your ass, you hear me, Sammy?”

“Got it.” Sam nods and lets his tears fall freely.

Throwing the both of them a last grin Dean signs a quick “See you later” and disappears.

Sam closes his eyes and rests his head on Eileen’s shoulder, breathing in her scent. Even if they never manage to conjure Dean again, Sam thinks, for the first time since Dean died, that maybe he will be alright after all.

[3mmafr0st]

Hard to Hate Chapter 14

Fred Weasley x Reader Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: the usual, if you’ve seen the rest of the series you’ll know!

Taglist: @intpeach, @aria-dne, @allthebestmenarefictional, @i-should-be-writing-my-own-fic, @weasleytwinswheezes, @a-disappointing-teen-author, @amorist-3, @222moonss, @carmiml0v3, @lilypad-55449, @losers-club6, @hpbitch, @ohwelliguess​, More in the Reblog. Ask me if you want to be added to the tag list!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 15,

Read the Russian translation Here

The next few weeks were tough on me, with the already intense stress of trying to remember all of the work we had been doing before the break, and the drama of what had happened. 

Draco was mad at me, upset for leaving, as well as whatever Pansy had been whispering in his ear throughout the month. He hadn’t talked to me since christmas and I hate to say it but I missed him. Even though he was quite brainwashed and could be a little shit, I loved him, he was like a little brother to me.

On top of that, Pansy and her gaggle of bitches were harrassing me whenever they could. Ever since they found my room, the fear that I struck in most of the Slytherin house had all but dwindled. At least before they moved out of my way, but now they just look down on me and I hated it. It felt worse than being feared.

Finally there was Fred. Funny, endearing, and absolutely beautiful Fred. Ever since he and the other Weasley’s returned to the school, he has been cold, distant. It was as if the last few months had never happened, that we had never become friends in the first place. George was still talking to me though. That was my only saving grace.

George and I had decided on the library to hang out that day. Melody didn’t want to study that day, instead opting to hang out with Lee by the lake on a date of sorts. 

“I honestly have no clue what’s going on with Fred, but I’m worried.” George told me, his voice nervous.

“Has he been the same with you, he won’t even speak to me.”

“He won’t talk to me about anything, but he’s definitely upset about something. This is the first time that he’s never not told me about what’s going on in his head and I don’t like it.”

“Do you think that he’s really upset with me, I don’t know what I could have done.” I was upset to say the least. I missed Fred so much and yet he wouldn’t even give me the time of day. It was agonizing. I liked him so much, maybe even loved, and yet he pushed me away.

George and I stayed and studied for a while, until the time came where we were to go to our next class, Potions, which we all had together. This was going to be difficult to say the least.

When George and I walked into the classroom, Fred was already there, sitting with Angelina Johnson. George was irritated to say the least, and since I knew Melody would be sitting with Lee, I offered him a seat next to me. I glanced at Fred, and he seemed to be even more grumpy than when we had first walked in. Snape began his lecture, his droaning and nasally voice going on and on. I should be paying attention to the work that we were supposed to be doing, on the lecture at hand. Instead, I was glancing at Fred out of the corner of my eye.

Angelina and Fred were sitting together, laughing and whispering together. I felt something, simmering in the pit of my stomach. I had no idea what the feeling was, but it made me want to tear Angelina apart. I didn’t even know why, I like Angelina! She’s nice and witty and good at quidditch, and well, basically everything I was but better. She was the perfect version of me, one with no baggage, no psychotic family members or racist family history. Who wouldn’t pick her? The burning feeling soon turned to sadness, this lump in my throat that only got worse and worse. George looked at me, and saw as tears began to well in my eyes, fighting to keep them from falling, I couldnt let the other students see me like this, it would push me even farther down the chain of respect and I couldnt have that. George raised his hand, and was called on.

“Professor, Y/N’s not feeling good, do you think I could walk her back to her common room.”

Snape thought for a moment, clearly trying to weigh his biases in his head, before allowing it. As quickly as he could, George walked me out of the classroom, trying to get me a good enough distance from the classroom before my legs gave out under me against the wall, tears falling down my face.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Tell me.”

“I don’t know, just, Angelina, the two of them, ugh, I feel so pathetic.” I laughed at myself through my tears. “I mean, who would even think I have a chance next to her.” George looked me straight in the eyes, both of us on the floor now, putting his hand on my shoulder to try and reassure me.

“Y/N, if he can’t see that you’re the absolute perfect girl for him, then he’s either blind, or just plain stupid, knowing my brother, its probably a bit of both.” His joke made me laugh, and he handed me a tissue from his pocket. 

“Thanks, I just feel so hopeless, yknow? Like, the two of you, and Mel are the only good things right now, and even that's been ruined.”

“Believe me Y/N, I get it more than you know.” His eyes looked far away, kind of wistful and longing. 

“So who’s the girl?”

“If I say, it's only going to make it worse.” I thought through all of the different clues, before coming to the most logical explanation.

“Its Angelina, isnt it?” I folded my hands in front of my chest giving him a knowing look.

“Yeah,” He said. “Now I know that you think I’m just saying that because I want her all for myself, don’t you?” I silently nodded, tears starting to prick at my eyes again.

“Well, that’s not true, I’m being serious. If he’s not going to man up, then he must be an idiot.” I didn’t believe him in the slightest, but I pretended to. “Come on, let's head to lunch early, I dont think you want the others seeing you like this when they leave.”

The two of us headed to the cafeteria, simply working on homework at our respective tables, until the rest of the students began pouring into the large hall. I saw Melody walk in, sitting down next to me.

“You feeling better?”

“Honestly, Mels, it's not that kinda sick. It’s just, Fred, yknow?” She silently nodded. She knew all of the events that had happened, or lackthereof. Although she knew about it, she wasnt as involved as George, I mean, she had her own things to do and I understood. 

George was sitting close to me, in a way, our backs to eachother, so Mel and Lee could continue their conversation from Potions. I heard heavy, angry footsteps behind me, and I took a peek as to who it was. Fred was angry, but for what reason I couldnt understand. I could hear the conversation from behind me.

“George, can we talk outside for a moment.” His voice was trying to mask his rage.

“Fine” George responded, and Fred walked the two of them outside of the cafeteria. 

I tried to stay out of it, I tried to sit there, and eat and talk to Lee and Mel as if nothing had happened, but after 5 minutes, the curiosity got the better of me. What if Fred was finally saying something as to why he was so distant, ignoring me for so long. It was a miserable experience and I just had to know why. 

I told Melody that I was going to the bathroom, and then ran off, looking for the two boys.

I walked down the hall, searching around for them, when I heard yelling, two voices that I knew so well. I looked around for a moment, before finding a door that I had never seen in this hallway before. I put my ear up to the door. The voices were muffled, but I could sort of make out what the boys were saying.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Fred, am I not allowed to have friends?”

“You and I both know that it's not just friends.”

“I’m not lying, it’s not my fault that you’ve been being an asshole and pushing us away!” The yells were immediately silenced, replaced with the sounds of skin coming in contact with skin, yelps of pain and growls of anger.  

“Alohamora” The lock quickly undid, and I pushed the door open as fast as I could. Fred had wrestled George on the ground, punching him into the floor, as George was trying as hard as possible to gain the upper hand. I quickly wracked my brain for something to separate the two without putting myself at risk before finding the perfect incantation “Relashio!”

The two looked at me, then looked at each other, trying to go at it again, but I quickly cast the Colloshoo hex, sticking both boys’ feet firmly on the ground. 

“You too are unbelievable, you know that? You are brothers for Merlin’s sake, what the hell has gotten into you?” George began to speak but I cut him off, I was too angry to listen. “Fred, you need to check yourself this instant, your behavior in the last month has not been that of a friend. Friends are supposed to be kind to each other, supposed to support each other, talk to each other at the very least! Once you’re ready to explain yourself, I'll be in the astronomy tower. George, if he tries anything like that again, you sure as hell better tell me.” 

“Can you at least let us go?” George asked, as I opened the door of the mystery room.

“It’ll wear off in an hour, you two need to talk through some things.” I shut the door behind me. I was angry, confused, and upset, all of those emotions culminating in the only way that my body could understand, once again tears began to run down my face. Luckily classes had ended early today, because if not, I would have had to go to a History of Magic looking like this mess.  The only thing that I could do was go to the astronomy tower, and hope that Fred had gotten over himself enough to come and talk to me, explain why all of a sudden he was acting like this.

[rachelbethhines]

TTS Songs Ranked Worst to Best

Someone asked me to rank my fav and least fav TTS songs a while back, but I’ve since then relistened to the soundtrack and there’s a whole bunch of songs that just forgot about, so here’s a more accurate ranking now that the songs are more fresh in my mind

32 .  Life After Happily Ever After (Reprise)

This song is infuriating, because the finale is infuriating. Listening to this song just makes me angry all over again because it reminds me just how unsatisfying the ending to TTS was. I wanted to turn it off at several points. I barely can get through it despite it being so short. It doesn’t help that the soundtrack leaves all the dialogue in there and fails to actually end the song. It just cuts off before the final note.

31. Hook Foot’s Ballad

Does this even count as a song? Why is it here on the soundtrack but not the Hurt Incantation? Did Menken really waste his talent writing a joke and did the showrunners really waste money and limited resources on this?

30. Friendship Song

Bland, boring, and pointless. It was clearly written as a marketing stunt for the radio disney charts and not as anything to do with the plot of the series. They just throw it up on screen to fill out the running time and don't even let the whole song play through. It’s pitiful.

29. Waiting in the Wings (Reprise)

I didn’t think much of the original song one way or the other, but the reprise is soooo dumb. The plot twist it introduces winds up ruining the whole show and sabotaging both Cassandra’s and Rapunzel’s characters. It’s not even a nice sounding song on it’s own. The kid’s voice is irritating (who I’m sure is doing her best, but really little kids shouldn’t be made to sing professionally as a general rule) and the melody just as bland as the first time it was played. The only reason to like this song is if you’r a mega fan of Cassandra’s or her VA, which I am not. (Note: this is not a criticism of Eden Espinosa, I just don’t happen to follow any of the VAs in this show)      

28. Through It All

I like the instrumentals in this song, and that’s about it. Everything about this song is wrong. It doesn’t fit the story, it’s a misuse of the cast and songwriters, it’s a waste of valuable screen time, the melody is dull, and the dang soundtrack had to throw in that lame dialogue about ‘greatest threat ever’ at the beginning. If you want a pump up song in your story then you got to earn it. You can’t just tell us things are bad, you got to show it. A joyful horseback ride and everyone sitting in a bar safe and sound isn’t threatening or depressing enough to warrant a cheering up session. Plus the song itself doesn’t add anything to the overall story.

27.  The Girl Who Has Everything

Sometimes I think the writers were willing trying to sabotage themselves. It’s as if they were determined to make the only two main female characters in the show unlikeable bitches in season three.   Don’t believe me? The creator Chris has said this song only exists to highlight how much easier Rapunzel has things than Cass and went onto say that Rapunzel was in the wrong during their conflict because ‘she held Cassandra back’. (Oh yeah she totally ‘held back’ the grown woman who left on her own accord, returned on her own accord, and then assaulted and tried to murder a bunch of people for no reason of her own accord.) But this song does succeed in furthering season’s three narrative that Rapunzel is a spoiled selfish brat. Shame the story fails to address this setup and never has Rapunzel learn to be a better person. Rather the narrative bends over backward to tell us how special Rapunzel is without any sense of self awareness and this song falls into that same trap; making it both irritating and pointless.

26. Listen Up

Yeah, I talked about this on my salt marathon, but I just don't like this song very much. The melody is fine but the lyrics are a real miss in my mind. It doesn’t help matters that the song is indeed pointless in the grand scheme of things.

25.  Livin’ the Dream

This is much on the same level as Listen Up as it features the same problems. It doesn’t add to the narrative and the lyrics kind of let it down. I placed it higher just because I like the melody a little more.

24.  More of Me

This song is a lot like the Friendship Song in that it was created to be an end credit song for the pop charts and you’d be forgiven in forgetting it even exists. However, it at least got to actually play all the way through. I think this song was a real missed opportunity. I honestly believe that it should have been the opening theme song of the show instead of Wind in My Hair. It’s more built to serve such a purpose and it’s a waste of resources not to actually use it. Alternatively, I would have accepted it being reworked into the actual series as a character song. Especially since we’re missing a song in season three due to budget cuts.  

23. Wind In My Hair

Speaking of theme songs, I think I would like Wind In My Hair a lot better if i didn’t have to listen to it every episode. On its own it actually has a lot of things going for it; a nice melody, interesting instrumentals, good singing, ect. Unfortunately it’s just over exposed, and none of those elements lend themselves naturally to an intro song for a tv show. In fact the theme song feels really out of place and is edited oddly to fit the shorter intro. 

22. Wind In My Hair (Reprise)  

Honestly the theme song is mostly comprised of this reprise, but it has the opening instrumentals from the OG song frankensteined onto it. This means that the version that plays before every episode is on fullblast all the time to keep the energy up, but that’s not how the song is suppose to go.  The actual reprise that plays in the pilot builds to a crescendo, starting soft and melancolony and getting louder and more hopeful and determined. It sounds a lot better in full because of that.  It’s still too overexposed though. Both these songs would probably be higher on the list of not for the theme song version. 

21. With You by My Side

This song is fine. It’s nothing special, but it’s not bad either. What knocks it down the list is the fact that Lance isn’t in it, despite Lance being right there.  Like don't bother hiring a famous Broadway singer if you’re not going to have him sing!  But that speaks more to the poor writing of season two than anything else. This song also doesn’t really add anything to the narrative as, contrary to what the writers intended, it doesn’t actually enhance the emotional impact of Cassandra’s betrayal later in the episode. The song itself is just tacked on and doesn’t take the opportunity to lay down any foreshadowing for that plot point.  

20. Next Stop Anywhere

Another perfectly serviable song. It’s not bad but nothing outstanding. It gets the job done. It’s also really ho-hum and the soundtrack keeps all the unneeded dialogue, which is a pet peeve of mine. 

19. Waiting In the Wings

Despite it’s hype, I never thought much of Waiting in the Wings. It’s got nice instrumentals and Eden Espinosa gives it her all in the singing department. The problem is it’s too generic. It’s a bare bones basic ass ‘I want song’. Cassandra's movations are weak and unsupported by the narrative, the melody is boring, and it honestly doesn’t add anything to her story. I mean it should, it’s her character solo, but because she’s written so poorly the song just winds up undermining the character in the end.   All I’m saying is that, this is not the song from season two that I would have nominated for the Emmys. But it’s still Alan Menken, it’s still nicely performed, and given the rest of the competition for that year, it did deserve to win. 

18. If I Could Take That Moment Back 

This song is also pretty generic, but it’s less boring than I See the Light, (yeah, I said it, I See the Light is boring) so that’s a win in my book. Ergo this holds the title of the only New Dream duet that I enjoy. But there’s better stuff on this list. 

17. Next Stop Anywhere (Reprise)

Well no, I take that back. The reprise of Next Stop Anywhere is also technically a New Dream duet. It’s still not anything amazing, but it works for what it is. Plus, Adria’s opening dialogue in the soundtrack version doesn’t bother me quite as much as some of the other dialogues choices that were kept in.  

16. Stronger Than Ever Before 

I really enjoyed this song in the moment. It’s catchy and fun, and it finally has Lance doing something rather than ignoring his existence. However it is borderline unnecessary in terms of story placement, and I’m slightly mad at it now that I know that we could have gotten a Rapunzel and Varian duet but it was scrapped for this instead.   

15. Crossing the Line

Keeping with the theme of ‘songs I have conflicting emotions about’, we have Crossing the Line.  This song is confused. It starts and stops, the melody isn’t clear, the orchestration is playing tug of war with the singers for dominance, and it’s basically Alan Menken and the show’s creators ripping off Frozen. (I guess he’s kicking himself for leaving that particular project?)   But it’s interesting. I never heard anything quite like it. It’s memorable even if it doesn’t fully work. It’s got these interesting bits and pieces to it that just never quite comes together as a whole. Some of the lyrics are some of the best Glenn Slater has ever wrote and is far better than the story actually surrounding the song. Yet there’s other lines that are total cringe. Sometimes the song is bold and catchy and gets you all hyped up, and then other times its limp and staggering and feels so awkward to listen to.  Yet it’s not boring or generic and so I have to place it higher than the rest of the songs that’s come before. (Also, there’s some amazing orchestral covers out there that really pulls together the various parts really well, just fyi) 

14.  Nothing Left to Lose

I really don't like this song.  I’ve been one of its biggest critics ever since it was leaked by the marketing team earlier this year.  And yet... I can’t in good conscience place any lower on this list.  All of the problems I have with it are the exact same problems I have with Crossing the Line. It’s confused, the various pieces don't line up, the instrumentals are competing with the vocals, the song’s progression is weird with it’s constant key changes, some of the lyrics are good while others are absolute shit, ect and so forth.  It also actively works against the story it's trying to tell. The song wants you to sympathize with Cassandra, but her lines are as shallow as a puddle and makes her look like a sociopath. Especially when she’s physically attacking Varian through out for no reason. Also neither character learns anything from the exchange and it fails to impact the story.  By all accounts this is a bad song.  But I’m Varian trash.  There I said it. You happy?  Varian’s parts in the songs are fine, good even, and the song is anything but bland. I would rather listen to a mess then be bored to tears by a competent yet standard four chord pop song. 

13. I’d Give Anything

This song is nice to listen to. Story wise it absolutely sucks and shouldn’t have been in the finale at all. But it sounds pleasant.  This is one of those songs that could pop up randomly on the radio and I would just think it it a nice sad break up song. I can’t say that about some of the other misplaced songs in the show. This one however, you can very much, absolutely divorce this song from the narrative and it would be fine.  Now that’s not good writing, and it’s very much a waste of limited resources, but I’m rating the music here first and story second. 

12. Buddy Song

The Buddy Song also absolutely did not need to exist but it also sounds nice. Plus, it makes use of Lance so I’m a little more lenient towards it.   I can’t however place it higher since it really is just Alan Menken ripping off Alan Menken. Like, I would not be at all surprised to find out that this was originally a deleted song for Aladdin or something.  

11. Bigger Than That

What can I say, Lance just gets good songs. When the show bothers to give them to him.  Unfortunately, it’s not the best placed. It kind of interrupts the more important drama of Be Very Afraid, and probably should have been saved for a later episode. Especially since it hinges on a plot point that is contradictory to Lance’s character.    We should have gotten a Varian and Rapunzel duet here and given Lance his own episode in the second half of season three. This song could have easily been refitted into being a bonding moment for him and the girls. That would also have filled out the season’s original songs to the usual eight instead of only  seven.

10. Life After Happily Ever After

Now we’re getting to the good stuff. The top ten. The best of the best.  This song makes the cut for three reasons.  1. It lyrically and musically interesting 2. It does the job of furthering the story and the characters  and 3. Eugene’s part is so damn good.  Like this song could have easily fell down into the ranks of ‘fine but generic’ if it wasn’t for the bridge with Eugene. That puts it over the top and to my mind makes it better than anything from the OG film. (well almost anything, Mother Knows Best is still great)    This is the barometer by which I measure all of the music in the series. Is it better or worse than Life After Happily Ever After? Because this is the level that I equate good musicals with.  What keeps on the tenth spot and not higher is the dialogue that still left on the soundtrack and the lack of a Cassandra introduction. That and also the rest of the songs are just flat better. 

9. Hurt Incantation 

Hurt, Decay, Reverse, whatever you want to call it, this was such a cool fucking concept. One that was utterly wasted by the show.  I place this so high because it just sounds awesome! It looks good too, and it offered up so many possibilities from a story perspective.  What lets it down is the lack of follow up for it and it’s too short. There’s needed to be another verse. It also should have been on the actual soundtrack instead of  Hook Foot’s Ballad.  (The Heal Incantation also was sung in What the Hair, but I’m not counting it since it was written for the film) 

8.  The Girl Who Has Everything (Reprise)

I hate the initial song and the set up that it took to get here, but I love this reprise. It’s perfect. This is what the story needed more of. Rapunzel taking her life into her hands, and her proposing to Eugene would have been the perfect capstone for her arc.  In fact I’m angry we didn’t actually get that. There’s absolutely no reason why Rapunzel couldn’t have done so and we could have had her and Eugene engaged during the second half of season three. How much better would have it been if Cassandra threatened their wedding plans and that’s why they couldn’t go through with it until after the series ended? So much more tension that way. 

7. I Got This

This is a really good song that actually futhers the characters and the narrative. Moreover it’s refreshing to see the heroine not be perfect and to fail sometimes due to her own inadequacies. It’s just a shame that the series didn’t follow through with this set up, but I appreciate the attempt all the same.   

6.  Set Yourself Free

This is the only song in the series that’s an actual satisfying pay off for anything. Music wise it’s nothing too special, but in terms of context it just works. We were sorely deprived of such resolutions and songs with actual meaning in the show. 

5. View From Up Here

This song is too good for the episode it actually appears in. We needed something like this back in season one to introduce Cassandra with. It also sadly doesn’t fit with the wider narrative after season three. However I shall still appreciate it as a ‘what might have been’ type song. 

4.  Let Me Make You Proud 

The only reason why this song isn’t higher is just overexposure and I’ve no one to blame but myself for that. I’ve listened to this song way too many times. As such it tends to alternate between this, View from Up Here, and the next song on the list. But make no mistake it is glorious. Fantastic instrumentals, set up, and of course amazing vocals. 

3.  Everything I Ever Thought I Knew

Yes, I know this plot point didn’t lead anywhere, but it works for this song at least. Also Eugene’s VA is a really underrated singer. He sounds nice and he emotes really well.  Though I’ll be honest, this jumped up to third place because it was fresh in my mind after listening to the soundtrack before making this list. I’ve always liked the song and I do rate it highly, but it can change places with Let Me Make You Proud and View from Up Here at anytime depending on my mood. 

2.  Let Me Make You Proud (Reprise)

This song is heartbreaking!  Story wise it probably shouldn’t exist because it gives away the twist too soon, but who cares, it’s awesome!  Varian’s arc is the most compelling in the show and the only thing that saves TTS from falling into mediocre obscurity; and it’s songs like this that help make the arc stand out even more than it already does. 

1. Ready As I’ll Ever Be

I said it before and I’ll say it again; Ready As I’ll Ever Be is the greatest thing Alan Menken has ever written in his entire career!  If you know anything about the multiple award winning songwriter then you know that is no faint praise and I do not dole it out lightly.  This song is the reason why this show even has a fanbase. People are still getting into the series because of this song. And no matter how many times you listen to it just rocks!   It’s complex, layered, moody, and with a fantastic beat and energy. The performances are wonderful and the instrumentation glorious. It belongs in the hollows of Disney’s greatest hits and not regulated to a spin-off tv show that failed to make its money back.  I weep for the lost potential that this song and this show had. It hurts to know that so many people will never see this flash of brilliance that has come out of the House of Mouse, will never know the wonderfulness that is Varian.  Ah, ‘c'est la vie’, I suppose. Tangled the Series got what it deserved, but it's crew did not. While I can not in all honesty recommend the series in full; I do sincerely urge any Disney fan to check out the songs at the very least. Especially this one.  And that’s it. There’s my official ranking of all the songs, and I hope those of you read my Tangled reviews appreciate the hours it took into making this. 

[scenecipriano]

Set The Spirit Free

THIS- is based on @teataearts post that they made of my post! It’s postception XD 

Tw: decapitation mentioned, depression mentioned, panic attacks, angst, and injuries, mentions of selfharm

The song that was used to help with the added lyrics can be found here it’s a cover by Alice Flare! 

---------------

Roman stumbles when he pops back into his room, tears blurring his green eyes as he drops down to his knees, a choked sob getting trapped in his throat. Why was he never enough? He tried to be perfect, to be the perfect hero for Thomas and his family, ‘But you’re not the hero are you?’ Roman covers his mouth as another sob tries to force its way through. 

The voice of his insecurities was right, he wasn’t the hero anymore, he hasn’t changed, he was still the jerk that Logan claimed him to be, and the annoying prince that Virgil always said he was. Now that Patton was agreeing with… with Janus, who knows what the fatherly side has thought of him all these years and just lied straight to his face. 

It wasn’t fair, he was the one that suggested Thomas talk to Lee and Mary Lee, he was the one to suggest they go to the callback, but he didn’t want Thomas to be a bad person! He wanted Thomas to be good, he wanted to make Patton proud of him! Not… Not scared or upset like when he… 

‘Roman you need to stop! You’re hurting everyone!’ 

He closes his eyes and allows tears to slip down his face.

“T-That’s all I ever do is hurt, people… T-That’s why fate’s cruel hand gave me the ability to use the hurt incantation… i-it’s not fair,” Roman cries as he grips his hair tight.

Roman tenses when a knock sounds at his door. 

“Kiddo? Can you let me in, we need to talk…” 

Panic ceases Roman’s heart as he pushes himself up from the floor, he stumbles slightly as he rushes over to the door that hid the imagination. He must have accidentally knocked something down because Patton yelped out and asked if he was okay. 

Roman throws the door to the imagination open and runs inside, he slams the door shut and runs as fast he can, ignoring the gloomy scenery that took over his usual sunny and blue skies. 

‘Oh, Roman, thank god you don’t have a mustache! Otherwise, between you and Remus I wouldn’t know who the evil twin is!’ 

Roman chokes back a sob as he dashes across the slowly dying field, he runs into his palace and into the throne room. 

He collapses onto his throne and buries his face into his hands, allowing his sobbing and tears to spill freely. 

‘Okay, now you’re just being a jerk.’ 

‘That lyric wasn’t… good.’ 

‘Pump the brakes Princey!’ 

‘Roman, I’m surprised at you!’ 

‘Roman’ll make you sick~!’ 

‘Thank god you don’t have a mustache, otherwise between you and Remus I wouldn’t know who the evil twin is!’ 

The voices of his friends, brother, and that snake kept repeating over and over again, causing Roman to grip his hair tighter and tighter. 

“C-Cut the strings of hope… C-Catastrophic deeds… burn all means to cope...and set the spirit free…” 

The aura in the throne room darkens, the single strip that Roman kept dyed bled into a dark shade of black, his green eyes turning into black voids as his tears continuously fall like a slow flowing stream. 

“Wither and decay… end this destiny, break these earthly chains… and set the spirit free…” 

The white of Roman’s uniform bleeds to ebony, his sash taking on a more crimson color as a crown made of obsidian forms over his head.

“The spirit free…” 

Remus was worried, ha! Him worried, what a shocker right? But he was worried, Janus filled him in on what happened after the latest episode. Everyone tried their best to get Roman to come out of his room but nothing was working. As the days past, Remus noticed how everyone was losing the normal glow. Virgil seemingly more anxious than normal, falling into panic attacks and snapping at everyone before immediately breaking down and apologizing. 

Logan was more snippy than usual, nearly biting anyone’s heads off that even dared to look in his direction for too long. The logical side chose to keep to himself in his room, which Remus was sure wasn’t any better, he saw the red marks on Logan’s forearms. 

Patton and Thomas were the ones that worried him the most, the two of them falling into a depression. Patton refuses to eat, only wanting to wear his cat hoodie and some pajama pants. While Thomas refuses to leave his bed and do work, no matter what Remus tried, Thomas wouldn’t budge, no matter how many times he’s shown up with a severed head. 

Janus was surprisingly handling things well, he may have the occasional outburst, but that wasn’t really uncommon with the snake. 

“Okay, this shit is getting ridiculous. Jan, you’re the self-care guru, can’t you just, go up there and kick Thomas in the ass and make him get up?” 

Janus sighs heavily as he turns the page in his book. 

“I could, but what’s the point? With Patton down and Virgil in high gear, nothing is going to get Thomas up and going. If Roman would just get over his temper tantrum then this wouldn’t be happening.” 

Remus frowns and snatches the snake’s book from him, he holds it up above his head when Janus tries to snatch it back. 

“You and I are going up there, I’m going to try something, well I’m going to try what I should have done a long time ago but I couldn’t resist showing Thomathy my head collection.” 

“Oh? And what’s that?” Janus asks as he tries to jump up to get his book. 

“I’m going to heal him.” 

Thomas groans when he hears two of his sides appear next to the bed, he tightens the covers around him. 

“At, nope not this time, bitch.” 

Thomas goes to snap at Remus when the intrusive side jerks the blankets away but stops when the duke places his hand on Thomas’s head. 

“Flower gleam and glow, let your powers shine, make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine.” 

Thomas’s eyes widen when he sees the glowing aura form around Remus, the white tuff of hair and his eyes glowing as well. 

“Heal what has been hurt, change the fates’ design, save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine… what once was mine~.” 

Thomas blinks when a warm feeling floods through his chest, for the first time in over a week he felt like his old self. He stares up at Remus with his jaw slacked. 

“How did you-?” 

“Doesn’t matter, Dee-Dee, go check on the others, I need to have a talk with Thomas.” 

Thomas looks over to Janus, he notices how the sides scales looked more lively than they were the last time he saw him. He waves to him as the snake-like side sinks out, earning a small smile from him in return. 

“You and I need to make a trip, I think I know what’s wrong with my brother, but I need you to get to him.” 

Thomas looks at Remus and furrows his brows. 

“Why would you want to help him? Don’t you two hate each other?” 

“No, we just… disagree on things are you going to help me or not?” 

Thomas sits up and gives Remus a determined look as he holds his hand out for the duke to take. 

“Let’s go be our prince’s hero.” 

Remus felt himself go rigid when he and Thomas appeared into the imagination, the sky was dark, all of the greenery was dried out and brown, deader than Anne Boleyn after she was decapitated. He turns to Thomas when he hears the man cough and gasps for air.   

“Wither and decay, end this destiny… break these earthly chains and set the spirit free, the spirit free~.” 

Roman’s voice echoed across the lands. 

“I-Is that from T-Tangled?” Thomas wheezes. 

“Yes, once I save Roman we’ll explain I promise but you need to go. Update the others, we’ll be back soon.” 

Remus waves his hand, sending Thomas out of the imagination. 

‘Please be okay, Ro…’ 

Roman was cold, he cold and numb, but a small part of him inside his heart begged to be free. His voice echoed as he sang the incantation, his tears felt as if they had frozen onto his cheeks as a pond would freeze in the dead of winter. 

“Ro-!” 

Someone was here, he could hear them, his singing was too loud. 

‘Evil twin.’ 

A pitched yelp and a light touch to his left arm caused Roman to come back to reality, he watches as his brother slides across the throne room floor. His right arm clutched tightly to his chest. 

“R-Remus… R-Remus!” Roman cries, the black fading from his eyes. His costume bleaching back into his normal white, the obsidian crown disappearing from the top of his head as he rushes over to his brother. 

He gasps when he sees Remus’ hand charred black and bent at an angle. Fresh tears form in Roman’s eyes as he drops down next to Remus. 

“I-I’m s-sorry, I didn’t… I-I didn’t mean t-to, I just… I-I wanted the voices to s-sto-.” 

“S-Shh, it’s okay… It’s okay I’ll heal…” 

Roman tenses up when his brother pulls him into a one-armed hug. He buries his face against the rough fabric of Remus’ shirt. 

“I-I’m s-sorry…” 

“I’m just glad you’re back…” 

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Pact - Part 7

Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Gothic AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

A/N: This idea was a long time coming. My first true AU, so please be gentle. This will be a slow burn, multi-chapter fic. Incantation used in this chapter was taken from SuperWiki.

WC: 6.8K

Series Summary: Lord Samuel Winchester has lost the love of his life due to the actions of the Demon King, Crowley. As he plots secret revenge, his father, the King of Lawrence, decrees that Sam will wed Crowley’s daughter in order to unite the two families to protect the sacred ground the Winchester’s Kingdom is built upon.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Other Characters: John Winchester, Crowley, Rowena, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore (deceased), Pamela Barnes

Series Warnings: 18+ only, mild language, violence, implied smut

“I think Dad and Crowley want to sacrifice your child to Eve.”

The bedroom chamber was so quiet, you could hear the distant sounds of children playing in the gardens rising up through the open window. Despite the gleeful sounds that played softly in the background, you felt as if the wind had been knocked free from your chest and felt your stomach drop. 

Looking between the Lords Winchester, you could see that Sam and Dean were also struggling with what had been revealed. You wanted to speak, had every intention to do so, but there was no air to propel any words forth.

“I--I don’t even know how to comprehend that, Dean. Why--What would make you think that our father could even entertain an idea like that?”

“Something I overheard… Look, Sammy, I don’t know what the Hell dad and Crowley are planning. I just know what I heard.”

“Which was?” Sam asked with exasperation.

“The only reason Crowley aided us with reinforcements, was because he’d made a deal.”

“Crowley, the King of Hell, make a deal? C’mon man, that’s just a Monday morning for him. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because, part of this deal was Crowley promised Eve a new life. One created from the blood of her enemies.”

“Wh--Why? Why would she want that? She’s got all of Purgatory at her side. She has the ability to create whatever kind of life she wants!”

“Not a human life,” Dean shrugged in response. “But, I did over hear this from one of his demons, so take it with a grain of salt, wouldya?”

“Our father is a lot of things, but a monster that could sacrifice his own flesh and blood?”

“Sounds more like my father, than yours,” you replied softly. “Crowley would sacrifice anyone if it meant cementing his crown.”

“Even you?” Dean asked.

“Yes, even me.”

“Well, I guess I know who I’ll be nominating as father of the year,” Dean quipped and let his half smile fade as he made eye contact with Sam.

Sam pursed his lips tightly and sighed. “We need answers. Speculating what our father’s are up to won’t help anyone.”

“And how do you plan on getting that assurance, husband? Crowley won’t show here unless summoned. The King, if this is what is planned, won’t tell you. So, how--”

Sam grabbed your shoulder and gently turned you to face him. You did your best to stay stoic, but couldn’t help but so cracks beneath the surface. “I promise you, I will find out one way or the other. That’s the pact, right? We work together to uncover their plan--”

“Yeah, and don’t go making any babies until then,” Dean mumbled, and smiley shyly when you and Sam both looked at him with a quiet disdain. 

Yet, Dean’s words fell heavy on both you and Sam. Knowing how you had spent the night before, a quick glance between you two left a cold, numbing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Sam could almost read your mind, and gave your shoulder a loving squeeze. 

“We will get answers. But Dean’s right. Until we do, we will keep up appearances, but take no chances in creating a child.”

All you could do was nod slightly in response and present your husband with a demure smile. 

Dean cleared his throat to break up the moment. “I hate to pull your husband away, (Y/N) but I think he and I have some things to figure out before I have to leave for the Front again.”

“Wait,” Sam released you and quickly turned towards his brother. “What do you mean, go back? I thought you were home!”

“Just for a few days little brother. With Crowley’s reinforcements arriving, and the damage the rift storm caused, I can’t leave the Winchester Guard unprotected. Besides, we are actually making some headway having those black-eyed bitches with us. I hate to say it, but they are helping. I just don’t trust they won’t try and possess a few of our men if given the chance.”

Sam nodded in reluctant agreement. “I get it. It’s just, I could use you here.”

“I know, man. I do. But…”

“The greater good,” Sam replied with a half-defeated smile. “I guess we should go then, see what we can learn together while you’re here.”

“And don’t forget, plan a celebration…” Dean’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on you, but you were unsure of what he meant. 

“A celebration?”

“Yes, my father thinks we should have a large celebration, open the gates to the castle and allow the people of Lawrence to rejoice with us.”

“What’s the occasion?” you asked, not liking the sound of the King’s latest decree.

Sam signed and ran a hand through his long hair. “Our marriage and Dean’s return.”

“I see…” You hated the idea, but thought there was some way to use this to your collective advantage. “Well, one way or another we will make it work for us.”

Sam’s smile grew wide across his face, creating the cavernous dimples you had quickly come to love. “Yes, that’s exactly what we will do.”

Despite Dean’s presence, Sam pulled you into a loving embrace and held you tightly. Though your head was happily buried in Sam’s broad chest, you could feel Dean’s eyes watching you again. You understood his hesitancy in you, and your motives, but you wouldn’t let it ruin what you were building with your husband.

When you pulled back from the embrace, Sam turned back towards Dean and slapped his shoulder with one, large hand. “So, what do you say we go do a little digging.” 

Dean didn’t respond, but instead watched his little brother move towards the door to leave. He didn’t budge from his spot, or take his eyes off Sam. 

“Hey, you uh, you forgetting something?” Dean asked, arms crossed over his chest and watching Sam curiously.

Sam frowned in response and shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

“Well then you must be a witch yourself little brother. Because last I remember, you had yourself a shattered hip that barely let you learn to walk again. Now you’re basically sprinting out the door with no cane, no limp…”

Sam’s face fell instantly and lost color. then passed a nervous glance to you. Able to read his expression, you shrugged in return. ‘Should we tell him?’ ‘I guess… ‘

Sam sighed and snorted an anxious laugh. “Well, I’m not a witch but I am married to one. We got stuck in the rift storm, out in the Elven Woods. Found an old cottage and (Y/N) here worked her magic. Literally. I was able to walk with no pain, no limp… for days.”

“Days? That rift storm was weeks ago. You still look fine to me.”

“Last night, I applied a heavier dose of the ointment. Let it heat by the fire,” you paused and blushed at the memory of what happened after, “and this morning, he’s better than ever.”

“You let her work her hoodoo on you? Sammy, what were you thinking? She’s--”

“Listen here, Dean Winchester,” you interrupted, unable to hold your tongue any longer, “I understand your suspicions of me, I’ve lived with that stigma all my life just because of who my father is. But I grew up to have a mind of my own, and yes, I was taught witchcraft by the most powerful witch in all of Lawrence and beyond. Rowena MacLeod may have shown me the way of magic, but I learned a few things on my own, as well. Including love, compassion, and commitment to those in my favor. Your brother and I had a rocky start, yet we have come to a mutual understanding. If you can’t respect HIS choices in that, then I beg you to reconsider. Your brother is a wonderful man, and has been just as disrespected by his father, as I have been by mine. And if you truly believe, even for a moment, that I am capable of hurting him, well then, frankly, you’re a horses’ ass.”

Your impassioned speech fell heavy in the room for a few moments. From the corner of your eye, you could see Sam smirking. Dean’s expression, however, was more shocked than anything.

“Well alright then,” Dean finally said, “I suppose I could be wrong. Hell, hope I am.” 

You straightened your shoulders and stood as tall as you could. “You are wrong, Lord Winchester. Just you wait, you’ll see who’s side I’m on.”

Dean nodded and looked towards Sam. “Come on Sammy, let’s go see what Dad has really got cooking up with the King of Hell.”

Shortly after they left the room, you sat down on the plush bed and sank back into the pillows. A flurry of thoughts and concerns raced through your mind, but as you tucked your arm over your head, hand beneath the pillow, you felt something hard and cool to the touch. Sitting up, you removed the pillows to see the vial that had once been around your neck to be stuck between the large, carved wooden headboard and the down mattress of Sam’s bed. 

A sigh of relief released from your lips; it was so audible you were afraid someone heard you out in the corridor. You clutched the vial to your chest and began to laugh softly. Slipping the cord back around your neck, you let the small bottle fall to your chest, then tucked it beneath your dress. Feeling its weight against your skin gave you more than just relief, it gave you an idea. Unsure if the pieces would fit together, you knew you had to find out. The one person who could answer your questions, was the same woman who taught you how to concoct potions in the first place. 

Rowena.

By the time the sun had hit the midday sky, you were reaching the entrance to the Elven Woods, and clutched at the old leather satchel slung over one shoulder. It was the first time you had ventured back to them since Sam had brought you there the day after the ceremony. ‘The day he tried to kill me,’ you thought. Shaking off the feeling of Sam’s blade against you, you took the first step through the archway to the woods.

As you made your way down the bumpy terrain, you came out to the majestic oak that grew at the fork in the path. It was just as radiant as you had remembered. The sunlight streamed down through its twisted maze of leaves and branches. You could feel its energy calling to you as it did to many magical folk in Lawrence. Somehow the magic you infused into the cream was able to break through the castle’s powerful warding. But the ritual you wanted to perform now, needed this extra boost of power. 

Pressing your hand against the rough bark of the trunk, you closed your eyes and felt the power that lived within its core. Focusing your mind towards that force, you began to feel it seep into your veins. When you finally opened your eyes, you felt a surge of magic like you’d never experienced and watched as the glow around your hand began to fade. It left you even more convinced that you were doing the right thing. Stepping back from the tree, you bowed your head in thanks, and continued down the right path that would lead you to the small cottage you’d found refuge in before. 

It didn’t take long before you could see the familiar shape of the roof peeking out through the trees. You took a last glance up at the sky, unsure if another rift storm would be lurking. Blue skies still reigned above, and you walked the last hundred steps towards the old place. 

You pushed in the door, and was immediately hit by the smell of the dried herbs lining the walls. It was warm and welcoming, and you began to find a love for the vibration you felt standing within its structure. Carefully lifting off the satchel you carried on your shoulder, you laid it down on the long wooden table and unpacked its contents.

Other than the noise you made setting up an altar, there wasn’t a sound to be heard.  Summoning another witch wasn’t exactly difficult, though it did require a certain amount of concentration. Grateful for the quiet, you lit the candles and began to break up the herbs and bones as the Grimoire had instructed. Holding your hands over the cauldron, you sprinkled in the last ingredient, conjured Rowena’s face in your mind and repeated the incantation. 

Upon finishing, a burst of purple light and blue smoke erupted from the old ceramic bowl, engulfing you in its haze. Waving your hands to help it clear, you began to smile the moment you saw a hint of Rowena’s bright red hair emerging through a small clearing in the fog.

“This best be important, dear. I was right in the middle of convincing the Prince of Wales that I was his long lost sister. That man’s money could’ve set me up for life…”

“I’m sorry, grandm--Rowena… but it is important.”

“You know, dearie, there are messengers to deliver important news. Did your father not teach you anythin’?”

Her words conveyed annoyance, but her expression gave you pause to think that maybe she wasn’t as bothered as she wanted you to believe. Rowena’s half smile, pulled into true grin as she surveyed your altar in front of her.

“Impressive. Seems as though you had a good teacher,” she replied smugly, and slowly made her way round to the side you stood on. “So tell me, why did you need to call on grannie?”

“I heard some things. Some details of the pact my father made with the King.”

“Oh?” Rowena’s curiosity was transparent, and as much as you respected her, you knew deep down you couldn’t trust her. “Do tell.”

“I… can’t. I have no reassurance that it’s true, though I do plan on protecting myself if it turns out to be a fact. What I need from you, is to tell me more about this…” you paused and withdrew the vial from beneath your dress.

Rowena took a small step forward and examined the bottle. A devilish smile unfurled on her petite face as her eyes came up to meet yours.

“Well, now, what do we have here?” Her eyes lit up as her painted fingertips carefully toyed with the glass. 

“It’s a love potion. I made it before we came here, in case I needed to protect myself from Lord Winchester.”

“Smart girl, though, poison and hex bags work better in my experience,” she shrugged and let it fall gently back to your chest. “Are you and Samuel getting along? Has he tried to hurt you?”

“Yes. we are getting along now, but he did try to kill me.”

“Yet, here you stand,” her smile grew even wider, “Clever girl… did you have to use that on him?”

“No, and don’t think I will. But…” you trailed off and turned back towards the altar. Pressing your hands against the wood of the table for support, you leaned forward and found the courage to tell her what you wanted to do with it. 

“But…?”

“If what I learned is true, I may need to use it on the King.”

“The King? Oh, please tell me you don’t mean your father…”

“Rowena, please. Of course not. I mean King Winchester. I am afraid the only sure fired way I can divert is his plans--”

“Is to make him fall in love with you?”

You nodded softly, and released your grip on the table. “I don’t want to. The idea of it gives me a sick feeling. But, if it's my last option, then I will do what I must.”

“Fair enough, dear. But where do I fit into this grand scheme of yours?”

“I took the spell from one of your books. I need to know the effects, if there is a curse attached, if I can break it if needed. I only mean to distract the King, not to become his bride next.”

“I don’t know, the King is at least easy on the eyes…”

“Please, don’t even suggest it. I was completely against this whole arrangement, but I have found a kindred spirit in Samuel. I’m sure part of my father’s intention was to have me tortured by this marriage, but really, he only did me a favor.”

“Don’t say that too loudly, you know that son of mine is always lurking. Knowing he did you a service, he may just snatch it right back from you.”

“I know, and it's why I hope I can trust you with this.” You paused and took Rowena’s hand, hoping that you could appeal to the side of her that felt fondness for you, and hatred for her son. “He’s your son… my father. We should be rooting for him, but at what cost? Look at what he’s already taken from both of us. You’re at his beck and call, and he had me marry his enemies, knowing they wanted me to burn solely for having the same blood run through my veins.”

Rowena seemed to be studying you, but you ignored her scrutiny. She stood quiet, contemplating the circumstances, then finally nodded. “You’re not wrong, my dear. My son is, to say the least, a vengeful little man. He’ll take any chance he can to destroy your happiness.”

“I know, that’s why I need to be proactive. So can you… will you, keep this to yourself?”

“Can I keep your motivations quiet? Yes, of course. But I cannot and will not help you with whatever plan you are conjuring. At some point, you have to be your own witch, dear. Can’t rely on dear old Rowena for everything.”

You thought you heard her wrong, but when she took a step back and made a demur shrug with her expression, you knew you hadn’t.

“I’m your granddaughter, and you refuse to help me? We’re family!”

“Oh, sweet child, what does family really mean? Because we share blood? One thing I’ve learned in this big, rotten world is that it means absolutely nothin’. Family is what you make it. Our bloodlines are poisonous, why do you think I sold Fergus off as a child? He was a rotten little twat. I needed to escape, or be put to death.”

Shaking your head slowly in disbelief, you turned back towards the altar. You could feel anger begin to boil under the surface, and for the first time in your life, felt the same hatred towards Rowena that you carried for your father. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But, I have to look out for myself. Think maybe it’s best if I disappear for a while. Go explore the world a bit. I do wish you luck,” she paused and gave a little smirk when she looked over your altar again. “Seems as if you know what you’re doin’.”

Before you could respond, Rowena mumbled a few words, and was gone. All that she left behind was a swirling mist of violet smoke, and her words ringing in your ears. 

‘...what does family really mean? Because we share blood? One thing I’ve learned in this big, rotten world is that it means absolutely nothing. Family is what you make it.’

“That’s probably the best thing you’ve ever taught me, grandmother.”

You emerged from the Elven Woods just as the sun was reaching late afternoon. Despite its brilliance, you were left with a chill that ran through your bones. A feeling of certain dread that loomed on the horizon. Stepping across the threshold into the gardens, you took a moment to breathe, and lifted your face towards the warmth of the sun. Losing track of time, you weren’t sure how long you stood that way, just clearing your mind and letting its light wash over the darkness you felt in your gut. 

“Y/N? My Lady… are you alright?”

The older, gravely voice of the Winchester’s Maester brought you out of your unintended meditation. When you lowered your eyes, blinking away the bright spots behind them, you saw Bobby standing there, looking concerned and a bit puzzled. 

“Bobby… yes, I’m... “ you tried to say the word fine, but it wouldn’t seem to work. “...breathing.”

“Need a moment, did ya?” Bobby replied, slowly closing the distance left between you. “You look a bit pale, feeling alright?”

“Yes… well… no. But it’s not an ailment I’m afraid. No herbs or teas to fix this ache.”

“And what kinda ache is that, may I ask?” His tone had shifted from curious to suspicious.

You knew he was a trusted part of Samuel’s family; you had experienced that first hand when he allowed you use of his apothecary. But could you trust him with conspiring against his King in the manner of which you were considering?

“Revelation,” you said, and sighed softly. “Maester Singer… I know Samuel trusts you, so I am hoping I can as well.”

Bobby considered it for a moment, and nodded. “You can, long as you aren’t looking to hurt my boy.”

“Never. I have grown quite fond of Samuel, and hurting him is something I would never consider. Not anymore.”

“Glad to know we’re on the same page here. So, spill, what’s got you lookin’ like you just walked over your own grave?”

“Revelations… things I’ve heard. An unspeakable betrayal from those I thought were my family.”

“Well, considering who your dad is, can’t really say you should be surprised.”

“Not just him, Rowena, too. I asked her for help, and she threw me to the wolves.”

“Again--”

“Yes, I understand,” you interrupted and flashed him a look of annoyance.

“Alright, so if they can’t help ya, maybe I can. What is it exactly you need help with?”

“I need answers… I need to know if these things are true.”

“You can ask me. If I know, I’ll give ya an honest answer.”

Taking a moment to think before answering, you passed him a demur smile, and took a few steps around him, before turning back to face him. “I want too, Bobby. I do. But I fear asking puts you in a precarious position. I don’t want to do that to you. Samuel adores you, and frankly, I adore him. So, no, I cannot ask you.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, his brow furrowed in thought. “I may know someone who could help. A friend of mine is back in town. She’s been known to see what us mere mortals can’t.”

“Is she a Dreamwalker?” you asked, a burst of excitement creeping into your tone, despite your sense of being overwhelmed.

“No. But, she’s the best damned psychic I’ve ever known. People around here know her best as ‘The Oracle’. She travels ‘round helpin’ folks however she can. If you need answers, I am pretty sure she can get them for ya.”

“You would do that? For me?”

“You’re family, ain’t ya?”

For the first time in a while that day, you smiled a genuine smile. “Yes, I am. So, where do we find this friend of yours?”

The journey to find the Maester’s friend didn’t take nearly as long as you thought it would. You didn’t want to be gone too long, or Sam may question where you went. Telling him your plans without all the answers felt dangerous somehow, but taking too long to divulge your thoughts could be just as dangerous. Rowena wasn’t exactly trustworthy, and who knew what she was liable to do with what you’ve already told her. Her agreement to keep it to herself didn’t exactly instill a sense of confidence in you.

Bobby seemed to sense your urgency, and had the horse drawn cart rumbling down the old dirt lane. But once he hit an offbeat path, overgrown with wildflowers and ferns, he eased up on the reins. 

“Almost there, Y/N. When we get there, I’ll make the introductions, but then I’ll wait outside. Been thinkin’ on what you said before, about not wanting to put me in the middle, and I do appreciate that. I may not always agree with John, but I did pledge my loyalty to his family. Sam and Dean, they’re just as much my boys as they are John’s. Hell, sometimes I think even more.”

He paused, and gave a quick glance your way. When you didn’t respond, he looked back towards the path ahead. “I’d give my life to protect both those boys. That includes protection from John, not that it would come to that. I know he’s rough around the edges, but--”

“But, he’s their father. I understand that, Bobby. Trust me, the last thing I want to do is destroy Samuel’s father. Despite their troubles, I couldn’t do that to my husband.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I can see that you are on his side, Y/N. It's why I’m helpin’ ya. I know John’s up to something, and my place in his court puts me at odds with how to handle it. So, if you need some answers, the least I can do is help you get to them.”

As Bobby guided the carriage round a bend in the path, you felt a surge of energy before the small house even came into view. When you saw it, you knew that was where he was taking you. You were so transfixed on the house, you barely noticed Bobby slowing down and calling the horse to a halt. It wasn’t until he set the reins around the hook and climbed down, did you realize that you were completely stopped.

You carefully stepped down, and waited for Bobby to join you before taking the short walk to the old, wooden door. Enamored by the energy pulsating from the house, you were both excited and nervous to step inside. 

Looking to Bobby, and swallowing thickly, you raised your brows and sighed, “Here goes nothing.”

The door opened before Bobby could knock. A tall, dark haired woman, dressed in a simple black dress with a plunging neckline stood before you. Her eyes were clouded white, but her smile beamed from ear to ear. 

“Bobby, I always love when you drop by,” she greeted and reached out for the Maester’s hand to pull him into a hug. 

“Pamela, beautiful as always.” He hugged her briefly and stood to the side. “This is Lady Y/N. She’s--”

“The wife of Lord Samuel. Oh, I know who she is. C’mon Bobby, I may be blind, the whole psychic helps with that,” Pamela laughed, and patted his shoulder before turning to you. “Now, let me get a look at you.”

Pamela reached out for your hand, and when you gently placed yours in it, she guided you inside.

“Alright ladies, I’ll be out here guarding Old Gus if ya need me.”

“Not joining us today, Bobby?” Pamela asked, slightly disappointed. 

“Not today. Today, Y/N needs some answers and whatever revelations she receives, are for her ears only.”

“I see,” she said, and turned her attention back to you. “Well then, Lady Winchester, let’s see what the spirits have to tell you.”

Pamela closed the door slowly behind you as you stepped further into her home, you drew in a deep breath of mixed herbs, candles, and sage. It was comforting and yet rejuvenated your energy, just as the old Oak did in the Elven Woods. 

“Please, have a seat.” Pamela motioned towards an worn, but cozy looking wooden chair, lined with plush red velvet. As she took her place directly at the round table, you slipped into the chair directly across from her and placed your palms flat on the table. 

“The energy in this place is inexplicably strong,” you mused, taking in more of the room. Candles were lit all around, some on table tops, some sitting atop tall iron candle holders. Over the table hung an iron chandelier, with more candles lazily flickering in a light breeze; yet you noticed no open windows. In the center of the small, round table, stood an iridescent purple crystal set in a sterling silver bowl filled with water. Admiring your surroundings, you settled into your seat with a sense of peace.

Pamela reached her hands towards the middle, palm up. You placed yours in hers once again, and could immediately feel the vibrations coming through her. When you looked up at her, meeting her clouded white eyes, a slight smile appeared on her face. 

“You’re a very powerful witch,” she said, then wrapped her fingers a bit tighter. “Taught, yes, but also born with the gift of magic.”

“My grandmother, Rowena. She’s a well known witch also born with innate magic. I suppose it comes from her.”

“I know of Rowena MacLeod. She’s… something alright. But your magic comes from a white witch. Your mother I believe.” She grew quiet, tuning in on your frequency, then nodded in confirmation. “Yes, your mother was a white witch. She’s passed, yes?”

“Y-Yes… I never knew my mother,” you replied softly, a twisted feeling bubbling in your gut. 

“Okay, close your eyes, Y/N. Focus your mind’s eye towards the crystal in the middle of the table.”

You did as told and waited for Pamela to begin. You could hear her breathing begin to slow, and nearly feel the rush of air she exhaled through her nose. 

“Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere, aput nos circita. Amate spiritus obscure, te quaerimus, te oramus, nobiscum colloquere, aput nos circita."

Pamela repeated the chant a few more times, her will stronger each time. After the final pass, you opened your eyes and felt a cool air blew through the room, flickering the candles and casting erratic shadows to dance on the walls. 

“I call upon you, spirit, show yourself. I call upon you, spirit, show yourself!”

From beyond Pamela’s shoulder, a pale blue mist began to swirl slowly, eventually taking the loose shape of a woman. It floated towards Pamela, and seemed to ensconce her with its light. 

“Yes, I can hear you,” Pamela replied to a silent question. “Your name… to whom am I speaking…” She paused, awaiting a response. It felt as if time stretched on, but only a mere few seconds truly had. “Emmeline, yes, I understand. I give you permission.”

Though she had no external sight, Pamela’s gaze met yours for a moment, before she closed them tightly. When they opened again, gone were the clouded white orbs, and replaced by bright hazel eyes. You gasped at the change, then stared into them as if you knew them somehow. 

“Y/N,” Pamela spoke, but it was no longer her raspy tone; this voice was soft and gentle., “My daughter… you’ve grown up so beautiful.”

The whole change that unfolded before you, left you breathless. You reacted without thinking and tried to pull your hands away, but the spirit inhabiting Pamela’s body wouldn’t let go.

“Y/N, please....” the voice pleaded, “stay.”

You allowed her to hold your hands, and tried to think of what to say. But for all your questions, not only about her, but about how to handle the King, went out the window. All your mind could decipher was that despite all your magical knowledge and understanding, you were sitting and communicating with the spirit of your deceased mother. 

“How,” you whispered, “how is this possible? How do I know…”

“My sweet girl, you were born during a Harvest Moon, and I loved you from the moment I saw your face. Despite how you came to be…”

Recoiling slightly, you slowly shook your head. “I--I… I don’t know what that means. I have so many questions…”

“I don’t have long. Breaking through the veil isn’t easy, so I will try to answer what I can for you, child.”

Suddenly, everything you had come there seeking in the first place went out the window. Your blank mind began to grasp at the information you needed, but all you could think was that you were sitting across from a woman you longed to know your whole life. 

“I don’t know where to begin. My father would never speak of you. Grandmother, either. They would ignore me, or change the subject. Why? Why wouldn’t they tell me about you?”

The spirit didn’t reply. Instead she let go of your hand and raised Pamela’s fingers to rest upon the center of your forehead. Instantly you were hit with a surge of energy that felt like lightning racing through your body. Gasping for air, your vision went dark, and a series of images played out in your mind’s eye. Fragments of your mother’s memories poured into your knowing as the pictures flashed before you. 

Seeing her in her natural state was breathtaking. Emmeline had been a uniquely beautiful woman; her hair the color of spun gold, deep dimples--much like Samuel’s--when she smiled. You could see some resemblances of yourself in her, and it helped to settle the feeling of uncertainty you had rising in your gut. Seeing your mother, in her own body, practicing witchcraft at her own altar… the room filling with black smoke and taking over her body… Crowley entering the chambers and having his goons smash her altar to bits. 

Another flash… Crowley and her mother, now possessed by one of his minions, in bed together laughing maniacally at the despicable things they did and were planning to do. Another… her mother’s body, very pregnant, still possessed, but now she could hear her mother’s consciousness screaming to be let free, for the demon to leave her and her child alone. 

The images were coming faster now - death and destruction following Crowley and Emmeline’s body while she was carrying you inside her. Emmeline’s body on a dungeon floor, her eyes completely black and laughing as she gave birth to you. Then finally, one last image… this one was slow and lingered behind your eyes, as you watched the black smoke clear Emmeline’s mouth. Her body crumpled to the floor, but she was still alive and breathing slowly as she looked up to see Crowley holding a tiny bundle in his arms. 

 “Well done,” Crowley cooed to the heap of a woman on the floor as he stared down as his newly born child. “I promise, your efforts will not go unrewarded.”

“You can’t...take.. her,” Emmeline managed to squeak out. She pulled herself up to her feet, wincing in great pain as she found her footing. “She’s MY DAUGHTER!”

“Sorry, love. She;s mine. But, I can promise you, I will make sure she’s put to good use,” Crowley looked at the baby in his arms and smiled wickedly. “Papa has big plans for you, doesn’t he?”

Emmeline watched in horror as he lifted one of his hands from cradling the baby. Crowley ticked his head to the side and snapped his fingers. Emmeline began to choke, as her mouth began to spill blood down her dirtied and bruised form. 

“Don’t…. Do…. this…..”

“Too late. It’s done.” He watched as Emmeline drowned in her own blood and frowned when she ceased making any noise. Her body fell back to the ground, her once beautiful, vibrant eyes now vacant and cold. “Well, that was anticlimactic, wasn’t, Y/N? That’s okay, daddy still picked a good witch to bring you into this world. Me and you, we are going to do great things together.”

As the vision faded and your eyes readjusted to the somber lighting of Pamela’s cottage, you could feel the sting of fresh tears soaking your flesh. Pamela’s body was sitting back fully in her chair, but you could still see Emmeline’s eyes looking back at you. 

“I’m sorry to have to have showed you that, but you needed to know. Your father is a monster. I tried so hard to break free from that demon’s control, but I was helpless.”

The candles began to flicker before you even felt the icy cold breeze blow through the room. Your breath became visible in the air, and it made Emmeline’s spirit panic. 

“No… I need more time!” she yelled, half in her own voice, and half in Pamela’s. Pamela’s body jerked forward, then back against the chair hard knocking the spirit free from her body. The same swirling blue mist filled the room, ricocheting from the ceiling to the floor, to the corners and back again while Pamela’s chin hung to her chest, her palms still laying flat on the table. 

As quickly as she appeared, Emmeline was gone, leaving you feeling a sense of emptiness and dread. To have come so close to your mother, only to have her taken away again added a vat of fuel to the fire that burned inside you. The fire you would use to burn your father, and his Kingdom, to the ground. 

The temperature began to rise and the candles finally steadied from the whirlwind that just blew around them. Pamela was starting to come to, slowly raising her head until her white eyes met yours. 

Still shaken from the entire experience, her blank stare was starting to unnerve you. “Pamela?”

“I’m okay,” she said softly, her signature rasp still enough for you to know it was really her and not spirit. “That was… intense.” She reached across for your hand again, and though you honored her request, part of you was afraid to touch her again. “Your mother, you spoke with her? She showed you what you came here for?”

“Yes, she showed me…”

Pamela squeezed your hand and closed her eyes. “But not everything--”

Before she could continue, she was interrupted by a knock at the door, and the old wooden beast being slowly pushed open, allowing the day’s fading light to fill the room.

“Hate to interrupt the girl talk,” Bobby spoke up cautiously as she stepped over the threshold, “but are you ladies almost done? Day’s wasting here, and if Y/N doesn’t get back to the castle grounds before dark, I’m going to have some explaining to do to the King himself.”

You nodded in solemn agreement. You had come here for answers, though the ones you received weren’t exactly what you had been seeking. Unsure of how to process what you had learned, you turned to Pamela and smiled wanly. 

“Thank you, Pamela,” you started, and felt the rest of the words catch in your throat. “I--” expelling a deep sigh, you rose from the table and tried again. “I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve given me.”

“But you didn’t get everything you came here for,” she replied, then stood up from her own chair. Pamela walked around the table with great ease for a blind woman, finding you immediately and putting both of her hands on your shoulders. 

Pamela pulled you into a warm embrace and gave you a caring squeeze. Before she completely let go, she allowed her lips to linger near your ear for a brief moment and whispered, “The baby you’re carrying is going to be blessed with great power. It will be up to you to keep him balanced and not let the scales tip in Crowley’s favor.”

Jerking away from her, your eyes snapped up to meet hers as a small smile unfurled on her lips. She gently laid one of her long fingers against her lips. “Shhhh… that baby needs to be your secret, or danger will find him long before he’ll need to pledge his allegiance.”

“Ladies? Everything okay?” Bobby asked from where he still stood in the doorway. 

“Everything’s fine Bobby,” Pamela replied, looking over your shoulder to flash Bobby her signature smile and wink. “She’ll be right along.” When her false eyes looked back on you again, her smile faded. “Keep him safe, and this child will one day sit on the King’s throne.”

“Y/N, I hate to bust this party up, but we really have to go.”

Still in a complete state of disbelief, you turned just enough to see the Maester impatiently waiting for you and nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

He threw up his arms and shrugged, before turning and heading back outside. 

“Y/N,” Pamela said, and turned your chin so you were again focused on her. “I know you have more questions, I know you were seeking truths about the potion, and a plan to use it. Whether you chose to follow through or not, it will not change the outcome of what’s meant to be.”

“And what is that? What IS meant to be?” you pleaded. “And how could I already be pregnant? Samuel and I, we just… it was one--”

“What is meant to be is already in motion. It was put that way the moment you and Samuel came together. Twin flames, though born of different fires, can still come together to create a force of nature.” She paused, and gently rested her hand on your belly. “And this boy, he will be a force of nature.”

Series Tags: @theplaid-wearingmoose / @zombiewerewolfqueen / @silkiechicken / @collette04 / @katiecurls75 / @death-unbecomes-you / @colie87 / @roxytheimmortal / @klanceiscannon14 / @voltage-my2dlove / @flamencodiva / @xhannahbananax03 / @babykalika2001 / @traceyaudette /  @winchester-wifey @pilaxia​ 

Sam Winchester: @buckyscrystalqueen​ / @unabashedsoul97​

SPN (all): @wings-of-a-raven / @negans-wife / @kazosa / @deans-baby-momma / @hobby27 / @breereadsthings / @maddiepants / @sorenmarie87 / @screechingartisancashbailiff / @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ / @unlikelygalaxyiver / @linki-locks11 / @stoneyggirl / @clarinette07 / @lefthologramdeer / @destielhoneybee / @faughnphotography / @katehuntington / @81mysteriouslyme / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @deathofmissjackson / @lauravic / @akshi8278 / @rebelminxy / @idreamofplaid / @fictionalabyss / @blackcherrywhiskey / @his-paradox / @closetspngirl / @sorenmarie87 

[flamencodiva]

Getting Back to You 2 - Forgive Me

Description: Amaya Campos and Dean Winchester had a playful rivalry. what happens when Dean is no longer her Dean. Will this change make one of them realize what they really desire, or will they continue to keep secrets?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Amaya Campos (Original Female Character) , AU Dean Winchester x AU Amaya Campos

Warnings: Language, Violence, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Word Count For Series: 100K+ words

Beta: @superfanficnatural

Book Cover by @talesmaniac89​

A/N: Special thanks to - @crashdevlin @atc74 @smol-and-grumpy @winchest09 @waywardbeanie @deanwanddamons @malfoysqueen14  @emoryhemsworth @janicho88 @jensengirl83 @whatareyousearchingfordean @katehuntington @anathewierdo  and to all my friends who listen to me ramble about my writing. your words of encouragement mean the world to me! Without you I don’t think I could have found the courage to come back and share what I love most to do, WRITE.

A/N 2: SURPRISE! Decided to post it early so I hope you guys enjoy! 

Getting Back To You Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Amaya placed her box on the bed. She had just finished moving into the Bunker permanently, taking room 20 for herself. Being right next to Sam made things easier when Dean was just down the hall. 

"Is that all you got?" 

Dean's voice made her jump towards him before a small wave of relief washed over her face. 

"I mean, what more do I need, right?" she shrugged. "Almost everything I own is either in my duffle or in a storage unit." 

"You could always move it here," Dean offered. "How does a nice night out at a bar sound?" 

"It sounds good," she breathed. "Could use the time to get plastered before beating you at another bet." 

"Oh, sweetheart," Dean licked his lips before crossing his arms. "That witch hunt was just a fluke. I'll win the next one, just you wait." 

"Yeah, yeah," Amaya waved him off as she grabbed a few of her clothes and made her way to the bathroom they all had to share. "I'm going to shower and change. I'll meet you in half an hour?" 

"Yeah, sounds good," Dean walked with her to the bathroom and placed his hand on her shoulder, making her look up at him. 

"Yeah?" she raised an eyebrow at him. 

"I figure," he cleared his throat, "we can eat someplace before we get down to drinking." 

"Sure," she nodded her head. "Sam joining us?" 

"I'm sure I can persuade him," Dean smiled. 

With a laugh, Amaya walked inside and closed the door. Dean could hear the soft click of the lock before he turned around and made his way to Sam's room. Running a hand across his face, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The witch hunt seemed a little too easy for his liking. Lifting his fist, he was about to knock when Sam abruptly opened the door. 

"No," was all his brother said. 

"You don't even know what I'm going to ask," Dean argued. 

"You were going to ask if I would come out with you and Amaya," Sam crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame. 

Dean scoffed and gave his brother his best bitch face, "Was not. I mean, eventually, I would have, but I was going to ask if that witch hunt seemed a little too easy." 

"Yeah, sure," Sam shook his head. "When it comes to the hunt—" Sam rubbed his hand across his stubbled cheek, "I'm looking into the incantation the witches were chanting. So far, I've been able to translate part of it." 

"So, what were you able to translate?" Dean moved aside as Sam walked out of his room and made his way to the kitchen. 

"Not much," Sam grabbed the notepad from the kitchen table as his eyes looked over his writing. "What I've translated so far is," he gave a slight squint "’We call upon the ancient powers, to hear our call, feel our power. Across time and space, let the souls switch.’" 

Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother as he thought about the words, "’Let the souls switch?’ Which souls?" 

"I don't know, but I'm going to keep looking into it," Sam grabbed a mug and poured himself a drink. "Dean, just wing it, or pick up a chick and have fun with Amaya like you always do." 

"Sam," Dean sighed, "You know why I keep my distance. This life—" he ran a hand across his face, "this life is not easy, and the last thing I need is another stain on my soul. I don't need guilt when I can't protect her." 

"She's not like your other loves, Dean," Sam pointed out. "She's a hunter. She was born a hunter. We’ve known her our whole lives. Dean, she's a legacy like us." Sam grabbed another folder he had out on the table and showed it to his brother, "Her grandfather was a Man of Letters just like ours." 

"What?" Dean found the name of Amaya's grandfather highlighted by Sam, with a detailed explanation of his death. 

"So just like our Dad," Sam sighed. "Amaya's dad lost his dad the same way. He was killed by Abaddon." 

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat at learning the information. He looked at Sam; he knew his brother was right. Amaya wasn't like Cassie or Lisa, she was a hunter; she knew the risks, knew what the job entailed. Then again, so was Jo, but unlike Amaya, he remembered Jo came in late into the hunting game. She may have been a hunter, but she hadn’t really lived the life long enough, and could he really see his best friend and rival get hurt in his arms? It was bad enough when he was keeping his distance, but in revealing his feelings he felt it would just make it worse. He was already worried about her, how much would that change if he let himself feel what he'd been bottling up? Besides, all three of his relationships had something in common: they’d all loved him, and he loved them. In some form or another, he brought bad luck upon the many women he loved. 

"Hey," Amaya's voice cut through his thoughts as the sound of her heels echoed in the kitchen. "We ready to go?" 

Dean felt his breath get caught in his throat at how she dressed. She stood in her skin tight jeans that hugged her legs with a tube top and fishnet shirt combo that showed off her toned stomach and her perfect breasts. Her leather jacket hung on her shoulders as she stood to almost Dean's height in her four-inch black heels. 

"Uhhhh—" Dean lost the use of his voice as he looked at her. His jeans felt a little tighter as he imagined peeling off all of her clothes. 

Sam walked up and slapped Dean upside the head, making the older man glare at his younger brother. 

"Dean's ready to go," Sam took a sip of his drink. "I'm staying in to try and make sense of the spell that the witches were conjuring." 

"Oh Sammy," She walked over to him and gave him a gentle pat on his cheek. "If you don't use it, you will lose it." 

Dean chuckled, the sass coming from Amaya snapping him out of his daze. 

"She's right, Sam," Dean rolled his shoulders and winked at Amaya. "You don't use what you got, it might just shrivel up, much like all the rabbit food you don't eat that ends up going bad." 

"Hey," Sam frowned as he gave Amaya his bitch face. "Just because I don't go out with you two—" he pointed to his brother and Amaya, "doesn't mean I don't get any. I just know how to keep you two from finding out." 

Dean cleared his throat and adjusted himself. With a roll of his shoulders, he walked up to his brother and Amaya. 

"Well, let's leave Sammy here to keep hitting the books," Dean said as he put his hands in his pockets. He stopped himself from touching Amaya, scared that he would do something they would both regret.  

"Lead the way Dean-o," she chuckled, giving his shoulder a slight punch before standing aside to let him walk first. 

Back in the other Universe, Henry Winchester surveyed the damage done by Hecate. He looked at his grandsons, who were assessing the best course of action. With a deep breath, he walked over to them. 

"It seems this was all planned out," Henry said as he placed his hands in the pockets of his suit as he walked towards the trio. 

"We are sorry, sir," Amaya apologized immediately as she stood straight, ignoring the feel of the sticky liquid seeping through her clothes. 

"Amaya," Dean's voice sounded surprised as he saw the large gash on her side. "Infirmary, now." 

"I'm fine," she waved him off as Henry came closer to them. 

"Amaya—" Dean began. 

"Dije que estoy bien," she growled and looked at him. "If anyone should be in the infirmary, it's you. You have a large gash on your head and multiple lacerations on your arms and chest." 

Dean had to smirk at what she noticed. They had been hunting since they were both sixteen, thrust together at the academy they were both now instructors in. Looking at his grandfather, Dean could tell the old man was not in the least bit angry. This was just another curveball in the hunting game. 

"Both of you head down to the infirmary and have Eileen look after the pair of you," Henry ordered be for he turned his attention to Sam. "Is there anything from the video feed from before we stormed the warehouse that we can use to investigate?" 

"I have my team looking into it," Sam said as he looked around. "So far, they were able to stay hidden from the camera angle. I have no idea how that happened." 

"I need you to work on it while they recover," Henry sighed and looked between Amaya and Dean. "Speaking of recovering—" he used his cane to walk over to them. "You two, infirmary now! I am going to be grounding you from hunts until you heal completely." 

"Yes sir," they echoed. Both of them giving each other a slight glare. 

A few hours and a couple of stitches later, Dean and Amaya had made their way to their apartment, where a happy German Shepherd greeted them.

"Zep," Dean warned, "Down." 

The dog gave a slight whine as he stopped his motions and laid down by the couch. 

"That's our good boy, Zep," Amaya praised as she gave the dog a generous pat on his head. 

"You going to tell me why you refused to head to the infirmary when I told you to?" Dean asked as he grabbed a beer from the fridge, looking at his fiancée. 

"Easy," she said and gave him a slight shrug. "I was perfectly fine. I was more concerned with you and the fact that we are now dealing with a goddess." 

"Amaya," Dean sighed as he made his way to her. 

He held her hand in his before pulling her to him, her body between his legs as he sat on one of the bar stools. Setting the beer down, he used his now free hand to cup her face. 

"Dean," she whispered as he brought her forehead against his. 

"I know you are strong, but we have had one too many close calls between us," Dean admitted and lifted his head slightly as he placed feather kisses along her face, avoiding her lips.  

"Tease," she whispered before his lips crashed into hers in a heated kiss. 

The world seemed to stop around them as Dean pressed her body flush against his. He would give anything to stay with her, but Hecate's words resonated in his mind. She had warned him that he had time to be with Amaya, but how much time did he have left? 

Dean moved his lips down her jaw towards her ear. He nipped at her earlobe, before moving down to kiss the sweet spot on her neck. It was the one Dean knew drove her wild. He smirked against her skin when she let out a low, lust-filled moan. 

"I don't ever want to lose you, Amaya," Dean muttered against her skin as he pulled her blouse open. The buttons flew across the room. 

"You're lucky I have about fifty of these," she moaned, raking her fingers through his hair as he kissed down to the valley between her breasts. 

His face nestles deep between them as he left open mouth kisses along her skin. Reaching behind her, he undid the clasp of her bra, freeing her bosom from its constricting grip. Amaya sucked in a sharp breath as his lips sealed around her nipple, his tongue licking as his mouth sucked gently on it. Her fingers moved from his head to his shirt. Quickly unbuttoning his shirt, she let her fingers caress his shoulder as it's removed from its owner and tossed on the floor.  

"Always knew you were a boob man," Amaya teased as she pulled his face away from her chest, bringing her lips towards his in a searing kiss. 

It didn't take long before Dean had Amaya wholly naked and on the island counter of their kitchen, his head between her legs, tongue lapping up at her juices. The sounds she was making were music to his ears. She was tart and sweet all at the same time as his lips surrounded her clit, sucking on her pulsating nub. Her fingers pulling at his hair just the way he liked it. 

"Shit, babe," she moaned. "Your tongue feels so good. You are a damn god with it."

Dean smirked against her wet core as he moved to press his fingers into her. She was nice and warm, making his cock throb against his pants. He continued his ministrations, feasting on her pussy as she pulled at his short hairs. The taste of her driving him wild as he felt her walls flutter as her orgasm hit. 

"Fuck," She cursed. Her legs quivered as Dean helped her ride through it. 

Amaya hadn't come down from her euphoric high when he undid his belt and made quick work of removing his pants. Dean pumped himself a few times as he looked at her dripping cunt. The sight made him moan before he eased his tip into her. 

"Shit, Amaya," he breathed and caressed her cheek before pulling her in for a kiss. "Your pussy feels so good." 

"Dean," she whispered. Her fingernails scratching at his back as he thrust his hips. "Fuck," she gasped just as she felt the anticipation build-up. 

"You going to cum again, Baby? Going to coat my cock with your cum?" he growled as he snaked his hand between them. His thumb found her clit drawing small circles on the sensitive nub. 

"Dean," she moaned, her nails digging into his back as she fluttered around him. 

Her legs shook as she orgasmed. Dean grunted and groaned as he snapped his hips, skin on skin echoing around the apartment. Zep looked at his owners, fucking on the counter, head tilted, watching as his owners moved as one. Meanwhile, Dean dug his fingers into Amaya's hips, leaving marks on her skin. She loved it when he marked her as it sent her over the edge again, just feeling his possessive nature, the sensation of him never wanting to let her go. At the same time, she pulled him close to her, her own fingers digging into his flesh, the fear of losing him surfacing in her thoughts. And yet, the sound he made as she rolled his hips brought her out of the negative haze. He felt perfect inside her, filled her just right. 

Dean gave another groan as his hips met hers. His lips kissed along any skin he could reach, the smell of her lavender perfume calming him as the image of the ruble almost crushing her tried to push their way through. He couldn’t lose her, couldn’t even imagine what his life would be like without her. He could feel her walls clenching around him again and he gave one last grunt before he came, filling her to the brim with his seed. His mouth devoured hers as he stayed buried inside her until he began to soften. 

"Fuck, baby," Dean chuckled. "We need to go on assignment more often." 

Amaya playfully slapped his shoulder. "Going on assignment has nothing to do with our chemistry." 

Dean helped her off the counter, placing her gently in front of him, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her in for another deep kiss. 

"I love you, Amaya," he muttered against her lips. "If anything happens to me, you move on, okay?" 

"Hey, where did this come from?" she pulled back to look into his green eyes. 

"Just— just something that the goddess said," Dean looked down at the floor. "She mentioned that I need to spend my time with you wisely and—" 

"Nothing is going to happen to you," Amaya held on to his face. "Sam will figure out what the witches were up to." 

"This is something we've never dealt with before," Dean said as he cupped her face and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "If anything were to happen, if you can't fix it— just let me go?"

"Fat chance," Amaya scoffed. "No way in hell I am ever giving up on getting you back, Dean. Now, let's forget about this, go to bed, and in the morning we teach the future hunters of tomorrow." 

Dean took in a deep breath, gazing deeply into her eyes. He could feel himself taking in all her features: the shape of her face, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, how her hair framed her face. He pulled her in for another heated kiss. Their tongues clashed as he lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he began to feel aroused again. 

"Babe," she muttered against his lips. 

"Can't help it, Sweetheart," he teased with a smirk "I'm hot for teacher." 

The sound of her laughter filled the apartment, followed by Dean's soft chuckle. The night was spent with laughs and moans echoing in their home. Before long, both hunters were asleep in each other's arms.

Dean awoke sometime later, not able to sleep anymore. Amaya's soft snores filled the room. Looking down at her, he gently moved her hair out of her face. He smiled a bit when she leaned into his touch. He remembered when he first met Amaya. Her grandfather had brought her to the academy, she was thirteen at the time. Dean had decided that she was probably a snooty spoiled princess, but in the end, Amaya had him on his back as she straddled him, blade at his throat. It was one of his fondest memories. After that, he had tried to always one-up Amaya, but every time he found himself on his back, it made him want her even more. She was independent, smart, and always called him out on his shit. Glancing at the clock, he sighed when he realized he woke up before their alarm. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he gently moved away from her, careful not to wake Amaya. He could hear Zep whining as he made his way to the kitchen to start brewing their coffee. As he set the timer for the coffee to brew, he looked over at Zep, who lay by the sliding glass door to be let out to their tiny backyard. 

"Okay, okay," Dean groaned and gave a small smile as he gave Zep a pat on the head before letting the dog out to do his business. 

Leaning against the open door frame, he watched as Zep moved around the small plot of land to find the right spot to mark. He never noticed Amaya had woken up. With Zep coming in, Dean turned to see Amaya holding out his favorite mug filled with coffee. 

"I see you woke up before the alarm today," she breathed before she caressed his cheek before planting a kiss on his lips. 

"What can I say," he acknowledged and gave a soft shrug. "I was anxious to get back in the classroom."

"Eso lo llamo mierda," Amaya scoffed. ( I call that bullshit.) 

"What?" Dean mocked as he wrapped his arms around her. "I love my classes. The kids are into learning all the strategies for a good hunt. They’re working on what to look for when hunting a ghost. I think they're ready to move on to poltergeists."  

"Really?" she probed while she raised an eyebrow at her fiancé. "Well, My advanced lore kids are already moving up to Demons and Latin incantations," she let her fingers dance across his chest. 

"Well, you do have the students that tested into research," Dean reminded her before capturing her lips with his. 

"Si seguimos, vamos a estar tarde," she whispered. (If we keep going, we're going to be late.)

Dean groaned. He hated it when she was right. 

"Me voy a vestir," he sighed and pressed his forehead against hers. "I also have wrestling try-outs to oversee this afternoon." (I’m going to get dressed.)

"Just don't pop your stitches coach," She chuckled and gave him a playful slap on his ass as he walked back to the room to get dressed for work. 

Back in the original universe, Dean looked over at Amaya as he drove them to the local dive bar. He glanced every now and then towards her. The way she bobbed her head to the music made him smile. He was finding it harder and harder to find an excuse to stay away from her. If he pulled away too much, he was risking hurting her as a friend, but if he didn't hold himself back, he’d slip up, and she could be cursed with dying all because he was in love with her.  

"So," she broke the deafening silence. "How are we doing this?" 

"Doing what?" Dean questioned as he shifted in his seat, driving with one hand on the wheel while the other was casually resting on the open window frame. 

"Well," Amaya began and rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the tension in them. "Que vamos hacer? (What are we doing?) Are we going to hook up with different people? Are we going to hustle some frat boys at pool? I mean, what's the game plan?" 

"I was thinking just," Dean trailed off a bit and licked his lips, "drinking and hanging out." 

Amaya raised her eyebrow at him, "Okay, what is going on? You usually want to have the hottest girl at the bar hanging all over you." 

Dean parked the car and turned to her. He didn't have a chance to continue before she was out of the car waiting for him. Getting out, he jogged slightly towards her. 

"What can I say," he sighed and gave a slight shrug. "What if, just for tonight, we stress relief together. No strings." 

"No strings?" Amaya asked and opened the door to the bar and made her way to the counter. She sat on the barstool and ordered herself two red-headed slut shots for herself and whiskey for Dean. "I can handle that." 

"I know it's—wait, what?!" Dean snapped his head in her direction as she knocked back her shot. "You-you are okay with what I suggested?" 

"Yeah, porque no?" Amaya shrugged. "I mean, what do we have to lose, right? I scratch your back, you scratch mine. Who better to make me feel good than the meat man," she smirked. 

"Oh, fuck, Amaya! You are not going to let that go are you," Dean knocked his own shot back before slamming the glass on the bar top. It was something that Dean had let slip out on a drunken tirade, he had heard it from someone and figured it described him perfectly. After all, he was a guy who did love eating meat, and then Amaya had to look up the term on Urban Dictionary and laugh at how he used it. "How about we play some pool, hustle some money and then have some," Dean licked his lips before leaning in and stealing a kiss from Amaya, "fun." 

Amaya bit her bottom lip when he pulled away. Her brown eyes gazed into his green ones. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She had always dreamed of this but never acted on it. She knew the risks, but she had to keep her feelings in check. 

"Bueno, que estas esperando?" (Well, what are you waiting for?) She downed her second shot and looked at him. "If we're going to do this, you need to learn to relax. Besides, it's not the first time we've fucked, remember?" she let her fingers dance along with his shirt. "Gringo, let's see how much money we can make." 

Dean let out a chuckle, reminiscing about the time they had a few drinks after a celebrated wolf hunt. Three drinks turned into a make-out session in the alley, followed by stumbling into her room, then a glorious night of fucking until the sun came up. When he woke up, she was gone and left a note that said thanks for the help and stress relief. 

Dean shook out his thoughts as she pulled away and walked towards the pool tables, her hips swaying. Dean tilted his head, watching her leave. He licked his lips, wondering what it would be like to have her ass bouncing on his cock. Shaking the thought out of his head, he made his way to her as they picked out the best suckers to hustle. It didn't take long to find some frat boys who were too tipsy for their own good.  

"Hey Mama," one of them said, "Why don't you ditch this guy and hang out with us?" 

"We can really make you see stars. Besides, you're Latina, right?" The other one interjected. "I'm sure we can make a mean salsa in the bedroom." 

Amaya bit her cheek from lashing out and giggled stiffly. "Ay Gringo," she shook her head. "Dudo que vas a poder a hacerme ver estrellas."  (I doubt you can make me see stars.) Amaya walked up to one of them, her knife concealed before placing it on his crotch. "The only guy making me see stars or as you put it, helping me make a mean salsa in the bedroom…" she tilted her head, "is the guy I'm with. Entendiste?" (Understand?) 

The frat boy nodded while his friend seemed to swallow a lump in his throat. With that settled, Dean and Amaya wiped the floor with the frat boys making off with at least $5,000. With a laugh, Amaya and Dean made their way to the Impala. Dean pressed her up against the passenger door. His fingers found their way under her fishnet top, squeezing her hip. 

Amaya moaned into his kiss, "Papi," (Daddy) she whispered. "You gonna make me feel good, Winchester?" 

"Oh, it's a promise, Campos," Dean said as he gave her a devilish grin. 

The drive back to the Bunker was filled with teasing and moans. Dean's cock was rock hard as Amaya teased him. Amaya's panties soaked through her pants as Dean teased her with what he was going to do to her. The minute the car was parked in the garage, Amaya climbed onto Dean's lap straddling him. 

"Amaya," he breathed. "We should move this to my room." 

"Y que? (And what?) Give up a chance to make out like teenagers in a sexy car?" she grinned before nipping at his earlobe. "Tienes miedo?" 

"M--Mi-eh-dough?" Dean raised an eyebrow at her. 

"You scared?" Amaya clarified with a roll of her eyes. 

Dean scoffed as he removed her leather jacket from her shoulders, revealing her fishnet top with her tube top under it. "I'm not… are you not wearing a bra?" 

"Wow," Amaya chuckled. "That's one way to distract you." she smiled before capturing his lips in a searing kiss.  

"Fuck, Maya," Dean placed his hands on either side of her face. "You are as sexy as fuck." 

"Tell me something I don't know," she sassed. 

With a sly smile, she rolled her hips, pressing up against his erection. She could feel Dean take in a sharp breath before pulling away from her, pupils lust blown as he tried to control himself. 

"I really want to take you to my room Maya, please?" He found himself begging. 

"En Español," she teased. 

"Campos, don't ruin the mood!" Dean growled as he reached into her shirt, squeezing her breast. His thumb rolling over her erect nipple. 

"Español, Winchester," she reiterated, grabbing at his short hair, giving it a tug, earning a strangled moan from the hunter.    

"Pour Fa-vour," he groaned. 

"Nice accent," she teased. "Since you asked so nicely and even said please." 

As quick as lightning, she had gotten off his lap and out of the car. Dean stayed shocked for a minute before jumping out after her. By the time he reached room eleven, he had found her in just her panties lying on his bed, legs sprawled. Her fingers played with her clit through her panties. Dean stood there, mouth slightly open at the sight of her fingering herself, her moans, music to his ears. 

"Que esperas, gringo?" (What are you waiting for, whiteboy?) she smiled as she ran a hand along her breast, pinching her nipple between her fingers. 

"Fuck Amaya," Dean pulled off his jacket and flannel in one swoop. 

His hand worked on his belt before unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his zipper. By then, Amaya had shimmied out of her underwear, giving him a good view of her glistening heat. Dean had let out a low growl before licking his lips and striding towards her. His head buried between her legs as he flattened his tongue against her opening.  

"Fuck, Dean!" she hissed when he began sucking on her clit. "You really know how to drive a girl loca." 

Dean chuckled against her entrance before plunging his tongue into her dripping hole along with his fingers, curling them as she squirmed against him. He let out a moan when Amaya ran her fingers through his hair, giving it a short tug. 

"Someone loves their hair pulled," Amaya moaned as his fingers curled and pressed on her g-spot. "Papi, dame lo todo." 

"Want me to give you everything, huh?" Dean chuckled. "I'll give it to you… Mami."

Amaya gasps as he continued his ministrations. The coil in her belly snapping as she came on his mouth and fingers. Dean lapping up at her juices, making her moan and scream some more as he made her cum a second time. Amaya had just started to come down from her high when Dean thrust into her waiting cunt. 

Their bodies moving as one as they swallowed each other's moans and screams in a heated kiss. They both chased their release, holding and nipping at one another as Dean's thrusts stilled as he spilled into her. Amaya's thighs shook with her own orgasm as she pulled Dean close to her body. Dean groaned as he fell next to her, holding her tight. 

"That was nice," he chuckled. 

"Yeah," Amaya sighed. "Sleep time." 

"Night, Maya," Dean kissed the top of her head. 

"Night, Gringo," she whispered. 

Dean made sure that Amaya was sleeping before looking down at her. Closing his eyes, he made his decision. Dean had to keep her safe, even if it meant breaking her heart just a bit. Moving the stray hairs out of her face, he leaned in and gave her one last kiss on her temple. 

"Forgive me, Maya. I just can't have you put in danger because of me," holding her close, he drifted off to sleep none the wiser at what the witches spell had in store for him.

Chapter 3

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[jay-and-dean]

I don’t need you  Chapter 1 : Damsel in distress.

Dean x reader

Summary : She’s a warrior, she’s a loner. Nothing can stop her, nothing ever had. She doesn’t need Dean, does she ?

This is a request by @magssteenkamp​ that I decided to turn to a serie :

“Okay, how about a Dean x Reader that is a tomboy badass Hunter think Selene from Underworld without being a vampire. That has Dean off his game because she’s not someone he can save she’s not the damsel in distress. She could have become a hunter because vampires, killed her family and now she gets a little scary when she’s up against them fluttering Dean and turning him on… Of course, smut must be in this story you write it so well. Now, go make Dean sweat, every time he sees her drinking whiskey neat like it’s nothing. Can’t wait to see what you come up with.” 

Serie Warnings : Swearing (duh). Mention of death. Smut, probably all kind from rough to fluffy, I’ll precise in the chapters if there are specific warnings. Fluff. Angst of course.

Words : 3.2k

Note :  I have no idea how many chapters it will be yet because I have 2 possible endings in mind. One version is like 3 chapters, the other is like 10 chapters, haha. I guess it depends if you guys like it. 

I’ll try to stick to the 3k rule, like for Rescue You

If everything goes as planned, you’ll get one chapter every wednesday. 

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

_________________

Dean’s Pov

City isn’t my favorite playground. I’m used to shitty little motels in shitty little towns. I’m used to silence and forests, at least for hunts.

And above all, I’m used to night being night. Those lights are killing me and I can’t get rest.

My hand on my stomach, watching the ceiling, I try to ignore the woman screaming lame pornographic sounds in the room above us. Judging by how much she fakes it, I think the guy with her is really not good.

Will those sirens stop at some point ?

Even if we hunted in big cities before, we rarely had to stay in the center of it for long. I miss the bunker, I miss home, and I miss baby. Parking her here is nearly impossible, and pretty dangerous for her, so we left her alone and we take the damn bus.

I hate the bus. Obviously.

This hunt is a mess. And as everything in this city, it’s too big. For four weeks now, we have been following a lead and it just feels like it’s never ending.

Is it possible that vampires are organized in an authentic mafia here ?

How Sam and I are supposed to fight it ? Those fuckers recruit and abduct young people… Two hundred and sixty eight teens have been declared missing in what, three or four months ? Even Sam is out of his depth.

The woman stops screaming and I close my eyes in relief. I try to think of the last time I had fun with a woman, a few weeks ago… Now it feels like ages.

Sam is sleeping and I just wish I could do the same, but this stupid window has no curtain, and it’s bright like the middle of the afternoon out there.

We found a hunter bar, finally, and asked for help. We need someone who knows this place. But the bar was mostly empty, and that doesn’t look good. I remember the barman’s face when we asked for some name, a phone number, anything… for someone that could help us. He chuckled, and sais he knew someone, the best ; he said we could find that hunter at some subway station tomorrow night.

So we wait.

*******

           Freaking subway. Dark and smelly. Sam is leaning on the tiles, waiting for someone to show. I don’t even dare touching those walls, hands in the pockets of my jeans, I look at the steam coming out of my mouth, my head low in my shoulders, trying to ignore the cold.

“This is stupid” I sigh. “We don’t even have a name, a description, anything.”

“The barman said we’ll know Dean, be patient” my brother mumbles, looking at every person passing by like a weirdo.

“Patient ! One hour, Sammy ! And this music !”

A group of young people are listening to very shitty music there, laughing like hyenas, and I am about to lose it.

           Suddenly, their behavior change, and they start to whistle, pointing at a young lady coming down the stairs. She’s wearing a long coat with a large hood on her head, hiding most of her face, and she’s looking for something in her purse, cursing and hurrying, clearly late to go somewhere.

           When she barely watch where she goes and almost miss the last step, my back straightens. She looks clumsy and really not careful, I’m afraid the little morons will bother her.

“Hey kitten !” they call her. “Kitty kitty kitty…”

I look at Sam and he gets ready to fight.

Fucking city.

“Hey ! Leave her alone !” I say and the boys laugh at me, grabbing the woman by the arm.

           We were here for vampires, but a damsel in distress needs us, so Sam and I start to walk toward the young people. The music is loud, some electro shit, and I can’t wait to break their speaker.

           When the boys who had grabbed the woman’s arm tugs at it, she suddenly turns on herself in one smooth but swift movement, leaving him with just the coat in his hand.

           This goes so fast I’m barely registering what’s happening. The lady is wearing clothes that makes my brain go blank for a second : very skinny jeans with freaking thigh holsters holding guns, and a tight black corset.

           Who is that woman ?

           Grabbing her coat with snake speed, she throws it at the boy’s head and hit his knee so hard it bends in the wrong way.

           Sam stops walking, frozen in place. And I bet he’s like me… asking himself who needs help after all.

           She grabs a gun at her thigh and shoots one of the boys right in the head, the silencer barely preventing the echo making us all jump in surprise.

“Wh-…” I start but the young men shows their teeth and I realize they have been the vampire all along.

One of them manage to hit her face, and before Sam or I can move, she hits him back, making him stumble back. He has no time to move before she reaches the thin machete she was hiding in her back and makes his head roll on the floor, falling on the railroad.

           With a few more quick an expert movements, she kills all of them, except a coward, who tries running for his life in our direction, the exit direction.

           I stop him with my fist in his stomach and he falls on the floor.

“Wait !” the woman says. “Leave him alive.”

She walks toward us, her hips swaying and blood all over her perfect cleavage. I’m fascinated, and I must admit to myself, even if I wouldn’t say it out loud, even to Sam : a little horny… What the fuck is happening here ?

She squats and grabs his dirty hair to make him look up at her.

“I will need to talk to your boss” she says.

“He will tear you to pieces, bitch !”

She punches him.

“We’ll see, bitch” she answers and the boy starts to whine, now looking mostly pathetic.

“Please, don’t kill me, I can give you money, I… I can give you eternal life… Or drugs ? You want drugs ?”

She sighs.

“Let be clear, Jimmy…” she says and his eyes widen.

“How do you know my name !”

“I know everything about you little shit, and about your nest… About Holloway. Now where can I find him ?” she states, hitting the vampire’s head on the floor.

“If I tell you…” he answers in a pitiful whine. “He will find me, he will kill me.”

She points the bloody machete on his neck, and starts to dig it slowly in his skin, making him cry out in pain.

“The club !” he screams. “The H club ! I-it is his club, but you won’t be able to enter ! Only vampires can enter !”

“Only vampires ?” she smirks, making my blood run both cold and boiling at how fierce she looks. “Good, Jimmy, you just earn a day of life. Get up, little shit. You follow me without saying a word, and you might live a little more.”

She gets up and harshly tie his arms behind his back.

“Winchesters ?” she asks, and it takes a few seconds before Sam and I answer, still stunned by how impressive she is.

“Y-yeah…” I stammer.

“Winchesters… Seriously…” the vampire sighs, but we all ignore him.

“Joe said you were looking for me” she looks behind her at the mess of corpses and blood. “You still want to help with this ?”

Sam nods, I’m too caught up in her aura.

“Okay, hold this fucker while I burn this mess.”

           And she does ! With a flask from her purse, she stands before the bodies and say some incantation before she puts a few drops of that weird golden liquid on the corpses. The second she does, body after body –or body parts-, they turn to ashes suddenly, leaving no sign of the slaughter that happened here.

           She grabs her heavy coat and dusts it.

“Y-you sure know how to get rid of a body !” Sam says, his eyes widened.

We totally need that.

“Yeah, so don’t piss me off” she gives us a corner, grabbing Jimmy by the arm to walk to the exit, putting her coat back on.

           Sam and I look at each other in disbelief, before we follow her like puppies, reaching the street. We jog to join her and I search her face before I speak.

“We never told the barman who we were, how do you know ?” I ask following her quick steps.

“I’m not reckless, Dean” she says. “And I’m not stupid. When he described the two men looking for me, I thought most hunters would have given up, so with the grumpy, flannel, big guys especially the one with longer hair description, I checked the city cameras for a 67 Impala, and I was right.”

“You’re good” Sam states, impressed.

“I heard you’re too” she chuckles, her smile knocking my heart out.

Reader’s Pov

           “Taxi !” I call with my free hand in the air and the car stops.

“You’re going to take the… vampire… in a cab ?” Sam worries, his voice low, like someone was paying attention to us, but no one is.

“Well, I have to bring him home” I just say.

What can I had, honestly, walking the streets with monsters at my arm has become a habit of mine.

           When we sit on the backseat, I get my gun and dig it in Jimmy’s ribs through my coat, until I hear him whine in pain. I keep my eyes on him, threatening eyes.

           Jimmy Jimmy… I looked for you everywhere for a few months. And I’m not disappointed in you. Son of a middle class dentist, afraid of death since childhood, seen a shrink for four years because of that, hypochondriac, anxious… Turned into a vampire at seventeen in 1984, the perfect cure of this fear of dying : immortality.

I knew how bad you wanted to live little shit, I knew I could get you to talk. Anything but dying right ? Because, as you  told Dr Stenvens in 1980 : “Dying is forever.”

*******

           “Welcome to my place” I say, opening the creaking door of my apartment.

I know they will probably pity me, I heard they live in a gorgeous military base or whatever, but I love my home.

           I had to kill to get this big apartment, literally kill. Monsters of course, but still. It’s a little dilapidated and the lights go off each time the train passes near, but I have big windows, and almost no rats.

           I push the empty bottle of whiskey with my feet and grab the chair to put Jimmy on it, and tie him tight.

           The hunter brothers enter and I must say I’m a little impressed to have them here, even if I will never admit it.

“Beer ?” I offer and they nod, looking at my psycho walls, as I call them : covered in photos and notes, pieces of journals and red lines of felt pen everywhere on it.

Of course I have everything in my laptop, but this helps to think. And as no one but Joe comes to my place, I don’t really care how creepy it looks.

“You’re a psycho !” Jimmy says and I chuckle.

Yeah… Like I said, psycho walls.

“You’re… organized” Sam says and I turn to look at him. Jesus, that man is tall !

“So you were working the young vampires nest case ?” I ask, handing them the bottles, but they don’t move, frowning in Jimmy’s direction. “You can sit, the little shit isn’t going anywhere, this creaky wooden chair is warded.”

“Ward-… Okay” Dean stammers, sitting on the couch.

           It’s really weird, meeting people you know somehow. Those guys are legends, and there are even books about them, books I each read a few times, learning a lot about hunting, but mostly learning about them. About Dean’s fear of failing his family, about Sam’s need to fail them to survive.

           There was a time I used to cling to those books at night, trying to imagine they were real, and they could protect me… Until I found out they were but I was the only one that was going to take care of me.

I can’t deny I used to have a teen crush on Dean, when those silly things still interested me. He was the big-hearted bad boy my 14 years old self needed to survive the street.

Then nothing. The books stopped, I was worried the story just ended like that. And I had to move on from it, someone stealing my all stuffs, including the books, made it quicker than I thought.

Of course, I heard the stories later… Things about Purgatory, about Dean being a Demon, then not, about their mother being back at all… But it’s not the same, and I always wondered what my childhood heroes had become, What they looked like now….

“Who are you ?” Dean finally says with a voice so low I can’t help but bite my cheek a little, to avoid smiling like teen-me would have.

I’m not a teen anymore, and I don’t need heroes to help me through the night.

“Y/n” I say. “I’m on this case too.”

“You’re a hunter ?” Sam asks and I search his face, looking for the hint of hope you can find on a rebel’s eyes, but it’s gone. What happened to you ?

“I’m hungry !” Jimmy whines and I ignore him.

“Not really…” I sigh, sipping at my beer. “I mean, yes, but, I have only been working one case, so…”

“This case” Dean states, nodding for himself with a glance at the walls.

“Yeah… This case. Holloway is not easy to get, and the more I get close, the more he widens his army, so the… the missing, they’re a little on me.”

“No, no they’re not” Sam says right away with those kind eyes, just like I always imagined it.

But he won’t get this idea out of my head easily. Joe says it too, that it’s not on me. And, I know, I mean, I know that the killings are not originally on me… But this has become a war, and wars makes victims.

“Anyway, I can’t stop now” I sigh, getting up to wash my hands, I just noticed how bloody they were.

           The truth is, I never could stop. From day one. The day those vamps tracked us after school, and took Amy and Beth, the day I managed to escape and talked to my parents. My friends were found a few days later, beaten, drained of blood, in a ditch somewhere. We were only thirteen, they were my best friends, and we had so much plans for the future…

           I gave too much information, on the boys’ look, on what they were saying, wearing, and my parents supported me when cops wanted to close the file. I know now that this network have some cops with them.

           So they killed them, my parents. That one night, they killed everybody and tried to kill me too, but Holloway wanted me for himself. That’s his big move : killing little girls, pretty teens, I can’t even imagine what he does to them…

But on the way to my death, I escaped again. At this instant was already too late, I far too far gone in Hell… Too late for normal, too late for letting go.

“What is your plan ?” Sam asks a little lower, like he was afraid of what Jimmy could hear.

“I go to this club” I state, coming back to sit opposite of them.

“Hellooo ! I’m still hungry !” the little shit whines making all three of us roll our eyes without answering.

“They only let vampires in” Dean frowns, sitting on the verge of the couch to search my face.

I didn’t imagined him exactly like that when I read the books. His hair are darker, his jaw is sharper, his eyes are not this ridiculous mint green, but a profound summer forest color. He must be what ? Forty now ?  

“I’ll be one” I shrug.

“What !” the brothers gasp in sync.

“Not forever, don’t worry. I have the cure, and we will need the blood of the vampire that turned me, good thing he’s tied up in my apartment” I give them a corner smile.

“No way !” Dean grunts. “That’s insane.”

“Well, Winchester, I’ll do it with or without you…”

Dean’s Pov

           This woman has lost her mind. A sharp mind, yes, but she lost it. I stare at her and can’t find an ounce of fear on her pretty bloody face.

“I have been there, sweetheart, it’s really not a sinecure !”

The second I say it, I regret using this nickname. She will crush me for sure.

           But she doesn’t. She smiles a little again, that confident corner smile of hers, the only thing that keeps my mind away from that freaking corset, and the blood stains on her cleavage.

           I have never met a girl like her, Hell, I have never met somebody like her, man or woman ! And behind those fierce eyes, I guess she must have suffered all kinds of Hell to be so strong today.

“Let’s say you let the vampire turn you” Sam whispers, glancing at Jimmy. “What makes you think you won’t feed on blood ? It’s a thirst you may not be able to resist. A-and… Once in the club, what then ?”

She looks down, resting her elbows on her knees.

“Then I find Holloway, kill him, and burn them all to the ground” she states absent-mindedly, putting her hand on her purse next to her.

           That’s when I understand. This is not just a case, this could be a suicide mission, she doesn’t really care.

I do. I have no idea why I care so much, but I do.

“Please listen…” the vampire-douche starts but we all answer in sync.

“Shut up Jimmy !”

She chuckles lightly at our perfectly synchronized annoyance.

I’m mesmerized, a need burning my veins from the inside, something new. This is not desire like I have felt with pretty women before, this is not curiosity or interest… This is fascination. I want everything : to know her, see her, unravel her, touch her, hear her, taste her…

“Let us help” I say a little too seriously and too low, making her search my eyes with a frown.

“If you want to help, help” she finally states. “But this is my case, my rules, my way. If you intend to give me orders or talk me out of it, just go back to Kansas. I don’t need you.”

______________________

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[halequeenjas]

A Lake of Sand and Glass || Zinnia, Winston, & Jasmine (POTW Finale)

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @zinniarhee @danetobelieve @halequeenjas SUMMARY: A plan has been formed to get rid of Bloody Mary and Sandman forever. Winston and Jasmine perform a ritual with Zinnia’s help after another group lures Bloody Mary and Sandman to the lake, but this does not come with out consequences. 

Winston had seen some bizarre shit in their time being aware of the supernatural. It was what ten months now? They’d seen zombies, werewolves, ghosts, ghouls and a hundred other weird, wonderful and downright terrifying spectacles. Yet, as they stood on the edge of the lake with two others that they barely knew, they decided that this was perhaps the weirdest thing that they had ever been privy to. “Okay, I’m glad we’re all sure on the plan.” speaking out loud helped them communicate their thoughts and after everything that had happened with Roland, Winston wasn’t going to just let anyone get hurt by this. They were here to make sure no one else was hurt. “The bait team brings the Sandman and Bloody Mary to the lake, we then you know, we do the magic exorcising ritual and bing bang boom we’re all gucci…” Winston swallowed, it sounded so much more simple then it was going to be. They were sure of it. “Remember, water is our friend and try to have fun. Ha. Joking obviously. I hate White Crest.”

This whole thing with Bloody Mary and the Sandman was definitely a little more intense than anything spirit related Jasmine had dealt with in the past. From the books she was reading, she’d picked up on that most people just banished Bloody Mary, but that still left room for some idiot teens to summon her again. Some further group research indicated Mary and the Sandman were linked somehow. Clearly, no one had actually tried this ritual before and it took some coordinating between her and Winston to come up with it in the first place. “Yep. we’re yeeting both the Bloody Bitch and Sandy Asshole out of existence as the kids would say.” Her tone sounded more confident than she currently felt. Banishments were one thing, but this was entirely new and experimental. The other group was already luring them over so there was no room for hesitation. She laughed at Winston’s joke despite her own nerves. “Oh yeah, we’re having a real party over here.” Any moment now, they’d be ready to begin. 

The only reason that Zinnia had agreed in assisting the group was because people she had grown to care about, against her own omission, were now in danger. She guessed she, too, was now in danger-- a reflection of a woman with a penchant for taking down those who had reckoned with death on their own terms. She and Bloody Mary were a lot alike, but apparently, she did not think so. She had little to offer aside from brute force and the ability to get away quickly, as well as assisting in healing any injuries that might’ve come from the excursion, but she needed to help, because if she didn’t, then when would it end? As they walked towards the lake, she tossed Winston a glance with a nod. “You both have interesting nicknames for these beings,” she commented with a low chuckle. She knew enough about magic, had seen it been done-- to others, she, herself was full of magic. She supposed she could get away with aiding the two of them in more ways than one. “Try not to look either of them in the eye, I bet that Bloody Mary figure really likes the eyes,” she said, a previous experience coming to mind. 

“The kids say that?” Winston asked somewhat skeptically. They weren’t technically a kid anymore but still the way that slang was changing over the years was beyond Winston and they couldn’t help but feel somewhat older then they felt that they should. Unfortunately Winston was far too familiar with both of these things to feel entirely confident that they were going to be able to just stop this but they had to make an attempt. For the good of everyone else. It wasn’t something that you could just leave to hurt people. From Winston’s research however they had a pretty good idea of how they could bind and banish both these entities. “Fun nicknames and humour are defense mechanisms that stop me from going completely insane in the face of all of this death and destruction.” Winston wondered if Bloody Mary was like medusa. “If I look at her through a selfie camera on my phone do you think I can make eye contact then”? Laughing nervously, they quickly fell silent. Swallowing, Winston looked around for some sort of sign or signal that they were ready to go. “I’m sure we’ll be starting … any minute now….” 

“At least that’s what I gather from the internet,” Jasmine said with a nonchalant shrug. She liked to think Nell kept her somewhat up to date on the new slang. Most of her clientele was older so she never necessarily went out of her way to keep up with it. She couldn’t help but laugh at Winston’s remark. “Hey, sometimes that’s all you can do.” At the mention of not looking them in the eye, she nodded quickly. “Yeah, definitely not planning on having a romantic heart-to-heart where we gaze into each other’s eyes with either of them. My taste is a little less dead and sandy.” She could see the other group towards the other side of the lake and saw both Sandman and Bloody Mary with them. She took in a deep breath and said, “Alright, here goes nothing.” She took Winston’s hand in her own and told Zinnia, “For now, we’ll draw in intention from you, too, but if things get dicey, we may need you to keep these bastards in the lake.” 

Zinnia blinked at Winston, gaze curious. She wasn’t caught up on the lingo from those who were younger than her-- she had tried her best to stay “in the know” but it seemed as though those who were older having a difficult time in understanding what younger people were talking about wasn’t as uncommon as she had once thought. Still, she forced out a laugh at Winston’s words and gave them a firm nod, “I suppose that is a way to deal with it.” She hunkered lower to the ground, her palms digging into the mud. “I would hope that your taste is far better than dead and sandy-- you’re far too pretty to be involved with the likes of either of them.” So maybe she wasn’t stellar at knowing what not to say. Zinnia narrowed her eyes, then looked behind her to Jasmine. She gave a curt nod. “Do whatever it is you need to do, I’m here to help.” Here to keep my people safe, Zinnia thought quietly. To think she now had people, both Scout and Alcher coming to mind-- Kaden, to a degree-- for Abel, clearly. Though, she wouldn’t mind taking Abel if Kaden were no longer capable. “I think I see them--” Zinnia’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop at the sight of a ghostly figure. 

The sound of laughter, as uneasy as it was - well it was at least a little bit gratifying and kept Winston from fully panicking. They were completely far from used to any of this. They wondered when the moment of clarity would come where fighting evil, beating bad guys and saving the day wouldn’t be the single most terrifying thing that Winston had ever had to do. Honestly, they weren’t entirely sure why they kept doing it but despite everything here they were still. “I guess flirting is also a defense mechanism for some,” Winston commented with a quirked eyebrow. Spotting Bloody Mary and the Sandman, Winston swallowed nervously and tried to center themselves as they had done thousands of times before now. They had everything ready, or as ready as it would be. “I definitely see them,” Winston said, their eyes immediately flashing to the floor so they didn’t catch Bloody Mary’s eyes. This was the part where they really had to help. This was the part where they really had to work their ass off to keep two completely figures who were enshrined in folklore from killing them. “Okay, here goes nothing,” Winston raised their hands and began to chant the words of the incantation that they had designed with Jasmine. A combination of exorcist practice and magic. It was probably sloppy, but they prayed it worked.

This was unlike anything Jasmine had ever tackled head on before and the feeling of doubt it brought was hard to ignore. If she messed this up, others would be the ones paying the price. She and Winston had been very careful when creating this ritual, but the fact still remained it had never been tested. How could it be? There was only one Bloody Mary and Sandman. If there had been a successful go of this in the past, neither of them would be here. The humor did help a little. “You’re not wrong,” she agreed with Zinnia as she took in a sharp breath. Here went nothing. She closed her eyes momentarily and let her words sync up with Winston’s. Precision was a must and she was careful with every single syllable and could feel the familiar buzzing that came with exorcisms. It was hard to explain, it was both familiar and unnerving in the same vein. Still, she chanted the Latin phrases over and over again and could feel something happening. Her eyes fluttered open as she peered across the lake. If there was any commotion going on with the other group, she’d be unable to see it in the dark. She could see Mary’s reflection in the water when she glanced at it and the water seemed to be almost vibrating. They were doing something.

Zinnia was careful to avert her eyes. One look at Bloody Mary and their plan could fall right from underneath of them. The sound of mumbling-- no, chanting, caught Zinnia’s attention and she twisted to watch as both Jasmine and Winston began to speak incantations, or so she believed them to be. It was palpable, the energy in the air, and she wondered if this was what it felt like, to be zapped of energy. It felt close to when she’d use her healing. Slow, moving like quicksand. With every move she tried to make, she felt it heavier in her limbs, the exhaustion. They needed her help, though, and this was how she would assist. She focused on the lake, the water rippling frantically with every word that either Jasmine or Winston spoke. Zinnia kept quiet, not wanting to break their concentration. She wondered how they would trap Bloody Mary, because the Sandman was clearly an easy target-- sand and water didn’t go quite well together. Zinnia watched, alert, despite the aching in her head.

Swallowing, Winston’s mind flashed back to the work that they had put into this with Jasmine. It hadn’t been easy. Creating spells never was. Actually magic in general was hardly something that Winston was adept with. Normally you would prepare for something like this with an actual drawn outline. The whole bit in horror movies with pentagrams wasn’t so far from the truth although in it’s own way it was pretty far fetched. But around the area that they had decided to carry this out in Winston had placed cylinders that they had built. They liked to call them beacons but the truth was that they were little more then extensions of Winston’s will. They would extend Winston and Jasmine’s incantation and hopefully truly prevent either of them from escaping. Without missing a beat, Winston kept chanting. They were glad they’d played all those rhythm games and Guitar Hero in college because it made keeping up with all of this a bit easier. A ripple spread out across the lake and Winston blinked and snapped their eyes to their feet as they spotted a ghostly outline.  

As they kept with the rhythms of the chant, Jasmine could feel her necklace vibrating against her chest. It was the same one her aunt wore for years as her focal point and she found it gave her more control when performing rituals. While similar enough to an exorcism, the magical aspects of it were starting to show as the lake water began to swirl. Usually, she could feel the air swirling around her during a banishment, but this was different. Her eyes fluttered open though she never lost a beat with the incantations repetitive as they were. By all indications, the ritual they came up with seemed to be working. Mary was reflecting in the lake and the Sandman seemed to be being pulled toward it. They couldn’t stop now. Mary was unnerving, but she wouldn’t look in her eyes. The water seemed to be rising higher around the lake which only pushed her to keep going. Just a little bit longer and this would all be over with. There was no room to let the reflection of Mary that was approaching throw them off their game. 

Zinnia watched, her gaze unmoving from the two figures who were drawn to the lake. The low rumblings from either Jasmine and Winston were low enough that she didn’t think either of the individuals could be heard, but something-- a distraction, the slightest sound, had the Sandman’s head swiveling towards them. The course he had been set on towards the lake was now broken, and he was headed towards the trio. Zinnia cursed under her breath before she gave a backwards glance towards the two. She pushed herself off of her perch on the ground and started towards him. What she was going to do, she wasn’t sure. She was quick-- quick enough to confuse something slow like him, but he was sand, and she hadn’t ever fought an individual made of sand before. Careful to not disturb Bloody Mary, Zinnia launched herself at the Sandman, her leg coming to swipe underneath of him. He crumpled to the ground, the sand building on top of each other to recreate the beast she had dismantled. This was going to be a lot harder than she thought. 

It was like something out of a superhero movie or a comic was all that Winston could think as they watched Zinnia’s leg dart out, cleave clean through the Sandman’s leg and then just watch it reform as he collapsed for a partial moment. Winston swallowed nervously between words of the chant. They were shocked that they hadn’t made a mistake yet but the adrenaline that was buzzing in their head seemed to be keeping them on task. Fortunately, neither Bloody Mary nor the Sandman seemed to have noticed them, in fact, Winston was almost certain that they were after Jasmine, which was both comforting and … well not. Winston didn’t need to lose another friend to anything malevolent like these two creeps. However, Zinnia was doing a pretty good job of keeping this thing busy, but Winston knew that she wouldn’t be able to keep it up forever. This was something that they were going to need to end and quickly. They were nearly there, Winston knew that much, they just wished that there was more they could do to help. Just don’t look in her eyes, that was all they could do for now. The lake seemed to be responding to their magic and Winston knew that this was all only a matter of time.

By all indication, their weird hybrid of magic and exorcism was working which brought some relief to Jasmine. It felt like it had been forever since she’d gotten a decent night’s sleep with Mr. Sand Creep plaguing her. As if sensing her there, he was making his way toward them. Well, crap. Now wasn’t the time to cower though. Sure, physically speaking, she wasn’t the biggest and baddest to fight, but she was smart and they had a ritual here. He was trying to interrupt them for a reason so she steeled her resolve and stood a bit taller. Zinnia seemed to have chopping the Sandman handled even though he reformed entirely too quickly for her liking. Her free hand wrapped around the amber stone on her necklace to give her some additional focus. Now that the sand was back in shape, it seemed to be coming toward her, but she refused to be shaken. She just said the words even louder hoping it’d make this whole thing go quicker. It felt unnerving to not flinch in the face of danger, but she had to trust Zinnia was going to keep them safe while they finished this. She could feel the pull of their words keep Mary in the lake, soon Sandman would follow her, too. 

“Oh, no you don’t--” Zinnia seethed as she twisted around, whisking a branch off of the ground. She cut it through Sandman’s chest, impaling it. It did very little, but the sand began to reform over the branch, now making it a part of him. That might work, it’d give her something to grab onto. Zinnia couldn’t let it get to either Jasmine or Winston-- if it did, their plan would be ruined. She grabbed another branch off of the ground and quickly thrust it adjacent to the first branch. Once the sand formed over it, she gave a swift, quick tug. They moved, but just barely. Zinnia tightened her grip and tugged on the branches, yanking him away from both Jasmine and Winston. The sandman twisted, falling onto the ground further away from the two. Good. Zinnia approached him again, ignoring the way sand began to crawl up her arm as she held onto the branch tightly, dragging him further away. The exhaustion she had begun to feel was weighing heavy on her now, but she had to make sure that the witches weren’t interrupted. At any cost. Zinnia yanked again, one of the branches coming clean through the sandman, making her falter backwards. Zinnia moved forward again, ripping at the second branch and tugged as hard as she could, sending the Sandman flying towards the lake, just a few feet from the shore. 

Winston’s fingers twitched as they watched Zinnia take on the Sandman. Watching someone beat the ever loving shit out of something as cemented in folklore as the sandman, with nothing less than literal sticks was maybe one of the most impressive things that Winston had ever seen and they were almost certain that there was a good chunk of experience there. As Zinnia fought the Sandman back towards the lake, Winston could see the beacons hum and resonate with power, it was as if simple technological objects could feel the itch of the magic and were begging to get to work. Technomancy was a touchy thing and Winston had never tried combining it with magic that exorcists used, it was similar but very very different in so many ways. “Get him into the circle so we can banish him.” That was all Winston had time to say before the next round of chanting could begin. 

With the Sandman not rapidly approaching her anymore, Jasmine was able to let out a breath she hadn’t realized was lodged in her throat. Her heart was still booming, but they had to move on to the next part of the ritual. The water around the lake seemed to be rising which had to mean this was working. All they needed was to get the Sandman in the circle so that he’d eventually get pulled into the lake with Mary. Thankfully, Winston already called out the directions. She could see the beacons they set up starting to do something. She didn’t understand them, but she trusted them when it came to the magic stuff. This part of the incantation was more familiar to her. Most of it was derived from the normal banishment ritual she used with a few adjustments to fit this situation. Experimenting wasn’t exactly her thing, but dire situations called for dire measures. She kept her focus steady and trusted Zinnia had the Sandman handled. She’d been doing one hell of a job so far. 

Zinnia heard Winston’s voice and she flickered her gaze back towards them. She gave a curt nod before she approached the Sandman again, grabbing onto the stick that was beginning to slip out of his chest. She gave him one swift shove, careful to avoid his body, just in case he decided to close around her instead of the stick that was still protruding out of him. He hit the water with a resounding splash and Zinnia quickly backed up, unsure of what the magic would do to her if she were too close. She kept her eyes on the Sandman, and on the back of Bloody Mary’s head as she took careful, but quick steps back towards the other two. 

Whoever this was… what was her name? Zinnia? Well whatever it was, she seemed to be very good at what she was doing and Winston was glad that she was on their side and not against them on this one. As the sandman splashed backwards into the water, Winston poured their will, energy and desire into the spell. It had been carefully crafted and carefully designed to lock the pair of them into a magical pocket that would prevent them from escaping again. Winston was frankly exhausted. A combination of late nights working on this and the energy it was taking. Sweat beaded on their forehead and Winston spotted the surface of the lake beginning to shimmer and harden, that wasn’t meant to be happening but Winston wasn’t about to stop now. They couldn’t stop now. They had to keep going. People in White Crest were depending on them to do something and if they didn’t then who knew how it would go? 

All Jasmine could think as Zinnia threw the Sandman into the lake is how grateful she was for the internet. Her energy was fading quickly and she was sure they would have been actual toast if it hadn’t been for her keeping the Sandman away. The combination of lack of sleep and the effort that went into exorcisms made every limb in her body feel as if it was full of stones. She felt weighed down, but there was no giving up now. The town was depending on them to get rid of these malignant spirits even if they didn’t realize it. Though her throat felt like sand was still scratching it, she kept her chanting loud and consistent. From what she could see through blurred vision, it was working. The water was higher, but looked as if it was turning solid? Maybe that was just the exhaustion that kept pinching the edge of her eyes playing tricks with her vision. Even if it was solid, they had to keep going. Anything else would mean these two harmful beings would be free to plague the town once more. So she pushed forward, even though every muscle in her body felt as if it was on fire. 

The closer Zinnia got to the two, the more she could see their exhaustion. She knew it all too well. Their expressions and hunched figures were similar to her own when she would have to pour healing into an individual or being that came to her while injured. Her lips twitched into a frown as she reached them. Silently, she extended her hand and placed it onto Winston’s shoulder. It was an attempt, and she wasn’t entirely familiar with the way magic really worked, at least, not the kind that Winston was pouring from their tongue. Hopefully the connection would help. She stared across at the water, watching as the water continued to vibrate. The mumble became a song about what was taking place, and Zinnia found it hard to focus on the Sandman as he began to stiffen.. She wondered if this was it, if the two were actually going to do it. 

Bones feeling like led, Winston had to admit that usually they didn’t like being touched without warning. But when Zinnia did it in that moment, they were shocked by the energy that shot through them. Their back went stiff, their body reinvigorated with new life as an almost unbelievable well of energy was suddenly open to them. They had been previously concerned that they just didn’t have the energy that was required of them, but with whatever the hell was in Zinnia now available to Winston they felt that energy overflowing from them and expelling itself. It flowed into the spell like a river that was flooding past the barriers of a dam and Winston could see the Sandman dissolve into the water faster as the water began to solidify. Winston wasn’t sure if this was doing what it was meant to be doing. But what they were sure of in that moment was that without Zinnia this would’ve all certainly failed.

They were all together now and Zinnia’s presence seemed to be giving them the last bit of energy they needed to complete this ritual. They were so close and Jasmine pushed herself to keep saying the incantations strongly despite how weak her body felt. This was the last leg and they’d come too far to fail now. The energy was swirling through the air around them and she saw the Sandman disintegrate into the lake. There was the familiar feeling of relief, but they weren’t quite done yet. One more verse was all it’d take. She repeated the words that felt like sand on her tongue and watched as the lake seemed to glass over somehow. The final words left her lips and she found herself wanting to sink into the ground, but they needed to make sure this worked. “I think we did it,” she said with the edge of exhaustion prevalent in her tone. Her running shoes became covered in mud as she approached what was the lake. It didn’t look like water anymore, but rather glass. That wasn’t supposed to happen. She frowned, but it seemed both spirits were trapped beneath the surface. “It looks like they’re trapped, but the lake isn’t doing so hot.” 

Zinnia’s skin felt alive, buzzing with electricity. The longer she stood there, her hand on Winston’s shoulder, the more she felt like she’d dissolve into the earth below her. She tried to focus, tried not to think about other things. If she kept her mind clear, maybe that would help. She had run into spellcasters, into witches, they all operated differently. If she hadn’t owed a favor, she rarely helped them, her own skin too important to protect at the risk of divulging what she was. The Sandman and Bloody Mary, however, they needed to be taken care of. If this were the way to do it, then Zinnia would comply. She had done her fair share of taking out those who needed to be dealt with, but Bloody Mary did not take kindly to reason, no matter the extent of how innocent the deceased had been. Zinnia blinked a few times, watching as the lake was shiny and reflecting. Jasmine’s words cut through her daze and she glanced over to her, removing her hand from Winston’s shoulder. Zinnia followed Jasmine slowly, her gaze fixated on the lake. “Is that not what you meant to do? What was supposed to happen?” She asked, unsure. 

Swallowing, Winston sank to their knees by the edge of the lake and tapped it. A dull, hollow noise rang out as the glass echoed with the rapping of their fists. “Well, I mean, I’m sure that we trapped Bloody Mary and … and the Sandman,” Winston was out of breath and somewhat flustered, this whole thing had been draining and it felt like there were weights tied to their ankles, “but … I ... “ their brain was moving at a million and three miles per hour as they tried to work out how exactly this had gone so wrong. “I don’t know why it’s turned into glass, the amount of energy we transferred would be more then enough then to turn this into glass but the truth is that there’s nothing in the magic that we did that would lead to this and I’m not really sure that it makes any sense for it to have transmutated into glass. Like … obviously I’m not an expert on alchemy but this is beyond the scope of the magic that we just used.” Winston swallowed and frowned. “I just… I don’t get it.” 

It seemed to Jasmine that all of them were equally as perplexed by the lake turning to glass. As far as the ritual went, Winston was right, nothing they’d written out seemed to add to this outcome. At the very least, Bloody Mary and Sandman would be gone forever now. That was what really mattered though this could certainly turn into an ecological disaster. There’d have to be some sort of fix that they’d work out later. As it was, Jasmine’s legs felt like jelly and she had the familiar sensations of fatigue that usually came post exorcisms. She let out a resigned sigh and took a few steps closer to the lake. She clicked her heel against the shore only to hear a slight clunk as it clicked against the glass. “Well,” she started with hands on her hips, “There’s not much we can do about the lake now. At least, Bloody Mary and Sandman are gone. Fixing the lake will be our next project I guess.” 

The exhaustion began to bloom in the set of Zinnia’s shoulders. She hadn’t realized how much energy she would need to give Winston in order to make their spell work, but she had more than enough to supply. She reached up to rub the back of her neck as she looked onward towards the lake, searching for any sign of movement, any sign that Jasmine’s and Winston’s enchantments hadn’t worked. “Whatever you did, it worked.” She looked behind her to look at Winston. She forced a smile, doing her best to make it look lively. “For now, this is what needed to happen to ensure everyone's safety.” Her own safety, too, was a major catalyst for her involvement in the banishment to begin with-- she was a target, of course. “I don’t believe I’ll be of much assistance with the lake.” Zinnia smoothed her hand against the back of her neck. “I’m glad, however, we were able to work together to get rid of these beings.” She looked between Jasmine and Winston, making a note of them-- they were more powerful than she had considered.

Winston curiously wrapped their knuckles against the reflective surface of the lake, the glass echoed as their fists bounced against the surface of it. “You were kind of amazing,” Winston admitted looking at both of them, “I know that this was a team effort and I definitely couldn’t have done any of this without you guys.” Winston had known Jasmine for years but Zinnia was completely new to them on this. “Thank you for helping me with the energy and thank you for helping me with the spell.” Winston leaned back and sat on the edge of the lake, taking a long deep breath and sighing gently. “We really did it, we really … we really just destroyed Bloody Mary and the Sandman. Before this month I didn’t even know that they existed but somehow we’ve managed to destroy two of the most iconic folklore myth things … ever. Fuck.”

[slashernipples]

Can you do headcannons of Jason and Ash with an S/O who used to be in a physically abusive relationship, with some scars, flinches every time someone or something grabs them unexpectedly, shakes in fear when they hear yelling, are scared to get them mad and take the blame for almost everything even when it isn’t they’re fault?

AHHHHH Absolutely, anon.

OKAY THIS TURNED INTO DRABBLES I’M SORRY

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Ash Williams

+He traces the scars when you’ve been intimate. He wants to know, but he also doesn’t want to bring up painful memories. He knows how that is and he doesn’t like to think of you reliving awful experiences at all.

+He’s always very wary about how he acts and he’s always ready to stop or interfere with anyone who tries to accuse you or grab you or yell at you. 

+The first notable incident, however, was a man who had been running from a deadite. He was terrified and had grabbed you by your shoulders and screamed for help. You had flinched and recoiled and Ash saw the fear written all of your face in that moment. He had pushed the man off of you and told him that the monsters would be taken care of, but you were still shaken. He had an idea of what might’ve happened to you right away, but he couldn’t talk about it just then because of the deadites rushing at you. He pulled you to a safe corner to wait out the onslaught and assured you that he could do it himself, and made a mental note to remember that. The man may not be able to remember an incantation right, but he sure as hell will remember anything if it’s about you.

+He took care of the deadites just fine on his own that day and had you not been so shaken, you might’ve been at least able to appreciate his ability. Ash may play an idiot, but he’s not completely dense. He knows that this isn’t the right time to be asking about anything so he asks if you’re ready to head home. When you nod, he holds his arm out for you take if you want. If you do, he wraps it around you securely, holding you close to his body as you walk home.

+The talk almost never happens because he doesn’t want to bring up past trauma. He finds he’s more than happy to keep you safe with him and hold you in his arms without ever knowing about those old scars he’s seen across your body, but he does worry about the way you cower if you break something or how you’re always so ready to apologise. He reads some books and decides that he’d rather try to ease you into being more confident and recovering by encouraging you positively that it’s okay, accidents happen and it’s okay, it’s not your fault. It works, after awhile. He’s honestly just happy that you’re happy with him.

+Everything goes wonderfully until your abusive ex walks up one day, wanting to know where you’ve been. Ash catches on as soon as you start moving behind him. “Sweetheart, I’ll take care of this prick, but will you tell me what happened after?” you promise him you will, and he deals with the bastard with scathing words mixed with affirmations that you’re under his protection now and he wouldn’t let anything happen to you ever again. The bastard leaves eventually, although some tires squealing around the corner suggest something happened. It’s less surprising when your ex runs up again, albeit this time as a deadite. At least this time Ash gets the satisfaction of avenging those scars across your body.

Jason Voorhees

+Jason saw that something was wrong on the very night he met you. He had seen a camper grab at you and had seen how you shook and ran and recoiled and hid. He saw someone afraid and it was there that he decided that he would protect you. He had slaughtered the man who had grabbed you with a spear thrown through the window directly into the man’s head. Jason had stepped in not long after and had done his best to kneel in front of you and look as unthreatening as he could despite being How He Is. He held a hand out to you gently, but when you had leaned away, he had retracted his hand and instead taken the spear out of the man’s head and left you alone.

+Your ex had found you one day and, terrified, you had run. You hadn’t even realised that you had made it to the forest until you found yourself on the dock of Crystal Lake.

+The bastard chased you all the way there, intending on dragging you back. You had thought you were rid of the son of a bitch years ago and yet here he was to drag you back to hell. You knew you wouldn’t be able to fight out of his grasp if he caught you. However, just as you had thought that he was about to grab you, Jason had sprung from the water and pulled your ex back down under with him. When Jason came back up and your ex didn’t and Jason once again kneeled before you, you realised he was your protector. You had embraced him, and that was how your relationship with him had begun.

+Jason is the gentlest lad with you. He doesn’t yell and he’s so self conscious that he never touches you without you touching him first. He would never want to scare you, and only makes inviting gestures if he wants to hold you or be held

+He will literally kill anyone who does anything to trigger your trauma, tbh. He sees someone grabbing you? Yelling at you? Accusing you? They’re gonna die. If the violence upsets you too, he’ll always be sure to do it out of your sight. Sweet boy will even try to wash the blood off himself before coming back if he can.

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I TRIED, I HOPE Y’ALL ARE OKAY WITH THESE OH GOSH I got excited to be writing and went a lil ham im sorry vnusinvuibrnsvidfnbiusdfg quq